Shall We Dance?

It had been a while since a woman made me smile. Sure, I could get laid on a fairly regular basis and did. Musicians, even butt ugly ones, usually can get laid. Something about being up front in a band makes panties wet especially if you can sing or play guitar. I do both, even though I play bass. I didn't always play bass though. I can play the drums and started out playing the guitar but I had an accident on a motorcycle that messed up my hand. I don't have the dexterity to do lead runs so, I moved to the bass. I can still play guitar and do, just not on stage.

It was playing the guitar that got me the last woman I smiled about. It was a festival down in Pt. Aransas or Rockport. It was outdoors. We got there pretty early and set up reasonably fast so, we had time to kill. At the time, I was not interested in running around the festival blowing money and I didn't want to start drinking that early. So, I set up the canopy we used for outdoor gigs, dragged out a lawn chair and broke out an acoustic guitar to play with. Since the canopy was off to the side of the walking path, I figured nobody would pay attention. I was playing a little Willie Nelson, just goofing off, when I heard her speak.

"That's nice. You sing too?"

"I been known to sing a line or two," I said, not even looking around. My back was to her, and I figured she was just passing by and heard me strumming.

"How about 'Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground'?"

"Sure, I know it."

"Play it. Let's hear what you sound like."

"Sure. Let me see here," as I thought a second of the chords needed and began.

"If you had not have fallen

Then I would not have found you

Angel flying too close to the ground"

"How's that?" I asked, turning around to a stunning blonde in a pair of shorts and a bikini top that looked like it was at its stress limit. Her long blonde hair was in a ponytail coming out the back of a ball cap. Her eyes were shielded by a pair of shades and a smile.

"Pretty good. You have a nice voice. Don't you know the leads?"

"Nah... lead guitar is for pretty boys and narcissists. I'm more substance than style," I smiled.

"You play rhythm or bass," she said.

"Give the lady a kewpie doll," I grinned.

"Mind if I sit with you? I didn't mean to bother you but I heard you playing and wanted to listen."

I stood up, giving up my chair. "Here, sit down and hold this. I'll find another one." I immediately went over to my truck and grabbed another chair and went back. Once organized, I grabbed my guitar from her and asked, "What do you want to hear?"

"Finish the song, silly."

"I might get a verse or two crossways, but I'll try. It's not on my song list."

"And I patched up your broken wings

And hung around a while

Trying to keep your spirits up

And your fever down

I knew someday that you would fly away

For love's the greatest healer to be found

So leave me, if you need to

I will still remember

Angel flying too close to the ground"

I threw an attempt to play a little bit of Willie's brilliant lead in and did fairly well, in my opinion. I saw her cringe in a couple of spots, which told me I may have been mistaken.

"Told you I ain't a Lead..."

"You're doing fine," she grinned.

"Fly on, fly on past the speed of sound

I'd rather see you up, than see you down

So leave me, if you need to

I will still remember,

Angel flying too close to the ground.

So leave me, if you need to

I will still remember,

Angel flying too close to the ground."

"Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground" by Willie Nelson ©1981

"I ain't got his voice but I do alright on that one," I said. "His leads are surprisingly complex and that, in my opinion, is why he's as great as he is. Plus, he does them on that ratty ol' acoustic of his which he absolutely loves. Not too many can duplicate it."

"I love him," she said. "That song is special to me." A tear slid down her cheek.

"I'd ask why, but you're upset so, I'll give you time to tell me. Hope I did it justice."

"You did it very well, and I thank you."

"Want to hear something else? I know a few songs here and there."

She smiled, but shook her head. "I don't want to ruin your voice for your gig, which should be starting soon. But maybe we can get a beer after you're done?"

"Sounds like a plan to me. By the way, I'm Jim but my friends call me Jimbo."

"I'm Stella. I'll be waiting for that beer, Jim."

"Aren't we friends, Stella?"

"We're acquaintances, Jim. But trust me, I'm hoping that we become friends this evening."

She winked and walked away with a smile. Damn, she looked great coming and going ...an interesting night was afoot! I got a grin on my face that wouldn't come off with Ajax. The guys saw me walking up to the stage and started hooting and hollering.

"Who's the honey, Jim?" asked Benny.

"Stella. She's nice."

