My Funny Valentine Ch 02

Chapter Two

Valentine's Day Gets Happier

A great dinner featuring incredible food and easygoing conversations, most of them with fellow couples celebrating love day, Jill surprising me with her ease of conversation with these strangers, became followed by an amazing concert.

McCoy Tyner, John Coltrane's pianist during the sixties, had been playing solo at that time. So it surprised me that he was joined by a tenor saxophone and flute player and an upright bassist. No drums. Both were young and, as far as I knew, relatively unknown but of course excellent. I understood immediately why when they started the set with "My Funny Valentine," and followed with "Embraceable You." Each song, as Tyner's songs usually did, lasted over a half hour. And then, surprise of surprises, they played my favorite Coltrane song, and at least a top five favorite of any musician's, "A Love Supreme." Wow!

That lasted nearly an hour, and as it ended with Tyner banging away at his piano, the other musicians retreated. He shifted into another song, the banging which had become more and more physical became a true assault, and those fifths he often used started creating a new sound. The piano began to reverberate with a tone beyond the ringing tones of the inner piano strings, and his key strikes began to harmonize with it. It absolutely floored me. It's as if all of his career spanning twenty years had brought him to this. I became mesmerized for over an hour until he lifted his hands and the piano rippled out its last reverberations. I stood and clapped with the rest of the audience until he silenced us and invited the two others back and they played another love song, unknown to me, but sweet and quiet and relatively short. A quieter but no less appreciative applause followed, allowing him to end the concert with graceful satisfaction.

"Did you like it?" I asked Jill, catching my breath.

"It was...powerful," she said indecisively. "I loved the beginning, but the last half was...I wasn't sure what I was hearing. But Joe?"

"Yes?" I asked, lifting her to her feet with her hand in my hand.

"I loved how much you loved it."

I didn't know what to say. No woman had ever said anything so...loving to me before. Just briefly I imagined Monica's reaction. I figured she'd change the subject to "Let's go to the club and dance," or something at best. At worst she'd have whined, "What the fuck was that?"

I fell instantly in love. I embraced Jill, lifting her into my arms so our lips could meet straight on instead of me bowing low. The kiss lasted longer than the Village Vanguard staff appreciated, but we didn't care. I felt the heat of her sex pressed at my belly as my hands grasped her taut buttocks and pressed her into me. Cheeks got wet from the energetic tongue play. When it finally ended with a tap on my shoulder, I'm sure she felt my heat and hardness against her as she slowly slid down onto the two inch high heels of her sexy dark red leather boots.

"Sorry," I said to the bouncer before we headed to the coat check. I gave the cute blonde a five spot when she handed me Jill's coat, which I helped her in, and then my coat.

Outside the weather had chilled and the light snow had ended. "Should we catch a cab?" I asked Jill.

"Do you live far?" she asked me, huddled against my body.

"A bit of a ways. Maybe a half hour walk?"

"I don't mind. The air is so clean, so pristine right now," she said. "Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"I suppose you could walk me to the subway."

"I wouldn't leave you there. I'd accompany you home."

"I wouldn't want you to do that," she responded, enmeshing my gloved fingers with hers. "I'd rather walk you home...if that's okay."

I lifted a laugh to the building encroached sky. Looking down into her dark Asian eyes, so adorable, so loving, so hopeful and so unsure, I told her, "It's way more than okay, sweetheart."

"Sweetheart, hunh?" she murmured, her face pressed against my arm.

"The sweetest," I replied with complete honesty. I released my hand from hers and adjusted her scarf to better cover her head and her ears. I knew cold weather, living in the bitter cold Upper Midwest most of my life and knew the scalp lets a lot of internal heat out. "Better?" I asked her. She nodded and re-enmeshed our fingers.

As we walked we talked, our voices echoing off buildings in the relatively quiet streets.

"So you really didn't like the concert?" I asked her.

"No I did. It's true I got off more from the intensity of your enjoyment then directly. I didn't really know how to respond. It was really...visceral."

"It was. Maybe that's why I liked it so much aside from the fact it was completely amazing." We both laughed. "I like my art visceral. It's why Pollack works for me and a lot of avant garde music. I don't really think about it. My gut reacts to it."

"So you're a Jackson Pollock fan?"

"Definitely. And Rothko."

"Maybe you could show me what you see."

"I'd like that."

"I think I would too."

