The Girl with the Freckles Pt. 02

For Janet; and Sarah; and Julie, a newfound freckled fan.

(Please note: all characters in this story are over 18)

*****

Setting up for a gig is a major pain in the ass. As much as I loved performing, we weren't exactly The Rolling Stones, with a battalion of veteran roadies to handle the grunt work. So it was on us to lug around the bulky equipment, wire up the effects busses, amps, speakers, mikes and mixing board (each with it's own specific cable), tune the instruments, tweak the volume, gain, compression and tone controls, and pray the room's acoustics and ambient noise weren't too obstreperous. Bruce, our keyboard player, handled most of the mechanical details, but I had the best set of ears, so it fell on me to adjust the levels for our makeshift sound system. Normally, I would grit my teeth and soldier through the process, grumbling when confronted with the inevitable technical difficulties. But, that night was different. That night, I really wanted everything to be spot on, and I embraced the procedure like a man possessed. That night, my new girlfriend - a girl I had been obsessed with since first I saw her - was coming to hear us perform. It all had to be perfect; for her.

My single-mindedness was not lost on my band mates. I had already told my closest friend and percussionist Steve about Janet, and he waisted no time sharing his intel with the other guys. It wasn't long before I was peppered with the inevitable comments and questions laced with puerile sexual innuendo. Boys will be boys.

Steve was the only one who'd ever seen Janet, but that was way back in seventh grade. His exclusive point of reference - that girl with the freckles.

It was visions of those myriad freckles covering that supple naked body on our transcendent first night of lovemaking that fueled my drive for a performance nonpareil. More than anything, I wanted to dazzle my freckled enchantress.

Just as we were about finished setting up, I saw her. She had on skin tight black jeans, accentuating those lithe legs and perfect ass; but what captivated me was the ruby-red spaghetti strap half camisole she wore. It's deep crimson color dramatically contrasted the creamy whiteness of her exposed midriff, arms, shoulders and décolletage. More than anything, it unveiled my singular carnal obsession; that ubiquitous spread of irresistibly sensuous freckles. My eyes fixed on Janet as she walked across the room into my waiting arms. Wordlessly, we kissed; deeply, passionately, wantonly. I never wanted it to end.

When our lips finally parted, I whispered in her ear, "God, you are so fucking hot, that outfit, damn, I want you right this second."

"I wore it specially for you," she simpered. "But I think you have a show to do; and remember, my parents are away 'till tomorrow night."

"It's gonna be hard for me to concentrate. Can't you feel what you've done to me?" I moaned. Pressing a into her, I knew she would sense my fully engorged hard-on straining against the fabric of my jeans.

"Mmmm, I'll take really good care of that later," she cooed.

Then I heard Bruce's amplified voice announcing over the PA, "Ground control to Lead guitar, come in please, you have a sound check to finish."

I sighed to Janet, "Business before pleasure."

"I'll leave you alone for a few," she replied.

"No need, stick with me," I answered, and we traversed the venue to the vantage point I had selected for completing the sound check. "It's all done with hand signals," I explained. "Thumbs up or down to adjust volume, gain, and EQ for each instrument and mike. Bruce and I have it down to a science."

When we finished, I walked her back to the stage to meet the band.

"So Janet, this is Bruce, our resident techno-geek keyboard player; Johnny, lead vocals, rhythm guitar and self proclaimed chick magnet; Danny, bass and backup vocals, and Steve, I think you know from seventh grade, percussion. Guys, Janet... my girlfriend."

She smiled and said, "Hey guys, I'm really psyched to hear you play."

I watched them size her up as I made the introductions, hoping they would modulate the usual torrent of inappropriate comments.

Steve was first with an innocuous, "hey, how's it going, long time no see."

Bruce, who was oblivious to everything save the equipment, replied with a perfunctory, "how ya doin'."

Danny, who was always jittery before a gig, offered a laconic, "nice to meet you."

It was Johnny that worried me the most. The ladies loved his affected James Dean machismo, and despite an overtly contemptuous love 'em and leave 'em modus operandi, he never failed to satisfy this compulsion for a different girl night after night. It all made sense several years later when he finally "came out" to us.

"So you're the mystery girlfriend," he began his leering assessment. "Okay, decent body, diggin' the outfit..."

