Last One of the Night People

The Last One of the Night People
A Tale of the Early Morning

Author's Note: Inspired by the song of the same name by Aliotta Haynes Jeremiah, the early 70's, and some people I knew in the day... I'm putting it in Romance, even though it doesn't have the apparently mandatory HEA. I hope you enjoy it, regardless. Cheers!

*~*~*~*~*

It was 4am and I was walking down the empty street, headed home from the club. The squad car and I were the only things moving and they just gave me a nod as we passed each other, like they had a hundred times before. I'd left my guitar back at the club, but it didn't matter. They knew who I was, just by looking.

I'd hoped to be walking with company. The cute brunette down in front had been flirting with me all night. But I guess she had to leave when her girlfriends did, to drive back to the 'Burbs. These good-looking chicks who really knew how to take care of themselves would come in to the City to party, but always seemed to split back to their white picket safety before we closed up.

Didn't matter, though. Just another night alone, the last one out on the streets. With luck, I'd be home and asleep before dawn. I gave the can one last good kick as I turned to mount the half-flight to my apartment, and slowed to a stop.

She was sitting there, on the top step, waiting.

"Hi," she greeted me softly, with a slight smile.

"Hi, back," I sort of smiled. "Um... uh, what are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you," she told me, again very gently.

"I, uh, realize that," I told her. "I mean, how did you know where to wait?"

"Oh!" and this time she smiled broadly. "I asked the guy on keyboards, Ian. He told me where you lived, but told me it was only because he was conceding to a better man."

"Oh." It was my turn. "Sometimes Ian talks too much," I muttered, then looked at the girl on my steps. "Do you want to, like, come in or something?"

"I'd love to," she told me and stood up. There was something too wholesome about this girl. Naïveté, purity, innocence... they just don't last long in the City.

"Where're you from?" I asked as I unlocked the door and let us into the foyer. Then I pointed at the stairway. "My flat's up," I added.

"Originally or recently?" she asked as we went up.

"Both," I told her, then thought to ask, "What's your name, by the way?"

"Dorothy," she told me, "but my friends call me Dotty, or Dot. I'm originally from Topeka, but I've been going to school out at the UW in Seattle. I'm here visiting my aunt."

"So Dorothy from Kansas, by way of the Emerald City," I smiled. "Your aunt's name wouldn't be Emily, or something like it, would it?" I asked as I opened the door at the top of the stairs and ushered us into my parlor.

"Very cute," she told me as she looked around. She was smiling, though, and not looking pissed, so maybe she hadn't heard it a million times before. "You've got a nice place. Kinda ruins your Scruffy Night Person image."

"Is that what you're looking for? A Scruffy Night Person?"

"Actually, I was looking for brilliant green eyes, to go with the ruby slippers," she teased. "But I found stormy grey ones instead." She had to be talking about me, because I was the only one with grey eyes in the group that hung around the clubs. At least that I knew of...

"Would you like some coffee, or a beer or something?" I offered as I hung my coat on the rack.

"Do you have any wine?" she asked as she took off her trench coat and I suddenly remembered why I'd been flirting with her at the club. She kept it toned down, but she was stunning. A light ivory sheath dress, demure but form fitting, and a knockout form for it to fit. A lot different from the usual jeans and T-shirts crowd.

"Um..." I stumbled as I put my eyes back in their sockets and reeled in my tongue. "I think I've got a bottle of something around here. I'll have to go look."

"That would be nice," she told me as she hung up her coat and moved to sit on the couch, while I headed for the kitchen to see what I could scrounge.

I came back triumphant with a bottle of cheap Chablis and two clean glasses.

"Sorry it's not cold," I told her as I poured out a glass for each of us. "I had to remember where I put it."

"I'm sure it will be fine," and there was that soft smile again. She raised her glass in a mock salute before taking a sip. I did the same. Somehow, she was leading this dance and I was being willingly swept along.

"So..." she drawled, scanning the room. "Where are the tools of your trade, Wizard?"

"With the Tin Man," I smiled. I liked this game. "You may run into the Cowardly Lion, if he isn't in hiding. The Scarecrow moved out a couple of months ago."

