Lainie

I've been playing music in the bars and clubs along Florida's east coast for most of my adult life. I break the cycle every now and then and take a real-people kind of a job, but I always seem to find myself back in one of the dives out at The Beach, playing bass or guitar with one group or another.

Over the years, I've managed to categorize the various establishments, and the folks that patronize them. I don't necessarily use the people as a gauge when making my judgment about any certain club, but sometimes the clientele give the bar it's personality, if you know what I mean.

Most bars are dark inside at night when the band is playing. Often the stage is lit up with some form of flood light system to give you a good look at the musicians. More often than not, the lighting is harsh and just detracts from the scene. I reason that club owners light up the stage so the rest of the joint stays dark and you can't see how dirty the floor is. But, that's my opinion. The smaller places don't have the fancy lighting, giving us guys up on stage a much better view of the house.

Hotel bars fall into a category all by themselves. Usually, a lot of money was spent during construction to create some kind of theme. South seas, nautical, '50s, etc. Generally, you find the higher classed patrons here with a little more money to spend. Usually these are travelers, and you see them once and they are gone forever.

Your neighborhood taverns are the opposite side of the coin. You play there ten times a year and you always see the same faces. Usually these places are filthy, and a lot of the people are the same way. You've got your Irish Pubs, and the Italian places, and bowling allies where the younger kids hang out and listen to rock and roll.

The service clubs are usually a lot friendlier than most places. These clubs are private, members and guests only, and you see the same crowd every single outing.

Then you have the restaurants along the oceanfront that have bars. No matter where you go, you can always find a place along the beach that serves food and has a little bar tucked into one end or the other, with a little dance floor and a few couples snuggled up in the booths or moving on the dance floor. There will always be a couple of wishful guys, hanging at the bar surveying the opportunities for an easy score for the night, and the usual number of unaccompanied ladies waiting for an invitation to cheat on her inattentive husband.

And so it was on this balmy September night a year or so ago; I found myself in just one of those little places on the beach a little north of St. Augustine. We had been booked there for a couple of weeks and things were as normal as the tide. The place was friendly and the waitresses did their best to forget to collect from us for our beers, hoping for a better tip at closing time. The boss was cool and turned as eye to his help, knowing from all the years how it went.

The locals came and went early in the evening, same as everyplace else, and the diners drifted in for a drink and waited for a table for dinner. A man in a suit perched himself on a barstool and smoked one cigarette after the other and threw shots of Tequila down straight. Young couples listening to our music occupied two tables, and three elderly women had taken up residence in a booth as far from the bandstand as possible.

I was on bass this night, with a good lead man named Chuck and a big Italian kid named Geno on drums. A friend from Neptune beach we called The Ice Man was playing rhythm and doing most of the vocals. Other than Geno who is thirty-nine, we are all over fifty and have seen lots of better days. I'm fifty-eight and wish to hell, I had treated my body to a less steady diet of alcohol for the past forty or so years. I still have a full head of long wavy hair and a full beard but the rest of the package screams for retirement. But I still like to look at the dollies and dream of days gone by.

We had just come back from break; it was straight up eleven o'clock. One of the women in the back booth requested us to do some old rock and roll songs so we were playing a Ventures tune or maybe it was Chuck Berry, who knows? I glanced up at the doorway across the room and watched as this blond with too much hair slithered into the darkness. Reason I say she had too much hair is because she looked like Retro Roxy with this big bouffant hair-do all piled up on top and spilling down to her shoulders.

The suit at the bar zeroed in on the blond as soon as she found a table in the darkness. He almost dumped a couple of tables and moved a dozen or more chairs as he stumbled over to greet her. It looked like they might be acquaintances. We had just finished the tune and it was calm in the room when Mr. Suit struggled to his feet and announced drunkenly, "Aw, who the hell needs this, anyway?" Then he staggered toward the door and vanished. Seems there has to be one in every crowd.

We played a few old standard tunes from the fifties and sixties and at 11:50, we took our last break. I really had to make a beer deposit so I made a beeline for the head. When I got back, Chuck was holding a slip of paper in his hand with a song title scribbled on it.

