He Stopped Loving Her Today

I wasn't off work yet, so he sat at the counter. I poured him coffee and said, "Nice, I love steel."

"If you want to learn rhythm, I'll teach you." He took a sip of his steaming coffee. "You'd be perfect up front with a guitar and beautiful voice."

"Thank you, Trav," I said, feeling like it was coming together and I was part of it.

"I'm gonna scoot. I need to talk to a bass player and a drummer today." He leaned across the counter and kissed me. "Things are looking up, Sara!" he shouted as he walked out the door.

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My Dearest Midnight,

I walked by the old music hall yesterday and imagined our names on the marquee together someday. We always said we'd take that stage side by side.

My heart aches being apart from you, but I understand why you had to chase this dream. And I believe in your talent with all my heart and I love you with all my heart. Your voice was made for those lights.

As for me, I've been writing a lot since you left. Songs about our memories, our time together, our future. I played some new songs at the local bar's open mic night. Folks wondered why I wasn't on stage because I'm so good. They wouldn't believe it if I told them about us at the Rattlesnake.

Makes me think that maybe, just maybe, I could make it out there with you someday. Once you make it big, you can help me in Nashville. You'll know all the right people. We could tour the country together, just like you and me planned under the stars all those nights.

I know it's a long shot. But I gotta keep chasing this dream too. Who knows - you might open for me someday! I'm just teasing, but wouldn't that be something?

Anyway, I'll let you go. Break a leg on that new album of yours. Just know this small-town girl is rooting for you.

I love you.

Yours forever,

Sara

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Once we had steel guitar, fiddle and drummer, and bass backup, we became even more popular, and Travis had to turn down bookings. We played everything from neighborhood gatherings in the park to the county fair to fundraisers. Anything that would get our music out there.

We found a small rental shack and moved in together. It wasn't much, but me and Travis were together. The band also came here for practice, and I worked on my guitar lessons from Travis.

I strummed my guitar when Travis slammed the phone in the cradle and barked, "Working around everyone's jobs is a pain in the ass. We could do more gigs if everyone could be more flexible."

"We have to do the same thing, babe. Everyone has to work." I put my arms around him. "It'll work out. We can't be in a hurry. It's gonna take time."

Agitated, he tore away from me and began to pace. "We're gonna need a van. Something to take all of our equipment."

We found a few used speakers, and more helpful ​Travis scored monitors from a band that was breaking up, which helped me. As we played in bigger crowds, I sometimes found it difficult to hear the music. Now, I can listen to myself better. Now, we loaded it all in the back of his pickup truck, but rain could be a problem, besides his pickup being on its last leg.

"I'll tell Daddy to keep an eye out for one at work." He was a car salesman at the local Chevy dealership and would look for a used van for us.

"It has to be damn cheap for us to afford one."

"I know," I said gently. "Hey," I said, picking up my guitar again. "Can you help me run the chords again?" Travis bought a new guitar and gave me his old one, which worked perfectly.

"Alright, let's run through those open chords again," Travis said​.

I clutched the fretboard nervously. "I've still got calluses from practicing all week, but my fingers feel clumsy today."

"​You're doing great," he reassured. "Now show me an A chord."

I hesitantly arranged my fingers and strummed. Travis nodded. "Good. Now G chord." I formed the shape and strummed again.

"That's it, keep going." I fumbled through the chords as he called them out, occasionally buzzing the strings imperfectly.

At times, Travis gently adjusted my finger placement, his touch sending tingles through me. ​He has been so busy with the band and work during the day he's exhausted by the time we get to bed.

I smiled shyly. "I'm ready to try rhythm guitar for real on stage this weekend."

"Ready as you'll ever be. In practice, we'll cut you in today," he said, and I nodded, ready to add to my singing talent.

It was a good practice session, and we could add more songs, although we were still mainly doing covers. Travis wanted to start adding songs he wrote to the list and gave everyone music to take home. Tonight was a rare night off because our drummer had a family thing and couldn't attend the gig.

After we ate and I got everything cleaned and put away, I found Travis strumming and writing.

"You're done for the day," I said, crooking my finger for him to follow me into the bedroom.

I pointed and said, "On the bed!"

