I sat at the bar of The Troubadour, hoping my friends would arrive soon. They were supposed to have been there half an hour earlier, and if there’s one thing I hated, it was sitting alone at a bar. I had just checked my watch for the hundredth time when a man started talking to me.

“Waiting for someone?” he asked.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. The last thing I needed now was some loser trying to pick me up. I glanced in the direction of the voice and was surprised not to see some kind of pseudo-hippie or troll standing there. The line I was about to feed him about waiting for my non-existent boyfriend immediately fell by the wayside.

“I’m just waiting for a few friends,” I replied, trying not to smile.

“Is it alright if I sit here until they come?” he asked, already making himself comfortable on the stool next to me.

“Be my guest,” I said a little sarcastically and sipped at my cocktail. He was damn good looking, but I wasn’t going to make it too easy on him.

He took a swig of his beer. “What’s that you’re drinking? Screwdriver?”

I shook my head. “Fuzzy navel.”

“Fuzzy navel?” he asked, a strange look on his face. “What the hell is that?”

“Peach schnapps and orange juice,” I replied matter-of-factly.

“That’s a chick drink.”

“Well, I’m a chick.”

“True enough,” he admitted. “Listen, I’ll buy you one, but you have to order it. There’s no way I’m saying ‘fuzzy navel’ to any bartender.”

I laughed. “Deal.”

“By the way, I’m Michael.”

“I’m Joanne.”

He waved down the bartender and I glanced again at my watch, this time hoping my friends wouldn’t arrive.

They didn’t.

* * *

“So, you live here by yourself?” I asked as we pulled up to a rather old-looking beach house.

“No,” he said, getting out of the car and coming around to open my door for me. “My three band-mates and I share it, but they’re all gone.”

“For how long?”

“All weekend.” He smiled. “One’s in England visiting his family; the other two are up at the music festival in Monterey.”

“I... see.”

So, he was alone this weekend and had gone out to the clubs looking for company. Well, that made sense. If he lived here with three other guys, he probably didn’t bring too many girls home simply for lack of privacy. This was only Friday night, so he would surely go out hunting again tomorrow while he still had the place to himself. I should have been a little offended, or a little jealous, or a little something; but for some reason, I wasn’t. What I was, was horny. Whether that was because of the alcohol or because he was so damned sexy, I didn’t know. I didn’t care.

He opened the door and turned on the light. Yeah, this was definitely a guys’ pad. Old movie posters partially hid cracks in the walls, newspapers lay strewn around the floor, dirty dishes were in the sink... The only area that seemed in perfect order was the band’s rehearsal area. Every guitar was neatly on its stand, the drums were polished, and even the microphone cords were straight instead of tangled.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thanks,” I said, tossing my purse on the kitchen table. “I think I’ll take it easy for a while.”

“Well, I don’t have the fixin’s for a fuzzy navel anyway,” he said with a wink.

I walked over to the bandstand and heard him quickly following me. He must have been afraid I would touch something. He came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist and began kissing my neck. I moved my hips, gently grinding my ass against him and feeling the stiffness of his cock through his pants. He started playing with my tits through the thin crocheted dress I was wearing and moved his other hand under the dress and slipped it into my panties. I gasped when his calloused fingertips made contact with the sensitive flesh of my clit. My head fell back onto his shoulder and his mouth met mine as he continued to fondle my tits and finger me.

My legs began to shake and he moved us over to a nearby chaise lounge and sat down, pulling me onto his lap. My back still to him, I spread my legs, inviting him to resume his previous activity. It didn’t take long before I felt my orgasm approaching and the roughness of his rubbing, which had been so incredibly pleasing only a moment before, became almost unbearable. I eased my own hand between his fingers and my clit, taking over for him. He didn’t seem to mind; in fact, I thought I heard a slight chuckle in my ear.

As I more gently brought myself to my climax, he moved his hand further down and started fingering my pussy. I moaned as he slipped two, then three, digits inside and began finger-fucking me. I moved my hips in time with his thrusting, again feeling his hard cock against my ass. He worked my pussy faster and harder, and too soon I went tight around his fingers and screamed as I came. After a moment, I relaxed and he pulled his hand from my panties.

“Ready for the real thing now?” he whispered huskily.

I stood up on wobbly legs. “Not just yet,” I replied, drawing a look of confusion from him. Grinning, I knelt down and unbuckled his belt, then unzipped his fly with one hand and started rubbing his cock through his pants with the other. A slight smile crossed his face before he quickly stood up, kicked off his boots and stripped from the waist down, tossing the garments to the floor.

“Why don’t you lay back and relax,” I suggested as I looked at his swollen cock and licked my lips. He nodded and lay slowly back on the chaise and gave me full access to him. I closed my hand lightly around his cock and began stroking him. He let out a long breath and lay with his hands laced behind his head, watching my every move.

