She fiddled furiously along the highest notes of her fiddle as the drums and saxophone kicked in behind her to support the tone. She angled her chin to brilliantly smile at the gathering crowd while striving to maintain a firm grip on her violin. An old lady with chickory coffee from the left, an eager young man staring at her legs and compressed breasts from the right, and a schoolgirl from the front flitted in in turn to drop bills and coins into the saxophone case sitting on the knarled and broken sidewalk in front of them.
Keira loved Royal, almost as much as she loved Chartres near Canal. The tourists were numerous and drawn to the antiques and odds-and-ends shops and were curious enough to hear her little band's antics in jazz and folk festivities. New Orleans drew the down-and-out, the vagabonds with no remembered family, the drunkards, the starving artists who felt their starvation worse than their art, and the cocksure poets. And NOLA drew Keira.
Never having the grades to pursue Julliard, her long years of committed violin practice urged as a command by her Asian home led in time to a love for her craft and her music that called her to a small, private music conservatory in Oregon. Far enough from her rigid upbringing in San Fransisco's Chinatown, she dared to venture forward from Tchiakovsky and Mozart into the realm of her own vibe - jazz and American folk.
Keira put her soul and body into her music. Her body made the most influence, she knew, on her audio tone and, perhaps most importantly, on the tips and CD sales her band lived by, on her audience attendance. While no supermodel for sure, Keira was certainly an item, at least for the casual devotee of the female form. An oval, softly chiseled asian face, long, delicate neck, larger breasts than perhaps fit for her slender frame, lightly tanned arms and long, soft legs, which were thin yet curved in all the right places, tight ass that held a miniskirt well although fit nicely into the tight jeans she more often wore.
She and the three guys rose, waved and smiled to the crowd, and while one of the guys sat to watch over their instruments, the three others headed off to lunch. Keira had had a short fling back in school with the drummer, who had stayed to watch the instruments, but although she had wanted their relationship to continue, he was convinced that beyond a casual interest, he could see or want no long-term relationship. She had no idea why! But they had agreed to live on as friends and bandmates.
"Good crowd today," Solomon skipped a step along Royal as they made their way toward Bourbon Street.
"Yeah, I think one of the antique shops down closer to Chartres is closing and selling off their stuff kinda cheap," Roger pointed down. During their long music sessions, they had little time to talk and Keira always found it funny how they had all sorts of random niceties to put out during lunch and dinner.
"Cheap is a relative term," she mused. "Same Juice, guys?"
They agreed and the four sauntered into a drink/smoothie bar where they often grabbed a cheap sandwich and fruity drink diced with a shot of vodka. In the past few weeks, Keira had upped her dose to two shots. Made the afternoon session go smoother, she reasoned.
They filled out their drinks and chatted on nothingness waiting on line for the register. It was a long snaking line and Keira made friendly nods to the tourists and French Quarter stalwarts as they passed each other, she had seen several before.
But one was new to her. A bit taller than Keira, this girl had a full although slender build, waving brown/reddish hair, wide open and eager greenish eyes, and soft pale skin with a scattered - adorable!! - freckle. Keira almost felt compelled against her better judgement to take a quick stare along this newbie's full, pouting, well-tipped breasts held in by a low neckline and the softest, long white legs she had ever seen. As they passed, they inadvertently locked eyes momentarily until Keira forcefully dragged her eyes away to a random poster on the wall. As she looked back toward her bandmate Roger on the line, she again couldn't resist the ropes pulling her fine eyes back in the direction of this unknown girl ... who also slowly turned to look back into the eager inquisitive Asian eyes of Keira.
They paid for their drinks and walked out, Keira beginning to follow the men back toward their post. "Oh!" Keira murmured, I forgot something this morning back at my shack, you guys go ahead and let Jim go get his grub. I'll be there in a minute." Without waiting for their reply, she turned quickly on her heels ... and headed right back to the juice shop.
She concealed herself around the corner and stared at the door. This was so weird for her, she kept shouting at herself in her head. But she couldn't help herself.
The mystery girl trotted out down the stone steps carrying her large plastic cup of mashed fruitiness. Keira let her get some distance and then followed. Down Bienville to Decatur, took a left, then into a small clothing boutique. A couple moments later Keira, hardly thinking, climbed into the store herself.
