The Voyages of Luscious Lucy Ch. 03

Chapter Three: What's In A Name?

I'd be remiss if I failed to mention that I have, up to this point, had very little direction to my life. My only passion has been playing music, and there are those who say I'm fairly good at it. I am generally late for appointments and I really don't much give a damn if my bills get paid on time or not. Irresponsibility seems to be a trait that I inherited from my father, because he was never one to keep his commitments either. I do, however, insist that I am punctual for musical engagements. Why I have this compunction is anybodies guess.

Maureen and I met in a bar down in Micco, Florida where I was playing, one night, and fell in lust for the rest of the weekend. I don't think I was ever in love with her, but we sure raised a lot of hell for a long time. That was over twenty five years ago. Why I was attracted to her is still a mystery to me. She wasn't particularly attractive, she just happened to be there when I got the urge. We went to her dump apartment out on the beach and screwed each other stupid for two days. Say what you will about her, but she was a dynamo in the sack. She had a good body, not great, but good. She was a little pushy and made it a point to tell you just what she wanted, but she fucked like a rabbit.

The band I was working with was a rag-tag bunch of guys from the north east Florida Coastal area and we thought we were pretty good. I was about twenty at the time and hadn't garnered a whole lot of experience for the road yet. We had this big hairy bass player from Mayport playing with us and he took it upon himself to be my tutor of sorts. Dave had all the moves. He was a superb bassist, probably the best I've ever worked with, and a hot lead player when we needed him to help out. But he always told me he loved the bass because he could spend more time watching the women on bass than he could on lead guitar. But he taught me how to be a good musician, and he taught me most of what I know about women. Dave also told me that Maureen would break my heart some day, and he was right. But that came later on. Maureen and I ended up getting married three days after we met.

I took Maureen with me when we left Micco, and she stayed with us on the bus until we got back to Jacksonville, five weeks later. We got a place close to the water in Jacksonville Beach and things went pretty well for a couple of years, until I went back on the road for a seven week swing up through Georgia and the Carolinas to make some extra bread to buy her a real wedding ring. Word got back to me that she was hitting the clubs along the beach while I was away, but nobody ever saw her with another guy. She was always with her female friends.

Of course, musicians have been known to stray from the marital bed from time to time and I was certainly no exception. Fortunately, I never encountered any sexually transmitted diseases, and to the best of my knowledge, I haven't fathered any children along the way.

Dave was fifteen years older than me, and whenever we traveled together, he looked out for me. There were times when I wanted to kick his ass for treating me like a kid, but he kept me out of jail more than once and from getting my ass whipped more times than I can remember.

"I just don't know why you had to go and marry that Maureen," Dave would say. "It's gonna end in tragedy some day."

Dave had it right. Maureen took to wandering off for weeks at a time. Of course I didn't blame her for it. I had been on the road on and off over the years and she had been left to do whatever she damn well pleased. I did what I wanted too. But we always wound up back home together.

My folks both passed away in the same year, Mom from cancer and Pop from a lonely heart. I grieved over dad. I still miss him to this day. That old man could play keyboards like nobody else. Dave told me once that he used to work with him in the hotels along the beach in the old days when rock and roll was really rock and roll. We took him on two tours with us, and had to fight to keep the women off him after the shows. That silver haired devil had a sparkle in his eye and a perpetual hard-on. I found out that he and Maureen were doing the bump and grind one summer when I was up north doing the state fair circuit. I didn't believe it then, but I do now that I've been filled in on some of my dearly departed wife's escapades.

Anyway, when dad died, we moved into his old house on Myra Street in Neptune Beach. Maureen was in heaven with a house to decorate. She nearly bankrupted me the first year buying new furniture. But we survived and stayed there for a coon's age. We were less than a block from the ocean and Maureen became a beach bunny, wearing the briefest of bikinis and growing darker with every hour in the sun. I figure she was making acquaintances on the beach because she would stay away long after sunset and come home smelling of alcohol.

Most of the time, I wasn't there anyway because I was working the lounges all over the area. I'd come home and find her draped in a chair or asleep on the porch, having forgotten to take a key when she left for the day. And I knew what the sticky white stuff was on her clothes and face and in her hair. Dave called it just like it was. She was a party girl! But I never caught her with anyone.

