He leaned in slowly, planting a soft kiss on my lips, but not deepening. Saving it for later. I got tingles of anticipation.
“Actually—please don’t hate me—but I kinda sorta told my dad and Dennis and all them that we’d go to the Jazz Club. It is such an exclusive place, and I never get to go—membership only—so I was hoping you wouldn’t mind?”
“You told you mom you were going?”
“Well, my dad, but indirectly my mom, yeah. Is that okay?”
“William, I don’t think she likes me.”
“She does, she just doesn’t know it yet. You need a little more time to grow on her. Like mold.”
His light and playful mood usually made me smile. Right now it was making me grind my teeth. He wasn’t getting the severity of the issue between me and his mom. She was awful. She was making my life hell. It could have been such a wonderful date with William. Instead, it was as bad as getting a tooth pulled as the Novocain was wearing off.
My face must’ve had some of that worry on it, because he continued with, “She doesn’t not like you, Jessica. I think she is still trying to find fault. I think she does like you, but you’re...”
“I’m poor. I get it.”
“Well, middle-class…almost. Young. But anyway, look at you. That dress. Your style. I saw her eyeing your purse. You must have good taste. She probably owns the same one, or most likely doesn’t and wants it. She likes you, I think, but she is trying to protect me, so she still wants to find fault. You are dangerous to her, as you are to me—”
“Don’t start that again,” I interrupted, my heart dropping. It didn’t seem like William was very observant. Either that, or he hadn’t just spent an hour and a half at the same dinner as me.
“—but you won me over,” he finished.
“That's because you have a penis and were desperate to use it.”
“Very funny.”
“Only funny ‘cause it’s true.”
As the car pulled up, Tom and the cobra walked out of the restaurant. I barely stopped myself from squeaking like a mouse and running.
“Are you coming to the club?” Tom asked.
“Jess?” William turned to me.
I really wanted to say no. I really did.
“Sounds great.”
“Great!” Tom said, walking forward to take my arm.
I let him even though I didn’t know what was going on, and followed along mutely as he walked me across the large expanse of red carpet to the waiting car. Once there, he opened the door for me, and as he was handing me in, he said, “Hang in there. You’ll come out on top, I promise! Hard to find fault in perfection, after all.”
My wide eyes watched him smoothly walk away. Well, at least he had seen the drama unfold.
Before I could dwell further, William climbed into the driver’s seat with a smile that lit up his extraordinary eyes. “Hi beautiful. Ready?”
I couldn’t help but smile back. The guy was lucky he was worth it.
“This is a jazz club?” I asked as we drove into the parking lot.
We parked next to a Rolls Royce. I had no idea those cars were still in production.
William put the car in park and turned to me. “You are so beautiful, Jessica.”
My insides heated up. I reached for him, leaning back so his body would have to lean over the stick shift and at least partially cover me.
“Too bad this car is so small. I could really use a quickie,” I said against his lips with a husky voice.
“Hmm.” His lips connected more soundly, opening mine and quickly delving his tongue in. His hand slid up my inner thigh and ducked under the fabric of my dress.
“Oh,” I sighed into his mouth, spreading my legs in anticipation.
His keep deepened, tongue diving in and out, lightly sucking. He backed off a minute, his face flushed, and pried my legs open with his hands before pushing back in toward my lips.
I pushed my butt forward on the chair, making more room. Giving more access. Willing him to hop on and service me. His fingers peeled back my sodden panties and stroked up my slick sex.
I clutched his hair while thrusting my h*ps up, needing him inside me. He complied eagerly, sliding two fingers deep into my core. With his thumb he pressed and moved my clit, continuing to dive his fingers, hitting just the right spot.
I reached over the seat and worked at his pants, leaning against the door now, pulling him as far over as possible.
“No, I’ll be too messy. We’ll do that later,” he panted, jamming his fingers into me with hard thrusts, making my head go light.
“I’ll swallow it.”
He groaned, but shook his head, his fingers working faster. “Later,” he murmured.
I grabbed his neck, smashing his face to mine, then allowing him to get away so he could seek out a nipple. As my dress was moved to the side and strapless bra pulled down, a greedy mouth fastened on my constricted bud, piercing me with pleasure.
I arched up, needing more, and grabbed his wrist, making him go harder now. Ramming into me. Scrubbing at that pleasure spot. Forcing my h*ps to pump upward to meet it. Get it deeper. More inside of me.
I exploded in delight, coming across his palm. His mouth found mine again, the pace slowed, allowing me to come down gently.
Finally he backed off, looking like a man on the edge. I smiled languidly.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to finish you off?” I asked as I trailed a hand between my br**sts.
His haunted eyes watched its progress. In one quick second he was out of the car, pacing. I just shook my head. He tried to play the upstanding young gentleman, but get him worked up and he could hardly walk straight.
After a couple minutes of tucking myself back in and reapplying some lipstick and cover up, William opened my door.
“Yeah, this place is exclusive,” he said with a tight voice.
“Right where we left off, huh? Like a page marker.” I fixed my panties and shimmied my dress back down my legs.
His eyes literally lit on fire as he watched.
“You can’t just pay to join, you have to be pledged,” he continued in a ghostly voice, having a hard time getting himself back online. “They only allow a couple new people in a year. Any more and the whole place has to vote on it. Memberships are actually handed down in families.”
“Is the jazz that good?”
William shrugged. “It’s pretty good. I don’t know much about jazz.
“So it’s not really about the jazz, it’s about the exclusivity.”
He hesitated, a guilty expression crossing his features. He shrugged again, the guilt etching a smile full of mischief. “Busted.”
I laughed, I couldn’t help it. At least he admitted it.
“So you’ve tried to get in and no go,” I surmised, taking his hand to help me out of the low car.
