The night would shift with the lulling speeds of the Mississippi on humid evenings in the crescendos of summer; the breeze snaking in heaves and drawls while twining with lace curtains of open half fan windows.
The bartender had passed her a Vieux Carré with a black olive, ready the moment she walked in. She’d been to this particular club quite a few times in her part of town; with its jaunty tunes that had its patrons up and swaying with their partners before they’d downed their 3rd drink. Visiting bands from San Francisco and Chicago, as well as local staples all making their presence known to the high water marks of New Orleans society.
She sashayed her way to her table, her indigo evening gown inlaid with gilded thread that hugged her breasts and ran down her like a vine. The stage man called out the next act but she didn’t catch the name over the murmur in the crowd as she slid into her seat. Plucking some cigarettes from a passing waiter while the soft applause from the audience rolled like rain, she grasped the sight of the trumpet player taking the stage.
His gaze swept the audience and found hers; his green eyes to her blue ones through the gleams of tendrilled smoke caught in the caress of dim lighting and striping what remained of it. Like a parting, riptide of a force that caught everything else up in the mist and left them in the eye of the moment, they saw each other. A moment that stopped them both short. One small dimple played itself out above the tanned line of his jaw before his song. That damned song. They took another moment in each others eyes before he bent over his instrument, putting the horn to his full lips to play.
The sight and sound of him was mesmerizing; his cheshire cat to her Alice, or so it seemed. His embouchure never giving way around the hardline of his cleft chin that was shadowed slightly under the mouthpiece of the horn. It was a slow dappling of a song that played out alone at first, slurring its way across the tables before rising to a held high note that was so soft for a horn player.
The band slid into place behind the end of the measure.
Taking the brass from his lips, he brushed back the fallen waves of his pompadour hair, his arms flexing slightly through the rolled up sleeves of his white shirt. She held her breath, forgetting the cigarette that had dribbled down to ash and the drink slowly turning to dilution. His tall built frame stood straight to face the hush of the club. Looking right at her with those emerald eyes he smirked once more, and sang.
—
When the set was over and the next few acts gave way for late evening dancers, she made her way to the bar for her last drink before calling it a night. She had just about made it to the bar when she noticed him sitting there, grin played out on his face, a bourbon sat next to him as he sipped his drink.
“They told me you have bourbon as a nightcap”, he said with a voice that was just as effortless as when he sang.
“Naturally”, she said as she glanced towards the bartender who gave her a nod. She sidled up to his seat, picked up the glass knocked back a fingers width. No matter how gorgeous or charming this trumpet player appeared, she refused to be put on the back foot.
Returning the glass to the bar she looked him straight in the eyes and felt the heat that ran through her at his gaze. Green to blue, just as when he took the stage.
“That was quite the tune”, she remarked.
“Thank you miss”, he replied in the dark cool of a voice. She noticed that sweat had formed where the shirt met his chest and she could see just how toned and tanned it was through the white cloth. It reminded her of how hot she felt in her gown.
“If you don’t mind miss, I was wondering if I could know your na-”
“I think not”, she interrupted stepping closer to him, putting a hand on his hip and feeling the cut of him there beneath the shirt. He seemed slightly taken aback by this, but regained his composure quickly. “I saw you watching me while you played.” She said. “I wouldn’t have been as successful as I am today without knowing exactly what I want and fast tracking myself to it.” The words were coming out firm and clear and the part of her that wondered why she was doing this was stifled with the want she felt in those green devil eyes. “I have but two questions and don’t dare say another word,” she made clear when he seemed like he was going to interrupt.
The band onstage had launched into the music and the dancers swirled around the club. She leaned in closer, coming in towards his ear like boats to the harbor as the chords of muscle under his shirt grew taught from her grip. The heat between them grew in the closed distance. She could smell the salt of his bronzed skin and sweet birch rising off his stubble. So close to his ear now, she permitted herself to show her desire. Her voice as smoky as the tendriled room, her breasts pressing against him in the exhalation of her almost-whisper.
“Are you coming with me? And are you bringing your brass?”
—
The time between the club and her row house moved in blur. Stepping outside to wave to the car boy to bring the Phaeton round. Not a word passed between driver and passenger as she banked the car onto Dauphine street in the wave of the late summer evening turned morning. A silence that followed them to the garage. They mounted the side staircase past the living room, past the chandelier landing, past the mahogany door to the bedroom.
After putting his trumpet case down next to the wall, she watched him saunter to the dark wood sideboard and pour them both a bourbon; lingering her gaze on his back for a moment. Turning, she removed her earrings in front of the floor to ceiling mirror before opening the windows out onto Dauphine street. The wind rustled the curtains as he came up behind her and placed the bourbon in her hand. They clinked glasses and looked at each other over crystal rims. She set hers down on an inlaid table.
