Burt nearly stumbled twice descending the narrow, uneven stone stairway leading to the underground -- literally -- club.
"I'm too old to be here," he grumbled, not for the first time that night.
Giving his name to the unimpressed, mountain of a man guarding the door, he waited while the gatekeeper ran a finger down a clipboard to confirm that, yes, Burt was "on the list." The Hulk motioned to a waitress, and Burt was led to a rectangular table in the back of the dimly lit room. Though in public bars, a prohibition existed against smoking; here, a low tobacco haze hung in the air, languidly drifting around the room like a specter; further obscuring the light.
He seemed to have the only available seats in the house. He sat, and his table still had five empty chairs. The other tables were surrounded by people with affected looks of boredom on their faces, while they waited for the show to begin. Burt ordered a Coke and became one of them. Before his drink arrived, however, three more people were escorted to the table. Introductions were exchanged, and they asked how he knew Jae.
Nearly two years earlier, finding her attractive, Burt had followed the South Korean born singer/songwriter/actress/model after seeing her in a space-based mini-series on cable TV. Surprising him, she followed back, and they began a sporadic correspondence. When she recently suggested they collaborate on a song, he welcomed the opportunity enthusiastically, and accepted her invitation to attend her show in New York City.
The house lights went out, leaving only the makeshift stage illuminated. From the darkness, Jae bounded onto the unsteady wooden platform; the untied combat boots she wore audibly pounding across the surface as she approached the microphone.
Despite the rising heat of the packed room, she wore a black leather jacket over a white t-shirt. Her blue jeans were ripped to shreds, and Burt wondered how they even remained on her body. Jae's short black hair, cut asymmetrically, fell to the right side of her head, the ends just reaching her eyebrow in front, and the top of her ear on the side.
Burt watched and listened as she swayed and danced gracefully, singing a mix of her own songs, and throaty renditions of Blues and Rock classics. When the set ended, Jae left the stage. Moments later, wiping her face with a towel, she appeared beside the table. After greeting her friends, she welcomed Burt. He stood; his heavy 6'3" build dwarfing her petite 5'7".
"You must be Burt," she said, smiling.
"I am," he confirmed.
"Thank you for coming," she said, sticking out her hand to shake his.
"Of course," he replied. "I wouldn't pass up a chance to see you perform."
He waited for her to sit, then took his seat. For several minutes, he listened as Jae and her friends traded stories.
"I'm so happy you agreed to work with me," she said, turning to Burt.
"Your songs don't need my help," he countered. "You're a terrific writer."
"Thank you," she said. "But, I love your poetry, and your erotica, and I really can't wait to see what we can do together."
"I'll give you my best," he assured her.
"I have no doubt," she said.
"What are you looking for?" he asked.
"I want something sexy and unforgettable," she revealed. "Like 'Sexual Healing.'"
"Great song," Burt interjected.
"Something people will want to fuck to," Jae continued. "Though, it has to be clean enough to be played on the radio."
"These days, that's not saying much," he said, after emitting a loud laugh.
"And, will win us a Grammy," she finished, not completely kidding.
"Well, of course," he granted, facetiously. "Otherwise, what's the point?"
She gave him a wink. On stage, the band began tuning their instruments.
"I have to get up there for my second set," she told him.
Bending close, she kissed his cheek; then jumped up, and scampered away. He watched her go. Turning his attention to the others at the table, he found them staring at him.
"She really likes you," one of them, Amelie, said.
"I like her, too," he admitted.
"No," Amelie said. "She really likes you."
Comprehension arrived sluggishly, as Amelie regarded him.
"It's not like that," he protested, suddenly. "We're just going to write together."
"Mmmm, hmmm," she teased.
"Besides, I'm way too old for her, and she probably has a boyfriend... a girlfriend... a significant somebody," he said.
"Jae is only about six years younger than you," Amelie told him. "And, she doesn't care about age."
"Oh..." he said, letting this new information bounce around in his brain as the music started. "I thought she was much younger."
"Do you have a... someone?" Amelie asked.
"Sadly, no," he admitted. "I'm a poet; we're not allowed requited love. It's against the rules."
"I've never heard that," she said.
"Yeah," he insisted. "It's in the manual."
"That must be her problem too," Amelie said, tilting her head toward the stage.
Following several up tempo tunes, Jae announced they were going to slow things down a bit.
"I want to dedicate this next one to my new friend, 'B,'" she cooed into the mic. Burt smiled as the first notes of the Marvin Gaye song he and Jae had discussed filled the air. He couldn't help but sing along -- quietly. While performing, Jae cast several long glances in his direction, though he was sure she couldn't actually see him in the darkness.
