No Quarter (NOLA's Own #2) by Kelli Jean

Author:Kelli Jean [Jean, Kelli]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kelli Jean
Published: 2015-06-06T23:00:00+00:00

Housed in a chest that opened from the top, displaying four shelves with endless compartments inside, Lili’s makeup collection boggled the mind. It was so vast that we had felt safe stashing our supply of weed in it, and sure enough, we hadn’t gotten busted. Vacuum-sealed pouches of rolled joints graced the inside of boxes of applicators and small brushes. More vacuum-sealed pouches of plain bud were mixed in with cotton swabs and balls.

“I can’t believe we got away with that,” whispered Alys, as if afraid that New Orleans airport security would hear and come bursting into the hotel room.

“Checking it in was the way to go,” said Lili. “A few eye shadows got pulverized, but they can still be used.”

Tonight, we were going to the House of Blues, so we were dressed in comfortable get-ups. Alys was wearing tight bootcut jeans with high-heeled black boots and a red halter top that showed off her great tits—very rocker and svelte. Lili was in a pair of bell-bottom jeans and a soft black cashmere sweater. She had her long black hair piled high on her head and black Chucks on her feet.

I, on the other hand, wore my new Army-green cargo pants that hugged my ass but the fit was relaxed down my thighs and legs, banded just below the knee, where I tucked them into my knee-high black leather boots with low heels. I used a burgundy sash interspersed with threads of blues, yellows, and greens as a belt, tied at the side and swinging over my left thigh. I chose a sleeveless black silk top with a V-neck that went down to just above my sternum. Lili had provided me with double-sided body tape to make sure the damn thing wouldn’t slide off my boobs.

Phil hadn’t seen my outfit. He might not be too happy with the expanse of chest I was exposing, but I liked it. It made me feel fabulous. To cap the whole thing off, I wore my favorite cabby hat of gray, black, and burgundy—the one I had worn the night of the after-party when Phil and I were reunited.

Lili insisted she be in charge of my makeup, which consisted of a shimmery brown eye shadow that she applied to my lids, topped with liquid black eyeliner and a shit-ton of black mascara.

“It’s too much!” I protested.

“Nonsense!” she admonished. “You have eyelashes that most women would kill for—except they’re fucking golden. Now, shut your mouth, and let me do what I need to, Kenna. You’re the girlfriend of Phil fucking Deveraux! That means you have to put all the other bitches who’ll be sniffing around his goods to shame. Got it?”

“Got it,” I grumbled.

There came a knock on the door, and Alys got up to let Sheri in.

Sheri looked fantastic.

“Wow, Sher!” I said.

She was wearing a pair of dark skinny jeans and a black NOLA’s Junk tank top that was skintight over her huge tits and tapered waist. A large belt of interlocking beaten silver discs draped gracefully over her hips.

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