tagMatureRoadhouse Blues

Roadhouse Blues

byHarryOrwell©

I must be reincarnated from the Woodstock Generation. Not so much the peace, love and happiness part, but, though only 25, I loved the music that was over 40 years old.

Guys my age were into current hits, but I was strictly what they now call oldies. Not doo-wop, which I like, too, but more top 40's and album cuts from the sixties and seventies.

And not just rock. Old George Jones and Patsy Cline sang to me, too. So, I grew up listening to my parents old stuff, scratchy 45s, cassettes, and 8-tracks. I got a guitar at 12, and though eager, I wasn't very good, but I had a decent voice.

I grew up and my kind of music had a wide rebirth with CDs, which I revelled in. I got a Sunday afternoon gig at a local pub, strumming and humming, but the NFL crowd wanted no part of me, which I totally understood, so the owner threw me a Saturday night as a bone.

As luck would have it, they had a decent crowd that night, an older crowd, and everyone got int it, like a sing-along, all the oldies, and I was doing requests.

I knew all the words, but none of the music, so I would strum the first chord, and sing, and they would join in, and we'd go around, "Now, just the girls!" and "Let's hear it, Guys!" and they were doing all the work! I'd use my kazoo to do the lead guitar parts, or piano solos, everybody had a great time, and the owner, Larry, thought he was Colonel Parker and he just discovered Elvis!

The next week, the crowd was bigger, and by the third week, Larry had a sign outside for Harry Kazoo and his Sing-Along Crew! I was getting $300 for Saturday and Sunday nights. (after football, naturally)

Not only did my pockets get fat, the girls love someone who can get them free drinks. Also, to be able to say, "I'm with the singer" sounded cool to them, too, even though I let them do the hard parts, smiling and joking with the crowds.

It got to be February, and people don't leave their warm homes for a Fab Four reunion tour, so one snowy Sunday, Larry said we'd cut back until May, which I expected anyway. The tables were empty, and the bar had maybe a dozen regulars, and I took a break.

I asked Eddie for a beer and heard a voice, "Can I buy that?"

I looked. A slender woman, almost 5'10, stood shaking off the snow from her mink coat, taking leather gloves off long slim fingers, with manicured nails.

Eddie looked at me, and I said, "Thanks, I usually drink for free while I'm working. I hate to see you waste your money."

She opened her purse, pulled out a $50, and said, "And I'll have a Glenlivet, neat, with water back." To me she said, "Do you mind if I sit here?"

She was about 55, which would have meant, in 2005, that she was born around 1950. So, being a child of the Sixties, my kind of music would suit her fine. Well-kept wasn't even close. This woman was used to the best. She took off the matching fur hat, careful not to muss her coif. Her hair was long, to her shoulders, and colored, brown with high-lights of lighter browns and some blond. Very chic. She wore makeup, but it highlighted her features, rather than hid them. High cheek bones, excellent posture, large gold, hoop earrings, numerous rings on her fingers, all together, an extraordinary package.

"No, please do. You deserve whatever for being out on a night like this," I replied, curiously.

Eddie hung around, always a hound dog, until she asked for privacy. He grumbled and went back to the regulars.

She reached out her hand. "I'm Gloria McGowan."

We shook and I said, "Harry Orwell, nice to meet you."

"Oh, I know who you are. You have a big sign out there!"

I chuckled. "Yeah, Larry, the owner, got a little carried away with it."

"It is as eye-grabber. I hope I haven't missed your show..."

"Well, it's not so much of a show, more like audience participation, and the audience is a little lacking tonight, being an ugly winter night."

"Do you play anywhere else, Mr. Orwell?"

"No, right now, I'm just here, and actually I'm going on hiatus for a few months, I was just informed."

"Then I'm fortunate I caught you."

I smiled, thinking, "You haven't heard me play yet. Boy, will I disappoint you!" but instead said, "Well, I hope to be back, like I said."

She had draped her fur over the stool and sat on the lining side of it. I hung it for her, so the fur could dry, and when I came back she was a stool closer. I could smell her cologne, just a whiff of flowers, and she wore leather slacks, not skin tight, but real leather, and an Irish knit sweater, hiding much of her bust, but still letting you know it was there.

My break was up in no time, and I regretted going up there. The regulars didn't care that I was a sham, as long as I did their requests once a night. But if this lady came out on a night like this, she's expecting something.

Eddie made like he was wiping a table and said, "Psst! Harry, you know who that is?"

"No, who?"

"That's Gloria McGowan, her ex owned The Jolly Peddlers, now she does!"

It was 2 towns away, twice the size of Larry's and regularly had full bands, groups, playing most nights during season.

"No shit! And she came here to see me?"

Eddie nodded gravely, like he knew what I thought of my musical prowess.

