Jazzy Girl Ch. 1

I thought I heard someone coming down the hallway. The door was cracked open, and we could be seen, so, holding the lip lock, I pushed her back away from the open door.

"Whoooa!" she cried, as I shoved her into the wall, knocking over a lost guitar. "Okay, okay, okay...." she stammered, wondering if I was getting a little rough. She was scared, breathing very fast, but in that "Huh-huh-huh-huh" lusty way that meant she was turned on.

I wasn't trying to be rough, I was just trying to move somewhere more private. But there was something about that "Huh-huh-huh-huh" that excited me. Now, I've always been a missionary kind of guy, not because I haven't wanted it any other way, but most of the women I've been attracted to in the past were pretty straight-laced (not something most musicians brag about), but here was a girl whom, though clearly a novice at picking guys up, had a lusty streak that seemed worth exploring. So I crushed her a little harder against the wall, just to see what would happen, and she groaned lustily again.

I breathed her in, rubbing my nose across her neck, inhaling a flowery scent of violets. I had to taste her skin, so I licked her neck. It was salty.

"Ahhhhhhhh." she said, lifting her head up, baring her throat for more. I licked her again, then bit her nape. "Oh my God...!" she cried, and I could feel her body melt.

We licked and bit and sniffed like that for a while, getting all lusty and twitchy. She raised her arms up above her head, and I grabbed her wrists, pinning them to the wall. "Ohhh!" she gasped, startled by the pin, but thrilled. So again, I went with it. I squeezed her wrists tighter, pressing her against the wall even harder. It was a scratchy, cement wall. "Ow!" she complained, as her skin scraped against the surface, "What are you doing?"

"What do you want me to do?" I asked, smelling her arms from her elbows to her pits. She wrinkled her nose at that, but I think she liked how intimate and dirty it was.

"I don't know..." she said, her eyes rolling back in their sockets.

I lightly brushed her breasts.

"No." she said. "I'm with somebody." Then she looked at me, deeply, and added, "What do you want?" as if to say, "Take me."

So I placed a palm full over her breast, rubbing the thin dress across her nipple.

"Ohhhh." she moaned. "Okay, enough."

I continued rubbing her breasts. They felt like two firm peaches under silk.

"That feels - nice." she said.

I let my hand fall down her body, tickling her tummy once, down her hip to the hem of her soft dress, which I lifted.

"No, no, no! Are you crazy?" she said, wiggling her hips, trying to get her dress down.

"Yes" I said, pushing her against the scratchy wall, and lifting her skirt again.

I kept her hands above her head. She could have gotten them loose, pushed me aside, and said "Fuck off creep" easily. But she didn't. She let me run my hand up her leg. I felt where her stocking stopped, and continued up her naked thigh to her underwear and felt her springy bush underneath. She lifted a knee, pressing her leg bush against my hand.

"How crazy?" she whispered.

"This crazy", I said, slipping a finger under her panties, and into her pussy.

"Ohhhhh!" she gasped, as I wiggled my finger around her gooey insides, "Oh my God!" She struggled a bit, trying to get her hands free. "Stop it...stop it..." she begged.

She slid down the wall a bit, fairly sitting on my thick finger, wiggling her hips and pressing her clit against my knuckle.

This was nutso. The door was ajar and we weren't be exactly quiet. I heard someone talking in the hallway outside. She heard it too, and looked to the door, terrified that someone would walk in, but also, it seemed to me, excited by the idea.

"Is somebody out there?" she asked, breathing hard.

"Probably." I said.

She squeezed her pussy muscles around my finger. "Do people come in here?"

"Bands do, between sets." I said, wiggling my digit.

"Is there a lock?" she asked, juice dripping from her cunt.

I squeezed another finger inside her. "No."

"Uhhhhhhhh!" she moaned, squeezing her thighs together.

I heard the door creak a bit, as if someone had opened it a crack. I looked over, but the hallway was dark. If anyone was watching us I couldn't see them.

Christ, that was all I needed, for some waitress to catch us and tell Fat Harvey and have him toss me out or ban me from the club or some crap. I needed the work too much. "Don't shit where you eat." I said to myself, ready to stop this whole damn thing now.

But I was beyond having a pleasant little hard-on. My cock was hard and angry and wanted attention. This girl was so nice to kiss, so nice to finger-fuck. Her breasts crushed into my chest and felt firm and bouncy. I looked into her deep cleavage, and caught sight of a nipple as her breasts rose and fell with her ragged breathing. I fairly salivated with my desire to suckle. My nostrils were full of perfume and the lovely, intimate smell wafting up now from between her legs. I didn't give a shit who was watching. I couldn't stop.