"Seems like it. What's she see in you?"

"Damned if I know, but I sang her a little Willie Nelson and we're getting a beer after our little jam here. Sounds like a promising night to me..."

"Sounds like love to me," joked Benny.

"Nah... maybe a healthy case of lust but love's a long way off, homie."

"She looks kind of familiar, Jim," said Ryan, our keyboard player. "I can't place her but I've seen her somewhere."

"You sure, Ry? Your memory isn't all that good, if I remember."

"Look, names aren't my thing but I don't usually forget faces or figures for that matter. And, that figure isn't easy to forget."

I looked at him, saying, "Very true, my friend. Swings like that belong in a back yard somewhere."

"Well," he said, trying to remember where he saw her, "you keep your radar going, son. I'll remember sooner or later."

Though I kept it in the back of my mind, I let it slide. Ryan had warned me off one gal and it turned out that his facial recognition was good but his name recognition sucked which, made him get his stories all sideways. He confused a gal I was dating with a skank that was constantly on the make which, caused me to drop her like a hot rock. Once I found out the truth, I tried to explain it to her but she wasn't having it. Cost me a little embarrassment but it cost him a face slap and a severe ass chewing. So, I took his warning with a grain of salt.

The gig turned out ok but outdoor gigs aren't usually known for their sound quality. We got a fair crowd for an afternoon spot and it rolled on by. The crowd was happy and so were we. I was especially happy that it was done, since I had a beer to get, as soon as I found Stella. As we finished breaking down, Stella strode up, acting as if she was out of breath.

"Miss the show?"

"No, but I did run back to my truck to get something. Why, you miss me or something?"

"I was a little busy at the time. Working, you know," I grinned.

"How about that beer, Jim?"

"Lead the way, ma'am... this is your area, not mine."

Ryan walked by and quietly whispered, "Be careful, man. I'm telling' you, I have seen her before."

"Stow it... I got this."

We walked away, heading for the beer garden for lack of a better word for it. I got some compliments from folks for our set while getting our beer and we moseyed on outside to a bunch of tables. Quite a few were occupied but we found one empty so, we sat down and chatted.

Stella was 30 years old, divorced with no kids. She said her ex was married to his job which kept him away from home a lot. It didn't keep him away from other women though and she had caught him when he was in town at work. They had been married for about 6 years when she caught him. There were no kids so, they split everything and she moved to Rockport, figuring that living on the shore would make things easier to get over. She bought her a place on the beach, moved in and never looked back. Short and sweet.

I gave her my story, glossing over the oilfield time. Surprisingly, if you told someone you were in the patch, they assumed you had money. Call me cautious but better to surprise them later with having a little change, rather than have them try to weasel it out of you from the start. I told her I was a writer, just starting out. No further explanations given, none asked for. Musician + beginning writer = not wealthy.

It seemed not to bother her. We had a few brews, enjoying our time together. She was a rabid football fan but of the wrong team. I had been a Cowboys fan since I was knee high to a grasshopper but she was a die-hard Texans fan. She liked country music, as did I. We had more commonalities than differences. Once the sun went down, it felt good enough to walk the beach. We walked, talked and had a good time. I just happened to glance at my watch and I saw that it was almost time for the headliner to kick his show off.

"You up for a little show?"

"That's why I'm here, cowboy. Pat Green?"

"Yep, he's about to kick off here in a few minutes. Let's get over there."

We headed back down the beach to the main pavilion to see the show. I didn't tell her that I knew him from many years back. My old band opened for him a couple of times back in the day and he was a great guy to know. Laid back and funny as hell, he was the epitome of a nice guy in a business that wasn't necessarily nice. Hell, I doubt he would remember me but it was nice to hear his band again. Those guys were true pros.

There was definitely a surprise coming, it just wasn't her that got it.

"Pat! How's the family?"

Pat turned around, saw Stella and held his arms out for a hug. "Stella, you're as lovely as ever. How's..."

"History. This is..."

He smiled at me and said, "Jim, you still traipsing around with that band of yours? Why haven't I seen you in the last few?"

"I gave them up during the boom, Mr. Green. I got another one now.

"I told you to call me Pat, man. Mr. Green's my daddy. Good, you make sure I know where y'all are at and if we come through, you better open!"

