The Friday night gig had come on pretty quickly. Another band was unable to play, and we were asked to fill in. Joe, our drummer, had accepted the gig on such short notice because he thought it would be fun.
I was looking forward to having a quiet evening at home, having seen very few of them since we had formed “The Persuaders” about six months earlier. Our brand of blues-rock went over very well in the college town we all worked in. It seemed we played in town three out of four weekends a month, with the fourth weekend spent out of town playing other college towns and bigger cities.
“The Persuaders” had started as an excuse to get free beer and meet women, but we had soon developed quite a following. None of us held any illusions of a musical career, and my singing and harmonica playing certainly wasn’t fit for the next level, but we had a lot of fun. And since we did meet our share of women, all of us considered the band a success.
I picked Joe up at his apartment since I had the least amount of gear to take to the gig. Joe’s drum kit fit easily into the cargo area of my Subaru, while my microphones and harp case almost fit in the glove compartment. We arrived at our location, a coffee shop across the street from campus that often closed to allow private parties. I helped Joe with his gear.
“So what’s this party, anyway?” I asked, holding the front door open so Joe could bring his bass drum in.
“I was wondering when you’d ask.” Joe replied. “It’s the Deltas’ annual ‘Boxers and Teddies’ party.”
The ‘Boxers and Teddies’ party was an annual tradition. In the dead of winter, the Deltas would rent out a location, hire a band, have lots of beer on hand and invite only the finest young sorority girls. What made this different than other frat parties was the dress code, boxers for the men, teddies and other undergarments for the young ladies.
“God bless this weather!” Apparently the snow and cold had kept the original band from appearing.”
“I thought you’d like it.” Joe replied.
We continued unloading my car. Eventually the rest of the band showed up. We finished our set up by 7pm and tore through a couple of tunes to warm up. A few minor adjustments to the set up had us ready by 7:30 for the 8 o’clock show.
“So guys,” I asked as we all grabbed a pre-show beer, “who’s wearing boxers?”
“No, no, no,” Ted, our lead guitarist answered, “that’s only for the customers. We stay completely clothed.”
The rest of the band murmured agreement.
“Come on, guys” I dropped my jeans to the floor and took off my shirt, “It’ll be fun!”
“You’re fuckin’ crazy, man!” Ted exclaimed.
“Whatever, man,” I feigned disappointment, “let’s just have a kickass show!”
The doors opened at eight, the guys seemed a lot more eager to show to this party than the ladies were. Being cold outside, most folks came to the party clothed, then undressed in the restroom. A few intrepid souls came wearing only underwear under their long coats. To my way of thinking, this seemed much more in keeping with the spirit of the party.
By about 9:30, the little coffeehouse was packed. . Ted was tearing into an extended solo break so I was sort of standing on the side of the stage. It was during this time that she arrived. She had red hair just past her shoulders and came in out of the cold wearing a long gray coat that went all the way down to her ankles. A pair of sexy red pumps adorned her feet.
She took off her coat to hang it in the racks by the doorway. She was breathtaking in her red satin corset with attached garters. Her garters held up black seemed stockings. A tiny matching pair of panties completed the ensemble. I marveled at her large round breasts, the tops of which were nearly popping out of the top of her lingerie.
“Dude!” I felt Ted kick at the back of my calf. Shit, I had missed my cue!
I jumped in to the final verse of the song, singing with renewed passion, there was someone here I definitely wanted to impress. We finished up and went on to the last song of the first set, a slow, ballad originally performed by Delbert McClinton. When we first started performing, I’d had trouble with ballads. I just didn’t handle emotional material well. Joe had suggested singing to one person, so I would normally pick out one woman and sing to her, forgetting the rest of the crowd as much as possible. I knew who I was picking tonight.
She was at the counter getting a beer when the ballad started. Her back was to me, a not altogether unsatisfying view for me, but it didn’t help me with my singing. She turned around and I caught her eye. I sang the whole song for her, to her. She would occasionally avert her gaze seemingly embarrassed. I just smiled and kept singing.
“We’re the Persuaders!” I called out from the stage as the instrumental tag faded. “We’re gonna take a short break, we’ll be right back!”
I headed straight to the counter for a beer. I was about to ask for one when I felt a cold cup of beer on my shirtless back. Startled, I turned around.
“You guys were…..were great!” My redhead had already ordered me a beer.
“Thanks.” I took a sip of my beer; being on stage always took a lot out of me. “We don’t go on for another 20 minutes, would you like to grab a seat?”
She smiled and led me toward one of the few open tables left in the place. “I’m Dave McNaulty,” I said between sips of beer, “I noticed you as soon as you walked in. What’s your name?”
“You don’t remember.” She looked a little disappointed.
I quickly scanned my memory, trying to place her face. “I’m terribly sorry.” I replied. “Should I know you?”
“Two years ago, I interned in your department at the TV station.” She smiled. “Becky Simmons.”
“Rebecca?” She had changed, but, of course, that will happen between a girl’s sophomore and senior years.
“I go by Becky, now.” Her smile widened, at least she wasn’t mad at me. “I got contacts and started wearing my hair down. Actually, I’m surprised you remember me at all. We never worked that close together.”
