right?”
“No sir. Stanford Benson from Atlanta Georgia.”
“Have you been playing here long?”
“A few months. I’ve fallen on some hard times, to be honest with you sir. It can be hard for an old bluesman to get gigs these days.”
“My name is Ron Baker. I write for the Philadelphia Inquirer and I’d like to write a story about you. I’d also like to introduce you to a friend of mine who owns a little club called the Blue Moon. I think he’d be thrilled to have you play his place.”
“Well sir, I would certainly appreciate that,” Stan said, his voice cracking a little. I was feeling kind of emotional myself to tell you the truth. I figured it was time for us to make our exit.
“Thanks so much, Stan. That was like the coolest first date song ever.”
“Yeah, I agree,” Braden said and dropped a hundred bucks in Stan’s guitar case on top of the fifty I had slipped in there surreptitiously.
“Thank you! Both of you! I think you must be good luck.”
We waved goodbye, and walked in contented silence for a couple of minutes and then Braden turned to me and said, “Well, how about that? Something exciting happened.”
“Yeah! No kidding, I really hope Stan gets a regular gig,” I said and he gave me a strange look that I couldn’t interpret. I figured that he was probably thinking that I was nuts. “Is this the weirdest date you’ve ever been on?”
“Yeah, probably. And I
like
it, but I do really have to get up early.”
“We can just head on back if you want.”
“It’s not that I want to. It really is only because I have to get up at five and I’ll be helping him move.” He hesitated and then said, “I could cancel game night tomorrow and just take you out if you wanted. Mark and Adam would understand.”
“It’s okay. Game night is fine.” I looked at him and smiled. “You’re going to be tired anyway.”
“You’re pretty easy to get along with outside of court,” he said smiling back.
“Maybe I’m just hoping you’ll be easy next Friday night,” I teased. His look heated up again.
“I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you. I think your chances of getting pretty much any kind of sex you want are exceptionally good.” My tummy flipped over.
He walked me to my apartment door but didn’t make any move to touch me. He just stood there about three feet away from me waiting to see what I wanted him to do.
“I had a great time tonight,” he said, watching me carefully.
“Me too,” I said, a little nervous about actually initiating anything.
“Well then, I guess I’ll call you tomorrow.” He started to turn back toward the elevator.
“Kiss me! Please?” He paused and turned back. “I asked nicely.” He smiled and then walked slowly over to me, looking into my eyes as he approached. When he was directly in front of me he leaned down to kiss me slowly and gently on the lips. My heart was pounding so hard I thought he must be able to hear it. I had just witnessed a famous bluesman playing a private dedication to me in a train station but not even that seemed as unbelievable as the fact that this man who I had wanted for months was actually kissing me. He started to move away and I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him back. He kissed me harder then and I opened my mouth to invite him in. Within minutes I had the door pressed up against my back and Braden pressed up against my front and his tongue was confidently stroking mine and exploring my mouth sensuously. His hands were under my shirt, against my bare skin, exploring my ribcage sensuously too. Sensuous exploration seemed to be a strength of his and I felt that this was a very good sign.
I was getting a little crazed out there in the hallway, to be truthful. I could feel his erection pressing up against me and I was starting to squirm shamelessly against him. Just the thought that I could get him into that condition was blowing my mind. It was a little scary that a simple goodnight kiss
“No sir. Stanford Benson from Atlanta Georgia.”
“Have you been playing here long?”
“A few months. I’ve fallen on some hard times, to be honest with you sir. It can be hard for an old bluesman to get gigs these days.”
“My name is Ron Baker. I write for the Philadelphia Inquirer and I’d like to write a story about you. I’d also like to introduce you to a friend of mine who owns a little club called the Blue Moon. I think he’d be thrilled to have you play his place.”
“Well sir, I would certainly appreciate that,” Stan said, his voice cracking a little. I was feeling kind of emotional myself to tell you the truth. I figured it was time for us to make our exit.
“Thanks so much, Stan. That was like the coolest first date song ever.”
“Yeah, I agree,” Braden said and dropped a hundred bucks in Stan’s guitar case on top of the fifty I had slipped in there surreptitiously.
“Thank you! Both of you! I think you must be good luck.”
We waved goodbye, and walked in contented silence for a couple of minutes and then Braden turned to me and said, “Well, how about that? Something exciting happened.”
“Yeah! No kidding, I really hope Stan gets a regular gig,” I said and he gave me a strange look that I couldn’t interpret. I figured that he was probably thinking that I was nuts. “Is this the weirdest date you’ve ever been on?”
“Yeah, probably. And I
like
it, but I do really have to get up early.”
“We can just head on back if you want.”
“It’s not that I want to. It really is only because I have to get up at five and I’ll be helping him move.” He hesitated and then said, “I could cancel game night tomorrow and just take you out if you wanted. Mark and Adam would understand.”
“It’s okay. Game night is fine.” I looked at him and smiled. “You’re going to be tired anyway.”
“You’re pretty easy to get along with outside of court,” he said smiling back.
“Maybe I’m just hoping you’ll be easy next Friday night,” I teased. His look heated up again.
“I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you. I think your chances of getting pretty much any kind of sex you want are exceptionally good.” My tummy flipped over.
He walked me to my apartment door but didn’t make any move to touch me. He just stood there about three feet away from me waiting to see what I wanted him to do.
“I had a great time tonight,” he said, watching me carefully.
“Me too,” I said, a little nervous about actually initiating anything.
“Well then, I guess I’ll call you tomorrow.” He started to turn back toward the elevator.
“Kiss me! Please?” He paused and turned back. “I asked nicely.” He smiled and then walked slowly over to me, looking into my eyes as he approached. When he was directly in front of me he leaned down to kiss me slowly and gently on the lips. My heart was pounding so hard I thought he must be able to hear it. I had just witnessed a famous bluesman playing a private dedication to me in a train station but not even that seemed as unbelievable as the fact that this man who I had wanted for months was actually kissing me. He started to move away and I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him back. He kissed me harder then and I opened my mouth to invite him in. Within minutes I had the door pressed up against my back and Braden pressed up against my front and his tongue was confidently stroking mine and exploring my mouth sensuously. His hands were under my shirt, against my bare skin, exploring my ribcage sensuously too. Sensuous exploration seemed to be a strength of his and I felt that this was a very good sign.
I was getting a little crazed out there in the hallway, to be truthful. I could feel his erection pressing up against me and I was starting to squirm shamelessly against him. Just the thought that I could get him into that condition was blowing my mind. It was a little scary that a simple goodnight kiss
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