A Romance in Pieces

Mala slumped in the chair next to the window, her yellow sundress ridding up her caramel-colored thighs, frowning at the image on the television.

"Bored," she sighed, casting a side-eye to the woman stretched out on the couch across from her. "Entertain me."

"Fuck you," Lucy quipped. "Do I look like Netflix?" She crossed her legs at the ankles, plucking stray threads from her denim shorts and stray hairs from her tank top.

Mala pouted. "So I flew four thousand kilometers to...sit on your couch all weekend? Pretty sure I could have done that at home for free."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Fine. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," Mala shrugged, "something fun? It's your city, you tell me."

Lucy thought for a moment. "Beach?"

"At 9:00 pm? Seems defeatist."

"Baseball game?"

"It started an hour ago. Come on, you're not even trying."

Lucy scowled. She swiped her phone from the coffee table and scrolled through it, not sure what she expected to find. She felt Mala watching, impatient. She closed out of her social media app, intending to switch to another, when her message app icon caught her attention. She tapped it and scrolled up, looking for an earlier text. Her face lifted. "You wanna see a band?"

Mala raised her eyebrows. "Are they good?"

"No idea," Lucy shrugged, "I've never seen them."

"Okay," Mala laughed, "then why the enthusiasm?"

"Remember that guy I told you about?"

Mala shook her head. Then cocked it to the side. Then smiled. "The music store architect?"

"It's his band."

Mala sat up straight, a quizzical look on her face. "And you haven't seen them yet? I thought you said you liked him?"

"I do!" Lucy shrunk into herself. "I'm just...nervous...about it?"

Mala cackled into her hand, trying to control the volume. "So, you sucked him off at the store,

and

you fucked him in his office, but you're

nervous

to see his band. Make it make sense Lucy!"

"I don't know. What if I don't like the music? What if they aren't good? What if he's seeing someone else and she's there too?"

Mala shook her head. "You love all the shit he played at the store, you don't care if they're good because you love the music, and if he has some other chick, fight her! Besides, so what if he's seeing someone else. You're seeing other people, aren't you?"

"Well...yeah," Lucy dithered, "of course I am."

Mala frowned. "You're not seeing anyone else, are you." Lucy didn't respond. Mala rose from her chair, laughing.

"What," Lucy demanded. Mala headed for the guest bedroom.

"Dress up babe," she said, "we're going to see a band!"

....

The night was unusually cool, a crisp breeze pricking at Lucy's skin through the rips in her jeans. She'd initially been unsure about the beanie and the long-sleeved thermal under her yoga tank top, but she appreciated them now.

Mala, on the other hand, seemed unconcerned with the cold. Although appropriate for the club, her mini skirt, knee socks and tee shirt creatively shredded to reveal bits of her white lace bra looked incredibly uncomfortable for the walk from the subway station.

"Aren't you cold," Lucy wondered aloud.

"Freezing," Mala replied. "You told me it was warm here this time of year."

"It is," Lucy protested, "...usually. Hey, at least it's not

raining

."

Mala gave her a look. Lucy shrugged, smugly.

They turned the corner onto Queen Street. The neon signs in the windows of the bars set the street ablaze in a rainbow of garish color. Restaurant patrons crowded their patios, spilling out into the street. And then there was the music. A cacophony of muffled rhythms and melodies assaulted the senses. Genres and tempos and volumes spilled out of bars and restaurants and vehicles, mingling in the middle of the street. Mala stopped, awed, and confused.

"Which one?" She asked. Lucy pointed past the Thai restaurant to the building with the glowing blue sign on a black brick background. A shivering Mala wasted no time working her way through the pedestrian traffic to the burly man with the earpiece at the door, Lucy close behind. They paid the cover and ducked inside.

There was a small area near the door where several patrons spread out their conversations. Beyond that, the room teamed with life. People crushed shoulder to shoulder, laughing, sipping drinks, shouting to be heard by the person next to them.

Mala made a beeline for the bar. Lucy tracked her through the crowd, arriving moments later. These were the only times she appreciated her near 5'-10" frame. She signaled the bartender, who swooped in immediately to collect their order. She laughed at his eagerness but understood when no sooner had the words left their lips, a heavily distorted A-minor chord ripped through the room and the music resumed to the roar of the crowd.

