The Songwriter

"Fuck...It's already 5am?"

These were the first thoughts in Clair's mind as her alarm sounded the offensive reminder that the brief night was ending and that she had a seven-hour drive ahead of her. One that would take her and her normally functioning pickup truck across the stark and often striking landscape of the Texas panhandle and further south to the town of Mason. It didn't help that she had been up past midnight after packing up from last night's gig, forcing down a cold, barely edible meal from the restaurant where she'd performed last night and finally, putting her road weary, sleep deprived head on a pillow at the premier hotel in her current stop, the Lost Stag Motel.

It took real concentration to remember which town she was in, which hotel she'd slept in, and most importantly which way was the bathroom.

The lights still off and the room dark as a coal mine, she felt her way to the bathroom and plopped her tired butt on the toilet, then realized she'd slept in her pants as she almost peed in them. She sat brain-dead as the tinkling beneath her came to an end, then rested her head on her hands. This was the journey she'd signed up for, she knew this reality well enough, having told it to herself time and again when her energy and passion for this life faltered.

Clair had been travelling for almost three years, singing one and two night gigs at restaurants and bars across the southwest. Occasionally with band members, but usually on her own, which was how she preferred it.

Sometimes there was no travel between performances, when scheduling allowed her to hunker down in one location for as long as a couple of weeks, playing multiple venues without packing up. Those were the best stops. It gave her the time to do what she was born to do, which was to write songs; not kitschy party or indie pop songs, but heartfelt country songs.

Clair didn't consider herself a singer. Rather, she was a songwriter who happened to sing. And for the past years, singing was paying the bills, despite her best effort as a writer. She had received a couple of inquiry's from Nashville about a year ago on songs she'd submitted, and both were still "under consideration" so the agent told her, but she knew there wouldn't be any song royalties coming her way anytime soon.

So that meant one of two paths were available for her, just like they were for every other undiscovered songwriter; Go get a real job; or get out on the road and perform.

So Clair got up from the toilet, turned on the light and started the shower.

She kicked her jeans off using just her feet, standing on one pant leg while the other lifted out, and took off her bra simultaneously. Before stepping in she stopped to inspect herself in the mirror.

Clair was still a youthful and athletically built woman. She was of average height, but slimmer than most women in their 30's. Her breasts were small, which made her dark nipples appear outsized against her pale skin. Narrow hips rested atop slender, shapely legs, and between them her cleanly shaved womanhood. It was the one feminine indulgence she committed herself to all these years on the road, despite the un-hospitable conditions her career sometimes presented her with. She had developed a shoulder tan line from performing in the summer sun while wearing spaghetti strapped tops to keep cool, and her occasional use of a western hat didn't prevent the freckled, outdoorsy look of her face.

Clair was confident with her appearance, but could see that the past few years had begun to change her. While she gave off a thoughtful and insightful look today, that would eventually transform to be more like a road warrior, which concerned her.

The hot water from the partly clogged shower head was welcome, and immediately brightened her attitude. "Washing off the worry," was what her mother had told her when she was younger, and this morning she knew mamma was right. "Probably a song lyric there," she thought and made a mental note to jot it down in her notebook after showering.

Rinsing the shampoo from her hair, her hands glided down from her neck and shoulders, across her breasts and along her hips. Eyes closed, she stood motionless and let the cascade flow down her naked body. Her body relaxed as her hands moved between her legs, while the shower streamed refreshingly down her belly.

Clair did not have any men in her life. She didn't stay in one place long enough to, and in truth, she didn't' care to invest the time. Most of the men she'd been with in the past were not worth remembering, and the ones that were had moved on to traditional, and more stationary relationships. Further, she made a point to avoid hookups with strangers in unknown surroundings; too many risks for a woman travelling alone. So while having a hard penis inside of her was always a desirable idea, she was perfectly fine handling her physical needs on her own.