He raised his eyebrows and said, "Kinky."

"Now! And take your shirt off."

He grinned. "Just my shirt?"

"For now. Just do it!" I commanded, trying to keep a straight face.

"Face down!"

"Geez," he complained.

I rubbed oil between my palms, straddled him, and massaged his back. Long, slow strokes up and across his shoulders. They were tight and tense, which I knew they would be. I ran my thumbs up his spine. My fingers spread, kneading the long muscles.

He moaned. I leaned up and kneaded each bicep until it was pliable. Then, he went to his upper back and shoulders.

"Oh baby," he groaned.

"Feel good?"

"Fuck yeah."

My hands got tired after a while, and I slid off him. When he rolled to his back, I was naked.

"Why am I such a lucky guy today?" he grinned, scanning my tits.

"Because I love you so much," I smiled, and he pulled me onto the bed.

We kissed, and it quickly turned passionate. He struggled out of his jeans while I helped push them down and off.

"I love your body against mine," I murmured, rolling him back so I could move astride him. "Your cock is hot and stiff and ready, and you got me wet and ready."

I raised and lowered onto his stiff shaft and began to ride.

He massaged my tits and teased my nipples. I dropped to my elbows, rocking on his cock still deep inside me. He latched onto a hard nipple, teased it with his tongue, then tugged it with his teeth. I moaned, squeezing my pussy around the heat inside me.

I raised and leaned on his shoulders, riding him faster. The angle rubbed my clit, and I whimpered long waves of pleasure. He shouted with the pulsing of my pussy around him, his cock pumping his hot seed deep inside me. We both gasped for breath as I collapsed to his side.

After a while, I put my head on his shoulder and said, "You're still planning on taking me to Nashville with you, aren't you?"

The silence was long before he answered. "Sure, baby. It's you and me. When we get there, we'll get a professional band and be country music stars."

I hugged him, throwing my leg across him, ignoring that unsettling shadow that casts a chill over my skin.

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Hey there Midnight,

Sitting here on the porch tonight reminded me of all our good times together. I know you had to go off chasing your dreams. I want that for you. I really do. But I sure do miss you something fierce.

Ain't the same going through my days without you by my side. My heart's still yours, even with all those miles between us. I think of you every morning and every night.

I know you'll make it big with that voice of yours. But don't go forgetting about me back here waiting for the day we're together again. I'll be right here missing you when you need a rest from those city lights.​

Anyway, just wanted to say hi and that I love you always. Write when you can. Call so I know you're okay. I miss you so much.

Yours forever,

Sara

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"Hey baby, guess what? I got us some recording time to lay down a real demo," Travis announced, excitedly bursting.

I blinked in surprise. "Really? That must've cost a pretty penny. How can we afford studio time?"

He waved it off. "I pulled some strings and got us a deal. Don't you worry, your pretty head - it's all covered."

I nodded hesitantly, knowing he was hiding something. "Just don't go burying us in more debt, you hear me, Travis?"

"Oh hey, speaking of - I'm going by Midnight now. Much catchier stage name, right?"

Midnight? Where was this coming from? He was acting like a new person lately. My unease grew.

A few days later, we were in the studio, headphones on, recording Travis...or rather Midnight's new song. His eyes kept darting to the gorgeous red-haired sound engineer behind the glass.

​We wrapped it up, and Travis went behind the glass to the girl at the massive soundboard. She was young, a red-haired beauty, and as flirtatious with him as he was with her.

​The door opened, and we heard her say, "Later on then, Midnight."

The rest of the band put their heads down, packing their stuff and avoiding eye contact. Then Midnight returned, grinning ear to ear until he registered my icy glare.

"She said we sounded real professional! Like we could make it big in Nashville," he offered weakly.

"Is that all she said?" I shot back. Grabbing my case, I stormed out without another word.

Things took off quickly after the demo - bigger gigs and standing weekend schedules. Midnight even got interviewed by the local radio station and newspaper. But I couldn't ignore the distance growing between us.

I was still working at the diner and covering the rent and food. Dad gave me extra money every time I saw him, and Mom worried. Travis was using his money to promote the band. Things were tight, but I knew it was just temporary. I pushed our problems out of my head. I had faith in Travis. Once we made it, we'd have no more worries.

