Rosemary was anxious. She didn't know why. Her husband Ray, a professor at New Orleans University, was playing tennis. Their four children were spending the weekend with their grandparents. Rose had planned to go to the Jazz Palace. They had an excellent Jazz band, the establishment was clean as a hospital operating room, and Khristian one of the servers was a good friend. Khriatian had reserved a two chaired table in the front of the stage about halfway back.
Rose lived in the suburbs, Spring Valley and took public transportation downtown. She didn't like driving in the stop and go traffic, and she was adverse to paying the exorbitant prices to park. She did enjoy the bus ride because she could read a novel or look at the passing landscape that had changed so much since Hurricane Katrina. The bus stopped at the corner of Bourbon and St. Ann's Streets that was only a half block from the club.
Rose dressed simply but elegantly in three-inch heels, a light beige mid calf skirt, and a lightweight blouse to remain as fresh as possible in the heat and humidity of the city. The blouse was conservative with a high scooped neckline that did nothing to hide her voluptuousness. Her shoulder length brown hair framed a beautiful oval-shaped face with brown eyes and full lips. With her slender figure, few would suspect she was a thirty-five year only mother of four. Her only accessories were a pair of dark green earrings and a circular pendant that matched her earrings. She got to the Jazz Palace early. Khristian greeted Rose with a smile, who led her to the reserved table and took her drink order. When she returned with a glass of Moscato, she sat in the empty chair and began to chat. In fifteen minutes, she talked about work, her family, and a great deal of trivia. Rose listened attentively.
The two women chit-chatted a few more minutes because the band was on a break, and there weren't many customers. It was still early for a Friday night. After a few more minutes, Khriastian leaned forward and whispered, "We have a new drummer, handsome as hell, but a player. I'm sure he'll hit on you before the evening is over."
"I don't believe to a thirty-five-year-old mother of four will be attracted to a much younger male."
"Rosemary, you're exactly what these guys are looking for, a MILF. Do you know what that means?"
"No, I don't. What is a MILF?"
"Mother I'd like to fuck."
"What, you've got to be kidding me."
"No, I'm not. You don't look your age, and you're beautiful and built for pleasure."
"You mean I have large breasts."
"That's only part of it. Your face, your hair and your shape make you a perfect target for these guys. You'll see. I'll be back," she said leaving.
The Jazz band came on to the stage, one following the other. The fifth and last one was a tall black and handsome. He was empty handed which meant he was the drummer. They played TUNE after the each band member was introduced. They were splendid, but their beat and flare of the music was the drummer. He handled the sticks as though he was born with them in his hands, and he played with style and confidence.
Rose relaxed. Enjoying the music, sipped on two glasses of wine, people watched, her eyes almost always returned to the drummer.
They played non-stop until nine.
Khristian brought her a third glass of wine and set down. "Did you like the band?"
"Yes, they're superb. They play the kind of jazz I grew up with." She answered Khristian's question just as they were interrupted.
* * *
"I'm glad to hear that ma'am. I'm Donavon
Reynolds, the drummer, May I join the two of you?"
Rose looked at Khristian.
She crossed her eyes as a signal.
"I'm sorry; I'm about to leave, and Khristand and I have some important business to finish," Rose said smiling up at him.
He stepped back and returned her smile. "Could I at least have your name?" He handed her his card.
"I'm sorry no. I don't give my name to total strangers, but thanks for asking."
"Khristan, would you please introduce us?" He asked looking from Rose to the server.
Mary shook her head negatively.
"I'm sorry. Donavon, but you're too forward. You're rude asking for such information and putting me in an embarrassing position. Would you please leave so we can finish our business?"
He nodded, smiled at Rose. "I'm sorry if you think I'm rude. That was not my intent. I only wanted to introduce myself to the most beautiful women in the club tonight. I hope to have the chance of being accurately presented the next time you come."
"Thank you, Mr. Reynolds, for apologizing and for the compliant. Good-by," She smiled and turned to Khristian.
As he walked away, she observed the pants hugging his narrow hips and well-shaped ass.
Riding the bus home, she thought about the handsome Donavon and decided not to go back for at least a month.
* * *
During the next three weeks, Rosemary took advantage of her not going downtown on Friday nights to make love to her husband.
Ray was deaf, but he could tell when Rose was moaning and groaning during foreplay, and when she had vaginal orgasms. He was a great lover, who was patient during sex, and he used his hands and mouth to keep Rose stimulated for over an hour.
Rose's life was busy with four children with the oldest being thirteen and the youngest seven. Roy took them to school on his way to the University. She had a housemaid, but Rose did all the cooking. Food for six hungry people includes a lot of labor and helping with homework takes a considerable of time, but fun because all of her children were intelligent.
The fourth Friday after her last visit to the Jazz Palace, Rose was preparing to leave so she would be there before the crowds gathered. She decided on a brown khaki skirt with a hemline at mid-calf, and a green blouse she could button to her throat. Brown, four-inch heels, completed her ensemble.
She was more anxious this Friday than four weeks ago because she wasn't going to be able to avoid Donavon Reynolds
The New Orleans weekly news magazine published an article about him, because of his unusual ability and style. The publicity added to the Palace's reputation and attracted larger and larger crowds.
Rose got off the bus at the usual intersection. Walking into the Palace, she unbuttoned the top three buttons of her blouse that revealed a hint of cleavage. A little bit of show wouldn't hurt, she thought as she reached the entrance.
She had called Khristian that she was coming, and her usual table hand a "Reserved Card" on it. Khristian brought her a glass of Sherry as soon as she laid her clutch purse on the table.
"Thank you, Khristian. I wasn't sure there would be a place to sit after seeing the article in the weekly magazine about Donavon."
"It's a good thing you got here early because the tourist might have ignored the reserved sign. All this week we've been at or above capacity. The owner is worried about the Fire Marshall paying us a visit. How have you been doing? I haven't seen you here for several weeks."
"I've been busy with the kids, doing homework and assorted charity work.
