 Copyright 1999 Shon Richards

 Ann's Guitar
 By Shon Richards
	
	***Author's note- The guitar is magical, for
 that matter, so is Ann.  I thought it would be neat to
 do a love triangle with a magical person, her fetish
 and some poor guy.  I got distracted by another idea,
 dropped this story, and never seem to have the time to
 come back to it.**********

	I was the poorest manager of a successful club
 that ever lived.  I was sure of it.  My father owned
 the place but before I was finished with High School,
 he conned me into working here.  By the time I was
 twenty-two, I knew everything there was to managing
 the club.  Unfortunately, I had to drop out of school
 to devote all my time at the club.  Without even a
 High School diploma, my chances of getting a job on
 my own were pretty much nil.  My bastard father knew
 this and felt I was lucky to recieve the low salary
 he gave me.  This was how miserable my life was when
 Ann walked into my it.  

	It was a Friday night at The Club Name, and the
 place was packed.  The crowd was here for the live band
 and the the air was thick with sweat, smoke and odor.
 I had to fire one bartender early in the night for
 skimming money, and one of my bouncers had called in
 with the flu.  My attitude was the pits and I was very
 close to calling Dad and telling him I quit.  The crowd
 in front of me began to part, which was alarming in
 itself.  Fearing the worst, I was unprepared for the
 vision of womanhood that was approaching.

	It was her jeans that I noticed first, they were
 impossibly tight and blue.  Blue jeans shouldn't look
 like they were poured on top of a person but they were.
 She walked comfortably, which something I'll never
 understand.  How could any woman move in jeans so tight
 you could admire the curves of her thighs?  

	Besides those sexy jeans, she was wearing a
 black t-shirt with the name of some band I had never
 heard of.  Her stance was one of complete confidence,
 and she had wavy blonde hair, cut short to her
 shoulder.  Her brown eyes that greeted me when she
 walked up, and all my previous irritations evaporated.
 A smile came eaily to her lips,  and the dark club
 brightened slightly.  Whatever she wanted, I was going
 to give it to her. It was that simple.

	"Do you have an opening tonight?" she asked.
 "I would really like to play for everyone here
 tonight."

	I sighed. I could give her anything except that. 

	"This is kind of short notice," I said, regret-
 ting every word.  "I already have a band scheduled for
 tonight."

	Before I could explain how to book herself, she
 interrupted me by placing her hand on mine.  

	"Maybe you should go check the band," she said
 calmly.  "I just heard that they came down with some-
 thing.  I was in the neighborhood when I heard about
 their illness and I thought I would drop by."

	She swung her guitar around that was on her
 back.  while I was thinking, she absent-mindedly ran
 her fingers down her guitar's neck.  I kicked myself
 mentally.  I was so in awe of this woman I hadn't even
 noticed she had a guitar.  This was not good for
 business when I let a pretty face destroy what per-
 ception skills I had.  I told her I would double check
 with the band, and headed towards the back.  Silently,
 I was praying that she was right and that I wouldn't
 have to say no to her.

	My prayers were answered that night, all five
 of the band members were fighting over the bathroom
 with hysterical diareha.  On another day, it would
 have been comical, but that night I was simply
 relieved.  This meant the mystery woman could play
 tonight.  I told the band they could pass tonight on
 their performance and I would still pay them.  There
 was no way that I was going to allow them time or
 reason to recover.  They were all very grateful, and
 I left them quickly to see the woman play.

	Her name was simply Ann, and I introduced her
 to the impatient crowd we had that night.  She took
 the stage like she owned it, and twirled her guitar
 by it's neck in a flashy way that brought a laugh
 from the crowd.  The laughs died when she played her
 first note.  She started with something very dramatic,
 a neat feat considering she was the only one playing.
 It was a powerful song, all about ships, dreams and
 lost people.  The crowd was hooked.  Releif washed
 over me as Ann proved her talent.  Sure she was
 gorgeous, but I didn't want to start a policy of
 putting tone-deaf models on stage.  

	I didn't reconize any of the songs, they were
 all part rock and part pop.  Sometimes we'll get a
 band or singer here who'll have one or two original
 songs.  They then spend the rest of the time covering
 whatever popular tune they learned to play at home.
 Having an artist who actually played all her own music
 was a rarity, and I was appreciating Ann all the much
 more.  A few more like her and this might actually
 turn into a real club.

	For over an hour she manipulated the entire
 club.  She had them dancing and she had them crying.
 when she was done I quickly lead her offstage and into
 the back.  Not that I thought the crowd would be
 dangerous, they were too busy clapping to do the usual
 stage rush.  I just wanted to keep my eye on her, and
 hopefully get a phone number.  As it turns out, I had
 nothing to worry about.