"Hey, I was thinkin', maybe you should go out and pick up some stage clothes. You know, like from the Western shop. All the girls in the videos are wearing flashy clothes. You need to keep up."

I didn't reply and cleared the dinner table. When I began rinsing the dishes in the sink, I said, "Gee Travis, maybe I don't have the money to buy new clothes. I don't get any money from the gigs because you put that and your paycheck into the band."

"Baby, please don't call me Travis. I'm afraid you're gonna slip in public someday. Might as well get used to callin' me Midnight all the time."

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Dear Midnight,

Been a long time since I've heard from you. Write or call when you can. I miss you. I love you.

I drove past our old high school yesterday. Remember how we used to sneak off from class to work on songs in the music room? Felt like our dreams were so big and bright back then

Now here I am years later, cleaning houses and still at the diner to pay our rent while you sing for millions on world tours. Guess your dreams turned out bigger and brighter than mine did.

But hey, gotta make a living somehow. I'm happy you're doing so well. Honestly, I am. Just feels lonely chasing this dream here on my own now that you're gone.

I haven't written much music lately. Hard​ to find the spark that used to come so easy. Maybe some dreams fade with time, whether you want them to or not.

No use dwelling on it, though. I'm proud of you. Just wish things had unfolded differently for me too. But that's life, I suppose.

Anyway, take care of yourself on the road.

Yours,

Sara

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I sat at the bar, impatiently boot-tapping the sticky floor while waiting for Midnight. Our first break was nearly finished, but he was still nowhere to be seen in the crowded honky tonk.

The jukebox crooned a Dwight Yoakam melody, barely audible over the din of chatter. I breathed in the mingling scents of stale beer, sawdust, and dirt kicked up from the well-worn dance floor.

Midnight sauntered in just a moment before we were due back and flashed me a dimpled grin. "Sorry, darlin', got held up," he drawled. Before I could reply, the door swung open again, and one of his doe-eyed groupies from earlier trailed in behind him.

I smoothed my cowgirl denim skirt and tossed my blonde curls over one shoulder. I was no longer taken in by his boyish charm. "Forget it. Let's play."

The crowd had grown since our first set, with standing room only around the pool tables. I picked up my Gibson, the stage lights glinting​ off its polished body.

"Packed house tonight," Midnight observed, strapping on his worn Les Paul. Our following had ballooned after just four weekends at the Rattlesnake Roadhouse, and management was ecstatic.

He leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Love you, baby. Let's knock 'em dead."

We tuned up as patrons set aside their long necks to clear the dance floor. I stepped up to the mic, guitar pick poised, and grinned as the first whoops erupted.

"How y'all doin' tonight? We're so thrilled to be playing for you all! Let's kick this off right by meeting the members of this honky tonkin' band of ours." He swept his arm towards me. "On rhythm guitar and vocals, the one and only, the most beautiful, Sara!"

I waved and smiled.

"Now, on pedal steel guitar and fiddle, let's hear it for John!"

John took a bow, holding his fiddle up as the crowd whoops and claps.

"Laying down that groovy bassline is the man we call Jerry! Give him a hand!"

Jerry nods and plucks a funky bass riff.

"And on drums, pounding out the heartbeat of our band, put your hands together for Bob!"

Bob tosses his drumsticks, catching them mid-air to loud cheers.

"And yours truly will be picking lead guitar and singing some select tunes...you can call me Midnight." He struck a pose with his Les Paul to wild cheers and whistles.

"Alright, let's get this party started! Thanks again for being here tonight, y'all. This first one's a song called, 'Whiskey for My Men, Beer for My Horses'..."

Midnight turned to each of us. Our band knew how to cater to the dance floor from the setlist. The side wailed into the opening slide riff of "Tennessee Whiskey" as patrons whooped and made a beeline for the floor. My Gibson sang the plaintive melody while Midnight added his lead flourishes. John then picked up the fiddle to the delight of the crowd. Jerry held down the rhythm on bass, Bob's drumbeat driving louder and harder.

We slid from that right into a cover of "Boot Scootin' Boogie" - Stetsons bobbed as the crowd twirled and kicked in sync.