“Will you help me?”, she said, raising her arms above her to lift her auburn hair from her shoulders while turning. There was a soft thud of the glass on the table, the rustling of his shirt sleeves and the heat growing behind her as he reached for the zipper at her back. As he pulled down to reveal her skin to the breeze from the window; her breasts feeling the release in the moment; he caught her off guard by placing a kiss on the nape of her neck. She could feel the stubble slightly graze her and smell that sweet scent of birch. The hairs on her arms raised and she turned to see those emeralds glowing in the streaming moonlight.
She reached up to put her arms around his broad shoulder and they kissed hungrily in the open window; mouths searching each others like a lighthouse gazing out to the storm. The taste of each other growing with their pulses as her dress started to pull from her front and bare her breasts to him. He made to look down but she grabbed the jut of his chin and pulled him back to her mouth. In that fever heat she pulled at his shirt and yanked a button or two free of threading as they both helped to free it from his muscled chest and shoulders. They kissed all the while, not stopping as the speed of the moment gained like a stride. She could feel the divots of hardness on his stomach as she slid her hands to undo his belt; freeing his erection from his trousers.
She grasped at his cock and was surprised by the size of it in her hands. Breath quickening and nipples taut, she pumped him right there in the window, moving up and down the length of him as he moaned into the top of her head. He was getting harder with every stroke, and when she finally tore away to let her dress fall in a pool around her, she could see the fullness of his manhood upright and begging for more of her touch.
Slick with desire but wanting to savor the exploration of him, she licked her ruby lips at the thought of what she would do. Stepping towards him as his legs escaped the last of his trousers, she kissed his shoulders, his copper tanned chest. Grazing her hands along his abs, she traced the hard v trail towards his length before kneeling to the floor.
Taking the base of his member now on full display in her grip, she put the indent at the underside of the head to the flat of her tongue and licked upward, gathering the salty drop that had formed at the head of his cock in a line to the tip of her tongue. His sharp intake of breath coaxing her on as she paused to savor his saltiness with a soft, drawn out murmur.
“I think we ought take our time, don’t you?” she asked. She had no intention of letting him answer. Before he had a chance to shake his head, she took as much of his cock into her mouth as she could.
His groan was deep and she could feel the vibrations cast themselves through his cock to the back of her throat. Her widened mouth worked up and down and down the shaft, rubbing her full lips over the head and sides whenever she popped it out. She dribbled slightly as she did this, wanting the lipstick to spread all over his member and the corners of her mouth. She was making her mark that he was hers for the night. She sucked and moaned and took him as far as her throat would allow and rolled her tongue along the underside of the shaft before coming up for air. She gasped as she looked up at him, meeting his green eyes with her blue ones as his muscled stomach roiled with his breath. Almost in unison with the breeze through the curtains.
They were both panting with the need and want of the moment. She would have continued to explore him more, but he made a soft pulling motion at her arms. Rising to meet him, peppering his sculpted torso with with licks and kisses on her way back up to him, she moaned into his mouth, tongues searching. Pressing against each other, with the full hardness of his desire angled out from her hip, he cupped her ass in his strong hands. His kisses gorged in her neck before pausing to turn, then guide her towards the mirror.
When they stopped, she leaned into him, feeling his chest against the top of her shoulders as she reached up to ruffle the back of his head in her palm. Curling his body forward to kiss her upturned mouth at that slight angle, he paused as he took both her breasts in his hand and rubbed them softly in an upward motion.
“Put your hands on the mirror”, he suddenly and playfully growled into her ear.
She wanted to tell him to keep his mouth shut like she had before; to stay the one with the upper hand. But her want and wet were so great as they gazed at each others reflections. There was no more time to be taken, she decided. Without losing sight of his emerald eyed image, she arched forward and placed her palms on the cool surface.
His hand moved across her ass in the darkness as she continued looking at him. He grasped the side of her hip while leaning into the dimples of her lower back and pressed her in further. Her breasts and cheek pressed against the cool surface of the mirror as her elbows bent. She was the one on full display now as she felt the hardness of his cock between her legs. She moaned and saw her breath fogging on the mirror when he teased at the wet lips of her sex; gliding his member slowly over the moist folds of her womanhood. She couldn’t stand it anymore and he knew, oh he knew it was sweet torture to her.
The pressure of the head of his cock at her entrance as they both gave sweetly sighs when he entered her. *How could he be harder than bef-* she couldn’t complete the thought, it was all too much. He started softly at first, working his way deeper and deeper into her. She moaned as they built up and up reaching heights and breaking them. “Oh god, oh god”, she moaned as her ass backed into his v and thighs.
Momentum building with the breeze, he pumped her and pumped her, faster, and deeper till her ass was slapping against him and the wet from her sex was rolling slightly down her thigh. She couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but moan “oh god, oh god” over and over as the feel of him overtook her senses. His smell, his muscles, his large member thrusting and quivering and filling her up and growing harder with every push and pull while they panted and moaned right there in front of the mirror and open window.
Strong hands shifting to her hips as she pushed up from the mirror. He was pulling her into her, the slapping of his balls against her growing louder and louder as there moans grew. He reached on hand up to shift her hair, then swiftly cupped her chin to stare at her in the mirror as his cock pushed up to that sweetest of places within her.