When the set ended, Burt checked his watch -- nearly 1:30am. Fifteen minutes later, Jae appeared, carrying her jacket and large bottle of water. Even in the dim light, Burt could see the outline of her areolas through the damp fabric of her shirt. After hanging her jacket on one of the empty chairs, she sat on Burt's lap, sliding her right arm around his shoulders as she settled. Their eyes met and corners of her mouth curved up in a naughty smirk.
"Nice work on that song," he complimented.
"Thank you," she replied, after taking a sip of her drink.
"You should record it," he suggested as his hand traveled across her lower back to rest on her hip.
"I might do that," she declared.
Those at the table talked, losing track of time. Jae's bandmates joined for a while, then left. The conversation carried on as the other customers gradually disappeared. Last call came and went. Finally, the manager arrived to gently urge them out the door.
Escaping the stuffy heat of the club, Burt took a deep breath of cool night air, and he realized just how smoky the bar had been. As they reached the sidewalk, he glanced at his watch -- 4:03am.
"Do you want to work at my place?" Jae asked, donning her jacket, and pulling it closed around her.
"It's late... or early," Burt countered. "I figured you'd be ready to go home and crawl into bed."
"I am," she said, smiling. "But, I'm always jazzed after a gig; lots of energy to burn off, and juices flowing... creative and otherwise."
"I see," he said.
"Come on, poet," Jae goaded, taking his arm. "I won't hurt you."
"How do you know I won't hurt you?" he asked as she tugged at him.
"Well, I've read your stuff, so I know what you're into," she offered.
"A writer is not always his words," Burt pointed out.
They began walking, Jae leaning against him.
"True," she conceded. "But, I think I've got a pretty good idea."
"Hmmm...," he mumbled.
"Besides," she continued, "a little pain is OK."
He feigned a shocked sputtering.
Talking as they strolled, Jae and Burt covered a dozen blocks, and half as many subjects, before she led him to a building that appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. Once inside, he followed her along a corridor to the freight elevator. He slouched against one rickety wooden wall while she closed the gate, pressed 'four,' and then reclined opposite him.
As they rose, their eyes met, and she crooked a finger, beckoning him to her. He shook his head, no more than an inch, and mirrored her gesture.
"Tsk-tsk," she jeered.
She made a show of feigning indifference as she crossed the car to him. When she reached him, however, their waiting ended. Their mouths met, mashing together, as their tongues danced. Jae's arms encircled Burt's neck. His hands on her waist, Burt carefully spun them; switching places with her. Bending slightly, he grabbed Jae's ass, lifted her off her feet, and pinned her to the wall with his body. She moaned as she wrapped her legs around his waist.
The lift halted with a jolt that failed to interrupt their passion. It took another minute before they noticed.
"Is this your floor?" Burt asked, finally, breaking the kiss.
Looking up, Jae reluctantly acknowledged it was. He put her down. She took a moment to straighten her clothes, then opened the gate. With an exaggerated "umf," she rolled aside the heavy metal door. At her invitation, Burt preceded her into a large loft lit by a single lamp. He noted the spare furnishings.
On one end of the space, to his left, he could just make out a kitchen table and a mismatched set of chairs. In the middle, a battered -- he supposed some would describe it as "distressed" -- wooden desk with two low stools, a bright red upholstered couch, and a coffee table whose condition seemed to match that of the desk. And, against the far wall, a mattress lay on the floor, covered with half a dozen pillows and several blankets. There were no curtains covering the windows which made up nearly the entire outside wall of the space.
"Is this your place?" he asked as she joined him.
"Yes," she answered. "I keep it so I have someplace to stay when I'm in town. It's actually cheaper than a hotel room."
He nodded his understanding.
"Minimalist," he deadpanned. "I like it."
"Well, this isn't the most secure neighborhood," she informed him. "So, why keep a lot of stuff here?"
"Gotcha," he conceded.
Jae shrugged off her jacket, and draped it over the back of the couch. While she kicked off her boots, Burt dropped his coat next to hers. Taking off her socks, Jae tossed them in the general direction of her boots, then sauntered toward a doorway near the sleeping area. As she went, she stripped off her t-shirt and dropped it to the floor.
"I'll be right back," she called out, over her shoulder.
"OK," he replied, not knowing what else to say.
His eyes lingered on her bare back. Jae flipped on a light, and closed the door, giving Burt a brief glimpse of her A-cup breasts. He smiled and took a seat on the couch. Hearing her start the shower, he pulled out his cell phone to check email.
"Right back" turned out to be more than 10 minutes. When she emerged, his head rested on the back of the couch, and his eyes were closed.
"Did you fall asleep on me?" she asked.
