Oasis Piano Bar

I enjoy the 'Oasis' piano bar at this hotel. That's why I always stay here whenever I fly into Glasgow. It's contiguous to the airport, so I don't even need to go outside. Tonight, being Tuesday, was quiet in the 'Oasis.'

Charlie, the pianist, is in his mid-forties. His ringless fingers play a wide range of music, always with a cheerful smile. It personified a genuine expression of his personality, not just a feint for customer relations. He seems to love what he does and would not be happy doing anything else. Customarily, he wears a worn tuxedo with his trademark rainbow-colored bowtie, his brown hair up in a man bun.

Charlie plays a twenty-minute set and then takes a ten-minute break. He empties his tip jar into his jacket pocket on his way out. He always reminds me of Billy Joel's 'Piano Man.'

Charlie was playing the oldies. He knew the style of songs I loved to sing. He remembers me because I often pass through, and he knows I tip well. There were only six of us perched on stools around the grand piano. On one side sat a couple who relished this genre of oldie songs. The matronly lady enjoyed singing in an operatic style. Her husband delighted in listening to her. He tried to hum along quietly as he was a bit off-key and presumably didn't want to spoil it for her. A lone guy sat at the end of the piano arched over a ritzy cocktail reminiscing about days long gone. The fifth person sat on my left nearest to Charlie. She looked to be about my age, just short of thirty. Her curly ginger hair tumbled to her shoulders. I loved her little onyx-black cocktail dress that ended just above the knee. A glimpse of cleavage added a dash of provocation.

Singing around a piano is a great way to make friends. The congenial ambiance you build up is comfortable. I've even picked up some women that way. Between sets, you naturally talk. Chit chat back and forth about some song, share memories. It's so natural to start a conversation. You already have a lot in common. After the next set, you simply continue the discussion. Singers come and go. Patrons in a piano bar fall into categories. Some couples sit in booths quietly smooching like real or illicit lovers. Others want to be alone with their thoughts. Chatty types sit on stools at the bar. The real singers take or wait for a place at the piano. During the breaks, you could accumulate talk for an hour over an evening. Else chat together for a couple of minutes.

During the first break, we introduced ourselves. I discovered a lot about Justine. She is a 35-year-old hostess at an upscale chain restaurant. Her degree in cuisine and viticulture allows her to advise clientele on their selections. She maintains her sanity by playing music and mountain walking. A well-placed compliment could manipulate her artistic ego.

I asked Justine what she was doing at the hotel.

"I'm here with my husband, Neil." she answered." He's an airline pilot just back from a long trip. Since we live out in the country, sometimes when he returns from a long trip, I meet him here, and we stay over. Maybe we'll go into town tomorrow and do some shopping before heading home."

"That's a nice treat for you." I smiled.

"It is. If he lands after eight o'clock, it's all paid for. Not bad, eh?"

"So, has he gone to bed already?" I asked.

"Hell no! That's him there in the booth with a couple of bimbos. Probably airline hostesses. They all seem to know each other."

He'd rather chat them up than sit up here with me. It's a great deal for

them because he loves to pick up the tab. I don't know what else he picks on these long trips." she said darkly. I didn't want to go there now.

I built up a picture of Neil in my mind's eye from snippets I gathered from Justine between sets. I could see he was a big guy, over six feet tall. He became a junior civilian airline pilot after leaving the military, where he mainly flew transport flights. When he got established on the rungs of a decent airline based in Glasgow, they bought a home two hours out of town. He had a compact commuter car he could leave at the airport with free parking. Justine worked an hour further out in a small city.

He kept in good shape. His job demanded regular physicals. He did like to drink and worked at keeping his consumption under control. His most vulnerable test was when he returned from long trips, usually to Australia or Hong Kong. Justine worried when he had overseas stopovers. She worried about him having drunken liaisons. Whenever she brought this up with him, Neil denied it in a huff. His blond hair and blue eyes would put him in the sights of many airline hostesses of whatever airline.

This evening, he was drinking in a nearby booth with two hostesses still in their uniforms. They could be with the same airline as him. I guess they were probably waiting for a ride home. Neil had already changed into light Chinos and a golf shirt. He certainly was relaxing now, judging by the laughter coming from their booth.

"How about you? Here on business? she asked.

"Yeah, routine stuff. I drop in every couple of weeks for a day or two. I usually just spend the evening in the hotel. Great food, good gym, and spa.

Then, where better than the "Oasis" to relax before bed?"

"Your husband doesn't sing?" I asked.

"No. He likes it here because he can chat with colleagues, and I can't hear what they are talking about. Two different worlds! I would cramp his style."

Charlie came back for a new set. The older couple had left. The lone guy was no longer alone. He was now chatting with a leggy blond at the bar. Now it was just Justine and me.

We kidded around as we sang together using amusing gestures and getting Charlie in on the act. Her hazel green eyes sparkled as she sang. We had quite a few drinks by this time. We were singing louder, and her husband was talking a little louder.

At one point, Justine took a bathroom break. I marveled at her impressive figure as she sashayed across the room with a seductive movement of her hips. The little black dress accented her sculpted waist.

When Charlie reappeared for his last set of the evening, I ordered some last-call drinks as we warbled through a slower, more romantic list of ballads. The airline hostesses got up and left Neil on his own. Most of the other patrons were leisurely drifting out of the bar.

"Thank you, my friend." I crooned to Charlie." See you next time!" as I dropped ten-euro in his jar, the second of the evening. He smiled and waved as he left the dais. We got down from our stools and walked over to her Neil's booth.

"Thank you for lending me a singing companion for the evening." I joked. Getting no response, Justine shimmied him out of a boozy snooze.