We stopped and kissed.

As we returned to strolling I asked her, "So what can I watch you get amazed at? Fair is fair after all."

"Dance?"

"I like dance. I had a...never mind."

"What?"

"It's not really kosher talking about ex's with a new girlfriend."

"I don't mind," she said. "After all, my roommate is one."

She didn't respond to the girlfriend suggestion except to rub against me a little more as we walked. We shared a chuckle.

"Okay, I had a relationship with a girl in college who was a pretty amazing choreographer. She got me to enjoy modern dance."

"You really liked her."

"I was infatuated to tell you the truth. Obsessed even."

"You still think about her?"

"Sometimes. It's really irrational and stupid and ugly. It takes two to tango as they say and I'm too dense to realize the dance is done. It's a flaw of mine and I hope I've grown out of it. I hope you never see it. If you do, just slug me hard where it hurts."

"I will," she giggled. "So it's happened before?"

"Mostly in high school. I'd moon in front of their homes like it would ever make a difference."

"You flashed your butt at their home?"

"Now that might have made a difference," I replied and we laughed. "No, I got all moody as I passed by their houses a bunch of times hoping to catch them arriving or leaving or something. Like I said, stupid."

"And since college?"

"Never. But I've never really been in love since then, so I don't think it's been tested."

"Not even Monica?"

"Nope. I like her. She's a fun girl. I may have felt close at times. But thinking back I never really got that close, I mean any bonding of the heart or even the mind."

"Just the...genitals."

"Pretty much. We definitely bonded there."

"I heard," said Jill.

"Sorry," I replied.

"Not at all. It helped flesh out my imagination so to speak."

"Are you saying...you fantasized about me?"

"I have...for awhile."

"Since New Years?"

"Let's stop here. I'm hungry," she said as we passed by an all night Ukrainian diner which I happened to love.

"Good idea," I said.

On my recommendation we both ordered French toast which they made out of thick slices of black bread. Heavenly. We drank water. I always thought caffeine lessened my sexual prowess. Perhaps she thought the same.

While waiting to be served we leaned into each other and held hands, bare this time. "You don't remember me, do you?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You remember Sheila? She worked at my publishers?"

"She was the receptionist a couple years ago. We chatted when I delivered manuscripts. We ended up going out. It didn't last. I guess I wasn't who she thought I was or something."

"But you remained friends?"

"Not really except she ended up eating at my restaurant a couple times. We had a couple nice chats. I think the first time her and her girlfriends were heading to the Public for a play. The second time she came alone...and invited me to the New Years Eve party. Wait. I always thought you looked familiar but couldn't place it. You...you were the receptionist before her. I remember. I thought you were cute but incredibly shy, but...I remember you started coming out of your shell. We talked for awhile, didn't we? I think your boss got pissed."

"I think she was more flabbergasted. I always put a brave front for clients, but some cute young man..."

"What did we talk about?" I said, bypassing the complement.

"Chaucer."

"Why the hell did we talk about Chaucer?"

"You were trying to write some kind of epic poem like Chaucer's but with a more arbitrary nature than a bunch of pilgrims, just people heading into Manhattan on a Monday stuck in traffic."

"Right. Never got anywhere with that. You actually made me feel a bit foolish. You had such depth of knowledge and I only skimmed the surface."

"Sorry. For what it's worth, I did think you had some incredible insights, real unique perspectives you don't get from your average Lit major."

"So I've been told," I chuckled. "My professors didn't know what to make of my insights, couldn't quite refute them, so they tore up my complete lack of structure instead."

"Wandering makes for terrible essays but pretty interesting conversations," said Jill squeezing my hand. "There's a lot to be said for that."

"I suppose," I chuckled, "but it does no good at grade time."

"Fuck grades," Jill growled cutely. "Life ain't grades."

"I bet you aced school." She nodded shyly. "So, Sheila..." I reminded her.

"You know she became an editor like me," Jill asked. I nodded. "We're also good buddies."

"So she told you about seeing me."

"Unh-hunh."

"And you asked her to invite me to the party?"

"Unh-hunh."

"I thought she thought I was some kind of jerk."

"She thought you'd rather fuck her ass than get to know her."

"She wanted to try it and so did I."

"I know. You just didn't click. You really didn't want to get to know her all that much."

"Probably not," I admitted. "Girls have accused me of being selfish in bed. I really like getting them off, but maybe I do get lost in it in the end."