"You do this, don't you?" He asked as I approached.

'Sitting On The Dock In The Bay' was etched on the napkin in pencil.

"Sure, Chuck," I answered. "No problem."

He looked at the waitress for the customer that had delivered the request, but she had disappeared into the darkness. Shrugging his shoulders, he picked up his guitar and played the intro to the old Otis Redding favorite.

I sang the song through a couple of times and let Chuck take an extra lead bridge before we ended the song. I could hear a single pair of hands clapping from the house, but I couldn't make out the source of the response due to the stage lights.

We finished our set at 12:30. The house lights came on in the bar so the waitresses could find something under a table. Last call wouldn't be until 1:45, so after a short time, the lights were dimmed again and the hangers-on were again cast into the darkness of the room. The blond was still seated at her table nursing a drink and slowly smoking her cigarette. I packed up my bass and took it out and locked it in the trunk of my car. Returning to the bar, I eased my tired butt up on a stool, and stared down the front of Sally, the bartender's shirt. Sally was huge. Everybody got to look down the front of her shirt when she leaned over the bar.

I was sipping on a cold brew, wishing Sally would come back down to my end of the bar when a soft as honey voice drifted into my brain.

"That's my favorite song." The soft voice told me. "I haven't heard it in just forever."

I turned my head, still holding the beer in mid air and stared into the biggest pair of shining brown eyes that I have ever seen. They were staring back from a darkly suntanned face framed with a whole slew of wavy blond hair. It took several seconds for gravity to catch hold of my eyeballs and drag them down from her eyes to her full pink painted lips, and then even farther down past her neck to stare at her nicely displayed tan cleavage.

I guess that she must have caught me by surprise, because I usually have something witty to say right away when somebody speaks to me. I had a little trouble with this one, for some reason. All I could come up with was, "Oh?"

"Can I buy you a beer for the song?" She queried.

"Sure," I managed, as she made the high sign to Sally for a round.

"Join me at my table?" She asked, spinning on her spiked heel and winding her way back to her table in the darkness.

She was not tall, maybe 5'-5" but her heels made her seem taller. The woman was over forty, I could tell by the tiny wrinkles that streamed away from her eyes and the texture of her skin where it vanished into the top of her blouse. Her bust was big, but not gigantic, 38D if I'm a fair judge. She was also packing a few extra pounds which gave her a fine swell to her hips as she walked toward the table, but her waist was still small enough to give her a distinct hourglass appearance. Watching her walk away was just as exciting as watching her walk toward you, I imagined. Her blouse was thin and shiny so I could make out her lacy white bra underneath. She also wore a snug fitting and very short white skirt. Sliding off the stool, I headed away from the lights of the bar.

I located her standing next to the table, waiting for me to pull the chair away for her to sit. Doing so, I was treated to a wide expanse of creamy thigh as her skirt rode up when she crossed her legs. I sat in the chair beside her and concentrated on her eyes.

"Why are you staring at me?" She asked.

"You have gorgeous eyes," I managed.

Her eyelashes flicked up and down twice. She smiled. I felt dumb.

"What's you name, Big Guy?" She asked.

"Jay," I said.

"Like the bird?" She cooed.

"Yes Ma'm, like the bird," I said. "What's yours?"

"Call me Lainie," She answered.

"Lainie," I repeated. "I like that."

"So, Jay," Lainie asked, "What's your story?"

"Not much to tell," I said. " Just play music and sleep during the day."

"No woman in your life?" She was getting nosey, but what the hell, I hadn't had an intelligent conversation with anyone for a long time.

"Had a couple of wives over the years, but it seems like they don't care for the hours I keep." I confided.

I could see the diamond on her left hand and figured it best I leave the next question unasked.

"You come here often?" I asked.

"First time," She replied. "I'm from up north a ways. My dad lives down here someplace."

"Oh, are you visiting him?" I asked.

"No." She whispered.

I left that alone too. It was hard to make out her expression in the darkness of the bar. We were the last two people in the place and it was obvious that Sally would like to see us gone so she could close.

"You staying around here?" I asked.