I did have a roommate who had moved out. And I did have Kiska, my Parlor Panther, who was alternately gregarious and shy. Since he wasn't currently out demanding pets, I figured he must be in hiding.

"Although I'm not too sure about the Wizard part," I told her.

"Well, your music is magic to me," she told me in that same soft tone. It wasn't timid. Just gentle. And it went straight to my head. And other body parts. It just added to her attractiveness. "May I see?" she asked. "If the Tin Man doesn't object."

"I don't think she'll object," I teased, my turn to smile. "She's still trying to cope with the gender change. C'mon..." I extended my hand and she took it to rise. The shiver of excitement that shot through me at her touch surprised the hell out of me.

The reality was, it was a 3-bedroom flat that I'd shared with another musician friend until he got an offer that meant relocating to L.A. We'd both used the third bedroom for storage, and a lot of strange stuff had migrated there, including a department store mannequin. Don't ask... I have no idea.

That's also where we'd kept our instruments and where we'd done most of our fiddling around and songwriting. When Alex had moved out, I'd just let my stuff sprawl. I had an old Baldwin upright in there, plus old acoustic and electric guitars, a flute, a bunch of other junk, notebooks scattered around and so forth. Not exactly emblematic of an organized mind.

Dot appeared delighted. Especially when she saw the mannequin and got what I'd meant about the sex change.

"You need counseling," she leaned in and told it in a whisper, but loud enough for me to hear. "See my Auntie Em..." I cracked up.

"No, really," Dot turned to smile at me. "My aunt's name is Mary, so that's an 'Auntie M' and if anyone can help this poor, unfortunate victim of a gender identity crisis, she can. Or drive the sad, conflicted mannequin to suicide... one or the other."

I couldn't stop laughing. "What is she?" I managed to get out. "A sex therapist?"

"No," Dot told me. "A butch dyke. An expert on Sapphic BDSM. I really needed to get away from her for awhile. And see? I found you!"

"Really?" I chuckled. "I'm not sure I'm an improvement."

"Oh, you have to be," she assured me. "You're a guy, right? You come equipped with a penis. She and her girlfriends were driving me batty!"

"Flying monkeys," I told her. "Not bats. I know the wings can be a little confusing." She gave me a patronizing gee-that's-cute smile and walked over to the piano.

"I really like these beat-up old uprights," she told me as she ran her hand over it. "I imagine an old French bordello in New Orleans..." and she started playing Scott Joplin... a bit out of Solace, then segueing into The Entertainer. I was standing there with my mouth open when she shifted to some Maple Leaf Rag.

"Wow!..." It was all I could get out right then...

"Sorry..." she told me as she stopped playing and turned towards me. "Sometimes I get carried away."

"Thinking about French bordellos?" I stumbled.

"Well, yes... that, too," she smiled, and this time it wasn't innocent at all. "Don't you?"

"Sometimes," I recovered. "But not usually with the ragtime accompaniment."

"Well at least you think about French bordellos," she kept smiling as she walked over to me and pressed against me, taking my face in her hands. "Do you have any interest in me?" she asked as she looked up at me.

"Oh, Lawdy Mama..." I breathed, looking down into her beautiful face. I would have said cute, but this close and this intense, she was beautiful. She had the most intense violet eyes. Kind of like an Elizabeth Taylor thing. And interest was completely inadequate. She had definitely hooked me.

I leaned down and she raised up to meet me. Our lips met and every cell in my body tingled like a piece of Peruvian rock that someone had stepped on with meth. Her scent was subtle and tantalizing, her skin was smooth... perfect... I could taste the wine on her soft lips, and I was instantly hard.

"Mmmm..." she murmured as we broke the kiss, leaving me breathless. "You kiss nice..."

And you kiss awesome, I thought, but I didn't say it as I watched her move back to the piano. She started picking out a song we'd played tonight, about a bartender friend of ours. It hadn't been published, or even recorded, so she was playing it by ear from hearing it once and she was doing a damned fine job.

"You're really good," I told her, seriously, then smiled as I asked, "want to join a band?"

"Just one of them," she teased. "I'd rather stay a groupie. Thanks for the compliment, though. I've been told I'm good at a number of things. I just know I like to have fun."

This girl was rapidly becoming my dream woman.

