Kelly's Moonlight Serenade

***

Preston, in an uncharacteristic gesture, invited the band to a local restaurant for a goodbye party. He extended a special invitation to Sandy and Kelly and asked Kelly to bring her guitar so the duo could perform for the group. Basking in the glow of adulation from their fans, the lover's forgot their normal inclination to regard anything Preston did with suspicion.

The food was plentiful and the drinks flowed freely as the party rambled to its conclusion. By twos and threes, the band members left, wishing everyone remaining the best and exchanging phone numbers. Susan and Kelly sang and played for their friends, tears shining in their eyes as they realized they might not see them again for some time. No one noticed Preston pouring yellow powder into two drink glasses.

Sandy and Kelly waved goodbye to the last of their friends when Preston proposed a toast to their successful concert series. Again, their happiness and feelings of nostalgia overrode their normal suspicions. Kelly finished her drink and turned to pick up her guitar. Her fingers went numb as she attempted to grasp the handle on the case. The room spun and with a little scream, she crumpled to the floor.

***

"Kelly, Kelly babe, wake up, sweetie, please wake up," Sandy's voice cried insistently as Kelly struggled to clear her aching head.

"Ohhhh, Sandy. What happened? Where are we?" Kelly moaned. She looked at her lover's anxious face, her brown eyes alive with concern. "Why am I on the floor…?" She looked about her. Where was her guitar? Her guitar was gone!

Sandy pulled her to her feet, Kelly was unsteady but she could walk. "C'mon, sugar," Sandy implored. "That son-of-a-bitch Preston drugged us and stole your guitar. I thought he might be up to something and I didn't finish my drink. It didn't hit me as hard as you. We gotta catch him before he leaves town." Half pulling, half dragging the wobbly-kneed Kelly, Sandy buckled her in the passengers' seat of her car. Engine roaring and tires squealing, they sped off to Preston's apartment.

"There he is, that bastard," screamed Kelly as the Honda screeched to a halt in the parking lot behind Preston's apartment building.

Preston was loading suitcases in the back seat of his sedan when he saw the red coupe approaching. He slammed the door shut, leaped into the driver's seat and backed out, tires spinning on the pavement. Slamming the bulky vehicle in forward gear, he tore out of the parking lot, the enraged women hot on his tail.

Preston maneuvered desperately through the late night traffic, failing to shake his pursuers. That girl's guitar was rare and valuable, of that he was sure. Who knows how much a collector would pay to possess such a masterpiece. He had planned on flying to Spain, but he knew he could not move fast enough to avoid them catching him at the airport. He would outrun them on the highway and fly out of Center City, two hundred miles away.

Kelly's adrenaline was pumping as Sandy sped after Preston's sedan, guiding the little car like a jet fighter. "Why do you think he's risking jail time to steal my guitar?" Kelly cried as Sandy whipped around a slowing truck, barely missing a taxicab stopping to pick up a fare.

"Damn if I know, sweetie," Sandy hollered back. She turned a corner, tires screeching as Preston's sedan fishtailed around the corner ahead of her, straightened out and accelerated. "He's figured out something about that guitar that we don't know. Maybe there's money in there or a treasure map."

"I looked it over carefully," Kelly replied. "There's nothing in there but a faded label that I couldn't read. Besides it was written in Spanish…look, he's going on the Interstate. Can we catch him?"

"This ain't your granny's Honda," Sandy laughed as the coupe shot forward, the engine emitting a high-pitched whine. "My second cousin Jerry will make anything on four wheels sit up and say howdy, including this little beauty. This little dolly can put out 300 horses with its ported heads, high roller cam and turbocharger. That pig fucker isn't gonna shake us, you have my word on it."

Preston was getting desperate as he sped down the interstate. Try as he might to escape, the red coupe filled his rear view mirror like an avenging angel. Then he saw a State Trooper's car in the median, radar gun pointed at him. No, no, I can't be pulled over now. I can't let them catch me. He turned off on the Old Farm Road exit and accelerated into the countryside. The Trooper spoke excitedly into his radio, lit up his light bar and tore off after the speeding sedan and coupe.