"I rented a house for a week just up the line," She answered. "Want to come by for a drink?"

"Sure, why not?" I replied and she gave me the number.

I paid the tab and walked out in time to see her red Jag turn out of the lot and head north, up A-1-A. I climbed in my aging Caprice and followed at a respectable distance, not wanting too seem too eager, although I could feel the juices starting to churn. I spotted the Jag in the drive and pulled in behind it. Lainie was already in the house, but she had left the front door standing wide open for me.

The house was a typical Florida beach house, which the owners rented out through a travel agent and made exorbitant sums of money on. It faced the ocean and smelled from years of salt air invading every part and parcel. A huge wall of glass opened out on to a wide front deck, which had plastic chairs and tables scattered all about. Lainie was leaning against the railing, smoking a cigarette as I stepped out onto the wooden plank deck.

"I don't smoke inside," She announced as I moved up close to her.

The moon was almost full and I could see her face like it was daytime. Except for her hair, she reminded of someone I had known in another lifetime. It was eerie. I didn't know what Lainie expected or what her game was, but I decided to let her make the moves, I was gun shy after all the weird shit I had been listening to and reading about in the papers. It was just my luck to get busted for doing something stupid.

She pointed back into the house and said, "Let's find us a drink. In the kitchen."

She walked back into the house with me in hot pursuit. I followed her to the kitchen, where she had a bottle of good Scotch and some twelve-year-old whisky. I pointed to the whisky, which she splashed over a glassful of ice. Handing me the glass, she let her fingers linger for a few extra seconds against mine before pulling her hand away. I could feel her touch long after she broke the contact. Next to Lainie, I really felt old.

We went back into the living room and sat across from each other in two soft chairs. Lainie's eyes stayed focused on mine, like she was trying to read inside my head. She held her glass in both hands and sipped slowly on the amber liquid. I watched her for any emotion, which might betray what she was thinking.

"You must think I'm some kind of a tramp, inviting you here like this," She said, finally.

"I don't think anything of the kind," I said. "Why would I think that?"

Her eyes filled with tears momentarily and then cleared just as suddenly.

"What would your husband have to say if he knew we were here?" I asked, figuring I might jar her loose.

"My husband has no idea where I am," She whispered. "I left him a note telling him I had some business to take care of."

"For a week?" I asked.

"Might take longer than that," She remarked. "I've got a few things to work out in my mind before I go back to Minneapolis."

"Geez," I said. "I was in Minneapolis a long time ago. Played music in the state fair up there one year. I was only about sixteen at the time. Met some real nice people."

I recalled, especially, one girl I had spent the night with that told me she was twenty-six. That's ten years older than I was at the time. She had given me my first blowjob. We screwed like rabbits all night long. She dropped me off the next morning and I never saw or heard from her again. I couldn't even remember her name, now.

"Did you have fun?" She asked.

"I had one of the wildest nights of my life." I answered.

Her eyes clouded and cleared again. I watched as she uncrossed her legs and lifted the other one over the top. Reminded me of a movie I saw once with Sharon Stone in it. Lainie had on a pair of sheer lacy white panties. And she clearly had a big wet spot right in the crotch of them. Her stocking tops and garters were in plain view, her skirt being so short and having crawled up as she sat in the chair.

I was getting strong vibrations from Lainie that she was in the mood to cheat on her husband. I have a tendency to shy away from these situations, because they have a way of coming back to haunt you later. But, I figured that she was from out of town and I'd probably never see her again.

Lainie put her glass down on the table and went to the stereo and put on some slow bluesy music. I glanced at my watch and noted the time to be a few minutes before three. I was getting sleepy but the blond had my interest piqued.

She started swaying with the music. She moved like a cat, her body curving and twisting easily with the forlorn strains seeping from the speakers. It crossed my mind that in another life she could have been a professional dancer. Her fingers toyed with the buttons on her blouse, opening first one, then another and another until she had them all opened to the waist. She eased the shirttail up out of her skirt and let the thin silky garment hang open. Reaching behind, she slowly drew the zipper, holding her skirt up down and let the white wrap float to the floor at her feet. Stepping out of the skirt, she simply moved away from it and circled around behind my chair.