I took the head of his cock into my mouth, licking him lightly as I stroked the base. Then I started going down on him, taking more and more of the shaft into my mouth until his cock head touched the back of my throat. Now and then, when I needed a break from sucking at that huge dick, I would lower my head and lick at his balls. It wasn’t very long before I heard him moan and felt his balls start to twitch. I started sucking him again and he sat up, holding me there as he exploded into my mouth. I licked his softening cock clean, then sat back on my heels and waited for him to recover.

He lay there for a moment, then stood up, removed his shirt and tossed it to the floor with the rest of his clothes. He helped me to my feet, pulled me close to him and kissed me roughly. When he released me, he reached down and pulled my dress over my head, then draped it over the back of a nearby armchair. He then helped me out of my panties and bra, stopping to fondle and kiss my bare breasts before speaking again.

“Why don’t you lie down now,” he said.

I took his former position on the chaise and spread my legs for him. He knelt down and began by kissing my calves, easing his way up my thighs and finally to my pussy. He parted the swollen lips and lowered his head. I felt his tongue run up and down my slit, always stopping just short of my clit. He teased me for a few moments, then finally made contact with the sensitive bud. I shrieked as he began licking, then sucking at it. I buried my hands in his thick hair, holding him there, but still giving him freedom to work. Once again, his fingers found their way into my pussy and he fucked me with them while he continued sucking my clit. I closed my eyes and grabbed at my own tits as he drove me to another orgasm. He licked me more slowly once it was over, bringing me down easy. I felt him pull his fingers from my pussy, and when I opened my eyes he was standing before me, wetting his cock with my pussy juices. I smiled.

“I think I’m ready for that now, Michael,” I said, admiring his manhood once again. He quickly positioned himself between my legs and with one quick thrust was inside me. I gasped as my pussy was filled with his huge cock. He didn’t give me much time to adjust before he began thrusting. He held himself high over me and brought my legs up to rest on his shoulders.

He was as far inside me as he could get now, his cock head touching the mouth of my womb. Beads of sweat began forming on his brow as he fucked me hard, pulling almost all the way out only to plow back into me again. I winced, whether from pain or pleasure, I’m not sure. I hadn’t been fucked like that in a long time, and I certainly wasn’t going to ruin things by asking him to take it easy on me. I didn’t think he would oblige me, anyway. He was in complete control, and was obviously enjoying it.

He seemed to settle down after a time; sitting back on his heels and letting my legs fall back to his sides. It was only a temporary respite, however. Soon he grasped my shoulders, using my body for leverage as he fucked me harder and faster than he had before. I threw my head back and held onto his arms for dear life. My tits bounced in time with his thrusting and I had to keep reminding myself to breathe.

He must have been closer to coming than he would have liked, because he suddenly slowed down. I didn’t mind much; it gave me a chance to get my bearings. He eased his body down until he could easily take either of my tits into his mouth. He licked and nibbled lightly, alternating between them. I reached up and ran my hands through his sweat-dampened hair. He breathed heavily as he kissed his way up my chest to my neck, then finally to my mouth. His kisses were surprisingly gentle, and he actually looked into my eyes for a few seconds before getting back to business. He knelt again, lifted my ass up off the chaise and held me there as he raced to his orgasm. He closed his eyes and let out a loud moan as he filled me with his juices. A few more thrusts and he pulled himself from me.

I lay there for a moment, unable to move. The chaise wasn’t as comfortable as a bed would have been and it didn’t allow any room for post-coital cuddling, but I didn’t see him as the cuddling type, anyway. I heard water running and figured he had gone into the bathroom to clean himself up a little. I sat dizzily up and caught sight of my clothes draped over the armchair. He came out just as I stood up.

“You can fix yourself up if you want to,” he said, nodding toward the bathroom.

“Thanks.” I took my clothes and went in. When I came out, he was dressed and rummaging around in the icebox.

“You want something to drink now?” he asked. “I think there’s a couple of Coke’s in here...”

“Actually, I should probably get going.”

“Well,” he said as he closed the icebox, “let me grab my keys and I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t have to,” I said, knowing it sounded lame.

He laughed. “It’s the least I can do after...” He paused. “Well, it’s the least I can do.”

“Just take me back to the club. I’ll meet up with my friends and go home from there.”

“Alright...”

* * *

Not surprisingly, the band eventually made it big. I never heard from Michael again, not that I’d expected to, but I did catch a few of the band’s shows from time to time. The sixties became the seventies and I married and settled down, but I always held fond memories of our evening together. About the time my son Michael was born, a drawling, melodic song called “Joanne” became a hit, and I knew that he held memories of me as well.