"Oh crap, the fuckin' cops", hollered Sandy, putting the Honda into a four-wheel slide at the base of the off ramp, rowing through the gears and racing after their quarry. "If he pulls us over, Preston's won the game. I'm gonna outrun him and stay with our thieving bandleader. Hope Officer Friendly doesn't decide to shoot our tires out."

Preston drove frantically down the narrow road, the profound darkness making the road more difficult to see, even with his high beams on. He was used to city streetlights and the rural blackness was confusing him. Too late, he saw the sign for a sharp curve. Desperately twisting the wheel he saw the guardrail rushing at him. He had time for one panicky scream as the sedan sliced through the barrier like a knife, tumbling end over end down the slope as objects flew from its sprung doors, finally crashing into a stand of trees and bursting into flame.

Sandy and Kelly's red rocket slid to a halt, tires skidding on the gravel. "Whooee," Sandy exclaimed. "Them big-ass sedan's never could corner worth a damn." They jumped from the car and stood openmouthed as Preston's vehicle evaporated in a red fireball as the gas tank ignited, their faces illuminated by the roaring flames.

"Oh Sandy," Kelly wailed. She began to cry and embraced her lover, sobbing on her shoulder.

Then police, State Troopers, firefighters and EMS techs converged on them. The police and Troopers were all asking questions as the firefighters sprayed foam on the blazing remains of the car and the EMS techs examined the women for injuries. The police and Troopers fanned out across the field with flashlights, looking for the car's occupant. Sandy and Kelly sipped on hot coffee and explained everything to the police and State Troopers. "Did anyone find a guitar out there?" Kelly asked anxiously.

"I believe this is what you're looking for, Miss" said a burly Trooper sergeant, handing Kelly a singed and cracked guitar case. "It was thrown clear and one of my men found it."

"My guitar," Kelly squealed happily, as she opened the case with trembling hands. The instrument positively glowed in the beams of the trooper's flashlights, its rich amber patina enhancing the light brown woods that comprised the body and neck.

"We'll need that for evidence, miss," said the sergeant. "I estimate you'll have it back in a week or two. This looks like an open and shut case to me. However, the courts will decide that. Do you ladies need an escort to your home?"

***

Kelly and Sandy walked wearily into their apartment, shutting and locking the door. All the anxieties and excitement of their night's adventure draining out of them, leaving only weariness. They headed for their bathroom, dropping their clothes on the way, stepping into the shower together. They washed each other tenderly, each gratefully caressing the body of the woman they loved more than life itself.

Soon they lay in bed facing each other, their naked bodies gently touching as they exchanged lingering kisses, their tongues curling sensuously in each other's mouths. Sandy sighed as Kelly's soft hand cupped her jutting breast, rubbing the stiff nipple with her palm. Kelly moaned as Sandy gently squeezed her round ass cheek, her finger teasing Kelly's puckered hole. The lovers continued to kiss and stroke each other, letting the tensions slip away and their passions rise, blotting out the horrific events of the night.

Kelly rolled on top of her buxom lover, hugging her tightly and burying her face between the firm mounds, kissing and licking the silky skin. Sandy wrapped her long legs around her raven-haired sweetheart's firm ass, her heels rubbing sensuously on Kelly's calves and thighs, her fingernails lightly grazing her smooth back. The women twisted and writhed against each other as if trying to fit inside their loved ones body, glorying in the feel of their warm skin.

"We could have been killed tonight, my darling," Kelly sighed. "You were so brave, driving after that awful Preston, saving my guitar. I never knew what happiness was until I met you. I never want to be parted from you, I think I would die." Her mouth covered Sandy's and their lips locked in a deep soul kiss.

Sandy ran her hands down Kelly's body and gripped her firm ass cheeks, pulling them apart and probing the puckered hole with a long finger. Kelly moaned and lifted her hips as Sandy slid a hand along her belly and plunged two fingers in her aroused pussy, her other hand fingering Kelly's tight ass. Kelly mewed in pleasure as Sandy's fingers worked like pistons in her pussy and ass. She enveloped Sandy's thick nipple and pebbled areola in her mouth, sucking on the crinkled flesh, laving it with her tongue. Leaning on her left arm, Kelly reached back between their bodies. Her right hand found Sandy's sopping pussy and drove three fingers deep inside.