"So why me?" I asked as she stopped playing to take a drink of her wine while I did, too.

"I like your finger work," she shrugged. "You're smooth and fast and precise. That turns me on. And now that I know you kiss well, I'm curious about the rest of it." She set down her wine and picked up my Gibson J-50.

"Do you mind?" she asked as she checked the tuning.

"Not at all!" I told her. That was the first time I'd told anyone that. I'm pretty possessive of my instruments, and that guitar in particular. It was made in the 50's and passed down from my old man. It had the sweetest Gibson sound I'd ever known, and she proved it by breaking into the middle of Bach's Chaconne... damn near impossible, unless you were named Segovia.

"Holy shit!" was my less than elegant admiration. "Are you, like, a professional or something? A classically trained concert musician? Wow!..."

"No," she told me kind of offhandedly. "I just like music."

I just like music. Nobody just likes music and plays like that.

"This is a truly beautiful instrument," she commented as she looked at it appreciatively. "But I'm still looking forward to yours."

She'd said she was good at several things. Well, teasing was definitely one of them.

"Do you mind if I get out of this dress?" she asked as she set down the guitar. What was I going to say? Yes, I minded? Not hardly...

"I don't mind," I told her, intending to show her the bedroom. She didn't wait.

She reached behind her and unzipped the dress, letting it fall around her feet. She stepped out of it and kicked off her shoes while I was trying to breathe. She was incredible.

Pale white, virtually transparent panties were the only thing marring the perfection of this daughter of Mnemosyne as she stood there smiling. Medium height, proportional curves, perfectly rounded breasts with dark areolae sitting high and proud, creamy, perfect skin, the violet eyes... I was so hard, it hurt.

She still had that enigmatic smile as she picked up the flute case and examined it. Then she set it on the stool and opened it, withdrawing the sections and assembling them. All I could do was stand there in awe, wondering what she was going to do next.

What she did was blow my mind by blowing the flute. More like caressing it with her breath. She eased into the flute bridge from Nights In White Satin, then paused to look at me with pure delight as she told me, "this flute has such beautiful tone," before jumping into Bourée for a bit and then into the flute outro from I Talk To The Wind.

This girl was seducing me with my own forte. I picked up the Gibson and started a simple 12-bar rhythm and she picked right up on it. Improv flute on a back-alley blues... fucking perfect. I don't know how long we jammed like that, but I was grinnin' like a fool and I didn't care. I'd even forgotten about her half-nakedness. Almost.

"Are you sure you're not classically trained?" I asked as we took a break. "You're awfully damned good."

"I didn't say I wasn't classically trained," she told me as she finished her wine. "I said I wasn't a classically trained concert musician. My parents are both professional musicians. Growing up with them was classical training. I think they were disappointed when I decided to go for my B.S. in Forest Resources."

"Forest Resources?" That came out of left field.

"Mm-hmm," she confirmed. "I like being in touch with my animal nature." Right then, I was damned glad she did, too. She picked up her dress and shoes, and asked, "where's the bedroom?"

I drained my glass, picked up hers and the bottle, and told her "right this way"... I pointed out the bathroom on the way by and when we got to my bedroom, I set the bottle and glasses on the dresser and turned to face her. She didn't even pause.

She dropped her dress and shoes by the door and walked right up to me, pressing in like she had before, except this time there was no dress in the way.

"You have too many clothes on," she informed me as she began unbuttoning my shirt. I couldn't have agreed more. I kicked off my shoes and started fumbling with my belt while she worked her way down my shirt. By the time she got to my pants, they were unbuckled, unbuttoned and unzipped.

She smiled as she squatted down, taking my pants with, and helped me step out of them. Then she helped peel my socks off, leaving me standing there in nothing but my briefs and a large tent pole holding them out.

"Nice..." she murmured as she reached out and stroked me through the briefs. I felt like I was going to explode. Then she stepped back a bit and held her arms out to her sides. "Your turn," she told me.

I took a deep breath and let it out. Jesus, I didn't want to be a klutz. Not with this one. She was ringing all my chimes. I reached out my hands to both sides, gently cupping her ribs without groping her tits, and slid them down as I went to one knee, hooking the waist of the panties with my thumbs. Then I slowly eased them down until they fell around her ankles. They were going to stay there for a few, because I was mesmerized.