	"Got someplace I could crash tonight?" she
 asked.  Just like that.

	"Sure," I responded.

	My head bartender became assistant manager for
 the night and Ann and I went out the back door.  She
 didn't have a jacket or anything, she just slung her
 guitar on her back like some medieval troubador.  I
 was flushed with excitement although it was freezing
 outside.  Ann refused my offer of a jacket,  and some-
 how she wasn't shivering at all.  

	"You might want to take my jacket," I said. "It
 takes forever to flag down a cab sometimes."

	"Not with me around," she said.  She walked to
 the corner, and I suspected she was going to do one of
 those sexy hitchhiker tricks you see in movies.  Maybe
 flash a little leg or lift her shirt.  Instead, a cab
 was just sitting there, not doing a damn thing.  Ann
 stepped into the cab and I followed.  It turns out the
 guy was finishing his dinner, and we hit him right at
 the right moment.  At the time I just figured Ann was
 lucky, it wasn't till later that I would discover that
 this was normal for her.

	In the elevator to my apartment, she grabbed me
 and kissed me.  Just like that.  I didn't have time to
 be cool or shy. Ann was incredibly strong and pratical-
 ly lifted me off my feet when she dragged me towards
 her.  My lips were buried by her passion; she kissed
 me like she was trying to consume me.  At that moment
 I just wished I knew what the hell I was doing right
 to have such a hot woman sucking my tongue.  

	We entered my small apartment and she immediate-
 ly fell on my couch.  She didn't comment on my clutter,
 which placed higher in my book if possible.  My lips
 were still bruised from the kissing in the elevator;
 tingling from furious passion.  I got her some water
 like she requested, and sat down beside her.  Like
 Psyche,  I wasn't content with the unknown.

	"Where do you come from, I've never seen you
 around before," I asked.

	Like Cupid, Ann dodged the question with faith.
 "Isn't more important that I am here with you now?"

	"Can you at least tell me how you learned to
 play so well?" I asked.  I thought maybe I could open
 her up with questions about her music.  Any artist can
 talk your ear off if you ask about their craft.

	"I did my time," Ann answered.  "All the prac-
 tice in the world though doesn't matter until you find
 the right guitar."

	She pulled her feet under her like a young girl
 and leaned closer towards me like she was going to tell
 a secret.  I might have laughed except she was acting
 very serious.  She placed her guitar between us, and
 holding it just right in the light, she revealed to me
 designs that I hadn't seen on the guitar before.
 Curves that glittered with mettalic accents traced up
 and down the neck of the guitar.  My eye tried to
 follow the intricate patterns but it seemed like the
 lines kept moving.  I wasn't sure if it was made of
 metal or wood,  and there wasn't a jack for a cord but
 I could have sworn she played it electric on some of
 the songs.  The strings were very faint, but I could
 make out that each one was a different color.  I don't
 know much about guitars, but even I could tell that
 this one was a beauty.  

	"Wow," I said, and I meant it.

	"That's what I think too," she said as she set
 the guitar on the coffe table.  

	I was quiet for a moment,  just trying to get
 those swirls out of my head.  While the conversation
 paused,  Ann took the oppurtunity to lean against me
 and kiss me again.  She was softer this time; not
 nearly the same rush that was characteristic of the
 elevator kiss.  I had her in lap by the time she
 finally broke off,  and I had to stop her from unzip-
 ping my pants.

	"Why are we stopping?" she asked, those brown
 eyes destroying my willpower.

	"Ann, we just meet," I said.

	"That's ok," she shrugged, "I kind of like you."

	"Thanks," I said.  "But I guess I like you too
 much to have sex with you right now. I've just met you,
 give me a chance to really appreciate you before we
 make love."

	A frown appeared on her face,  and she no longer
 looked like a young woman but instead a million years
 appeared behind her eyes.  For a brief moment, she was
 very weary in my arms, but like most things about Ann,
 that soon vanished.

	"Well this will be new," she said.  Before I
 could react,  She kicked her legs out on the couch and
 laid her head down on my lap.   Nestling her head on
 the rising bulge in my pants, she turned to me and
 smiled.  Now she was care free again.

	"Tell you what," she said.  "I'll catch some
 sleep, and if you need me, just let me know."

	Just like that, she feel asleep on my lap.  All
 I had to do was sleep sitting up with an attractive
 woman on my lap.  I had never been happier.

	The next week was a whirlwind of romance, laughs
 and long talks.  Like any real romance, it was filled
 with details that are of no interest to those outside
 the relationship.  Besides, they're too personal.  
	