Kissing sensuously, the lover's gently finger fucked each other, filling the bedroom with their whimpers and moans. Kelly's fingers rubbed and squeezed Sandy's burning clit as she nibbled and sucked on her lovers' throbbing nipples. Sandy drove her fingers deep into Kelly's juicy pussy and slick asshole, stroking the sensitive inner flesh and the membrane separating them.

Sandy felt her lovers' body quivering and knew she was close to orgasm. "Cum for me my angel," she panted in Kelly's ear as her own passions boiled over. "I want you to cum for me. I'm soooo close…"

"Ahhh, my baby," Kelly screamed as her orgasm tore through her body. "I'm cumming for you…cum with meee…" She rubbed Sandy's clit frantically, driving her over the edge.

"Ohhhh… yesssss…" Sandy howled as the lovers achieved a thundering simultaneous orgasm, spraying cum on their hands and bodies, rubbing and thrusting until they collapsed in exhaustion.

Kelly rolled off Sandy and lay next to her, both sighing and quivering as their orgasms subsided. "Oh sweetie," she said in a low voice, "you are an absolute treasure. I have never been so happy in my entire life. I love you."

"My life really began the day I met you, my dear one," Sandy replied. "My heart feels like it's fixin' to bust out of my chest, I'm so happy. I love you, too." Kelly pulled the sheet and comforter over their naked bodies and the lover's fell into a satisfied slumber.

***

"Oh my goodness, this is so exciting," Professor Capella twittered as he opened Kelly's guitar case. "I don't believe it," he exclaimed, donning white cotton gloves. "It's the one, It's really the one."

"What one is it, Prof." Sandy drawled, wondering why this fussy little man was making such a ruckus about her beloved's guitar. Kelly stood beside her, grinning from ear to ear. Once they had retrieved her baby from the police property room, she decided to take it to the head of the Music Department at Clear Lake City College. Maybe he would know what made this guitar so special that a man died trying to steal it.

The Professor lifted the guitar reverently from its case, turning it in his gloved hands, muttering words like 'amazing and 'magnificent' under his breath. "What is it, Professor?" Kelly asked excitedly. "What can you tell us about it?"

The Professor drew in a deep breath, as if to calm himself. "This is an original Santos Hernandez, young lady, possibly one of the last classical guitars fashioned by the hands of the master himself. This is indeed a rare find. Where did you obtain it?"

Kelly explained about her attending the sale at the Funston mansion. How she bought the guitar, and how surprised she was when she opened the case. "Who is this Hernandez fella, anyhow," Sandy asked. "Is he someone important?"

"My dear woman," the Professor said in an irritated tone. "This Hernandez fella, as you put it, was one of the great Spanish classical and flamenco guitar makers of the Twentieth Century. Santos Hernandez Rodriguez' instruments were exquisite examples of hand artisanship, played by many of the greatest Spanish classical and flamenco musicians. He was highly secretive of his construction techniques and refused to take on apprentices. This is truly a rare find." He paused in his lecture, looking pensive. "Cyrus Funston must have obtained this in his travels, and being the obsessive collector he was, it was probably forgotten about immediately as some new item caught his eye."

The Professor produced a large magnifying glass from his jacket pocket and examined the label inside the guitar carefully, muttering in Spanish. "It is difficult to read," he said, "but all indications are that this instrument was made in 1942. Hernandez died in 1943, so this may have been one of the last guitars he ever made."

"Is it valuable?" Kelly asked. "A man died trying to steal it from me."

"It is difficult to put a value on such a rare instrument," mused the Professor. "But at an auction a determined collector would pay at the very least three quarters of a million dollars for such a rare piece of artisanship. Possibly even more if the bidding would become spirited. This really belongs in a museum, young lady," he concluded.

