The moment I laid eyes on the woman in the black dress, I
knew I wanted to fuck her.
More than just a Friday night pickup kind of fuck, but
rather something all encompassing, my whole being shaken by the site of her,
hearing her sing like a siren’s song that only drew me towards her – a precarious
moth towards a fire I could not help but singe myself on.
Never felt like this about anybody, and perhaps my thoughts
of undressing her and having my way with her shocked even my sensibilities.
I could not help thinking how it would feel coming up behind
her, letting my tongue taste her neck as my clumsy fingers slowly drew down her
dress top as I cupped her breasts in each hand.
The most painful part was how aloof she seemed, a dark-haired
exotic angel standing there to perform while every man in the audience stared
longingly at her, we all being so insignificant, me, most of all.
The band was always
on tour, taking her to all sorts of exotic places where she had her choice of
any man she wanted, a parade of men in every port.
How could a poor fool like me hope to compete.
Worse, how could I even approach her when the band’s tour
took her to places too remote for me to catch up with.
I only knew I desperately needed to see her again.
I made a point of getting the band’s schedule, trying not to
think too much about the other men who likely trailed behind her, male groupies
who got to do everything I ached to do with her.
I bought tickets to every show I could reach, from Manhattan
to Cape May, and spent hours driving from one to the next, always struck with
the same intense desire, always imagining pushing her down onto a bed in some
motel where I could have my way with her.
After several shows, she took notice of me, and even gave me
a weak, a little uncomfortable smile.
I could only imagine what thoughts went through her head,
what she thought about what I might be thinking, when even she could not have
imagined all I wanted to do, to lick her from head to toe, to press against her
in a rage of hormones, to get as deep inside her as I could possibly go, to
feel her from the inside out.
One of the roadies recognized me, too, from other shows as
well, and when I told him I bought tickets for all the local gigs, he gave me a
back stage pass
“We can’t have one of our biggest fans left out in the crowd,”
he said with a wink, possibly recognizing my symptoms, the intensity of whatever
it I had caught by looking her.
And after one show, I even got up enough nerve to actually
approach her and tell her how much I admire her.
Unfortunately, I spouted too much so I sounded silly even to
myself, and while I didn’t blurt out that I wanted to fuck her brains out, I
said just enough to make it obvious just
how I ached to do it with her.
That’s when, she introduced me to her husband, who played
with the band. He seemed amused, telling her “Looks like you got yourself
another one.”
Meaning my kind came around way too often, and my jealousy
made me wonder how many of them she turned away.
Her husband pated me on the shoulder and told me I ought to
go home. His wife doesn’t sleep with just anyone, especially not anyone as much
a nobody as I am.
Then the band moved
on after that, to a gig, too far remote for me to get there, and it made me
miserable.
My brain constantly regurgitated images of love making, of
the imagined kiss, the taste when sucking on her nipples, the feel of plunging up
between her legs, hearing her moan, feeling her clench when she cummed.
Again, I checked the schedule as to when they will return to
the area and buy a ticket for each performance.
Maybe I was a little angry at her husband, which make me
want to fuck his wife all the more, maybe even letting him watch while I did
it.
Again, when I showed up, the roadie recognized me and again
gave me a back stage pass.
He may have been a little bit malevolent, perhaps disliking
the husband for some reason, maybe jealous that groupies like me were getting
something out of her he could not get for himself.
When I approached her this time, she seemed a little scared,
and yet, seemed also to admire my persistence.
After so long a way, I can’t help but blurt it out.
“I want to fuck you so bad I ache just thinking about it,” I
told her.
When she laughed, I crumbled into ball inside, asking myself,
how I could be so stupid to think that someone like her would even dream of letting
someone like me fuck her.
Then she told her husband, who didn’t laugh. He just had the
band’s bouncers throw me out, and wared me about coming to any more of the
band’s concerts
True to their word, security wouldn’t honor my tickets for
the other performance and the band once again moved out of the area.
By pure coincidence, the band was scheduled to play at a
private charity event in my home town, where I knew the local cops doing
security and they let me into the show.
When her husband saw me, he got furious, but was helpless to get rid of me without creating
a scene at the event.
She saw me, too. But I noticed something odd in her eyes,
something curious, as if she admired my audacity and perhaps was a bit curious
as to what it might be like to grant my wishes.
And then, again, they were gone, beyond where I could follow
I could not believe how much I ached, having merely made love to her in my mind,
recalling that first smile and later the curious look.
I wondered if her husband knew about the other men she’s
had, the irresistible urges she couldn’t resist. Maybe he had her wedding vows,
but I’m sure she found satisfaction in the arms of others.
Only none of those others was me.
It took a long time for the band to come back to our area.
But still I bought the tickets, hoping time may have made
them forget me. Still when went, I dressed up differently.
She recognized me near the front of the stage; but she didn’t
point me out. This time she smiled, a real smile.
Later, she sent to roadie to come get me and bring her to
the changing room.
She stared at me in the mirror, her slanted lips giving me a
curious smile.
“So you want to fuck me?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, watching her rise and turn, making no protest
when I slowly pealed off that black dress of hers, one slow piece of fabric at
a time, kissing her neck, and then her breasts, before I pushed her down onto
the cot in the corner, pushing myself in, the bed creaking under us
I’d never made love like that to anyone before, and maybe,
just maybe it was as good or better than other men she’s had, just one night, a
brief moment in heaven.
That night when I got to have the woman in the black dress.
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