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.