Maureen gave me her full attention when I urged her to. I'd say we were going to do this or that and she was there. I'd ask for a certain meal and she would cook it for me. And she never complained until one day about four years before she was killed when she told me she had other plans for the weekend and I'd just have to get along. I was irked, but what could I say? I'd pack up and be gone for months at a time without as much as a by-your-leave. How could I argue?

But the bitching got worse and I began staying out later after the gig and drinking more than my fair share. When I'd come in tanked, the battle would rage and she would leave for a day or two until we both cooled off. Finally we simply quit speaking at all. I think that's about the time she inherited the money and the boat from her aunt. When she did come around, I could see she was losing weight and had let herself go.

I was forty five and Maureen was fifty four when she had the wreck. I didn't even know where she had gone, or with whom until I got the call from California. What a drag! I called Dave and told him what had happened. His reply was sad but true, "Told you so, Old Buddy."

I wanted to bust him in the chops for being right. But, Dave was usually right when it came to life. He called this one a long time ago.

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A couple of days after my encounter with Velda and Deborah on the boat, I decided to walk over to Neptune Beach's world renowned watering hole, Pete's Bar, on First Street. Pete Jensen opened this oasis way back in the dark ages. I think one of his daughters is running it now but it's been there for as long as I've been alive and a lot longer I'm sure. I used to go there with my dad and grandpa when I was just a child.

I stepped into the dark cool bar and stood just inside the door, letting my eyes adjust from the bright sunlight outside. Pete's smelled of stale beer and cigarettes. So, what else would you expect?

A female voice interrupted my thoughts, "Izzat you Kewl?"

"In the flesh," I responded, scanning the bar for a familiar face.

There were only four other patrons present, plus Caroline the bartender. The only face I recognized was hers.

"Sorry to hear about Mo, Mac." Caroline said, coming around the end of the bar to embrace me in a mammoth bear hug. "We're gonna miss her around here."

"This was one of her favorite places," I added.

I perched on a stool and ordered a Crown and water, fished a c-note from my new money clip and instructed Caroline to set the house up. First time in my life I ever did that, but there were only six of us counting Caroline. Big spender!

"So, Kewl, now that you're single, how about we get together some night let our hair down?" Caroline asked.

"Might be a good idea," I answered. "What you got in mind?"

Caroline leaned across the bar, mashing her ample tits against my hands as she did, and whispered in my ear, "For openers, you could fuck my little ass until I can't walk. Then we'll think of something fun to do."

Caroline was a buxom woman of about thirty five years, with very long yellow hair and sparkling blue eyes. Her skin was naturally dark, like she spent lots of time in the sun, only she didn't. She was small in stature, but had gargantuan tits and a cute little pug-butt. And she had been lusting after me for many years.

"Caroline," I said, "You've been after me to do that for so long now, what would you say if I said let's do it?"

"I'd tell you to come over to my place on Cedar Street at 7:30 tonight and let me cook you some shrimp," She giggled. "Then I say let's get naked and fuck!"

"Best offer I've had in a long time," I mused. "I'm gonna take you up on it."

Caroline poured me a generous shot of Crown over my melting ice cubes and she seemed to glide along behind the bar. I had obviously made her day. I wasn't sure how it would end up, but it looked like I was in for the ride of my life.

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I tossed the crown down and walked slowly back to my old house. As I approached from down the block, I was struck by the obvious disrepair of my home. I stood in the street at the end of my drive and looked up at the wind and sun baked cedar siding. The weather had turned it to a flat shabby gray color and here and there, shakes had been blown away revealing the black tar paper beneath. The eaves and fascia were in desperate need of paint as was the trim on all the windows.

From here you could see that some of the old curtains inside hung askew and there were four or five cracked window panes on this side of the house alone. Many of the shingles on the roof had also been blown away in the frequent storms that sweep up the beach all year round. I was suddenly very aware that I needed to do something with the old place soon or it would fall in on me.