"So to speak," she giggled.

It took me a moment but I got it and laughed. "I suppose." Becoming serious, I asked, "So two years? Why me?"

"I never get comfortable with guys, especially cute guys. And I felt so comfortable with you. We clicked."

"Maybe we did. You were flirting?"

"Trying to. Got interrupted."

"So why not invite me yourself."

"I...tried."

"You mean you hovered outside my restaurant like I used to around my obsessions."

"We're two of a kind, Joe."

"I hope so," I said and got a kiss for that. Food arriving slowed down conversation. We dug in and enjoyed. I managed to ask between bites, "So you had me at the party."

"Monica," she only said.

"Did she know?"

Jill shook her head.

"Ruled by my little head again," I sighed. "She's easy to look at, easy to desire, easy to take."

"She's just plain easy," Jill quipped sourly. "I had no chance."

I nodded. "It took you too long to gather up your nerve. She grabbed on quick and held. You must have hated her."

"That's complicated," she said. "I suppose I did, but I hated myself more. Such a fucking coward. I can't really hate her all that long. She's too exuberant. She sweeps you up in her tailwind. We're friends because she's fun and she brings me fun and I guess I bring her down to earth when she needs it, but only when she needs it."

"And you're both quite smart."

"That doesn't hurt," Jill nodded. She dug into the last of her French toast.

"So why so shy, Jill? You're cute and brilliant."

"Later," she said with her mouth full. "That's for morning," she added after she swallowed. The last word hardened my never quite soft cock.

"So what else can you take me to that I can get enthused about through you?" I asked during the two blocks walk to my apartment.

"Ballet?"

"Okay. You got me there. I love the music, but like opera, it's not enough to sustain my interest. Despite the visuals I can't help being put to sleep."

"Then watch me. I'll be riveted. And a gymnastics meet."

"Never been."

"Some people think they're as dull as paint drying. Not me."

"Why not combine both?"

"What do you mean?"

"The Big Apple Circus?"

"Ooh, I've always wanted to go."

"It's a date then."

"Cool."

Her enthusiasm swelled my heart and my cock. Her shell broken, she proved to be an adorable chick.

Her enthusiasm continued as soon as I opened the door to my lowly apartment.

"A bath as soon as you walk in," she exclaimed, albeit quietly. "Let's you know what's important."

"It's in the kitchen," I argued.

"Like I said," she smirked. "Is it clean?"

"You want a bath?"

"I think I need one, Joe," she answered solemnly. It wasn't about getting clean.

"We'll need to get naked."

"Of course," she said nervously.

I pulled her into my arms and made love to her mouth. It calmed her and excited her simultaneously. I broke it.

"Just give me a minute," I said, heading the few steps to the kitchen sink and filling a couple of metal mixing bowls. I placed one on the clunking radiator between the front windows and the other on the one in the bedroom beneath the window to the air shaft. "The heat's fine here if a little high, but it gets dry," I explained. After removing the metal top to the old footed bathtub and setting it aside, I opened the taps and felt the heat until satisfied. Drying my hands I returned to the front room.

I pulled down the shades on the windows and sat in the red velvet loveseat shoved into the front corner of the apartment. I found it abandoned on the street like most of the rest of my furniture. "Come here, sweetheart," I said, patting my lap.

She soon occupied it and we began making love. Both sets of hands kept busy undoing and unwrapping blindly while our lips and tongues explored what turned us on.

My lips moved lower, kissing during the journey her ear and her neck. Her amazing breasts became naked standing sturdy like two large lightly tanned pears, C sized or maybe larger, with impressively long nipples already erect surrounded by wide areolas that could contain a half dollar, a little lighter than the deep brown erections at their center, subtly dotted, further proof of her excitement, with small bumps like uneven goose flesh. My tongue, along with fingers on the other breast, encouraged further engorgement of the areolas before squeezing with lips on one and fingers on the other, her nipples. I kept the pressure gentle and her moan and "Oh Joe," informed me I made the right choice.

Not long after, her breath nearing gasps, hands headed to genitals. Mine felt heat and hers felt hardness. She managed to unbuckle and unsnap and unzip and reach her petite hand through the opening of my jockeys and pull out my man meat.

"Oh God, it's so big," she murmured.

"Thanks," I chuckled. "But you better let me up."