“My parents won’t pledge me. It wouldn’t be fair to my brother or sister. Plus, there are other people that would take the spot over me. But someday I will. Mark my words. I’ll get in.”
“Well, happy days,” I said dryly.
The outside was like a landing strip for aliens—it was that bright. Vegas didn’t have nothing on the giant sign and lit entry way. More red carpet. A Ferrari was being valeted. Snooty people were escorted in.
All I could do was shake my head.
“There you are!” Trudy exclaimed. We thought you’d gotten lost!”
Denise’s stare found, then settled, on me again as we met them in front of the sparkling jazz club.
“I had to fix my shoe,” I said easily, feeling William’s hand interlace with mine.
Tom looked at William closely, then shook his head. The corner of his mouth tugged upward. “C’mon you two, let’s go in.”
Denise and Trudy led the way, followed closely by Tom. Dennis hung back a fraction, checking his watch, holding us up. When he was ready, he fell in beside William and quietly said, “You might wash the lipstick from your face and pull your zipper up, son, before you get too far.”
Oops.
William immediately looked down. His face turned red as his gaze slid to me.
I was a quick study with pants, what could I say?
Dennis clapped him on the back, and, snickering, walked in front of us into the club.
Entering the club was magnificent. It was like a modern version of a 1920's jazz joint. The decor was rich and decadent. There was a jazz band on a large stage. In front was a shiny wooden dance floor, currently with a few dancers making their rounds. There were booths all around made from the finest materials. Even the carpet was so plush I literally sank down into it was I walked. The parts that weren’t carpet was wood paneling made from real wood slates—not that cheap faux wood looking stuff made out of some type of hard plastic or other. The whole place was immaculate and well kept, all colors vibrant and inviting. The place spared no expense, and the patrons probably paid a fortune for the treatment.
Our booth was in the corner on the third level, of which there were four levels and all, separated by only one or two steps. We were able to see the dance floor, but were out of the way of staff and guests on their way up or down. We were handed drink menus, but before I could look at it William ordered us all Champagne and winked at me. Who was I to argue? I smiled inwardly, and probably outwardly now I think of it, at his playful gesture.
"Do you like Jazz?" I heard from beside me.
Of course Denise chose to sit next to me.
“I do, yes.”
"Really? I wouldn't think a young girl such as you would have much experience with jazz. Especially in L.A. I would have thought you'd be more familiar with Pop and Rock music."
You would have thought wrong. So suck it! "I certainly love Pop and Rock. I tend to like a little of everything. I admit that I didn't like jazz for the longest time. But now I have a real appreciation for it. I wouldn’t listen to it in my car or anything, but when I hear masters of their trade playing on stage, I will settle in and listen for as long as they’ll let me.”
“What changed your mind?” she fired back. And while she was probably trying to trap me somehow, everyone else was interested.
“Well, actually, it was one night when I followed a few of my friends into a place called ‘Close Up 2’ in Chicago. I was the only one that didn’t want to go, and so I was ignored. It was kind of small, crowded, loud and a tiny bit dingy, and I was slightly bitter as we sat in a booth, but when the music started up…” I smiled with the memory.
“What?” Trudy asked, leaning in.
“Oh my God, it was out of this world! Four guys walked on stage, laughing and joking, sat around for a minute discussing what they wanted to play, and then just kind of…played. They were just playing off the cuff. I think they were playing for themselves more than the audience, but it was out of this world. Truly the best experience! Ever since that night I’ve sought out great jazz. You don’t find it often, but when you do, it is worth all the hassle of the hunt.”
Trudy was nodding with me. I had a feeling she would start a hunt of her own. For a woman that liked to experience all the good things in life, she surprisingly hadn’t. She probably didn’t have friends like mine that pushed and tricked her into things. Her loss! Except, now she had me. I’d fix her right up.
“And what do you think of this jazz?” Denise continued, a bite to her voice.
William put his hand on my leg, sweat-free. I figured that was a good sign. Hopefully he was finally noticing the scrutiny I had been getting all night.
“Um,” I winced. Trudy laughed at me. “It…ah, it’s…”
“Not an establishment that would employ those which you’ve previously described?” Tom, my savior, helped.
I laughed in relief. “Exactly, Tom. Hit the nail on the head. First of all, your jazz players, the guys on the stage now, all have very nice uniforms. Orderly uniforms. They are all reading sheet music pretty feverishly. They probably are excellent at their instruments, but not so much at playing together, and going one more step, not so much at playing jazz. They don’t show the passion. That is what I always notice most in hard core jazz and blues joints—the musicians feel the music. They create it as they live it—I don’t know. I can’t describe it. I know it when I see it—not even so much when I hear it. But when you see the magic happen, it is really neat.”
Denise nodded curtly once and studied me for a second. It wasn’t the normal stare I’d gotten all night, it was an appraising look, but it freaked me out none-the-less. I just kept waiting for the anvil to drop.
"How about country as a music choice?" she asked next.
"I still haven't locked down an opinion on Country. There are some good songs, and I have heard some fun songs, but I wouldn't go to a concert I don't think. Not yet. Maybe I just haven't heard enough."
"Classical?"
Why was she so interested in my musical tastes? "I like classical. Love it, actually. Probably stems from ballet when I was a kid, but I really like it. I actually need to find a symphony hall around here. Before you ask, for some reason I don't love Opera. I just never got into it. I respect it and the artists, but I haven't been able to sink my teeth in."
"Really?" She seemed genuinely surprised. "It might be like jazz—you just haven't been subjected to the best, so you don't realize you love it quite yet."
Suddenly the clouds parted—she sounded human; like she was talking to an equal instead of her son's date from the other side of the tracks. It didn't last long, however. She must have remembered who she was talking to, gave her son a glance, and turned away to talk to Tom.