I shouldered the sticky front door open and walked into the damp house. I stood inside the door and took stock of the interior. It was every fucking bit in need of repair as the outside, and just as dirty as the street out front. I decided it was time to clean it up.

I knew that Dave had a brother that did home repair so I decided to give him a call and get an estimate on doing some work for me. I grabbed a cold brew from the refer and hunted for the remote phone. I found it on the floor in the bathroom.

The red light was blinking, indicating that I had messages. I hauled the phone and a second beer out on the porch, which looked across the end street out onto the beach, and dialed, for my messages. The first message was from the boat yard across the river from Mayport. They could take the boat for a hull survey and rehabilitation on Monday morning. Today was Wednesday. I made a note to tell Deborah she'd be homeless for a few days. I reckoned she could come here and promised to pick up some of the trash before I let her in the house. She was cute and I liked her.

The next message was from Ron, our drummer telling me we had music on Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights at the Ramada Inn on the beach. I liked that place.

The last message was from Velda. In a soft syrupy voice she told me what a wonderful time she'd had on the boat and hoped we could do it again real soon. I made a mental note to call her very soon.

I had just hung up from my messages when the phone rang in on me. I was still holding the phone in my hand and almost dropped it when it rang. As luck would have it, it turned out to be Dave.

"Hey, Guitar Slinger," He bellowed into the phone. "Where the hell you hidin' out at?"

"It's a long story, Thumper," I said. "We'll get together and I'll fill you in on all the details. What's on your alleged mind?"

"I need ya ta sling some guitar in a new group I'm settin' up," He said. "You're the only picker I know can handle a challenge any more."

"What you got in mind?" I queried.

"I got a chick singer that plays keys out of St. Augustine and another guitar player lined up to do some old rock and roll." Dave explained. "You remember the drummer with the blue Ludwigs?"

"I do," I said.

"He's in but you gotta hear this canary," He breathed. "She can sing the blues and it makes ya sweat. And she looks good too. A regular stem-winder!"

Knowing Dave like I do, that meant she had a great ass. Dave is an authority on the female butt.

"What the hell, I'll take a chance," I told him. "I'm booked all through the weekend but we can jam next week if you want."

"Fuck, we don't need to jam," He barked at me through the phone. "We'll just meet at the Monson's in St. Augustine Friday a week, and do the weekend. You know all the tunes so it won't be necessary to practice. I gave that up twenty years ago when we were on the road, remember?"

"You're so right, My Friend," I laughed. "How silly of me to even mention practice."

This kind of gig always worried me to death, but Dave has never let me down so why should I worry. The singer was probably a knockout anyway.

"I need your brother to come and fix my house," I told him.

"Yes you do!" He replied. "When?"

"ASAP. It's about to fall down on me." I said.

"I'll have him call ya. I think he's loafing right now anyway." He said.

The phone went dead in my ear. Dave never was one for ceremony, when he was done talking, he just hung up. My kind of guy.

Caroline had mentioned shrimp for dinner, which called for a bottle of white wine. I was confident I had some under the sink in the kitchen where I stashed to other booze. Sure enough, I found a fresh bottle of Black Tower.

I debated with myself whether I should change or not. I won the argument and stayed in shorts and t-shirt. I resurrected a crumpled Food Lion grocery bag from the floor next to the overflowing trash can and wrapped the wine carefully in it. I hit my chin quickly with my Norelco and splashed on some aftershave from a bottle that had lost its labels years before.

I walked the four blocks to Caroline's house. The weather was perfect for early June and the locals were out in their yards doing all manner of domestically correct summer activities. The smell of burning charcoal filled the air. The beach is a whole different world, and beach people are a whole different race. I wasn't quite sure if I was part of it or not. I'd lived here my entire life but never became a part of the culture. Maureen had. Everybody on the beach knew who Maureen was. And they grieved over her death.

No less than a dozen of her friends waved at me and offered their condolences as I strolled along the streets. I wonder why I had never become a part of her world. I guess I'd been too busy with my own life to become a part of hers. Ain't life a bitch sometimes?

