AUTHOR'S NOTE:
well it's certainly been a while, but as usual life got in the way. I've had this story sitting around for about two years. The character Giselle is based on someone I met, a couple of years ago. It was a brief encounter of about five minutes. She passed on good comments about my work ( I am a professional musician, in case you hadn't worked it out). But she made a large impression on me that I built this fantasy around her. So as ever, the story is a complete fabrication, with true elements in there. I'll leave you to decide which is which.
Hope you enjoy the story and I welcome any nice comments you may have.
***o0o***
For Alex Mann, the evening of Friday 22nd April, 2012 was going to become a significant one. If only for the fact that it was a 20th anniversary in his career as a musician.
He'd been playing the guitar for 30 years, as a professional and in the beginning he'd taken any job he could lay his hands on, which resulted in his performing in a variety of venues, such as ferries from the UK to the continent, private parties, restaurants and bars all over the UK, Europe and Scandinavia. He'd even had tenure in a 60's band, prior to going solo until the untimely death of the lead singer, which resulted in the band going its separate ways.
Now in his late 50's, Alex had slowed a little. Taking jobs that suited him, rather than just for the money. being a musician had brought some benefits, including all the pussy he could handle, especially when he was younger. Now those particular benefits weren't so forthcoming, but he still performed because he enjoyed his job, first and foremost.
One gig that he came back to time and time again was a bar in Germany. He fell in love with the job from the first time he played there. The bar was a fantastic and unique place to perform in. The staff were great to work with and even after so many years, when that staff had turned over a few times, the replacements were just and nice and polite.
This was where he would be celebrating this 20th anniversary, because it was 20 years ago, give or take a couple of months that Alex had walked through the door with his guitar case slung across back. The job had been contracted, so the management were expecting him. The sound system was already installed, which meant all Alex had to do was plug in and play.
The company that owned the bar, owned several restaurants and bars all over the city and three more of them had guitarists and even a piano player in one of them. All four musicians lived on top of each other in an apartment building.
Alex's apartment was functional. Not luxurious in anyway, but comfortable and a haven to return after a busy night. It was also a place to bring women back to, if any came his way. He'd a few dalliances over the years and one or two them had developed in relationships. But they tended to flounder when Alex left town to work elsewhere.
10 years down the line, the company made some changes, after leases were cancelled or not renewed because death. These restaurants closed and most of the staff were absorbed into the other restaurants. The apartments were sold off to a developer who turned into rentals for business people and tourists.
Only Alex's apartment remained. Something he was thankful for.
During his first contract, when he was in his late 20's, Alex had a relationship with his first mature woman. Her name was Katja and she was in her late 40's. The relationship was only to be a month long summer romance, but Alex remembered that she was one of the hottest women he had ever met and boy did she know how to fuck.
10 years later on, Alex could look back on those times with affection and when there was alack of female interest in his life, they provided suitable fantasies for nights when he masturbated.
There was to be another reason why Friday 22nd April, 2012 was going to be significant to Alex, he just didn't know how yet.
***o0o***
The strident ringing of the mobile phone seemed to fill Giselle Hauptner's apartment. Giselle was, at that moment in time, just stepping out of the shower. Dressed only in a towel, wrapped around her voluptuous figure, Giselle padded from the bathroom, to the lounge, leaving wet footprints and puddles in her wake.
She found the phone, where she had left it. Picking it up, she checked the caller ID and saw that it was her friend, Ulrika or Ulli to her friends.
Smiling, Giselle accepted the call.
"Hi Ulli, so nice to hear from you."
Since the death of Giselle's husband, almost fifteen years ago, Giselle and Ulli had an arrangement to meet once a month to go to the theatre, or the ballet or a concert. Whichever caught their fancy.
"Hi Gilli, I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."
Giselle told Ulli that she had just finished showering. She asked Ulli what was the purpose of her call.
"I thought that we could catch the Philharmonic playing a selection from Monteverdi, Handel and Vivaldi at the Opera House tonight. What do you think?"
Then she added, "I have the tickets already."
It wasn't Giselle's ideal night out and she agreed to go on the proviso that there would be a light supper and wine afterwards. Ulli agreed.
After hanging up, Giselle went to her wardrobe. Unwrapping the towel and tossing it onto her bed, Giselle studied her naked self for a few minutes. She would soon be turning 70 years old, but she still had a good body, she thought. Okay, her breasts didn't defy gravity, like they once did, but they still hung in a way that was attractive and the last gentleman who had been lucky enough to find his way across her threshold and given her the fucking she desired, had commented on what a delightful pair of tits she had. Her stomach had spread a little, but a careful diet and regular exercise had slowed the momentum. Below her tummy and above her thighs, a prominent bush of dark public hair grew. She had never shaved, despite what fashion magazines wrote about it. But if she did have a date, she would trim the hair, so that it didn't sprout from between her groin and whatever underwear she was wearing.
She ran her fingertips through the soft dark curls as she debated whether to trim the hedge. Could she be lucky enough to chat up someone in the concert hall? Would she meet someone eligible in whatever restaurant they ended up in afterwards?