When she appeared around the other side of me, the blouse was missing too. She wrapped her arms together under her lace-covered breasts and hugged herself as she continued to sway with the soft music. My cock had swollen to full length in my pants. Facing away from me, her hands came behind her and flicked the snaps on her bra apart. She wiggled her shoulders, causing the thin straps to slip off her shoulders. Turning back to face me, she held the cups of her bra in place with her hands. Staring directly into my soul, she dropped her hands, exposing her bare bosom.

Her tits barely sagged when she released them. Each tan mound was covered by a large dark areola with a hard budding nipple placed exactly in the center. Her darkly tanned skin gave no hint of a tan line. Lainie, it seemed spent a lot of time in the sun naked. She again turned away from me and bent over at the waist, displaying her soft round bottom to me. Her white lace garter and white nylons, made a stark contrast with her deeply tanned skin. A tiny white thong nearly lost itself between her ample cheeks. Not a hint of a tan line!

The thong inched down over her ass, and slid down her legs to the floor. She remained bent over in front of me with her feet spread apart, revealing her smooth-shaven pink pussy lips. Her hips continued to move in time with the music. Reaching between her legs, I watched as her long manicured fingers slid along her puffy outer lips and disappeared between them. She pushed deep into herself.

I moved out of the chair and crawled across the short distance separating us. I placed a hand on each of her hips and pushed my face against her bottom. I stuck my tongue out as far as I could and swabbed it into her wet pussy. Lainie gasped as I hit her squarely in the middle of her sex with my tongue.

Her knees buckled and she leaned forward onto the floor. Kneeling in front of me, I delved into her from behind. She erupted into a series of little contractions, whimpering like a child. I was having a difficult time getting to her clit so I pushed her forward and turned her over onto her back on the floor. I pulled my shirt off and wiggled out of my jeans as fast as I could and dropped my face back between her wide spread thighs. This time, I connected with her erect clit on the first lick, sending the blond soaring into a hard orgasm. I pushed two fingers into her soaking wet cunt and massaged her clit with my tongue for a long time. Lainie was sobbing, her body wracked by continuous convulsions each time I hit her love button.

Lainie was electric under me. Her pussy gushed with her female flow. I wallowed in her juices and smeared it all over my face and her body. She had both hands threaded in my long hair, pulling my face into her center.

Suddenly she pushed my face away and shoved me back off of her. She quickly crawled across my body and engulfed my straining cock in her sobbing mouth. She unceremoniously took me fully into her hot throat and sucked hard. I could feel myself getting ready to cum. Oh, God how I wanted to make it last, but alas it was not to be. I filled her throat with a torrent of thick jizz. Lainie mashed her face into my hairy fat gut and gulped me as far into her throat as science would allow. Lainie can suck cock.

She kept me in her mouth after I had finished, massaging me with her hand and rolling my deflated member around with her tongue.

"I hope you can get it up again," She said, pulling her face away from me and looking at my face.

"Give me a breather," I said. "I'm almost sixty, you know."

"It's all right, Honey Bear," She cooed. "We've got all night."

I looked at my watch and it was almost four AM. It had been a while for me, so I figured I could go once more before my heart gave out. Lainie stood up, still wearing the garter and hose, reached for a smoke and stepped out onto the front deck. I managed to gain my feet and followed her outside into the damp foggy air.

"You've got a great cock, for an old guy," Lainie said, drawing deeply on her cigarette.

"You ain't so bad yourself," I said, leaning against he deck rail.

I looked at the blond woman standing next to me and wondered what it was about her that kept picking at me. The perfectly coiffed blond hair was now all awry. She ran her fingers through it and tried to fluff it out, to no avail. She took another deep drag on her smoke and flipped the butt out into the night air. Stepping back into the house she returned in a few seconds with a hairbrush in her hand.

"Here, help me with this," She said, handing me the brush.

She turned her back to me and I started to brush the hair spray out of her long blond tresses. I was surprised at how long her hair was after I had brushed it for a while. It reached mid-way down her back, and was very soft. It appeared almost white against her dark tan in the moonlight.