"I'll make sure to keep you informed, Pat."

"Let me get my ass on stage. Y'all stop by after and we'll drink a beer and tell lies."

I was about to agree when Stella butted in, saying, "Pat, the last time I did that, I damn near missed work the next week. And before you go tellin' tales, don't." She had that don't-you-dare look on her face. The curiosity was killing me, but I got that same look, which I smartly interpreted as don't-ask.

The grin on his face was priceless. "Me? Tell stories out of school? Nooooo...."

She smiled, but that look persisted for some reason. Hmmm, interesting.

Pat turned towards the stage and said, "I got to head out. Jim, make sure I get that info on your new band. Stella, be nice to Jim, he's a good guy. Y'all enjoy the show."

And with that, he was gone.

I glanced at her and noticed a strange look of relief cross her face, replaced with a killer smile for me. She said, "Let's go watch the show."

Pat put on a hell of a show and we had a great time. I made sure to leave him the info on my new band as I knew it just might come in handy for us in the future.

Stella seemed to have a great time dancing to the music and Pat would wink and wave on occasion at her. He did it to lots of the girls around the stage so, I thought nothing of it. Stella however seemed to have a special connection to his band. She waved at all of them and most waved back, except for the drummer. He was polite, with a nod but no other actions. I didn't realize it at the time but he pretty much ignored her. I just thought he was busy drumming.

Either way, I didn't pay attention to the signs given to me. All I thought about was that we had a good time. As the night ended, I asked Stella for her number so, I could call her next time I was in town. I figured since we just met, it was pretty much over for the night.

Boy was I wrong.

Stella had a nice buzz on and her eyes smoldered with hunger. "I'll give it to you on one condition. I work sales so, I have to ask you not to call during the day. Early evening after 7 should be ok, as mostly I am done working by then. If I don't answer, leave me a message."

Again, I didn't think about it at the time but that was weird. "Oilfield sales?"

"Yeah. I don't want to interrupt a talk with a customer. Can you deal with that?"

I really must have had a buzz on or my brain was short circuited because I agreed to it.

"Good. I'll probably call you all the time anyway. Now, let's go."

"Where are we goin'?"

She smiled. It was one of those looks that a shark gives to a fish before eating him in one bite. "You have a choice here. We can go get breakfast or I can cook you breakfast... in the morning."

She ran her fingernail along the edge of the opening of my shirt and the blood rushed to the wrong head for decision making.

Hmmm... tough decision here. Breakfast or sex and breakfast? Duh...

Stella screwed me seven ways from Sunday that night. She was a complete freak. She could suck a basketball through a hundred feet of frozen garden hose, loved me to eat her from stem to stern, and put my cock in every hole she had. She had no more gotten me to dump a load in her pussy, when she spun around and sucked me back to life. Her pussy was nice and sweet to eat and she actually begged me to tongue her ass. I was a naturally horny guy but she made me feel like a choir boy in the sex department. I didn't find a limit in her repertoire but I didn't want to spook her by asking for something kinky. No matter... she told me what she wanted and I gave it to her. She literally begged me to fuck her ass. I did so with a smile and a smack on her ass. She begged for more of both smacks and fucking her ass. She was rosy red cheeked when I finished with her. Unfortunately, I got my brains reduced to mush after four rounds. No amount of that wonderful mouth could get me up again. So she had me finger her to a final orgasm.

I drove home with a grin that you couldn't have removed with dynamite and a belly full of a great breakfast. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

We spent as much time together as possible for two vagabonds. Her sales job had her going all over the state, from way down south to west Texas. She was her company's top grossing sales woman and was paid like it. I didn't care, her money wasn't my main concern.

I was gigging all over South Texas on most weekends and stayed home most of the week. I sold a few stories to a small magazine, nothing that would make me wealthy but made me some decent change. I'd call every week or so, mostly after 7 as she asked. She called much more and at all times.

The problem wasn't money, it was time.

After a couple of months, I began to ask her for a little more time together. Sure, we got together as often as we could manage but she sure was gone... a lot. I knew it would be like this; it was the oilfield, as I well knew. But, I also thought that sales girls didn't work weekends that much, at least in my old company. Yet, I found her gone a lot of weekends.

