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The night was hot and sticky. The roar of traffic pulsed between every set of lights in this urban sprawl. I’d been blown out by a friend for what would have been a great night of drink, music and hopefully, lust.
Every few months or so we head down town and immerse ourselves in the seedy side of life. After years of boredom that 9-5 throws at you, it’s good to let off steam and forget about the daily grind. A bit of banter. A bit of flirting. A bit of slap and tickle never hurt anyone.
Yet tonight I was on my own. My mood was grim. It’s so hard to lift yourself to the natural highs of the party animals when there is only yourself for company. After several bars of drinking steadily and catching up with the usual jokers and clowns that have dotted my life, I stumble into my favourite musical haunt.
It had the air of a faded jazz club. What used to be filled with smoke, now had to satisfy itself with even dimmer lighting. Candles abound and there is always the cloak of deep red to rose tint the eyes. A trio were playing the usual slow, moody jazz that connected the better paid performers of the night. It suited my mood and I sprawled on my chair and took in the clientele. The usual lovers spread across the room, both musical and physical. It was a good mix and lent the club an air of sexual tension that always helped my mood.
There was always the same number of fingers and hands tapping the beat as there was exploring under clothing. The lighting dark enough to afford the lovers some privacy yet bright enough to offer a voyeur the flash of public indecency. My eyes lingered and caught the attention of several women. Almost daring a response to their giving and receiving of titillation. I smiled knowingly and moved on. To be truthful, it was too early for a dalliance and the music was my main choice for being here.
I had no idea who was atakent escort due to perform. I had spent many a night either slumped with lustful desire at the sensual moving female singers or crashing around the room to some raucous jig played by any number of fiddling, drumming dervishes.
At last, as I poured another glass of red wine from my half empty bottle, the spotlight lit the stage to reveal the announcer. The usual, over enthusing of a mediocre artist made me stifle a yawn but I still applauded politely. After all, without music, my life would mean nothing. It was the hype I hated.
The band struck up a slow, soulful tune, full of deep, plodding bass and haunting guitar. It was pleasing to my ears and I warmed to them quickly. After a minute or so, there came, what I can only describe as the most incredible and haunting voice I have ever had the privilege to hear. No body accompanied the sound for some seconds and then a vision of beauty sauntered onto the stage. Dressed in a deep red velvet, full length, figure hugging dress, split to the thigh and showing the top of a stocking, this wondrous vision had me in the palm of her hand in a second. Everyone must have heard the clunk of my jaw as it hit my table. Long, elbow length gloves and a rose tucked into her cascading, jet black hair finished her appearance. Yet it all paled into the background compared to her face. Such beauty and elegance. Deep, full, red lips drawled around the words of the now forgotten song. It was a soundtrack to my beating heart. Love at first sight had come knocking for the first time in my life and it was using brute force and a battering ram.
I watched spellbound for what I presumed was about ten minutes but what was obviously over an hour and then she announced that she was going to get a drink and come back ataköy escort in twenty minutes or so for the second part of her act. I jumped to my feet and applauded much to the amusement of the other ‘cool’ customers. And then, yes then, she headed past my table towards the bar.
I moved my chair out of her way with a flourish and an awkward half bow and she rewarded me with a dazzling smile.
“Please,” I half stammered, “let me get you a drink.” She considered me for the longest of moments and then agreed and I followed her to the bar.
After the drinks were delivered, I tried to strike up some sort of meaningful conversation but it was obvious that I was star struck. She explained that it was her first time in the country and was starting to enjoy my wonderful city. I enthused about the place. Talking animatedly about all the various haunts that I frequented and at a crunch time, I asked her, if she had time, to let me take her on a tour as my guest.
She said she would have to think about it due to performing commitments but said it was very sweet of me and she would certainly consider it. She then finished her drink, thanked me with a soft kiss on my cheek and swayed back to the waiting band onstage. I quickly took up my seat again in full expectation of another set of sweet and sultry soul songs.
What we received however was like a different band and singer on stage. Straight from the off we were treated to songs of debauchery and sin. The set before brought us tales of long lost lovers and pining souls. This time we were bombarded with tales of angry young men and devious women. Of terrible events that effected the song’s heroes and villains. One song in particular told the story of a modern day Cathy and Heathcliffe, set in the midst of a dark and dreary northern town. Gone atalar escort were the sweeping moors and empty houses.
The singer acted accordingly. Imagine a female Nick Cave. Full of self awareness and swagger. She threw herself around the tiny stage, hair wild and eyes staring at the shocked audience. Further into the set, she began to move through the crowd. Playing with hair, running a hand inside a guy’s jacket and down the back of a scantily clad woman.
It was mesmerizing and exhilarating and above all a complete turn on. This was what dreams were made of. I followed her around the room with eyes full of lust and willed her to come to my table but she seemed to do everything and everyone except me. Lucky men were able to hold her as she sprawled in there lap as she sang of masturbation and oral sex. Even the bar staff were gratefully drawn into the proceedings but not me.
After this great show she announced that the next song was to be her last and set off on one of the most sexual song I have ever heard. It brought the whole place alive more than any of her other songs. She sang of need and desire. Of the body’s yearnings for release and the withering of the soul if not exposed to passion and lust.
It was a song for lovers and she sang it to me. She swayed over to my table and continually played with my hair and clothing as she sang. At one point she ran her hand from my knee and up my inner thigh to let it rest on my throbbing groin only to then straddle me and during a short instrumental section, kissed me deeply. She pushed my jacket from my shoulders and over my arms, locking me in place to the chair. Then she slowly undid my shirt and kissed down my neck and chest. As I thought I was ready to burst, she rose, letting my eyes feast on her damp panties as she sang the end of the song whilst playing with my hair.
The crowd went wild at the end and all stood, cheering and clapping. She bowed theatrically and thanked them all, telling them to let everyone know of her if they liked her show. Did they???
She moved away from me and what seemed like a casual afterthought, turned, lifted my jacket into place, grabbed my lapel in one hand and led me to the backstage door…
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32