I rounded the corner onto Cedar Street, glanced up at the house numbers as I walked up the incline toward the beach end of the street, and located Caroline's little bungalow nestled back in the palmettos. Her front yard was overgrown with scrub, and covered in an explosion of colorful summer flowers. Shell mobiles, swaying gently in the ocean breeze, hanging from the eves on either side of her door. The screen door was closed but the front door stood open.

"Hello, the House!" I called out as I rapped a couple of times on the door frame.

"It's open, Sugar," Came the cheerful reply of Caroline from somewhere within.

I pulled the rusty handle and the screen door creaked open, offering me access to the spacious living room just inside. The house was dim, compared to the late afternoon sun blazing out on the street. I pushed my shades up on the top of my head and looked around the room. Very clean, well cared for, orderly, and very beachy.

Caroline floated into the room in a bright yellow sleeveless sun dress, with the short full skirt swirling around her legs. Her enormous boobs only barely contained in the low cut front. The thin spaghetti straps holding it up were being tested fiercely. Caroline looked ravishing. Her long blond hair was pulled back in a pony tail and hung nearly to her waist in back. She wore beaded sandals and a smile. The gleam in her eyes said she was happy. I suddenly felt good too.

She swept up to me, stood up on the very tips of her toes, mashed her big jugs flat against me and planted a soft kiss on the bottom of my chin. I stood over a foot taller than her 5'-2".

"I've waited for almost forever for you to come here," Caroline said, holding me at arms length and beaming.

"I'm honored," I managed, holding the sack with the wine out to her.

She took the bag and disappeared into the kitchen, returning within seconds holding a tall iced tea glass out to me.

"Crown and water, right?" She asked.

"Best bartender in town," I said, chuckling. "And the best lookin' too."

"I'll bet you say that to all the bartenders in the places you play," She quipped.

"Only if it's true," I said.

Caroline motioned for me to take a seat on the sofa. I sat. She curled a leg under her stern as she settled on the opposite end facing me. She drank rum and coke from a tall glass through a straw. This woman radiated a sensuality I'd never seen before. I was immediately comfortable in Caroline's world.

We didn't speak for many minutes. Caroline just sat there sipping on her drink and I wasted no time in draining mine. She stared at me with her big doe eyes, smiling over the rim of her glass.

"Nobody's ever going to get in there again, are they?" She asked, softly.

"Beg your pardon?" I asked back.

"Your heart," She whispered. "Nobody's getting back into your heart."

"I don't think anybody has ever been in there, yet," I replied.

She arched an eyebrow and took the glass from my hand and went to the kitchen to refill it. When she returned, she placed the glasses on the low table next to the couch and reached out for my hand. She urged me to my feet and guided me through a doorway into her bedroom. She stopped us in the center of the small room and looked up into my face.

"Then you had better fuck me right now, before you get a notion to leave and I miss out on something I've wanted since the first time I set eyes on your sorry ass." Caroline said as she eased the top of her dress down over her enormous hooters.

She pushed the dress down over her hips in one smooth movement and stood there quite naked. Her hands pulled my shirt up over my head and as quickly skinned my baggies down over my butt. She had me in her warm mouth within seconds and she swept my rapidly rising erection cleanly down into her throat in a single gulp. Caroline gives great head!

She worked slowly on my hardness for a long time. Her mouth is soft and she uses her tongue like a feather. I became totally submissive to her gentle oral performance.

I sensed, rather than felt, her mouth move off of my prick. It felt cool instead of warm. I opened my eyes and looked down. Her face was a few inches away from my cock, which glistened with her saliva. Her lips were pursed as she blew a soft stream of her breath across me. A long thin thread of silvery fluid dangled from my tip and clung to her bottom lip.

"I want that in me now, Kewl," She breathed, turning on her knees and stumping over to the bed on all fours.

She crawled up on the bed and presented her beautiful round butt up to me still kneeling on the bed. Standing on the floor, I walked up behind her and pressed a finger up under her pussy and slipped it in her wet slit. I heard her take a quick breath and felt her tighten herself around my probing finger. She oozed female juices onto my hand. I quickly pushed two more fingers up into her and heard he moan into the bed. Her juices gushed out of her now.