Stella had a reason for every time I asked about it and her excuses were starting to wear thin. Something smelled fishy.

So, I did some asking around. The company she worked for was a large corporation. Turnover was pretty high, so, I asked some of my old friends in the patch to get me in touch with an ex-sales girl from that company. Sarah, an old friend of my former boss, let me know in no uncertain terms, that many of them did but not full days.

"Some of the girls just hit the rigs on weekends to "manage" their accounts. You know, let the company men know they're still looking for their business. Some, however, tend to take their "management" pretty seriously."

"Oh?" I asked. "How so?"

"Well... it depends on the girl. Some get their company to spring for some food for the rig. Some throw gifts at the company men, such as shirts and hats or bottles of booze. Some, though... they take it to another level entirely."

"I'm listening..."

"Well, your girl Stella? She's a top performer. There's a really good reason for that. She does "whatever" she needs to do to get the jobs. Give you any ideas?"

"Some... I heard about those sales girls but never met one."

"Honey, her accounts are loyal as hell so, nobody will say a thing. But, I know a company man that got divorced from his wife and he said she was the reason. He never explained it to me, even after I screwed his brains out on a date. All he would say was that she was the cause of his divorce. He knew I worked for the same company but, I didn't play that game, and I told him so. He told me, "Good, because you'd lose. She's one of a kind." Again, no explanations and I couldn't pry it out of him with a crowbar."

All the warnings came rolling back into my mind so, I called Ryan.

"Dude, did you ever remember where you saw Stella from?"

"Yeah man, I did. Sure you want to know? I know y'all have been keeping company and I thought I might have imagined it so, I shut up.

"Ry, c'mon. Bros before hoes, man."

"It was in Alice, dude. Remember when we played down there and that group of oilfield folks came rolling in with those three women? Stella was one of them."

I remembered. The "oilfield folks" that Ryan remembered were a couple of company men for a rig that had just finished up and a couple of tool pushers. The girls were dressed to kill and one of them kept making trips to the parking lot with each of the men. I never bothered to look closely, just noticed that the blonde was...

"Oh shit..."

"Sorry, man. I recognized her but thought I was wrong. Lots of blondes out there, man. I've been wrong before..."

"Yeah man... never been right but why'd you have to start now?"

"Sorry I didn't tell you. I thought you might have brought her around, man. She behaved while she was with you and at our gigs that she's been at. I actually kept watch."

"Thanks man. I appreciate the thought."

"What are you going to do?"

"Get the proof and give her walking' papers, if it's true."

I made some calls to some old friends in the patch and found out that I knew one of the company men that she was trying to get in with. He liked the band a lot and for a private show, (I had to basically pay everyone to do it but when they found out why, I got a good deal from them) he let me know when she made a sales call. I got there first and went in to see him.

"Jim, I'll help you out but you got to make damn sure my name stays out of it. Honestly, her company is too high priced for my blood but if she comes down some on it, I might let them do the work. You going to kick her to the curb?"

"If what I think is going to happen happens? Absolutely. She offers, you take it. No problems from me. I should have listened to my guys."

"Look, we're friends. I won't take her up on it if it's going to be a problem, man."

"C'mon Rusty. You been divorced for a while and as ugly as you are, you never get laid" I joked. "She offers; you fuck her until the cows come home. You'll never hear a word out of me and your name stays in the background."

"OK. Hang on a sec, got to drain the lizard."

He walked into his bathroom and as insurance, I hid a tape recorder I brought behind his computer screen. It was digital and would hold up to 6 hours of stuff and was voice activated. His desk looked like a hurricane hit it so, I didn't think he would notice and he didn't. I told him to call me when she was done with her "sales call."

After two hours, Rusty called.

"Dude, this is all I'll say. Wow!"

"She gone, Rusty?"

"Yeah. C'mon back, because I got the goods."

Did he ever. Not only did she drop her price to what he wanted, she got him to sign on with her for her normal price after three jobs. All it cost her was her lips on his cock, a shot of pussy and ass, a promise of a threesome with another sales girl that weekend and a boyfriend. She also got his promise of complete silence which is why he begged me to keep his name out of it. He told me the truth. I verified it by retrieving the tape player while he took a phone call from his daughter.