On the surface, Keira maintained an upright, almost conservative posture, remarkable given her day job as a street performer in NOLA. She had dated several guys, was even on the cusp of engagement once back in Oregon, and if anyone had even suggested alternative interests to her, she merely laughed it off. A friend in school used to theorize, half-jokingly and half-seriously, that all girls had secret lesbian tendencies bottled up inside their beautiful breasts. Keira used to mock her idea, sure it at least didn't apply to Keira herself.
As she walked into that clothing boutique, she wasn't so sure anymore.
The taller brunette/redhead was behind the counter!! She works here!! Why have I never seen her?!
After a customer paid, Keira walked slowly but firmly up to the counter.
The other girl grinned at her and extended her hand to shake Keira's. "Enjoy your juice, young lady?" she asked and then giggled. "I go to that juice bar every day, first time I run into-" she paused and stared for another second into Keira's surprised eyes, "something so interesting." She smiled broadly.
"I'm Keira."
"I'm Anna."
A managerial fellow in a prim suit walked out from the back room and the girl behind the counter quickly picked up some necklaces and started to show them to Keira. Anna watched him as he left into the next room.
"Tonight, 9:30, pizza spot on Canal and Royal."
Keira looked down at her shoes and then back up at Anna. "A better introduction," she whispered, "I can't wait."
The afternoon session couldn't go quickly enough. A few jazz medleys where the saxophone took solo stage and Keira didn't mind at all providing some harmony and almost-counterpoint in the background. She tried and tried to make her friendly, pretty smiles at the small crowd around them, but her mind was elsewhere.
Per Keira's suggestion, they called their evening session short at about 8 and each headed off to his or her own little apartment, two of the guys doing so together hand-in-hand.
Keira rushed back to the tiny apartment she shared on Iberville with one of the nearby hotel clerks. Throwing down her violin case and clothes into the same little closet, she rushed into the shower. For some odd reason, warm water always came out of their pipes without delay and she eagerly started cleaning off the sweat that built up on a warm day with a violin under your chin. She thought about Anna. Who was she? Where from? As she thought about this stranger more, her hands crept down closer and closer to her wet pussy. Soap bubbles, soft, reaching lower and lower, her delicate, long fingers stroked left, then right, up toward her navel, down to her vagina. Stroked, and stroked, thought more of Anna, how she looked in the juice bar, stroked gently, walking on her lithe, long legs down the street, giggling behind the shop counter - her fingers penetrated deeper into her pussy with each stroke until ... clean ... soft ... wet ... deeper finger pokes ... Keira gasped to the ceiling with the exquisite orgasm, quietly letting out the faintest scream.
Although her general inclination had always been to dress stylish but not overly flashy or suggestive for a first date, this time Keira wore a smirk on her face as she donned her low-cut pink shirt, tight jean miniskirt, dark sheer stockings, and medium-high pink heels to head out toward the pizza spot on Canal. As she walked in, she smiled at seeing Anna already comfortably seated with a beer pitcher in front of her. The taller girl rose with her arms raised in a double-handed wave as she greeted Keira with a friendly hug and kisses on the cheeks.
"So glad you came, Keira! Lookin' great, girl!"
"Thank you, good to see you too." Anna had almost oddly dressed the way Keira used to for first dates - red t-shirt and tight jeans. The denim shaped her long legs so well, the shirt fondly nestled upward her generous breasts. Keira marveled at her pale, reddish cheeks.
"So, Keira you are! Where you from, kid? I'm pretty sure I once dropped a couple quarters in your music case walking by, doubt you remember me, was kind of a big crowd-"
"That day, at least," Keira laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "Sometimes we're almost sitting out there playing to stray dogs and cats! You saw us on a good day?"
"Must have been. Y'all sounded real good, you play violin, right?"
"Ah!! You remember?!"
"Pepperoni good?" Keira nodded and patted her hungry tummy. Anna pointed at the bartender and nodded for her regular. "Hard to forget the pretty sexy Asian girl sitting out there with all those big bearded guys, eh?" Keira took a long swig at the glass of beer Anna had poured for her and they stared at each other silently for a moment, pleasant and relaxed smiles on their faces. "Think I would have dropped quarters into your case even if you weren't playing at all."
"I'm from San Fran, how about you?"
"Eastern Tennessee, nowhere land!"
