Rajasthani Moon
Page 18
“Stop it,” she whispered, pushing against his rock-hard chest.
Zeke released her with obvious reluctance. “I love her,” he told the audience, eliciting a chorus of hoots and whistles. Aching, hungry and guilt-ridden, Ruby knew he meant every word.
She smoothed the wrinkles from her blouse, noting in passing the tautness of her nipples, and took a deep breath. “Good evening,” she said into the microphone. As always, the amplified sound of her low alto startled her with its depth and richness. “I’m so glad to see you all. I hope you have a great time—that’s why I’m here, to make that happen if I can. Like Zeke says, the blues is in my blood. I can’t get away from it. I just gotta give in and let it out.”
She turned to nod at Zeke and the other musicians. They picked up the intro to Bessie Smith’s famous lament.
“Once I lived the life of a millionaire,
Spending my money, I didn’t care.
I carried my friends out for a good time,
Buyin’ them bootleg liquor, champagne and wine…”
The audience was as silent as a few dozen folks crammed into a low-ceilinged bar could be. Ruby dug deep and let the pain flow out into her song.
“Nobody knows you when you down and out
In my pocket not one penny
And my friends I haven’t any…”
Zeke and Jojo gave her solid backing, keeping it simple and strong to avoid drawing attention away from her vocals. She didn’t need to think—she’d learned this song at ten years old. She could sing it in her sleep.
She wanted to soar, to turn the sorrow in the piece into some kind of revelation, but worry weighed her down. She couldn’t get her mind off the letter. It was from some fancy uptown law firm, scorn hiding behind politeness. We regret to inform you…
She paused to give Zeke and Jojo their solos, blinking hard in a fight against looming tears. The new owner of the building at 127 Fourteenth Street has expressed an intention to not renew the lease. Two years of her sweat and sacrifice, not to mention every penny she owned, down the drain. Please vacate the premises on or before… The owner will be taking possession… Why did she have nothing but bad luck? Didn’t she deserve some happiness for a change? What was she going to do?
Zeke’s chord change signalled the end of their solos. She nearly missed the cue.
“Mmmmm…when you’re down and out…”
Ruby could feel Zeke gazing at her. If she lifted her head, she knew she’d see surprise and concern on his face. And he’d see the wet gleam in her eyes.
Down and out. Her voice wobbled, vibrating with emotion, as they brought the number to a close. The audience screamed its approval. Ruby bowed and tried to smile. She’d beaten the blues before. She wondered if she had the strength to do it again.
As the applause died down, Zeke and his boys struck the first chords of Rock Me Baby. Ruby launched into the rollicking tune, the driving beat automatically making her feel better.
“Rock me baby. I want you to rock me all night long.
Rock me baby, yeah, rock me all night long.
I want you to rock me baby, like my back ain’t got no bone.”
Zeke took up the second verse, giving her a chance to catch her breath. His sexy baritone vibrated deep in her stomach. He always managed to make this song sound so deliciously dirty, especially when they sang it together.
They reached the bridge. Zeke’s guitar wailed like a cat in heat. Ruby scanned the audience. Thirty or forty people at least, clustered around the tables or leaned against the bar. Practically every seat in the place was taken. Men predominated, but there were plenty of women, too. She saw black and white faces, age-grizzled hair and sleek, modern dos, ragged jeans and designer sweatshirts.
Young and old, black and white, rich and poor—everyone moved with the music. Everywhere she looked, her customers swayed to the beat—nodding their heads, shaking their shoulders or tapping their toes. That’s the way it was with the blues. You couldn’t help it.
Except for this one guy, who perched on a barstool pretty close to the stage. He had skin the colour of milky coffee, a shaved head, aquiline features, and wire-frame glasses. He wore the top two buttons of his white business shirt open, the sleeves turned halfway up his forearms and the tails outside his trim jeans. His polished leather shoes looked expensive. The thing that drew Ruby’s attention, though, was his aura of total concentration. One foot on the rung of the stool, he focussed on the band, drinking in the music. His lips pressed together. His hands, decorated with gold rings, lay still on his taut thighs. He wasn’t grooving with the rest of the crowd, but Ruby could tell he was swallowing up every note.
As though he felt the weight of her gaze, the man turned his face towards her. Their eyes connected. His were dark as midnight, deep as a grave.
A bolt of heat flashed through Ruby’s body. She thought she’d melt, right there on stage. Her nipples contracted into rigid peaks. Her pussy, already damp from the effects of Zeke’s teasing, flooded with new moisture.
The man did not smile. His bottomless eyes burrowed into her soul.
Ruby felt an insane impulse to jump down and kneel at his feet. She teetered on her high-heeled boots, dizzy with desire, almost tumbling into the stranger’s lap.
“Everything okay, darlin’?”
Zeke’s whisper pulled her back from the brink. She sent him a quick, grateful smile as they joined their voices in the final verse.
“Yeah, rock me pretty baby, baby rock me slow
Want you to rock me baby, till I don’t want no more.”
When she looked up, after their bows, the stranger was clapping along with everyone else. What was that all about? Ruby wondered as she introduced the first guest who’d signed up for the open mic. Never felt anything like that before. As she left the stage and headed for the ladies’, she didn’t allow her gaze to stray in the stranger’s direction, but that didn’t help. She knew his eyes were following her every step of the way.
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About the Author
I became addicted to words at an early age. I began reading when I was four. I wrote my first story at five years old and my first poem at seven. Since then, I’ve written plays, tutorials, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred-page dissertation and, of course, erotica. I’m the author of four erotic novels and two short story collections. I also edited the groundbreaking anthology Sacred Exchange, which explores the spiritual aspects of BDSM relationships, and the massive collection Cream: The Best of the Erotic Readers and Writers Association. My short stories have appeared in more than two dozen print collections edited by erotica luminaries such as M. Christian, Maxim Jakubowski, Mitzi Szereto, Rachel Kramer Bussel and Alison Tyler.
My lifelong interests in sex and the written word became serendipitously entwined about a decade ago when I read my first Black Lace book by Portia da Costa. Her work inspired me to take my fantasies out of the closet (and the private email files) and expose them to the world. The rest, as they say, is history (although, granted, no more than a minor footnote!).
I’ve always loved travelling—my husband seduced me in a Burmese restaurant by telling me tales of his foreign adventures. Since then I have visited every continent except Australia, although I still have a long travel wish list. Currently I live with him and our two exceptional felines in Southeast Asia, where I pursue an alternative career that is completely unrelated to my creative writing.
Email: lisabet@lisabetsarai.com
Lisabet loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.
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