Her pussy was bald. Right in front of my face and absolutely bare as a babe. That was unusual in my world. Most women didn't shave, unless they were into a certain kind of lifestyle. But on Dot? It just completed the image of a Greek statue, a smooth, perfect goddess. I looked up to see her smiling at me. Or maybe smirking. I suddenly felt like the kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I take it you like?" she asked, and the smile was in her voice as well.

"Oh, Jesus, I like..." I murmured, then decided not be a complete boor. I reached down and helped her step out of the panties, then tossed them over by the dress before standing up. When I did, her arms went around my neck as mine went around her back and we pulled into each other, easing into the kiss. She rocked my bod just like she had the first time, except this time the skin-on-skin made it just that much more intense. I wasn't the only one breathing hard when we let up.

"One second," she told me as she eased back out of my arms. I let go and watched her as she did almost the same thing I had done. Almost. She ran her hands down my sides til she got to the elastic, then hooked it with her fingers to the inside. She lifted the briefs out and away from my straining cock and slid them down to my feet as she knelt. I stepped out of them and she tossed them to the side, then she turned back and engulfed me.

I swear, I almost had a heart attack. I had to grab her shoulders to keep from collapsing. She had taken me -- all of me -- all the way down her throat in one fluid motion and it felt like her tonsils were giving me a massage. That had to be the most intense oral I've ever had... and I wasn't sure how long I was going to last. I think my moan communicated that.

She bobbed up and down on me for awhile, before easing up. She was damned close to ripping the cum out of me. She did ease up, though, and stood up in front of me, wrapping her arms around my neck again, and I put my arms around her again, too. She held me like that as she looked up into my face with this wonderful, beatific smile.

"I knew I was going to like playing your instrument," she told me in that gentle voice that was taking over every cell in my body. "And damn, you're a challenge..." I took that as a compliment. I leaned down to take her in a kiss again, and this time there was absolutely nothing in the way of melting our bodies together. She liked playing with our tongues and her Frenching was amazing. I remembered what she'd said about being in touch with her animal nature. Well, she sure as hell was in touch with mine!

I'm not sure when we decided to take it to the bed. I know she had to be feeling my cock pressing into her belly. She tightened her hold around my neck and lifted herself up so that her legs were wrapped around my thighs. I swear to God, she didn't jump. She just muscled herself up onto me. I needed a better purchase, so I moved my hands down under her ass and lifted her up.

And we never broke the kiss. I sort of remember walking us over to the bed, then crawling up onto it while holding her to me, til we got near the center. That's when we broke the kiss and I eased her down.

"That was nice," she told me as I lay down next to her. This wasn't one of the slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am fucks that I'd gotten from other "groupies." She was all sophisticated fire and I wanted to savor every bit of it.

"I'm glad you approve," I smiled. "What do you think of this?" I began kissing my way down her throat to her shoulders, and on down -- slowly and deliberately -- to her breasts. Her gentle sighs let me know I was on the right track while I desperately tried to remember anything I'd ever learned about what a woman likes. I spent time gently fondling those awesome orbs before I let myself lick her nipples. Then I added soft suckling on one while I rolled the other between my thumb and forefinger. That got even louder moans. Her nipples came up very hard against my tongue and I could feel her slightly grinding her thighs together. That's when I decided more exploration was necessary.

I kept suckling, but let my hand drift down her belly to her mons. That very strange, bare mons. As I eased my hand along the smooth skin and in between her thighs, I found out she was soaking wet. With a moaned, "Oh, God!..." she spread her legs more, making it easy on me. That was all the encouragement I needed.

I probed around and found her clit standing proud. That, I knew what to do with. Same for easing a couple of fingers into her sopping slit. One of my sometimes balling buddies had told me about a sensitive spot on the belly side of the pussy, a couple of inches in. She said it was absolutely the most intense feeling ever. I went looking for it.

Dot's moan sounded almost painful. She was trying hard to suppress it, to not make any noise, but I didn't see any reason for her to torment herself that way.

"You know," I told her, coming up off her tit, "you're allowed to make noise. You don't have to be quiet. Go ahead and let it out... I prefer it. Lets me know if I'm doing okay."