"All right," I abruptly interrupted. "finish the appraisal later, let's get ready."

I gave Janet a quick kiss and said, "see you after the show."

"Good luck, I'll be waiting," she replied with a wink and a smile. "Think I'll scope out the place before you go on."

We gathered back stage, and I reviewed the set list as well as a few key elements in each song. We always began with several crowd-pleasing covers, and segued into the original material that Steve and I had written and arranged. For me, that was what mattered most.

While we waited back stage for the "MC/DJ" to introduce us, Johnny - as expected - started in on me.

"So dude, what's the deal with freckle girl?" he smirked. "I mean, I've never seen a chick with that many spots, it's kinda freaky."

"Yeah man, well I guess she's not in the same league with that parade of brainless skanks you constantly hit on," I shot back.

"Oooo, looks like I struck a nerve, huh?" he taunted.

My reply was deadpan. "Hey, I can handle all the shit you can throw at me, no problem; just leave her the fuck alone."

He backed off - a little. "No problem dude, she's your girl, I get it, no problem, just hope Miss Freckles puts out enough to make my boy happy."

"You don't need to worry about that," I retorted. "Take care of your own business; I think I saw some drunk chick puking her guts out by the service elevator...just your type."

He laughed and said, "thanks for the heads up, I'll go check her out."

Although I knew his razzing was essentially harmless bravado, I still wanted Johnny - and all of them - to know that Janet was the real deal.

Finally we went on stage and started our set. Johnny really was an engaging front man with a great vocal range, and he warmed up the audience quickly. Girls danced and sang along; guys played air guitar; we received generous applause; the crowd was hooked.

Then came the moment critique, when we introduced and began playing our original tunes. We had a repertoire of a dozen that were performance-ready (with three times that many in development) which Steve and I had reworked and polished for well over two years. I selected five that I felt would be most relatable to this particular audience; mostly high energy rhythm-driven dance tunes. We rocked; and they danced; and clapped; and cheered; and called us back for two encores. It was our best set ever, and above the clamorous throng, the loudest accolades came from this girl in a ruby-red spaghetti strap half camisole who was covered with freckles.

When I exited the stage, Janet practically jumped into my arms and began kissing me.

"That was fantastic!" she gushed between kisses, "you guys were sooo great."

She looked over at Steve and said, "the original material, amazing! I loved that hook on the second song, can't get it out of my head! And you, Danny, Bruce, the rhythm section was so tight! Did you see how everyone was dancing!"

She saved the last for our front man, "and Johnny, your stage presence, it's like, magnetic, girls just couldn't take their eyes off you."

A look of supreme self-satisfaction crossed his face.

"You know, your girl's alright," he preened, "I might just have to steal her from you."

She turned to me and winked, "tempting, but I'm sticking with this guy," she replied while taking my hand. "Besides, you know I'm not in your league."

He smiled, and took off for this cute but visibly intoxicated Asian girl who'd been sending him signals all night.

"Well, as usual, he's not gonna be any help," lamented Bruce, who was fanatical about breaking down and securing our equipment. "Let's get to work, guys."

"Can I do something?" Janet offered.

"Sure," I said, as Bruce rolled his eyes. He was meticulously anal about how our gear was handled and stored, and freaked out when it wasn't done to his exacting specifications.

"Let me show you how to roll cables," he said. "Please pay attention, if you don't do it right, I'm gonna have to redo it later."

She watched as he demonstrated his method which mitigated against damage to the wire while making it easy to unfurl. After observing and doing a supervised test run, Janet quickly managed to sort out and wrap the tangle of wires to Bruce's satisfaction. Then, she began helping me break down the mike, speaker and music stands, pack up the instruments and even carry equipment down the freight elevator.

When everything was loaded into the van, Bruce smiled at her and said, "You're hired! No, seriously, great job, you did much more work than Johnny ever does, I really appreciate the help."

"Happy to be of service," she replied, "you guys were so great it's the least I could do."

Bruce looked at me and said, "She's alright, man, definitely a keeper. So, we're gonna stick around for a while, sign some autographs, maybe get lucky, you in? I mean, Janet's welcome to hang with us, she's cool, I'll drive you both home later."

"Thanks," she replied, "but I took my dads car...and besides, I'm pretty sure I got lucky already."