Lucy closed her eyes and lost herself in the moment. The kick drum thumped in her chest, the bass riff rumbling through her core, rattling every organ, rippling every muscle. The growl of the guitar twisted her gut, plucking her tendons, winding her up from the inside out. And the syrupy wail of the solo spilling over top raised the hairs on her arms, sent shivers down her spine, and a twinge through her nethers.

A hand around her wrist snapped her out of her trance. Mala smirked, cutting her eyes. "What if I don't like the music," she sassed, scrunching her face. Lucy barely heard the words, but the tone was unmistakable. She flipped Mala a middle finger. Mala blew her a kiss.

Drinks in hand they weaved their way through the throng toward the stage. Lucy kept her eyes down, butterflies in her stomach. She didn't understand why she was nervous. After everything they'd already done this seemed so trivial. Yet for some reason....

She bumped into Mala stopped in front of her, a lick of whiskey splashing over her fingers. She frowned, but Mala ignored her, nodding toward the stage instead. Lucy looked up, over the heads of three rows of people. Center stage, leaning forward, head back and microphone over her mouth stood a platinum blonde in a short silver dress and knee-high boots with glittering silver buckles. Beside her was Andre.

He hammered the strings of the blue guitar she'd sold him, left hand deftly working the fretboard, his ribbed white tee shirt glowing in the blacklight. It clung to his chest and shoulders, accenting his pecs and the ripples of his triceps. She watched, mesmerized by the lights and the music and his fingers.

The song ended, the crowd erupting. Andre flicked a broken guitar pick into the teeming throng and looked down to grab a new one from the holder on mic stand. Lucy caught his eyes. His eyebrows jumped, mouth rounded, clearly surprised to see her. His fingers fumbled the pick, pinching the holder off the stand to the floor.

The woman in the dress looked over, lips curled in a curious smile. "You okay?" she quipped into the mic.

Andre snatched a pick from the hardwood and nodded to her. "Absolutely," he replied, then launched into the riff kicking off the next song.

Lucy watched. Enthralled. Periodically she would catch him stealing a glance. She would smile and he would look away, pretending he wasn't looking. The third time she made a face and he cracked a big bright smile leading into his guitar solo. If she had been nervous before, she wasn't anymore.

The song ended, and the woman in the dress announced they'd take a break before the second set. Andre slung the guitar off over his shoulder and set it carefully in its stand, then returned to the front edge of the stage. He took a seat at the corner while Lucy worked her way up. Setting her drink down she hopped up and sat beside him, their legs dangling over the edge.

"You made it," he said, shouting over the din of the room. "What do you think?"

"I love it," she gushed, unintentionally. "If you'd told me you guys were good I would have come earlier."

Andre laughed, nudging her with his shoulder. She inhaled sharply, a jolt of electricity zipping through her chest. A delicate hand appeared on Andre's shoulder. The silver dress woman knelt behind them, her lips just inches from his ear.

"You want a drink?" she asked. Andre shook his head.

"Just water, thanks." He pointed beside him. "This is Lucy."

The woman cocked her head, gave Lucy the once over. Lucy stiffened, suddenly self-conscious. "So

you're

Lucy," she said, mischief in her voice. "I've heard soooo much about you."

She winked at Andre, who rolled his eyes. She pushed herself up and headed for the bar.

"That," Andre offered, "is Amanda."

Lucy nodded, remembering his description of her in the music store. "She certainly is the shiniest thing up here." Andre chuckled. As Lucy sipped her drink, Mala shimmied up, a beer bottle in each hand. Lucy pointed a foot in Mala's direction.

"Andre? Mala. Mala? Andre. She's visiting from Vancouver."

"Nice to meet you," Mala chirped, already bordering on inebriated, "I've heard soooo much about you."

Andre raised his eyebrows. Lucy shook her head. A frosty bottle of water appeared on Andre's shoulder. He reached across his chest, taking it from Amanda's hand. Lucy caught Amanda staring intently at Mala. She looked over at her house guest, found a similar expression.

"We're back up in ten," Amanda informed Andre, maintaining her gaze. "I want to do some of the new stuff. I'll tell Zach and Charlotte."

Andre acknowledged her request. She finally turned away, making her way back to the drummer. Lucy turned to Andre, who shrugged. Mala watched Amanda.

"You sticking around?" Andre asked. Lucy nodded emphatically. "Sweet. What are you doing afterward?"