"Shit. Not again! Come on, wake up, Neil. it's time to go."

"C'mon, buddy. Gotta go." I didn't help.

Justine sat beside him while I moved in on the other side of the booth.

"Can you help me get him to the elevator discretely? I hate making a scene."

"Of course." I said, "No problem."

The bar was empty now except for the staff readying to clean up. We got Neil to his feet and out of the booth. Between us, it was easy to maneuver him towards the elevator.

"He's obviously had too much to drink. We enjoyed a bottle of wine with dinner, but he's also affected by the long flight. We should really just go straight home on such nights."

Neil's bulk made it laborious to steer him into the elevator cab. It challenged us to keep him upright.

"Hold him in the corner while I get the door. Which floor?" I asked.

"We're on seven," she answered.

Getting Neil out of the elevator was just as challenging, but at least there were no onlookers to embarrass Justine. At one point, he was nearly on his knees. We resumed walking him along the corridor to their room. Justine unlocked the door, and we steered Neil to the king-size bed. I sat him on the side of the bed and gently let him fall backward with his legs dangling over the edge.

"I'm going to have another drink. How about you?" Justine said

We had already drunk way too much ourselves. Still, I was staying in the same hotel, even on the same floor.

"Yes, please," I answered.

"Whiskey, OK?"

She poured us each a whisky from a bottle of scotch I assumed was duty-free.

"OK, thanks. Shall I get him ready for bed?"

"Sure, that would help," she said.

"I need to go to the bathroom." she slurred. "I'll be right back."

Removing his shoes and socks was no problem. I had to struggle a bit to get his pants off. Finally, I pulled his shirt over his head. Now he just wore his boxer shorts.

"What the hell, " I thought." Let's see what sort of reaction this gets."

I playfully decided to remove his boxers to get a rise out of Justine and see what her reaction would be.

His dick was impressive, at least seven or eight inches. It lay flat along his thigh.

Justine staggered out of the bathroom, placing her now empty whiskey glass on the fridge. She swayed towards me. As she got closer, she saw Neil's naked body. I jokingly held up Neil's dick and waved it side to side.

"This won't be much use tonight." I joked.

As I flopped his limp dick to and fro, she just stared open-mouthed. I didn't know if she would laugh, scream, or throw me out of the room. Justine stopped in her tracks and stared at my jiggling Neil's dick around. Her unblinking eyes widened, her mouth still agape. Like a zombie, she watched silently. I waited for her to come back to earth and speak. She seemed hypnotized.

Justine moved toward me; her eyes transfixed on Neil 's waving penis.

Finally, she whispered, "That's mine! Only mine. Those bitches can't share it. None of them deserve it. It's reserved for me, only me." She was off in a wild fantasy somewhere. She clearly thought Neil was too generous with his sexual favors when he was flying around the world. She came closer, still hypnotized by my waving Neil's still flaccid cock around.

"Those whores can't have any of that. It's mine!"

She hoisted up her black dress, slipped her panties down to her ankles, kicking them aside with one foot. The dress being quite a tight fit, remained high up her thighs, barely covering her butt. She seemed mindlessly oblivious of my presence. She was focusing exclusively on Neil's oscillating penis.

Staggering toward me, she hiked up the hem of her dress to the waist. Pushing me aside, she knelt up on the bed straddling Neil's dick and gliding her womanhood lengthwise over it.

"This is mine, you trollops. Stay off it!"

Neil's dick did not respond in any way. Justine lifted her hips a bit and

reached down, trying to insert Neil's penis into her glistening opening. A few attempts at this proved useless. After getting nowhere with this, she gave up, leaned forward to lie flat on top of Neil. She was cheek to cheek with her hands holding his face.

Here was her fully exposed vulva with the lips partly open. Neil's dick is temptingly close, still forsakenly limp. Thinking I could lend a hand, I grabbed his manhood and brought it up to Justine's entrance. I slid the head of it up and down Justine's moist lips and pointed it at her entrance. This was a lot of fun but wasn't ever going to work. Justine's cunt was perfectly positioned before me at just the desirable height.

"Why not?" I thought, unshackling my manhood. "Maybe I could be of even more help."

I pulled out my rock-rigid member and stroked it up and down Justine's inner lips and twiddled it around her clit. I enjoyed playing like this for a while. Then I brought the head of my dick up to Justine's vagina and pressed forward. I really enjoyed the feel of her warmth and smoothness. Relishing the situation, I anticipated the pleasure of a long leisurely fuck.

Justine sighed when she experienced my penetration.

"At last. I needed someone, a friend, a companion." she began.

"Ah, yes! That's what I needed; that's more like it. Deeper, let me feel it. Yes, yes! That's it! " She added.

I set off pacing myself, but Justine was lusting for more.

"Faster. Let's have it, boyo!"

I pistoned into her, my hands grasping her hips. I was swinging, and she was matching me stroke for stroke. As I drove along, Justine was getting more vocal.

"Yes," she kept repeating, "more, faster!"

We gradually built up to an overpowering mutual climax. As I spurted a stream of cum into her, she howled a squeal of satisfaction. "Aagh Aayyaamm. Yes! "

"Oh my god, I needed that," she said. "Thank you for stepping into the brink."

She collapsed, breathing heavily.

"I'm only here to help," I offered modestly.

"Now I can get some sleep," said Justine.

When I stood back, what a scene! The beautiful sight on Justine's vagina dribbling a little cum, mooned over Neil's naked dick.

I pulled up my pants and topped up my whiskey.

"We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when," I sang as I headed to the door.

"But I know we'll meet again someday." she laughed and waved. "Soon, I hope!"