She continued to grind her pussy against my finger, while I pressed her against the wall. Her dress had ridden up over her bottom, and her ass was scratching against the cement. "What's your name?" she asked shyly. "You have your finger inside me, I should know your - oh my God - name."

"Freddy" I said, not even trying to be gentle with my finger-fucking. I lifted her up a bit now, and really thrust into her, pressing my thumb against her clit.

"Uhhhhhh. Uhhhhhh. Uhhhhhh." she grunted with each thrust. "You are crazy! I'm crazy! Let me go...let me go.... I don't do this."

Yeah. That was the fantasy we were playing. She isn't doing this, I'm doing it to her. You've got take my word for it, I'm not one those "she was asking for it" assholes. This was different. She was in control here. Even as she said "let me go", she slipped her tongue into my mouth.

I wanted to touch her breasts, but I needed my other hand, and if I let go of her wrists the force fantasy would be over, and she'd fold. I had to bind her wrists with something, and free up a hand. I needed something like a rope. The lost guitar had a few broken strings, so I reached for it. As I pulled my finger out of her and let her go she nearly fell to her knees.

"I have to - get back..." she said catching her breath, thinking it was over.

I grabbed the guitar, ripped off a string, wrapped it around my fists and pulled it, testing its strength. Her eyes flew open.

"What the hell are you doing?" she said.

"You wanted crazy? I'm thinking I'll tie you up."

"I'm not that crazy." she said, scared. But her voice was playful, and she didn't move from the wall, as if I were somehow still holding her there.

I was getting excited at the idea of tying her up. I'd never been into the bondage thing before, and, frankly, I'm still not, but I wanted to do anything that might turn her on, and her wide-eyed glare at the steely guitar string stirred me something wonderful. I was enjoying this, and wanted to drag it out a bit more. "First I'm going to take off your panties." I said, improvising.

"What?" she said, startled.

I stared at her for a long second. She stared at me. Electricity jumped between us. Goosebumps grew all over her arms.

"I'm going to take off your panties." I repeated slowly.

She waited for me to make a move. So I did. I reached out, thrust my hand under her skirt, shoved my middle finger up her cunt, and lifted her off her feet.

"Ah! Ah! Ahhhh!" she cried at the violation. I put my hand around her throat, pressing her against the wall, steadying her. "Easy, easy..." she said, on her toes, trying to regain her footing.

I popped out my finger, grabbed the crotch of her panties at my retreat, and pulled them down to her knees where I could see them hanging below her dress. They were white cotton, sharply cut, dotted with red hearts with a big, wet stain in the crotch. I got to my knees, where the nice smell of her pussy nearly knocked me off my feet, and rolled the panties down further, bunching them over her ankles and high heels, and off. She lifted her feet for me, and made little grunting sounds, "Uhhhhhh... Ooooooo...." while running her hands down my back. I held the moist underwear up to my nose, and sniffed. She saw me do that, and crinkled her nose again, excited and repelled.

"Oh that's nasty." she said.

I grabbed her hands, and wrapped the guitar string about her wrists, tying them together.

"You are crazy." she said, then added, in a tiny whisper, "Not too tight."

I tied the wire off. The thin metal pressed into her flesh like a mesh net.

"Ow." she said, whimpering a little. "Don't hurt me."

Now that she was constrained (sort of) I could use both hands to knead her boobs, my hands sliding all over her dress.

"Mmmm." she moaned planting her lips on mine. Her breath tasted like apple wine.

We heard another voice outside. She squealed, breaking the kiss and falling back against the wall.

"Was that someone?" she asked.

"Maybe." I said, taking off my jacket.

"Quiet!" she said.

She was really worried about being discovered.

"I think what we have to do is be fast, before someone comes in." I said, unbuttoning my jeans, happy to have an excuse to dispense with any more foreplay.

"Oh God." she said, a little frightened. We'd been playing a game up until now - suddenly it got all real. I really didn't know what I was hoping to get away with here. She was ready to fly, I knew it. I had to distract her.

"Did you like my song?" I asked, loosing the last button on my fly.

"Huh? What?" she said, staring at my open jeans.

"Hoop Girl. Did you like it?" I said, stepping into her, nuzzling her neck. "I wrote it. Even cut a CD with it once."