I smiled and added, "yeah guys, I think I'm gonna head out with Janet, call you all tomorrow."

We said our goodnights with self-congratulatory high fives and bear hugs, and they wandered back to the crowded dance floor.

I turned to Janet; "Wanna take the freight elevator?"

"Nope, stairs, it'll take less time to, um, go down," she replied.

"Ok," I nodded in agreement.

We entered the dimly lit stairwell and she closed the fire door behind us. Janet abruptly turned, wrapped her arms around my neck, salaciously whispering, "while you were backstage waiting to go on, I scoped out the perfect place for a little privacy. I've been dying to do this all night."

Before I could respond, she scrambled down three steps, positioning herself so that her mouth was aligned with the fly on my jeans. My heart started racing.

As she unzipped and pulled down my pants and BVDs, she looked up with a wicked grin and said, "better hold on to the banister, 'cause I won't stop sucking your cock 'til you shoot every drop of cum in my mouth."

I was rock hard as she began a relentless assault. It was masterful. Moist lips insulating her teeth, forming an air tight seal; her cheeks hollowing by a powerful force of suction; her mouth bathing my cock in a lubricious mixture of spittle and pre-cum; her tongue sliding up and down the shaft, teasing and tantalizing; her head, bobbing up and down, enveloping my full length, hands directing the motion of my swaying hips.

Speechless, I looked down at that abundantly freckled face as her eyes fixed on mine. I don't think I lasted more than a minute or two before torrents of cum erupted; one, two, three, four powerful jets, as I gasped, overcome with ineffable ecstasy. When she withdrew her mouth, I crumpled to a seated position on the steps, Incapable of motion, or coherent thought, until the intense waves of pleasure gradually began to subside.

She sat down beside me, draping her arm around my back and resting her head on my shoulder.

"Ready to go?" she whispered.

"Gimme a minute," I muttered. "I...I'm not sure I remember how to walk."

"Here, let me help you," she giggled, pulling me to my feet and holstering my spent cock. "Don't you want to come home with me and spend the night?"

"Desperately...but you're driving," I replied. "You've turned my legs to jello, and I'm gonna need to replenish every ounce of energy for what I have in mind."

"Mmmm, sounds promising," she replied.

I escorted her around to the driver's side of the car, pinning her against the door with a passionate kiss. We held each other, and between subtle, randomly placed kisses across her freckled face and shoulders, I said, "You were incredible tonight. It's like you just knew the right thing to say to or do so all my band mates really liked you. Every minute we spend together, I find more reasons to want you."

She smiled and kissed me back. "That's so sweet...and you didn't even mention my freckles...or the blowjob."

"Mmmm, those freckles, make me so fucking horny," I admitted, "and the blowjob...we really need to talk about that."

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked with a look of genuine consternation.

"No, no, it was...beyond perfect," I reassured. "Let's get going, we'll talk.

We sat in the car, but before we began the 40 minute drive back to Bayside, I turned to her and said, "So, I don't want you...I don't want to upset you or anything, you know I love you, but...what you did to me, that blowjob, it was so... it's just hard to believe you've never done..had any experience, I mean, lots of experience to be that good. I know you said I was your first and everything, but I've been with other girls and I wouldn't be upset if you've.. were with some other ...guys ...GOD, please tell me I'm not fucking this up!"

"No, it's ok," she calmly explained. "But you've gotta believe me, you really were my first. But, I did have some, well, tutorials with my, umm, trusted technical advisor."

"Ok, trusted technical advisor?" I queried.

"Well, it kinda personal, embarrassing, whatever...but I trust you, so here's the gory details..My big sister Lori, she's four years older, used to have the room next to mine... one night, back when I just turned 18, she stayed home with me while our parents were out. I heard her moaning and gasping through her bedroom wall, and I thought she was sick so I ran in and she was...well, pleasuring herself with this vibrator. She yelled at me to get the fuck out, but later on she apologized and explained what she was doing. I really looked up to her; Lori is...she was always the pretty sister, she inherited my dad's red hair and blue eyes and mom's big boobs and creamy skin tone, while I wound up with his freckles and her mousy brown hair. But she was always good to me, and guys were really into her, so when I was curious, she taught me everything about sex. Like, how to get off, first with my fingers and then with a vibrator. She even demonstrated and explained in detail how to give the prefect blowjob, and showed me how to practice - I know this sounds weird - on cucumbers. That's when I discovered I had no gag reflex, which is why I can take you all the way in my mouth without using my hands. But I've never done it to a guy; only vegetables. You really were my first."