With one hand attending to her nipples, the fingers of the other hand slid across the wet shaved skin between her legs, touching, then pressing against her clit. Her fingers went lower and found their way inside, the wetness from the shower mixing with the moisture from within her. The other hand joined its companion, as she massaged circles around her button, while her fingers pushed deeper inside her, lifting to create pressure on her special spot.

She found a familiar rhythm which accelerated as her arousal grew. Pressing her mound against her hands, she built up a head of steam, lifted her face to the shower and groaned loudly into the cascade of water as the fire roared out from inside her. Her hips bucked uncontrollably, her torso twitched as wave after wave rolled through her body. Eventually her pleasure subsided, and she lowered her head back down and smiled to herself.

"Ok, Mason, Texas; Here I come," she said out loud.

####

The drive across one third of the state was less grueling than she'd expected it to be. The pickup ran fine, despite the 100 degree heat, and she even had time to stop for a small-town diner lunch en route. She had checked into her next hotel, dressed for the evening in boots, jeans with a breathable silk blouse and was at the Sundowner Cafe 30 minutes before her first Friday night set was scheduled.

The Sundowner Cafe was nice enough she decided; better than many, less than others. And the owner-manager was a welcoming sort of fellow, although he made it clear he was paying her for four hours, with no more than three breaks, and he had better get it.

It was an older, rustic looking structure just off Mason's traditional small town square. Half of the restaurant seating was outdoors, and the other half, along with a bar, were inside and air-conditioned. She was disappointed that the small stage was outdoors, which meant a hot evening until the dry Texas humidity brought temperatures down after sunset. At least it was closed off in the back so that the setting sun would not broil her backside. She completed her sound check, never much of a challenge for a solo singer guitarist, and kicked things off on time at 7PM.

The crowd was engaged, considering that the Sundowner is a primarily a restaurant, and the audience was busy with food menus, drink orders and eating. Before her first set was done most tables were full and a few chairs around the edge of the patio had been occupied by locals apparently there for the music and drinks. She felt good about the gig, and it was evident in her performance and engagement with the crowd.

When her first break started, she was headed to the bar inside for a beer and some cool air as a man arrived and crossed the patio simultaneously as her. He beat her to the door and opened it for her, saying in a gentlemanly way, "Let me get the door." Followed by, "After you, miss."

His simple, cordial greeting was cliche, even for these parts, but his voice seized her attention. He spoke in a measured, low, graveled tone, but also enunciated each syllable of every word like an uptown lawyer. He was wearing jeans and cowboy boots like almost every other man in town, but didn't seem at all like a small town local. He was probably in his 40's judging from his collar length, peppered hair, and the lines around his intelligent eyes belied a man who had seen a few things. They regarded each other for a moment before entering the restaurant. He did not smile, yet his gaze was warm, friendly. Surprised by the moment and feeling a tinge of embarrassment, Clair smiled and looked away, saying only "Thank you." as she entered.

There were only two remaining seats at the bar and Clair took the closest one. She deliberately did not look his way or show awareness as he occupied the bar stool next to her. Uncertain if he'd followed her to the bar, or it was just a coincidence, she was relieved when the bartender addressed him first, using his first name, "Hey Sean, welcome back. What can I get for you?" Clair thought, "At least he isn't a travelling serial killer." as she waited for her turn before ordering a beer.

They were both two sips into their long-necks when the bartender made his way back to her and said, "Hey, nice work out there. People are coming in asking who the singer is. They love you!" Her neighbor's body language indicated he wasn't aware he was sitting next to the evening performer as he spontaneously looked in her direction. Clair couldn't resist looking back at him while she answered the bartender, "That's great! You never know hows its going to go until it actually does."

Her handsome stranger smiled and took the cue perfectly, "I'm sorry I missed it. When do you go back on?" His haunting deep voice was even more clear this close to him, and Clair waited to see if he might say more. She maintained eye contact with his inviting eyes and finally answered, "In ten minutes... Just enough time to guzzle this down."

"I can't wait to hear you, I'll come outside. I'm Sean by the way." He held out his hand, but not in a handshake sort of way. His palm faced upward, his fingers were relaxed. His gesture said, "Take my hand." And she did.