"Really?" she said, happy to have a conversation to latch onto.

"Did pretty well for while, got some radio play." I said, "I thought about doing a music video." I reached into my pants, into my boxers, and let out my cock. It was obscenely hard. She could feel its weight pressed against her thigh.

"Oh shit." she said, not looking down. She kept up the conversation, trying to sound all normal. "You should do a video." she said, panting.

I lifted up her silk dress. It bunched and crinkled and gave me small static shock. "What do you think? Lots of smoke and half naked women?"

She laughed. "Yeah, that's never been done."

I had her dress up to her waist. She whimpered a bit when the cold air hit her pussy.

"Would you like to be in it?" I asked, pressing my cock against her stomach.

She gulped. "Is this what this is? A casting couch kind of thing?" She put her arms around me, her hands still tied and clasped behind my neck, pulling me closer.

I went on joking. "Before casting you I have to know your qualifications." I could smell her sex again, and we stopped talking. I bent my knees, slid my cock under her, and brushed against a few scratchy hairs.

"Oh my God." she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. She was breathing hard, and wondering if she should let me do this. She had a tear in eye. We stood like that for a few seconds. I barely moved, waiting to see if she really wanted to go through with this. She was struggling, clearly aroused, but clearly scared. "I don't do this." she whispered again, to herself.

I pulled away, thinking, "Okay, enough's, enough. We had some fun, but, you know what? I don't do this either. I'm not going to rape this poor girl." But she couldn't seem to let me go. She kept her arms around me, and held me close, my cock still under her, still poised.

I could smell her, and the delicious, tangy odor was making me dizzy. My cock twitched, and pressed up against her pubes which dripped with her juice. I was slick, and she was wet. We were ready. She couldn't move, couldn't decide what to do. Her arms trembled. Finally she whispered in a tiny voice, "I think you're going to have to take me."

And now that she'd given me permission, I did.

I crushed her against the wall.

"Oh God." she said, scared.

I bent my knees and maneuvered my cock under her.

"Oh shit." she whispered.

I pressed the head against her lips, and pushed up.

"Ahh! Ahh!" she stammered.

I entered her, slightly, letting her juices drip down, coating my meat.

"Ohhhhh." she moaned.

I stood up straight, slipping my cock inside her, lifting her off her feet.

"Holy God!" she said.

I entered her completely, and fucked against the hard, scratchy wall.

"Ow.. Ow.. Ow... Ow.." she complained as her ass hit the cement in rhythm.

She struggled against her bonds, instinctually trying to free her hands.

"You're so nice!" I said, harder than I'd been in a year.

In the hallway outside I heard someone say, "C'mon, Julie. Showtime."

The sudden loud voice was so close, so startling, that we froze. She panicked, letting out a little cry, terrified of exposure, but so turned on that I could feel her juice running down my thigh, and her pussy muscles tighten around my shaft like a noose.

"Who was that?" she whispered.

"I don't know." I whispered back, then adding, "He sounded close."

"Oh God. Hurry." she squealed, leaking more juice down my leg.

I thrust into her again, lifting her off her feet.

"CHRIST!" she screamed, unable to keep quiet.

I needed more traction, so I laid her naked ass down on the dirty floor, shoving aside the broken guitar, an old Village Voice, and a couple of beer bottles. Using the rest of the guitar string I tied her hands to the radiator behind her head, dug into the cracked tile with my boots, cupped my hands under her ass, entered her, and humped her hard and furious.

"OHHH....MYYYY.....GOD!" she squealed underneath me. She pulled against the guitar string, rattling the radiator.

Outside in the club I could hear the jazz band start their second set, the music reverberating through the floor. The music really moved me, and I started fucking this girl in rhythm, playing her like a fifth instrument.

She kept staring at the door, afraid that someone would walk in any minute.

"Hurry! GOD!" she squealed, sure that someone would walk in at any moment. "Huh-huh-huh!" she breathed, getting close. I wanted to send her over the edge, and I knew just how to do it.

Reaching out I flung the door wide open! Down the hallway we could see a waitress, smoking near the kitchen. We were in plain view.

Bonnie's pussy squeezed my cock in terror. "Gawwwwwwwwd!" she grunted, her whole body shuddering, cumming hard.

At that same moment I could hear Jazzy Girl's sultry voice booming from the club. Her throaty singing thrilled me to the core, and I blew a load of thick, creamy into Bonnie's quivering cunt.