***

Kelly and Sandy were sitting in their apartment, still stunned by the revelation that Kelly's guitar was a valuable museum piece. Kelly had reluctantly left it with Professor Capella, who promised to lock it in the college's vault until she decided what do next. "Kelly, sweetie," Sandy finally spoke. "Maybe you oughta sell that guitar. I know you love it, but that money would be a nice grubstake until we can break into show business."

"I know you're right, my love," Kelly sighed. "It's just that…" a knock on the door interrupted her. Looking through the peephole, she exclaimed, "It's one of the women from the concerts. I wonder what she wants. It's after eight o clock at night."

Kelly let their visitor in as she apologized profusely for calling at the late hour. "You women are difficult to contact," she said, putting down her briefcase. "My name is Patricia Loeb, Senior Vice President of Second Time Around Music Company. I would like to offer you a contract to produce some recordings of swing and jazz tunes from the thirties and forties. Would you be interested?"

***

"Ohhhhh, darlin'…" Kelly moaned. She clutched her knees to her chest as her lover buried her face in her pussy, plunged two fingers in her and suckled her clit. "You eat so good babe, ahhhhh…" She sprayed warm cum repeatedly into Sandy's mouth, watching her lover swallow hard and dive in for more.

Sandy and Kelly had awakened each other like this on many a morning in the four years they had been together. They loved to start the day with a tongue in their lover's pussy. So much had happened in the intervening years; sometimes they didn't quite believe the direction their lives had taken.

"Mmmmm… feels sooo good," Sandy sighed, raising her ass higher in the air as Kelly wormed her tongue in her pussy, stroking her clit with her thumb. "Fuck me lover…eat meeee…," she howled, bucking her pussy against Kelly's face and filling her lovers' mouth with sweet cum. It was the start of another wonderful day for the two women.

***

Sandy and Kelly's first CD retrospective of the Big Band female singers favorite tunes was a rousing success. Sandy had a natural ear for song styling and could mimic many of the greats such as Kay Starr, Bea Wain, Martha Tilton, Helen O'Connell, and many others. Kelly had a variety of handmade guitars with which to accompany her lover, often sitting in with additional musicians as the arrangement warranted. She had donated her 'baby' to the Clear Lake City Museum of Natural History, choosing to preserve the rare artifact.

Sandy and Kelly's last two CD's had gone platinum, quite a feat for a vocalist and a musician who specialized in rendering the songs of the Big Band Era. Their concert tour was also wildly successful, performing to sold-out crowds. Scholars of music speculated that the sometimes simple, but heartfelt lyrics resonated within a listening public weary of the pounding modern rhythms.

***

Following a long session in the recording studio, Kelly and Sandy lay naked in bed relaxing. "Sandy," Kelly said, "How would you feel about starting a family?"

Sandy rolled on top of Kelly, her eyes bright with excitement. "Are you serious, babe? That would be so wonderful. I think it would be wonderful being pregnant. I only wish we could create a baby with each other, but I guess a sperm bank will have to do."

"We'll find a donor with musical talent, sugar," Kelly replied. "Let's continue a family tradition. We'll let our doctor decide who's more physically capable to carry the child since we both trust her judgment. Then we can begin the process of becoming pregnant."

"Now that really sounds like fun," Sandy giggled. She jumped from the bed and pressed the remote on the nightstand. The lush strains of 'Moonlight Serenade' filled the bedroom. "They're playing our song my love," Sandy murmured, holding out her arms. "Come dance with me."

Kelly snuggled into her soul mate's embrace as their bare feet glided across the wood floor, tears of happiness glittering on her cheeks. Her beloved Sandy's voice crooning to her as their bodies moved as one:

"So don't let me wait.

Come to me tenderly in a June night.

I stand at your gate.

And I sing you a song in the moonlight.

A love song, my darling, a moonlight serenade."

-------------------------------

"You Go To My Head" (1938) J. Fred Coots and Haven Gillespie

"Moonlight Serenade" (1939) Mitchell Parrish and Glenn Miller

Authors Note: The song titles and artists cited in this story are factual, as is the guitar artisan Hernandez. Swing music is an integral part of American musical history, blending a variety of cultural influences into some truly unforgettable songs and tunes. Give a listen sometime, you won't be disappointed, and you may become a fan like me.