Lucy turned to Mala, who shrugged, throwing back more beer. Andre laughed. "You wanna come by? I live a few blocks from here. We can get some drinks, whatever you want."

Lucy hesitated. Mala didn't. "Sounds great!" she said. "Now, don't waste my buzz on chatter. Play something!" She swirled the remnants in her bottle. "Right after I get another drink."

Mala squeezed her way back to the bar. Andre reached into his pocket and spun a small fob off his sparse key ring, pressing it into Lucy's palm. "When we're finished here I need to help pack up. Go to the end of the block, take a left, then two blocks down on your left. Unit 1202. Let yourselves in, make yourselves comfortable. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Lucy flipped the fob through her fingers, a million thoughts running through her head. Finally, she looked up and smiled. "I'll put it somewhere safe," she said, tucking it into her bra.

Andre laughed, twisting to his feet. "I'll see you in a bit," he said, easing backward toward his guitar. "I'm glad you made it."

....

The second half of the show flew by. Lucy danced, she cheered, she drank a little more; never taking her eyes off the tall dark man with the guitar. Her body wound like a coil, vibrating to the energy of the room; energized by the lights and driven by the music. By the time the last chord faded around 1:30 her muscles trembled, her head was swimming and her pussy was a hot sopping mess.

Dragging Mala behind her Lucy stepped out into the night. The cold air pulled the heat from her cheeks, flush from the sweltering crush of the club. They walked briskly, Lucy nearly skipping and Mala struggling to catch up. Finally, as they neared the entrance to Andre's building, Mala grabbed her by the wrist and wrenched her to a stop.

"What's the hurry?" she demanded. "I am way too drunk to be anything but walking." Lucy didn't answer. But she didn't need to. It was written on her face, and in the way she couldn't stand still. Mala squinted, a smirk forming on her lips. "Wait a minute," she said, looking Lucy over, "are you...."

Lucy cocked her head. "Well you stopped me, so...."

Mala laughed. "So when he gets here you're just gonna...."

Lucy shrugged, coy, the ache between her legs distracting, demanding her attention.

Mala frowned. "Well what am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know. Maybe you'll meet someone between here and the twelfth floor?"

"Oh, very funny," Mala replied, the sarcasm lacing her voice. "You're the worst host, you know that?" Against her protest, Lucy took her by the arm and pulled her into the lobby.

...

The electronic lock on the apartment door retracted and Lucy swung it open. The lights came up on the most archetypal architect's apartments she'd ever seen. Light and spacious, with long clean lines, smooth surfaces and a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows along the far wall. A striking Scandinavian influence flowed through everything from the finishes to the lighting to the style of the chairs and furniture.

"What did you say he did for a living?" Mala marveled, her eyes sweeping across the room.

"Architect?" Lucy replied, gazing up at the ten-foot ceiling.

"Does he own the firm? Because there's no way he could afford this otherwise."

They wandered through the space, touching the shelving and examining the furniture. Lucy came upon a switch near the windows and flipped it. The frosted glass dissolved to clear, the city lights filling the view. She smiled, admiring the quality of the space. Music swelled to fill the room behind her.

She turned to find Mala standing next to what looked like an old tube amplifier, twisting a glowing blue dial on a digital readout beside it. Closing her eyes, she took a few steps back. Dipping a shoulder, she leaned into the music, bending her torso and swaying her hips to the cool deep groove of the bass. Keenly aware of the buzz in her own sex, Lucy drifted toward the kitchen in search of a cooling shot of liquor.

...

At the bottom of her first glass of whiskey the door opened and Andre strode in carrying two guitar bags, followed closely by a chilly-looking Amanda in a stylish white coat. Lucy looked up from the waterfall bar top and smiled, sliding off her stool to meet him. He laughed, leaning the guitars against the wall and pointing to her glass.

"I see you found the whiskey," he said.

"And I made good use of it," she replied, loud enough to be heard over the music. She made a gesture with her finger toward the rest of the room. "You didn't tell me you were rich," she said. Andre rolled his eyes. "No," she pointed, "I've built places like this, I know what they go for."

Andre shook his head. "Yeah, that's not how this went down."

"It's okay," she countered, "I like rich guys too. I don't limit myself to struggling indie musician architects."

Andre laughed. His attention was snagged by the caramel-colored woman near the windows rolling her hips to the rhythm of the song, arms above her head. Lucy followed his eyes, chuckled to herself. Mala caught their gaze. She gave a little wave, before noticing Amanda standing behind them. She lingered on her, before finally breaking away in a twirl toward the city lights."