I started with a few short ones, hoping I'd find someone to join in, and Eddie, God love him, did his best to sing along, and rally the regulars, but my heart was sinking,not because I thought I deserved to work in a place like Peddlers, but just that she was seeing right through me.

Earlier, I was mostly playing the few songs I knew all the chords for, and Eddie brought me another beer and whispered, "Screw it, Harry, we still love ya! Do some Patsy and George."

I was buzzed enough, so I fell into "Crazy" while I just strummed each chord once and sang, then moved into "He Stopped Lovin' Her Today" about an old guy who had to die to stop loving a woman. I got lost in it, and almost got teary-eyed as I pictured the poor old guy, and when I finished, they were all clapping, not courtesy clapping, either. Energetic, enthusiastic, clapping, with a few hoots thrown in. And Gloria had a big smile for the first time tonight.

They always say, "Exit on a high note" so I said thank you and got off the stage.

Eddie had a big grin as he delivered one from Larry himself, beaming like a proud father. Gloria ordered another and toasted me.

"I've got to hand it to you, Harry, you know how to close a show!"

"Thanks, that's a compliment coming from a lady who sees talent every night."

She smiled. "So, you know who I am."

"Well, at first I figured you needed someone for a 50th birthday party, but someone else recognized you."

Her eyes were bright and she sat sipping her scotch, looking at me. "Can you take honest criticism?"

"Look, Mrs. McGowan..."

"Gloria..."

"Gloria, I did this on a dare. I have no doubt that my talent is lacking. Larry was looking, I caught lightning in a bottle, and friendly home crowds did the rest. You should have been here on packed nights, with loads of people, your age, singing all the songs they grew up with. Not so you'd think I was any better, just so you could see why people kept coming back. It was a fun night because they had fun. I just led the parade."

"I was here, last month, and you are exactly right. It's refreshing to meet someone who knows their limitations and succeeds within them. I came back to see if you were as good as I remembered. I'm sorry to say you were not."

I nodded my head, and even though I told myself the same things, it hurts to hear it from a stranger.

"But those last few songs... you have a deep feeling for music, for the words, don't you? Your voice, although not excellent, is more than adequate. Good range, tone, and Country or Soft Rock is your forte', your niche. Do you plan to continue with music?"

"Well, I'll come back in the Spring, maybe do my reunion and retirement tour at the same time! See how the crowds react. If the time has past, I never had qualms about it."

"Have you ever thought of singing for a group?"

"Actually, some people bring their own kazoos. I thought of them as my back-ups."

"I'm serious, Harry, you should think about it. I know two guys, older than you, who did all that country stuff, they still get together, try a few places with any singer they can dig up. They're okay with harmony but can't sing lead even a bit.

I can set it up, if you like. And maybe I can get you out on our deck on Sunday afternoons during the summer. I bet my crowd would eat that up."

"I thought you said I sucked."

"Harry, I never said that. If you thought that of yourself, you are wrong. If you thought you were Julio Iglesias, you were wrong, too. But, if you work at it, you could make a few bucks, have girls throw themselves at you. Just don't get star-struck."

I smiled. "The girl part could work!"

"I'm sure it would, Harry." She smiled at me. "I'll talk to the brothers, see if they are interested, if you want, but either way, I'd like you for summer Sundays. We can buy some boxes of Kazoos, whole-sale, and pass them out, for those who don't know the words, like me!"

"Funny, I had thought of that, too."

"Too late, Harry, it's my idea, I claim copy-write. Deal?"

I took her hand again, and her grip was stronger now, more emphatic. "If I'm still doing this in three months, you're on."

"In the meantime, we have a party room at Peddlers. If I hear of someone for a party, would you be interested?'

I beamed, "Hell, yeah, I can keep some kids busy for a few hours while their moms have some cocktails."

"I bet you'd keep the moms more entertained, but I meant adults, not kids."

I must have blushed a bit and she laughed. "So, are you finished for the night?"

"Yeah, Leave them laughing, they say. I'll pick up my equipment tomorrow."

"Well, I have my car waiting outside, if you need a lift. Or, if you're up to it, a cocktail back at my place, and Mark will see that you get home."

Very tempting. She was a woman who clearly knew what she wanted and didn't play games. We could stay here, if she wanted another drink. Her place was another story. But, was this a condition of employment? That's what bothered me. A good-looking older lady always turned my head, and she certainly fit than bill. But was I expected to obey?

Almost as if she read my mind, she said, "Harry, either way, I call the brothers and we're on for the summer. I just find you interesting, and cute!"

"Oh, I wasn't thinking that..."

"Oh yes you were, and you're a terrible liar!" She smiled, took out her phone, and said, "Mark, I'll be coming out."

I said, "Okay, you got me, I hope you weren't offended. I'd love to come over. I'll follow you so Mark doesn't have to wait for me."