She could feel the heat rising in her. It was moving and moving and moving with the sweet crescendo they were both rounding towards. She cried out with a shudder as she came; long and hard like a storm. He groaned into her ear as he kept pumping and pumping and moving at her core when she felt the glowing warmth spread through her and fill her up as he came inside her. It was so much she gasped out loud again. They slowed their pace as her upturned kiss caught his with their heaving mouths. His come was sliding out of her with each pulse and stride of his cock within till they settled to enjoy the pace of the aftershocks.
He slid ever so gently out as his come dripped from her. She turned to face him and kissed deeply in the warmth of the room, little trickles of sweat and come forming on her belly from his upturned cock that was still hard.
But she wasn’t finished with him yet. Being on the back foot; being off balance wasn’t something she was used to. The thought came to her as the aftershocks rolled away like the tide. “Now you must return the favor.” she said will a smoky drawl.
He seemed slightly puzzled by this as she sauntered around him towards the duvet, not caring as she dripped on the floor along the way. She laid down, propped her head on the pillows and looking him dead in the eye, she spread her legs, baring her come soaked sex. It was pooling from her onto the duvet as he panted in the darkened moonlight, his jaw working with the realization of what she was asking.
“Return. The favor.” she said now, more commanding and with a raised eyebrow.
His gait towards her was smooth as the moonlight cast shadows over the rippled definition of his form. He stretched himself low over the bed, bringing his face in close between her thighs. She could feel his breath against her sex that was dripping with the both of them; could see his shaped buttocks over the scape of his back. He hesitated for a moment longer. Her breathing quickened and reaching forward to put both hands over the sides of his head, she said in a lusty whisper with a grin in her words, “You need to clean the mess you’ve made.”
Looking up at her over her body, her full breasts, his green eyes glinting with a knowing resolve, he faced the glistening come on her inner thigh and ran his open mouth there. She moaned with the delight, the feeling of owning the night, as he worked his mouth over her thigh, slowly at first, hesitant, but then with vigor; working his way up and gathering each stream of come along the way till he was at the lips of her sex. She could feel the wetness of his seed spread across his cheeks as he lapped at her with a quickened pace, working his tongue and lips about her mons.
The warmth of his mouth spread up through her body as more rivulets dripped into his mouth and onto his face. She was wetter and wetter with the thought and feel of the two of them mixing in his mouth. He worked more and more hungrily; the strong muscles of his mouth formed from honing his embouchure. She cried out when he licked and sucked her clit. A build of heat worked its way through her more and more as his mouth vibrated with moans. The wet of them both was moving all over his face; his chin. He worked and worked and worked her still, swallowing what he had spilt in her till that warmth caught her again and rose her past heights of pleasure as her whole body shuddered with a cry. Moving to her other thigh, he cleaned what was left of him there before moving his whole body up and placing his hips between her thighs.
Oh yes, the whole lower half of his face gleaned with his come in the moonlight as he steadied his cock against her and wetly entered. He was still so, so hard.
He leaned forward and kissed her and the the taste of them both formed in her mouth. The salty and sticky sweet of it all fusing together as he thrust into her. The motion and the taste and the feel of them groaning into each others come filled mouths rising towards heights and finally breaking them in a shattering of the moonfall windowed night.
—
After she had fetched them both a cloth and retrieved and refilled their bourbons, they sat naked smoking cigarettes in a soft silence; just staring at each other across the table. She suddenly remembered the last piece she needed of her evening.
“Play me the song.” she said.
He looked at her over the smoke and the ember lit his face in an orange glow of inhalation. A question seemed to form on his features for a moment, but he knew better than to ask.
“Bring your trumpet over and let me watch you.” She implored him with her eyes, the breeze catching her auburn hair.
He stood in all his nakedness, dashing the cigarette out on the crystal ashtray and walked over towards the wall at the door to the room. She admired his body again as he popped the clasps of the case and assemble his instrument. He strode slowly to the window and turned to face her. She couldn’t help but look at his member before abating her gaze upward and saying, “the one when I first laid eyes on you. The opener. What’s it called?”
He chuckled a bit, relishing the mirth of the moment before noticing her disapproving look. He just shrugged his shoulders and let his dimple show more. Angling the horn towards the open window and Dauphine street below, he leaned into the mouthpiece, and let go the soft, slurred dappling of the opening melody. So soft for a trumpet player. He held that coiling high note at end of those opening measures before dropping it from his full lips. Turning toward her with those devil green eyes shining in the moonlight and Mississippi breeze, he smiled once more, and sang.
It wouldn’t be till years later, at a cafe on a visit to Paris when she would know the name of the tune; the song catching her off guard as the drawl of its melody wafting into the fault lines of memory. The starts and stops and stays of the night would blur in the years between. But he would be as far from her thoughts then as he was from her now; coaxing out the morning and the exodus of summer with his song.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/9kvx5w/blue_romer_mf
Enjoy!