"Why?" she pouted cutely, carefully coveting my purple/gray helmet with her hand.

"I don't want my kitchen floor flooded," I explained.

"Oops," she giggled, hopping off my lap. She giggled some more when my eight inches bounced while I stepped over to the tub and turned off the water.

I knew the source of the giggles because she continued them while she pointed at it, no longer framed by clothing because I quickly removed my pants and jockeys, when I walked back to her. She had taken over my seat and had undone her skirt, about to remove it.

"That's my job," I told her, kneeling in front of her and taking hold of the skirt and pulling it off. Unfortunately her black Danskins served as panty hose. She lifted up to let me roll them off, leaving her only in black silky panties matching in fabric and sexiness her bra. Before removing it as well, I decided to nuzzle what it hid. As I knelt before her, I gazed at her, gazing at perfection.

She could never be described as leggy unlike her much taller roommate who, with her small round butt and b cup breasts, had the build of a runway model. But Jill could have been a model herself, the kind that graced glossy magazines held in one hand by horny adolescents or all heterosexual men. Her legs may have been shorter but were anything but stubby. Thicker than her roommate's, especially at her strong thighs that flowed into her voluptuous butt, they still had grace and definition that made them exquisite. Those butt cheeks had a meatiness to them that could defend well against my passionate hand holds. Like her thighs they suggested great strength and power. And they looked intoxicating when I watched the muscle play whenever she walked in front of me.

Her torso narrowed between hips and chest. Not quite what would be described as hourglass, well developed muscles at her abdomen and lower back kept the middle too thick for that, the curve nevertheless stood out and looked seductive. Part of that curve came from the larger tusch and, perhaps even more, those deliciously full and resilient breasts.

"Wow," I said, sliding my hands up the inside of her magnificent legs, skipping teasingly past her moist pussy to slide along the sides of her torso, ending with them weighing her tits. "Why hide this?"

"Later," she responded as I bent down to finally taste her damp hidden folds. "Ooh," she moaned when my tongue pressed against silk panties, the flavor I craved already found at the saturated gusset. One of my fingers quickly found the place above the crease where women gain the most intense pleasure.

Obviously wanting no barrier to her pleasure, Jill pulled the gusset aside to give me direct access. A narrow slit appeared with a full bush of black soft curls. My tongue had to reach in to find her inner labia. She moaned at my discovery. My finger circled her clit, more pronounced and easier to find than any other I could remember. I stopped the finger's exploration to coat it in saliva before I gingerly placed it directly on the nub.

"Yes," she moaned, revealing her enjoyment of a direct assault. Still, I kept the rubbing gentle there. My tongue and lips however became more aggressive. I swept from bottom to top, reaching deeper with each sweep, sometimes nibbling with lips covered teeth on those hidden labia that became less hidden like her clit with their engorging, sometimes nibbling similarly on her clit while dabbing at it or carving shapes with my tongue tip. My finger pressed higher then, above her clit, before my mouth retreated south again and the finger returned to continue its more and more aggressive rub.

I went lower at the beginning of one sweep, spearing into her little butthole. It brought forth a giggling moan and caused her to begin to writhe as if she wanted to pull away from the attention. The mixed signal made me decide to forgo that particular area for the time being.

But that writhing seemed to kick her into motion. Her undulations maybe did tell me what she wanted or didn't want, because they guided my tongue, directing it upwards.

I felt her tremble around my tongue, a small orgasm I figured. Tasting more of her sweet and pungent nectar, I decided to step up the attention to give her the coup de grace.

My lips gripped her around her clit while my tongue carved steady letters into it while my finger moved inside her seeking the textured g-spot. Once found, I rubbed gently, slowly increasing the friction. Meanwhile my hand not occupied with pussy brought fingers to her nipples, squeezing one and then the other and also bringing more and more pressure to bear.

Her undulations intensified so that my mouth had to ride her motions like riding a bucking bronco. Her moans became higher pitched and quicker with her quickening breath. They took on a word, "Fuck," repeated with greater frequency, louder and yet breathlessly until she squealed "Joe!" She went stiff with her hips lifting her pussy forcefully against my mouth. I licked even harder at her clit while my finger felt rippling of her interior around it. My mouth opened and filled with a stream of liquid pleasure. She shivered a moment and relaxed. Only then did I stop my assault, easing back with a final kiss on her clit, gazing up at her blushing face.