She smiled, broadly. "Okay, we'll be outside, if you want to be discreet.

"Discreet? I'm not concerned about these guys, unless you are."

"Then let's go!"

I pulled my old jeep behind the limo, and Mark pulled out when I was ready. The roads were slippery, but open, and deserted. After a bit, he turned into a walled property, which overlooked the Bay. He hurried back to me with his umbrella. "You can leave the car here, Sir. I will walk you over." He covered us both back to the limo where he opened the door and Gloria came out, and slid her arm in mine and he walked us to the covering and Gloria unlocked the door.

"Thank you, Mark, about ten tomorrow?"

"Yes, Ma'am," and he was gone.

She flicked on the light, and dramatically shook the snow off, although barely a flake had reached her.

She led the way to the den. A huge gas fireplace was making the room comfy, and the large picture window looked out on her deck, with pool. There was a bar along the opposite wall. She served. I had a scotch along with her this time, and we sat at the large leather couch close to the fire.

She shook off her shoes, curled her feet under her, and sat close and high. Her breasts inside the Irish Knit seemed to be saying "Let me out!" and I wished I could. She toyed with my hair and spoke softly. "Back in the Sixties, I always wanted to be a groupie but never had the nerve, always the good Catholic girl. Now I can give performers their first start, how different."

I looked at her, and she seemed sad, maybe that so many years had passed, I don't know. But her face was so close, and I took the chance and kissed her.

She tensed as she pulled away. "Harry, this is flattering, and not a condition of employment, I told you, but our ages... you are much too young."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend. Really, I just am very attracted to you, and its not the gig. You're a very good-looking woman, Gloria. I guess I misread. I'd better go."

"No! I mean, please, stay. I'm used to men wanting something more, especially young musicians. Truth be told, I'm flattered."

I said, "You shouldn't be, class shines through. All the clothes and money can't hide it."

She stared, then she slowly leaned in and our lips met, and I felt a tingle, more than a static shock. Her tongue came to mine and she tasted awesome. My hand had gone at once for those hidden breasts, and I was surprised at how large they were! A D cup, easy! She began kissing ardently, moving over on top of me as her arms went around my neck."

The left hand was under now, finding the bra, and I moved around until I found the nipple, and her mouth opened wider with a moan into my face.

She lifter her arms, high, and I was careful to get the sweater over her earrings without snagging. She wore a white satin bra, and with her shoulders back, she looked like Michelangelo had created her. Our eyes met and she threw herself at me, not liking my stare.

I kissed her again and told her she was beautiful, as I unhooked the bra. I laid her across the couch and knelt, nipping and sucking at her as she pulled my sweatshirt over my head.

Those leather pants were going to be a problem, I knew, but she stood and lowered them herself, while I watched in pleasure. Then I stood and she helped me out of my jeans.

Finally, we were naked, standing before the warmth of the fire, her body pressed againt mine. And her being only 2 inches shorter, was perfect for a standing kiss.

Needless to say, my cock was hard from the first kiss, and as we pressed together, she lifted her leg to get my cock head between her legs, and she held my snugly there as she whispered how good it felt, and I wasn't even in her! Our hips moved and my cock was more aroused, and apparently I was rubbing her clit with it.

"You have me soaked! Lay down, now!" I obeyed and she stood, her breasts firm. She knelt and held my shaft. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't order you around." Then she bent and licked my cock, as if in apology. I had to stop her before I came.

"It's okay, Gloria, as long as its something I want to do, no problem. Now climb on if you want a ride!"

She did, and her hair cascaded down, shadowing her face. Whatever years were between us, they were washed away as she held me and lowered herself down, taking the fat head of my six inches, into her juicy lips. She was trimmed short and i always loved the sight of my cock being swallowed like that.

We kissed again as she settled on me, then she began moving, swirling a bit, then up and down, back and forth, like she was trying different feels. I reached up and tweaked her nipples and her eyes were wide as I did.

"Ooh! Ooh!," she cried out, moving faster, her hands pressed against my chest. She was wet, but still so tight around my cock. No signs of childbirth, so she hadn't stretched too much.

She was grunting as my hips rose to meet hers. "Harry! Haaarrry!" I reached under and clamped her clit with two fingers as she worked harder, driven on by my new move! Now it was "Oh Harry, Oh Harry!" and her calling my name had me at the brink, but I wanted her to come when I did, and her voice finally hit the high note, and I released as I held myself deep inside her, letting off shot after shot as she shuddered and sobbed, gasping for air.

We laid there, on the fine leather, kissing, whispering, and I was pretty sure this was not a one night gig. She told me the same thing the next morning at breakfast.

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byHarryOrwell© 0 comments/ 31423 views/ 0 favorites

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