It had been a dreary day and it was a dreary, steamy, rainy night. What few people were out were bundled up in soggy rain gear and scurrying here and there trying to get home or somewhere else dry.
It was that time of year in the fall in a resort town when the summer tourists had gone home and before the snowbirds came back for the winter. In a few weeks daylight savings time would be over but right now, it was still bright daylight at 7:30 in the evening. Many merchants took advantage of the slack season to remodel store areas or revamp merchandise offerings. The locals that were involved in the tourist industry often used this time to send themselves on vacation.
At 10:30 PM the piano bar, which was a part of the Western Prime Beef Restaurant, was still open but the restaurant had served its last meal before 9 and was empty of patrons and closed by 10:20 with only the clean up crew still inside.
During the season, the bar did a thriving business, catering to diners waiting to be seated in the restaurant and then as an after hours pick-up spot and a hang out for high-class prostitutes and singles on the prowl. Now, the door to the restaurant was closed but the door to the parking lot was still open, admitting late night customers.
Inside the dimly lit bar, the bored bartender, with the ever-present apron around his waist, polished drink glasses while he stood watch over the handful of patrons. A slave to custom, he wore a white, long sleeved shirt with a black vest and a black bow tie. The vest only went to accentuate his portly paunch. At the bar sat a casually dressed, 30 something, couple, most likely married from the looks of their body language and conversation. They were arguing over an after dinner glass of wine and paying no attention to the piano. Further down the bar was a drunk, a typical salesman away from home in a sloppy blue pinstriped suit, slouched over his drink and almost asleep. He probably had no other place to go except his hotel on an evening like this so, the barman let him sleep.
In the back, in a secluded booth, a young couple were making out. Her blouse was unbuttoned and her mini skirt was twisted around. His hands were all over her breasts and under her skirt. She leaned her head back against the cushions, opened her legs a little and took pleasure in the feeling of his hands and fingers as he invaded her most intimate spots. He kissed her neck as his index finger slid inside deep in her body. Her hand was just as busy rubbing the bulge in his crotch through the fabric of his trousers. At the rate they were going, they wouldn't last long. The bartender wondered if they would try having sex in the booth.
At a table in the middle of the floor, an older couple, John and Vera, were seated at right angles to the main bar and listening to the soft sounds from the piano, humming along now and then when something they knew came up. The tie John originally wore with the tan blazer was carefully folded up in Vera's purse and her pants suit, although a couple of years old, was still in style. They had also come in from the restaurant, not to wait for the rain to let up, but to listen to the music as they did most Fridays. They liked the style and genre of Tim's music. They had a copy of Tim's only CD, which they played often at home.
The last person in the bar was the piano player, Tim. He loved playing but couldn't make a living at it. He worked selling real estate during the day and played in the bar three nights a week, Thursday, Friday and Saturday from 7 to last call at 11:30 PM. The $200 bucks came in handy but just liked to play and he was pretty good at it. Sometimes he made a few extra bucks in tips but he didn't count on it. He enjoyed it most when he had an audience that related to his music, like the couple at the table.
He was clad, as usual, in black trousers and shoes; a long sleeved white shirt with arm clips and a paisley vest with a matching bow tie. He often wore a "boater" style straw hat but because of the rain tonight it was tucked safely in his closet at home.
The piano its self, a very expensive, "Imperial Mitsubishi" full sized grand, was against the front wall of the barroom, on a small stage and surrounded by another bar. The bar was designed to conform to the shape of the instrument and it was the same height as the piano and the tall barstools would put people on the same eye level as the piano player. Unfortunately tonight, there was no one sitting at this bar.
The outer door opened, admitting a blast of wind driven debris, rain, and an attractive, slender woman in a raincoat carrying an umbrella. Shaking the water from the umbrella she collapsed it and parked it by the door, hoping she would remember it later when she left. She pushed back the hood of the raincoat and took it off, draping it over one of the barstools by the piano. She was a brunette and was wearing a simple black cocktail dress with a minimum of jewelry and black, spiked heel shoes. With the shoes, she was about 5 ft 10 in tall.
She called to the bartender, "Hey, Sam. Fix me a vodka tonic with a touch of lime, please."
Then to Tim as she slid into the seat beside her coat, "Bet you're surprised to see me."
Tim was diddling with a nameless tune. "Sure am, on a night like this."
Sam brought her a drink and a fresh one for Tim. "Here you go Sue, it's good to see you, this one is on the house. You'll have to come to the bar and get the next one." He returned to his nameless duties behind the polished mahogany bar.
Sue turned her attention to Tim, "How's it going?"
"Pretty slow. It's this monotonous weather. There haven't been 15 people in all night long. If it wasn't for John and Vera I think I would have packed it in by now."
"Yeah, I know. I would have gone straight home if I wasn't so bored. Play me something nice, something John and Vera would like."
Tim started "Blue Moon" and Sue began to croon the lyrics in a very soft but pure alto register. Her voice was so low it was unlikely any one other than Tim could hear her. Vera had her head on John's shoulder and both of them were dreamy eyed as they hummed along with the song.
One tune followed another until about 11 pm, the young couple from the back booth lurched by the piano on the way to the parking lot. His shirttail was out of his slacks and her entire demeanor was disheveled. She was hanging around his neck and there was a large wet spot in the back on her mini skirt. He still had the lump in his trousers. He was very agitated and in a hurry to get her to his car.
Sue smiled and said to Tim, "Sam shouldn't allow that and should have put a stop to it in here."
Tim's fingers were drifting over the keys, just touching one now and then. "Not really much he can do unless they really get vulgar or there is a complaint. Anyway, they are gone now so no problem."
Sue was watching the departing couple over her shoulder. "I'll bet they are going to do it in his car, right there in the parking lot."
Tim let it die and started a soft country song, "The Tennessee Waltz" and Sue sang, just loud enough for Tim to hear. He progressed on through tune after tune until Sam proclaimed "Last Call." To Sam's relief, the drunk left without an argument and John and Vera drank up and began putting their rain gear on. They bid Tim and Sue goodbye and were gone in just a couple of minutes after depositing a five-dollar bill in Tim's tip brandy snifter.
Sue stood up and began putting her raincoat on. She looked at Tim and said "Well?"