The first half of our set kept them packed on the dance floor, wall-to-wall with writhing bodies, keeping pace with our breakneck tempo. Then we sent them to the bar with 'Blue Eyes Cryin' in the Rain,' bringing the couples to the dimly lit dance floor.

Hoots, hollers, and applause kept our adrenalin going, and we were pumped coming off the stage after that set. The place was jammed by then, and we had to wind through the crowd to get to the bar. The barmaid handed me my usual Coca-Cola. Midnight had a lineup of Jack shots that customers had bought him.

If nothing else, Midnight could hold his drinks. He was serious about his singing and wouldn't let it suffer because of poor choices. He leaned over the bar and sucked down two while the wily barmaid slid the remainder behind the bar.

The cool night air was a relief after the sweltering honky tonk. We stashed our guitar cases behind the seats and hopped into Midnight's beat-up pickup, clouds of dust kicking up as we pulled out.

"Remember that high school talent show we met at?" I asked with a laugh.

Midnight grinned. "How could I forget? You belting out 'Walking After Midnight' and me fumbling guitar chords behind you."​

"We were quite the duo, even then," I said. "Hard to believe we went from backyard singing to packed shows at the ​Rattlesnake Roadhouse."

Midnight just nodded, eyes on the bumpy backroad home. I studied his sharp profile in the moonlight.

Soon, we pulled into the dirt drive. Inside, I sank to the bench to wrestle off my tall boots while Midnight hung up our hats.

My prized fringed Corral boots still shone new, a Christmas surprise from Midnight. He knew I'd been eyeing them for months. He always wanted me to look good on stage, so he was happy to oblige my Christmas wish.

Midnight hated his grimy foundry job, but it paid the band while we chased the dream. My greasy spoon tips paid our living expenses. Soon, Nashville's neon will be calling our names. I dropped my clothes in a trail to the bathroom for a shower. Even though bars were non-smoking, a bar smell still stuck in your clothes and hair. Sweaty people, stale booze, and cigarette smoke wafted whenever the door opened.

"Coming with me, lover," I called over my shoulder to Midnight.

It was three o'clock in the morning, but there was nothing ordinary in the life of a musician. I adjusted the temperature and stepped in, tipping my head back to wet my long hair.

"Mmm, just in time." He said, bumping into me.

"I guess so," I said, dripping shampoo into my palm and rubbing his hardening cock with my hip. I stretched up and massaged it into my scalp. I moaned, taking pleasure in anything that felt good. I enjoyed it to the fullest extent.

"You're naked, babe. What do you expect? You're hotter than hell. Every guy in the club couldn't take their eyes off these," he murmured, rubbing my breasts.

"Yeah, almost every guy likes big ones. I know that." I was used to it, having inherited thirty-eight Ds from my Mom and them coming on early in puberty. Since she went through the same thing, she gave me advice. Always be proud, and don't let them bully you. I did get bullied by girls, amazingly enough. They would leave me alone when I'd retaliate about their cupcake tits. I mocked the bullies and bullied them back.

I tipped my head back and let the water flow through my hair while Midnight's soapy, slick hands mapped my body. He pulled me against him, our skin wet and slippery between us.

We kissed, and he backed me against the tile wall, and I slid my leg up his. He cupped my ass and pushed in. The adrenaline flow from the night inflamed us to a hard, loud, and quick orgasm. I clung to him while it rocked my body, sending Midnight into his own ecstasy.

I slowly slid my leg down while we caught our breath. "We never seem to make it to the bed," he winced.

"Not after a gig," I said, understanding because I never wanted to wait either. The rush of performing on stage and the crowd's noise were as stimulating as any foreplay. There were times when we again made use of the truck. "Love you, baby," I said, turning off the light.

"Love you too, babe."

I awoke Sunday afternoon to the absent strumming of Midnight's guitar in the living room. Our only day off was usually spent lazing together, recovering from late nights playing the Rattlesnake.

But today, Midnight was fixated on learning new material, solitary in his musical zone. I ambled out, picked up my Gibson, and tried casually joining in. But the complex progressions told me these were songs meant for a solo star turn, not our tight harmonies.