She padded into her bathroom and opened the drawer in the vanity unit. She picked up a battery powered hair trimmer. Before switching it on, she checked that the battery was charged and the blades were clean. Satisfied on both counts, Giselle switched on the trimmer and pointed it at her pubic mound. She chuckled as the vibrations from the machine coursed through her body and reminded herself that she would need to use a different vibrating tool afterwards.
After she had trimmed back the hair on her mound, shaping it into a V shape, Giselle decided that she would remove the hair around her pussy lips and anus. She ran some hot water into the sink and grabbed a face flannel. After wetting the flannel, she rubbed over her labia and anus. She smiled as it felt nice to have warm water over those areas. She then picked up a small can of intimate shaving gel and squirted a small amount into her hand, before massaging it into the hair around her pussy. As she rubbed the gel over her labia, she felt moisture that was not from the gel. She was turned on.
She picked up her razor and slowly and gently ran it over her puffy labia, removing the hair from them. Then she squatted into the middle of the bathroom floor and ran the blade from back to front, across her anus and perineum.
Using the flannel again, she washed the remainder of the shaving gel from her vulva and anus, before washing out the the flannel and hanging it up to dry. She emptied the wash basin and made sure she had washed any hair that had been deposited.
She popped the razor into the drinking cup, at the side of the faucet and walked back into the bedroom.
The clock on her nightstand read 17:25, which meant that Ulli wouldn't be arriving for another hour and a half at least.
With a smile on her face, Giselle walked over to the nightstand and pulled open the drawer. Inside was a small selection of pleasure tools at her disposal. She selected a seven inch gold vibrator. She was so horny and wet that there was no need for the bottle of lube that was also in the drawer. She climbed onto her bed and lay down. Giselle switched on her vibrator and began her enjoyment by running its tip over her nipples. She was surprised at how sensitive they were and the sensation she felt ran from her her breasts to her pussy, causing it to moisten more. She ran the vibrator over one breast while she teased and pulled at the nipple on her other breast. Cupping that breast, she pushed it up to her mouth and gently sucked on it.
It felt good, but not as good as when her lover would suck her nipples.
She allowed the vibrator to trail over her abdomen and onwards to her mound. She let it rest at the top of her slit, right over her clitoral hood. A warmth coursed through her body and she felt her pussy moisten even more. She ran the fingers of her free hand over her vulva and discovered that she was soaking wet.
She looked at the wetness on her fingers and popped them into her mouth before sliding the golden love tool in her drenched vagina. It didn't take long for Giselle to feel the unmistakable sensation of her impending orgasm beginning to build.
She slid the middle finger of her free hand over her clitoral hood and coaxed her love button out into the open. Licking her middle finger, she ran lazy circles over her hardening bud, moving faster and faster as her orgasm began to take hold. Suddenly her entire body stiffened and her breathing stopped, momentarily. Tremors ran through her and she let go of her vibrator. Her vaginal muscles squeezed the sex tool and expelled it from her body as she rubbed and tweaked her clitoris. Her moans became louder as her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave.
Slowly, as her orgasm subsided, Giselle regained her composure and began to breath again.
"God, that was intense," she whispered, breathlessly to herself.
***o0o***
Alex checked his watch. It read 21:15. Time for his second set. His first set was always a collection of obscure and not so well known instrumentals, that he had been playing for almost 30 years. Some of his friends and colleagues had criticised him for not updating his set. But Alex argued that in most cases, most people weren't listening to the music anyway and he was correct.
The early part of the night at the restaurant was populated with diners, either eating before going onto a concert or some other engagement, or business folk, trying to impress a potential client. Alex remembered a time when he worked in a restaurant in Amsterdam that had a great reputation and consequently invited the attentions of celebrities and business people. They always chose to sit close to where the piano was situated. but spent a majority of their meals chatting about deals or fiscal quarters. They sometimes even complained the music being too loud. Wankers, he thought. If you don't like the music, move tables.
He had a theory that when people complained about the volume level, it wasn't because he was playing too loud. The people didn't know the music and therefore didn't want to hear it. When faced with the loud music complaint, he would pretend to turn the music down and then played something that was recognisable. No one complained after that.
But Alex learned his lesson and chose to leave what he called the "good stuff" until those people had vacated the restaurant.
"It was too good for the likes of them," he would say, as he played some obscure Andrès Segovia composition.
Tonight was pretty much like any other night. He sat and played at one end of the L shaped room. To his right and in front of him were tables and booths and to his left were tables for singles, couples, foursomes and at the far end of the L shape was a long table, large enough to accommodate ten people.
He had a top hat champagne cooler on a stand beside his seat, with a hand written sign in German, thanking people who left tips. Some did. Some didn't. One night, a guest and his wife were leaving and he dropped a €20 note in the hat. Alex smiled and said, "Danke," which is German for thanks. But the man then began to dig around inside the hat, looking for change. He pulled out a €10 note and pocketed it. Alex complained that he wasn't allowed to do that and both the guy and his wife just shrugged their shoulders, in a "c'est la vie" attitude, as they left.
