When I got back to town I was pretty ill tempered for awhile. In fact, I was a first class asshole.
I went back to my old ways. Screwing every woman I could get my hands on, except the married ones. Probably did a few of those too, they were just smart enough to take their rings off. It made things a little tense in the band.
We were about to fall apart anyway. Two guys were catching grief from the wives about the time they spent away from the family. Another was starting to miss practices and even missed a job. We had backup material and arrangements for four instead of five, but the contract called for five, and we had to take 20% less. It didn’t hurt the ones who showed financially but it did damage our credibility. If you got the reputation of not delivering what you promised, you got fewer jobs. Normally, when things happened and one of us couldn’t make it, we all knew enough guys floating around between bands or in semi retirement to fill the void.
It had been seven weeks since Sandy, and we hadn’t been booked into Scooters’, the club where Sandy had worked and Sammi still did work, so I hadn’t been there.
One night we were playing at a place across town, and had just started a break when Sammi walked in. Walked isn’t an adequate word. Strutted would be more apt. Instead of her trademark shorts, she had on a short clingy black dress that hugged her curves and exposed her long, sexy legs. Every man in the place watched her glide to the table reserved for band members and friends.
She spoke to all the band members pleasantly before turning her attention to me.
“HI, Wiley. Long time no see.”
She leaned over and gave me a deep, long, sensuous kiss. Then she slapped me so hard I felt like my goatee was knocked sideways.
“Get over it. The bitch dumped you. You’re better off.”
Then she handed me a napkin with her number on it in case I had ‘forgotten’ it, blew me a kiss, and strutted right back out.
I called her the next day. We talked but made no plans. Three days later she called to tell me she was off the next day, and what would we be doing?
We went to dinner and a movie, her choice. I didn’t want to be anywhere near a dance club or a bar. It went very well. We took the Mach 1.
I think she loved that car more than she ever loved me. She used every excuse she could think of to get into it.
It was four weeks before she got me into bed. She was sensual, flexible, firm. I don’t think she had an ounce of fat on her. Her breasts were proportional to her body, but they were the firmest I had ever felt. And her nipples, long and slender and very sensitive. I learned quickly if she was stressed or irritated at me or anything all I had to do was get a nipple in my mouth and she instantly relaxed, at least for a little while.
The fact that she had done yoga for years and was double jointed, coupled with the fact I was a certified massage specialist, made for some interesting evenings. Downward facing dog met upward thrusting penis regularly.
I didn’t know how ticklish she was until one night she showed up at the hotel we were playing at and joined me in my room. She had brought our toy box and I had her in light restraints. I had warmed some scented oil and was in the process of painting her whole body with a two inch paintbrush while she screamed at the top of her lungs. I swear, I thought the room was soundproof.
The night manager suggested I cease and desist or find another place to spend the night. I compromised and gagged her. She gurgled and cried, but I got her off three times with just the bristles of the brush against her clit. I think she may have even passed out at one time.
She got her revenge by bringing me to the edge four times in an hour before finally giving me release.
We slowly got comfortable with each other. While asserting her independence, she was a bit possessive and jealous about me. We had to compromise. We realized both our professions were prone to casual liaisons, and not to allow ourselves to be tempted. It worked, I never heard anything bad about her, and she got no negative reports about me. We were progressing nicely.
Several months went by and we grew closer. The roommate that replaced Sandy was kind of unreliable, and when the lease came up she left Sammi hanging.
“What am I gonna do, honey? No way I can afford the apartment by myself, and no one seems to want to share. I’m going to be homeless soon.”
It seemed simple to me.
“Sammi, relax. Move in with me. You’re here most of the time anyway, shit, most of your stuff is already here. Let’s try, if it doesn’t work out I won’t evict you. You can take the other bedroom until you can find a place.”
It took a little adjustment but we soon settled down into domestic semi-bliss. She didn’t like it when we had to travel for the weekend, and I didn’t like it when her schedule kept her away from me.
I gently tried to persuade her to get a regular job and go back to school. She looked around but couldn’t find anything that paid enough to quit the bar.
The band had smoothed out. We replaced the guy with attendance problems. The lead guitarist split from his wife, nothing to do with the band. We were working steadily, life was good.