"I'm Clair... Clair Daniels. Nice to meet you."

For the four seconds it took to answer him, her hand resting upon his, Clair was unnerved in a way she couldn't explain. She would later write about it as an out-of-body experience, although that suggests that she might have mentally gone somewhere else, which was not the case. She was there at the Sundowner, with this stranger named Sean, and his words and his innocent yet deliberate touch had somehow just fucked up her brain.

Sean retrieved his hand, and Clair managed to collect herself enough to have another gulp of beer. "Holy hell, get your shit together babe." she thought. "You have a gig to finish!" She chugged the remainder of the bottle and said to Sean, "I'm going to go do another sound check, so see you out there, ok?" Sean nodded without verbally answering and Clair returned to the patio.

Back on stage, Clair felt more in control again. This was her element after all. Her music, her guitar, the crowd; it had become her new home and this moment reinforced that reality. The crowd applauded for her return and like the click of a light switch, she was invincible again, taking the audience on the musical journey she had planned for them.

Two songs into her second set, she noticed Sean take an open chair along the outer perimeter of the patio, settling in like any other restaurant customer. Throughout the next forty-five minutes, whenever she looked his way, he faced directly toward her, never wavering. Sometimes he was smiling, sometimes not, but he was always in the moment with her, whatever the song.

Her mood and confidence high at the end of her second set, she started her next break by walking directly to Sean. "Well, how'd I do?" she asked.

His answer pulled her back into his inexplicable grasp just as before. "Clair... It's obvious that you love what you do... and it's a privilege to be here and watch you do it. Don't ever stop." For a musician, there are few compliments as impactful as one that recognizes and celebrates their love for their craft, and he had somehow managed to touch that nerve.

"Thank you so much." was the only answer she could muster before turning for the restroom out of worry that she might tear up. Reaching the ladies room, she found the door locked, someone already inside. She opted to wait there rather than venture back outside just yet. As she leaned against the door of an adjacent storage closet, she noticed muffled voices behind it. She took a step away to confirm, seeing a sign labeled Supplies. She stepped back to listen closer and it was obvious that two people were in the storage room having sex. "Hurry.... need to... check my tables..." Clair could make out through the door. Then "No.... this way...Ooooh, yes." Then quiet moaning and a rhythmic banging against something.

Any other night she might find this entertaining, perhaps even arousing. But right now it was the last thing she wanted as she struggled to gain her composure back. Finally, it was her turn in the ladies room. Inside, Clair's mind raced with a flurry of thoughts over the next five minutes, "How could this strange guy affect me like this? Am I that lonely for a man? Is he some sort of mind reader? What the fuck... get your shit together girl!"

Emerging from the ladies room, she made her way to the stage for yet another, unnecessary sound check to kill time. Then, like before, she found her footing 2 songs into her third set. With Sean still soaking in every moment from his seat on the patio, she began to find a certain comfort in his gaze, as if the approval of this mysterious man and his insightful mind was a validation that she was succeeding as a singer-songwriter.

A family seated at a front row table bought her a drink as her 3rd and final break began. Clair thanked them, chatted for a minute, then proceeded back towards Sean, determined to keep her wits about her. He kept the conversation light and easy this time, as Clair pulled an empty chair closer so they could both sit. She learned that he had been raised as the son of a third generation ranching family in the area outside of town, and had moved away for college. Now he split his time between a condo in downtown Dallas and here in west Texas, where he managed his family's cattle operation. He joked that in his spare time, he squeezed in a minute or two for his business interests back in the big city. Clair was growing more relaxed, not to mention attracted to him, and tried not to smile too deliberately when she heard that he was single at this point in his life.

As Clair made her way to the stage for her final set of the night, the owner met her en-route and quietly told her that his Saturday night performer had cancelled on him. "Could you stay for a second night? A big reason folks come here is 'cause we have live music on Friday and Saturday. I can raise your payout if that helps." The expression on his face pleaded with her. She had planned on getting to her next stop in Austin a day ahead and visiting a girlfriend, but the man on her mind, not to mention the money, made for a quick and easy answer. "Sure. I can stay another night."