"Isn't she tired yet?" Andre asked.

"She's like a wind-up toy," Lucy replied. "Once you get her started...."

Andre smiled. "Well I'm glad she had a good time. He plucked at the front of his shirt. "I'm kinda gross right now," he said, "so I'm going to take a quick shower. Amanda's here to pick up some recordings, so she's gonna bounce after that and then we can do whatever you guys want." He tapped her glass. "Pour yourself another drink, I'll be back in five."

Lucy nodded and watched as he vanished around a corner at the far end of the room. His scent lingered in her nostrils. The ache was now almost unbearable. Five minutes? Could she wait that long?

She glanced back toward the bar looking for the whiskey bottle, but it was gone. Frowning, she turned, finding it in Amanda's fist, tipped up to her lips. Gulping her swig, she lowered the bottle, thrusting it toward Lucy with a smile. Rid of it, Amanda shucked her coat and tossed it over the back of a chair. Twisting her hair into a knot she made her way to the stereo, the heels of her boots clicking on the hardwood floor. She dialed the volume up one notch, then danced across the living room toward a swiveling, swaying Mala.

Lucy poured two fingers over the remaining ice in the glass and set the bottle on the bar. Taking a sip, she eyed the corner that had disappeared Andre minutes earlier. She didn't want to wait five minutes. She checked on Mala, who busied herself mirroring Amanda's gyrations an arm's length apart. They wouldn't even notice she was gone. Skirting the back of the couch, Lucy crossed the room and followed Andre's route to the corridor, leaving the dance party behind.

She padded down the wide hallway, her socks silent on the textured gray tiles. She traced her fingers along the walls, undulating over the matte textured striated planks. She passed a door slightly ajar and peeked inside. A rack of electric guitars lined the far wall, amplifiers and recording equipment rounding out the rest of the space. She lingered momentarily, but the faint white noise of running water set her back on mission. The next door opened to an empty bathroom, which meant the last door must be the right one. She eased it open and stepped inside.

The bedroom was clean and spacious, full-height windows comprising the end wall. At the back was another door ajar, this one with a sliver of light spilling out onto the plush carpet. It drew her in like a magnet. One thought racing through her head, she slipped through the opening.

The bathroom tile was dark, and the recessed lights lit the room like a gallery, spotlighting the sinks, bathtub and shower through a wispy mist of steam. Behind the frosted glass of the ample enclosure a dark figure moved about beneath the water raining down from two separate locations in the ceiling. A shiver rippled across her chest and down through her pelvis. She shut the door quietly behind her.

"Hey," she chirped, just loud enough to be heard over the running water.

"Oh, hey," Andre replied, his tone bright. "I guess I should hurry this up, huh."

"No," Lucy offered, "take your time." In one fluid motion she peeled off her tops and set them on the counter next to the sink.

"So," he asked, oblivious to what was happening on the other side of the glass, "what did you think?"

"Would you believe," Lucy answered, stepping out of her jeans, "it's the most fun I've ever had at a concert?" He laughed as she rolled off her socks and underwear, adding them to the heap.

"No," he said finally, "but thank you for the compliment."

She dragged her middle finger through her slit, shooting sparks of pleasure through her sex and a trail of cum up over her mons up to her navel. The warm moist air somehow felt cool over her labia, and plucked her nipples taught in the centers of her breasts. Stepping up to the shower she gripped the handle and opened the door.

Warm water peppered her the moment she stepped inside. Andre whipped around, wiping water from his eyes with one hand, a bar of soap in the other. Lucy shut the door and looked him over. Tiny white soap bubbles clung to his beard, giving it a charming salt and pepper look. His muscles rippled in the specular light, deep shadows defining his pecs and abs. And his cock hung thick between his legs, rousing slowly from its slumber the longer she watched it.

Her pussy buzzing, she tore her eyes away and looked up to find him smiling, but still quiet. He set the soap on the ledge on the back wall and reached out tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with his index finger. She grabbed hold of his wrist, pressing his hand to the side of her face. His smile broadened, eyes tracing her every dip and curve.

"What," she asked, self-conscious again. He brushed his thumb across her lips, pausing before he answered.

"This is the first time I've seen you naked," he said. "I just wanted to...savor it."