We froze in orgasm, spasming together, nails digging into flesh. Both our eyes were on the waitress, who had finished her cigarette and was straightening her apron, getting ready to get back to work. At any moment she would turn around and see us.

"Ah...Oh..!" groaned Bonnie, unable to speak. Still in the middle of her climax she ripped her hands out of the guitar string, slipped out from under me and, and just as the waitress was about to turn around, slammed the door shut. She lay with her back against the door, her legs shaking, her pussy wet and exposed and dripping on the dirty stockroom tile floor.

I finished spilling on the floor, wiping up the cum with a loose piece of newspaper. I pulled up my pants and sat next to her, waiting for her "come back".

"Okay," she said, still breathless, "that is definitely going in my diary."

"Mine too." I said, suddenly aware of what an animal I just was. We laughed together for a few minutes, waiting for her orgasm to finish.

"Freddy, sweetheart, you are...that was incredible." she said when she finished shaking, "I don't think I can walk."

"Stupid question to ask now," I said, "but are you, you know, on anything?"

"Yes." she said. "Another not so stupid question -- Are you, you know, okay..?"

"I gave blood a few months ago," I said, "and everything's fine. There hasn't been anybody since. How about you?"

She paused. "You're only my second man. The other one is okay, he was a virgin and..." She got all embarrassed and stopped to bury her face in her hands. "I don't do this." she said, laughing nervously.

"Well, maybe you should." I said. "You're really good at it."

She laughed again, and threw her arms around me. "Musicians!" she said. "God!"

I retrieved her panties, which she quickly grabbed and slipped on with a surprising modesty considering the wild fucking we'd just done.

"Help me up?" she said.

We put ourselves together as best we could.

"I don't suppose you want my number, do you?" she asked. "And do you think I can sound any more pathetic?"

"You could." I said, "Try it with a whine."

"I don't suppose you want my number, do you?" she said with a nasal whine. "You're not going to call me are you? Are you? Are yoooooooooou?"

I couldn't stop laughing at this girl. She had a great sense of humor.

"Oh, I'll call you." I said. "Where should we go? Someplace public, right? We can go to Yankee Stadium. Want to screw on the pitcher's mound?

"Shut up!" she giggled. Yeah, she actually giggled. "I don't WANT to be caught you know."

Yes, but something about the possibility of getting caught really plucked her strings. Every time we heard a voice or a noise outside she creamed faster than an espresso machine.

We laughed a bit more, then she gave me a soft, wet kiss. "Mmm." she sighed. "I can still smell you." She rolled her head back and stared at the ceiling. "What have you done to me? Goddamned jazz singers. You're probably an asshole or married or - oh God, listen to me, I'm talking like a girlfriend." She handed me a card from her office and scribbled her home number on the back. "Freddy, sweetie, call me. Or don't call me. Whatever."

"You're not leaving?"

"Oh yes I am. I've been -- good Christ -- bad enough for one night. Call me if you want."

"I want."

"Good." she said, with just a hint of guilt on her face. "I think it's good."

She kissed me once more and stepped out the door.

I finished cleaning myself up and stepped out a few minutes later. Bonnie had disappeared, along with the thick neck boyfriend.

I took a seat at a back table and listened to the rest of Jazzy Girl's set. She was doing a hot number, really sweating up a storm and wailing like a hell-fire Gospell singer, her hands thrusting around randomly like Janis Joplin. Damn me if she wasn't on fire. The crowd was loving her, and clapped along and stomped their feet and suddenly it was like we were in a Tennessee tent revival meeting. "Yeee-ha!" someone shouted, and the crowd cheered him and whooped and danced around the crowded club, smashing elbows and knees.

What a frenzy! And Julie was the most frantic of all. During a drum break she closed her eyes and jerked and rocked in place, the mike stand squeezed tightly between her legs. She pressed the stand harder and harder against her pubic bone, and from the pinched, delirious look on her face I swear she was masturbating with it. (Holy God! Maybe that was her in the hallway!) She humped the pole for a solid five minutes, one hand holding her mike close to her chest (was she fondling herself?), until finally the sax player took over, and with that release she spasmed and shook (as if cumming) on stage in front of 300 screaming fans.

The applause was deafening. Jazzy Girl had to be pulled off the floor, where she had collapsed. "Encore! Encore!" screamed the crowd, but the band disappeared into the back, their last set finished, and couldn't be coaxed back out.