Leif fell in love with Lynne from the instant he saw her. Singing, almost alone, in a crowded bar, with creamy beige skin, and soft brown hair which she wore shoulder length. There was a different quality to her, almost ethereal. She was a cute, petite black girl, with great legs, and a wonderful ass. But that wasn't what attracted him to her initially. It was her live wire, hot and heavy performance style. He was bowed over by the way she held a crowd of ten people, half of whom were drunk, at her beck and call as though she were playing a 10,000 seat theater.
He was a liberal hippie, with blonde dreadlocked hair and played lead guitar in a heavy metal band. He would hop to different clubs for inspiration, and he hopped to such a club tonight, and there she was. He could learn a bit about audience contact and participation from her. Even though he was lead guitarist, he was shy as hell and he'd often turn his back to the audience to play his best licks. Boy did the band chide him for that.
She also had a marvelous voice. She was clearly a trained singer, and it was wasted on these bozos, sitting around drinking, the men screaming cat calls, because she was pretty and sexy as hell. But, then she did a cover of Fever, and when she sang it, she ran her hands along her crotch as she performed, swinging around the Mic as though it was a stripper's pole. The move, although sexy, wasn't slutty, and he did get the feeling that she was doing this in inspiration to the music, and was covertly, yet not overtly sexual. She was hot, but not a tart.
Still and all, he had to hide his erection under the table at the club. He waited, doggedly, sipping gin and tonic until her set was over. Once it was over, he wanted to make introductions, but she was whisked away. He waited outside the club, by the back door, in the freezing fall evening, trying to make her acquaintance.
Finally, she was coming out of the back door. She looked very shy and small compared to how bold she'd been on stage. Even though she was black, her skin immediately flushed crimson in the night air, because she was pale. Plus she had a chin dimple, which puckered up in the cold. She actually looked like a slightly nerdy little bookworm now that she'd exited the stage, sporting these huge coke bottle glasses and walking arm and arm with an equally nerdy looking cocoa complexioned black woman with a huge afro, who was apparently her friend.
But even in that plaid shirt, and horned rimmed glasses, instead of the black evening dress, she was still a beauty.
He wanted to kiss her, protect her forever, and fuck her silly all at the same time.
None of that made sense, because he didn't know her at all. He waited until she and her friend were coming down the stairs, and he introduced himself, nervously patting his dreadlocks.
"Hey, I'm Leif," he offered, sticking out his hand.
She looked at him, as though to say, "who the hell are you," but she was polite and shy even and did not say that, instead those voluminous eyes in her huge coke bottle glasses looked at him curiously, saying nothing, but he could tell she still was afraid of him.
He couldn't blame her. He was a strange white man with dreadlocks approaching them on a New York street at night.
She looked at his hand. She didn't shake it.
"I.....I was at your show," he added with a Grin, he couldn't help smiling at that cute pale beige skin of hers, flushing, that chin dimple in full effect, and now, starting to sniffle.