I took a minute to process what I'd heard.

"Well," I pronounced with mock formality, "as the fortunate subject of your initial foray, let me declare - on behalf of all organisms in the animal kingdom - that your diligent practice and superior instruction has made you a master of the highest order in the art of the blowjob."

She giggled as I reached into my pocket and handed her a small velvet case.

"What's this?" she asked eagerly.

"Open it," I instructed. "I thought of you when I saw it this afternoon."

The box held a simple bracelet of carved thuya burl wood.

"It's so beautiful, I love it," she gushed, as tears welled up in her eyes.

"It's made from this very rare Moroccan wood; at least that's what the guy at the flea market told me. The spotty grain reminds me of your freckles."

She kissed me passionately, as a few tears streaked her cheeks.

"I hate it when you cry," I whispered.

"I'm not sad," she sobbed. "Just...overwhelmed. You make me so happy, I feel like you turned my whole life around."

"Hey beautiful," I softly replied. "Lets get going, we can talk and drive."

Composing herself, she started the car and we headed back.

"So, everything you learned came from big sister? I'd like to meet her some day, personally thank her," I said.

"Well, she's dying to meet you, too," she replied. "I called her the day you asked me out, and then after last night. She was ecstatic, you'll get to meet her soon. She goes to med school in Philly, U of P."

"Well, she could've had a career as a sex therapist, without med school," I mused.

"I also learned a few things from the girls on my gymnastics team," she added.

"Such as?" I queried.

"Well, around half the girls on the team were straight, and the rest were either bi or gay. The locker room talk got pretty raunchy from both ends of the spectrum, if you know what I mean. They got very specific about what their boyfriends - and girlfriends - really liked, and I pick things up pretty quickly. I was never into girls, but, well, when the team got together and partied, alcohol started flowing, things could get a little crazy," she said coyly.

"How do you mean?" I asked, barely able to contain my lascivious curiosity.

"So, I hope you don't get grossed out or anything, but, well, on a few occasions, when I was really drunk, I sorta made out with some of the other girls. One time, we all kinda got naked, and I, well, let this one girl suck on my tits, and I, umm, reciprocated, but that's as far as it went. It was sorta nice, but nothing like what I feel when I'm with you. I mean, I also had one date with this gymnast from the guy's team, but he ended up being an obnoxious asshole. Nothing happened, except a 30 second make-out session, if that even counts. So that's everything, my entire lame sexual history...before you."

I carefully considered my reply. "I've gotten a few blowjobs, I wasn't a virgin. I got off and all, but...but nothing like being with you. I can't even...it's like I never even had sex...before you. Shit, are we there yet, can you drive a little faster?"

She looked straight ahead, smiled and said, "five more minutes."

Five minutes never seemed to take that long before.

Before Janet could even remove the key from the ignition, I bolted to the driver's side and opened her door.Taking her hand, we raced to the side door, laughing as we hurtled the stairs and fumbled with the lock. Once inside, we clung to each other breathlessly, as our laughter gradually subsided and we settled into the comforting warmth of our embrace.

"Wanna take a quick shower before we, settle down?" she asked.

"Yeah, let's get squeaky clean," I replied. "But I wanna take your clothes off, ok?"

She nodded, as I moved behind her. I took hold of the flimsy spaghetti straps and slowly pulled them over her pale, freckled shoulders.

"I've been wanting to do that from the moment I saw you," I whispered. "You looked so sexy in that top."

"It's my sister's. I could never have worn it before you told me you thought I was beautiful," she explained. "My freckles..I was so self conscious...but not anymore. I have this amazing, talented, hot boyfriend who told me my freckles turn him on, and that's all that matters now."

My lips pressed against the curve of her neck, as I unzipped the silken top. She gasped, as her head slowly inclined backwards, inviting my kisses to advance along their titillating trail. The camisole fell away, then her bra, and I reached around to caress the firm swell of her succulent breasts.

"Mmmm," she moaned. "I love it when you tease my nipples. Makes me soooo wet."