While she didn't do so intentionally, Clair's final set may as well have been dedicated to her new acquaintance. She pulled out every soulful ballad and sweet love song that she could remember, regardless of whether it was one of her originals or not. She made eye contact with Sean as much as practical, while not ignoring her full assemblage of new fans across the patio. The kitchen had closed for the night and diners from inside stopped to listen, postponing their migration to their cars.

Clair was killing it tonight. And she knew that the beautiful man across the patio was the reason.

The set ended as she sincerely thanked everyone for being a great audience and for coming to the Sundowner Cafe, adding that bit of sucking-up to her patron for the weekend. Her muscle memory dictated she next start packing her gear, which Sean noticed. He walked to the stage and sat on its edge as she assembled her equipment.

"You are really an experience to take in, Clair." he said. "I can't believe a woman like you found her way out here. You're amazing." Clair sat down next to Sean, intentionally nuzzling her hip next to his. He turned toward her, which in close quarters allowed him to rest his hand behind her backside naturally, causing him to lean slightly in her direction.

Clair felt the sexual tension between them amplify in the moment that followed. She hadn't experienced this attraction for any man for a long time. The feeling took her back in time to a nervous, horny teenager, albeit with some common sense, all over again. "He's going to make his move now.... I'm sooo ready..... I want him," she thought.

Instead, Sean stood up. "I've got an early drive to make in the morning, so I should get going. It was great meeting you, Clair. Best of luck to you." Then he walked away.

Clair watched in silence as Sean crossed the patio to the parking lot. Embarrassed beyond measure, she avoided eye contact with anyone as she stoically finished packing her equipment and left.

Back at her hotel, she alternated between humiliation and fury. "How dare he just leave her hanging like that? Or did I misread the situation?" She thought. Fatigued, both physically and emotionally, she tried without success to sleep. Instead she masturbated furiously, images of Sean still consuming her. Finally, her emotions frazzled, she slept.

####

The next morning Clair began her day resolved to put the previous night's discomfort behind her. She regarded it as a weak moment, childishly allowing a moment of lust for a man to get the best of her. But first, she memorialized the experience with the lyrics and framework for a song which she'd finish writing some other day. Emotional extremes made for some of her best work and last night definitely qualified.

That night, Her second gig at the Sundowner Cafe went as well as the previous one. The audience was fun, the owner was welcoming and appreciative. Plus, some familiar faces from the night before were back on scene.

Clair was in her fourth and final set, gulping a sip of beer between songs when she saw Sean arrive. She pretended not to notice.

He stopped to chat with a couple near the back who obviously knew him, and coyly made eye contact with Clair, eliciting a smile from her, despite her attempt to resist. She and Sean continued to notice each other through the remaining songs in the set, and by the time she said good night and gave her thanks to the crowd, it was a forgone conclusion that he would approach her as she stepped off the stage.

"Hi Clair. It's awesome to see you back. I didn't know you were performing tonight. I'd have come by earlier to hear you." Yet again, Sean's captivating voice, and mysterious gaze enveloped her like a net.

"It was a last minute thing. The owner was in a bind and asked me to stick around. I was happy to help out." She tried to keep her response business-like, but knew her independent resolve from earlier in the day was draining fast.

"I'll get right to the point Clair. Can we go somewhere more private? I think it's important we be alone together. I realize you barely know me, but there's some things I need to say to you, Things I didn't take time to say last night."

Any chance of Clair resisting his polite advance vanished as Sean took her hand and held it firmly between both of his, patiently awaiting her response.

"Help me get my gear packed." indicated her immediate acceptance of the offer.

Clair's heart was racing as together they loaded her bulky sound kit, speakers, cabling and guitar into her truck bed. "Do you want to follow me? There's someplace I want to show you. My car's over here." Clair agreed and watched as Sean started his high-end SUV, then she fell in behind him in her humble Chevy pickup.