Wandering

"Shall we finish cleaning you before we continue this?" she asked after the kiss. Without waiting for him to answer, she had the washcloth in hand and began washing his lean and muscular chest.

By the time she worked his lower extremities, she was once more on her knees, but this time only teased his hardening cock with a quick kiss.

She stood. "Close your eyes." She cleaned his face. "Turn around." She brought out her shampoo and massaged his head with it, and once that was washed away, she did the same with the conditioner. "You should leave it in for a few minutes," she smiled, and pulled him into some more kisses. By the time he washed out the conditioner, he was completely erect. She took hold of it with one hand, shutting off the water with the other, then parted the curtain with the latter hand and led him out of the bathroom with the former.

She led him to the chair she'd been sitting on and coaxed him to sit, only letting go after he did. She opened a purse and found a condom and knelt in front of him. Her mouth once more took him inside and sucked him for a couple minutes before rolling on the rubber, straddling him, and guiding the covered cock inside her.

He was amazed by how hot and wet she was. "I've been horny since I realized who you were," she explained while sinking onto him.

Truth be told, he'd fucked a lot of women. Somehow, the way she felt felt different, felt better, felt perfect. Like the walls of her vagina held his cock just right, giving room just enough to give pressure, but not enough for him to worry she was too small or something. And then when she pressed her pubic bone against his, his legs widening to allow it, he could just feel the wall of her cervix like a barely heard whisper.

"Lorelei," he murmured.

"You can call me Lora," she murmured back.

"But I can call you Lorelei?"

"Yes. And Joseph or..."

"Joe is fine."

"Joe," she smiled and kissed him.

They remained like that, kissing and pressing pubic bones, for some unaccountable time.

"Do you think you can carry me?" she finally asked.

"I can manage," he smiled.

"I'm not such a petite girl," she pointed out.

"You're perfect," he returned. "Hold on." He held her by her ass, and she around his shoulders while he rocked forward and lifted. As soon as she could, her legs wrapped around his thighs. In that way he walked her the few steps to the bed and set her down at the foot of it, lowering with her. Somehow they both slid farther onto it.

"Fuck me Joe," she breathed.

"Mind if I make love to you instead?" he asked.

"Not even a little," she grinned.

He began slowly, all the way in and nearly all the way out. She watched the disappearing of his cock inside her before looking up and seeing his face over her. Eyes connected, only closing when lips connected. His hands moved up to finally feel the perfection of her breasts. Soft, smooth and resilient. But soon the flesh was left behind and he targeted her nipples, gently nudging them with his thumbs.

When the kiss broke, he moved his mouth to sample those new discoveries. Lips clasped and sucked. Tongue teased the aureola and lapped across the slim quarter inch long rigidity. Her hums of pleasure became gasps, and she began rocking her hips against his thrusts, obviously wanting it faster. He obliged and continued obliging, ramping up both the speed and the hardness of his thrusts. It was what she needed, and her fingers moving between them to rub her clit clearly showed that need. So he fucked her. Rammed into her. Nibbled and twisted her nipples. The friction bringing him close.

"Joe!" she exclaimed and her legs pulled him hard into her. He went still as well in her depths, feeling the shimmering contractions there of her orgasm which seemed to encourage his release with a kind of milking, and he was definitely ready to be milked.

"Oh fuck," he growled and did his own grinding into her. His ejaculations made him undulate, and she undulated as well, a sort of counterpoint of pleasure that worked as melodiously and exquisitely as anything in music.

When they finally released each other, her one word said it all. "Wow."

"Yeah," was his response.

They gazed once more at each other before Lorelei pulled Joe into a kiss. Softer than any before, and more loving. Despite the softness, her arms and legs pulled him against her.

When the kiss broke, he asked, "Am I too heavy?"

"Starting to be," she smiled. Since she remained holding him, he held her too and they turned over. Immediately Lorelei's hand reached down just as Joe's dwindled penis began to slide out of her. She left the used condom on, relaxing her head onto his chest.

"When's your next show?" he asked.

"Tomorrow. The Forum."

"Big show."

"A lot of those. Leo's a rock star. Do you know his music?"

"Hard to avoid," he chuckled. "What do you do?"

"You haven't seen the show?"

"Trac saw me busking in Union Square."

"Makes sense. I play fiddle."

"Very cool."

"Yeah. It's pretty intense with all those big audiences. Leo's quite the showman, and the band rocks."

"With Trac in it, I'm sure."

"Yeah, he's an amazing bass player."

"Anyone else strung out?"

"Mostly coke and booze."

"Still."

"Yeah. I avoid it mostly. I actually used to drink a lot more. But when they're getting hammered..."

"Best to avoid it."

"Yeah. You know I can't fuck them."

"Anyone bothered by that?"

"They think I'm a dyke," she laughed.

"You don't seem to be."

"I like girls, Joe."

"Men too it seems."

She lifted her head and looked down at him. "I like you."

"Feelings mutual," he grinned.

After they kissed, she slid off and lay on her side, so Joe did too, facing her.

"Do you live here?" she asked.

"Like the song said, I'm a wanderer. An internet musician. A hobo I guess. A bum. Coming here...it's like it's where it all started."

"What do you mean?"

"I basically ran here as soon as I graduated high school. Kind of came in between things, the folk thing and the hippy thing. It was more hipsters than hippies, hanging out with the poets around City Lights, getting stoned and drunk with them and busking, with some shows at coffee houses. Then the whole thing started around Golden Gate Park and the Haight and the runaways. Lots of crazy chicks and LSD and rock bands with me maybe the craziest of all singing my songs and sometimes jamming but mostly keeping on my own until it got old and weird and almost touristy, and drugs were getting harder. Speed and dope. Like the dream becoming more like a nightmare, so I split. Started my wandering then."

"When did you start recording?"

"I was in Provincetown, kind of a wigged out scene, but this older guy was there who'd been there for a while, and he wanted to record me like old school. You know like they used to do down south catching the old blues singers. I guess he was part of that."

"Folkways."

"Yeah. I guess someone bought it," he chuckled, "Because a couple years later I was in Woodstock and there was this studio there with a small record company associated and I basically signed up for some records. Actually had a band there backing me up, mostly acoustic string band and we toured like that, mostly small bars here and there. Nothing much sold and my contract for what it was worth ran out and I ended up doing one offs, some live and some studio, live with a band and studio with a guitar. Mostly East Coast gigs, anywhere from Baltimore up to Maine. Then I ended up meeting this girl after this gig at the Bitter End. Like that song, I guess I never stuck around for a relationship, but she was young, beautiful, smart and crazy. When she got pregnant we decided to get married. We didn't really have a place. I was just crashing at friends' places, a couple lofts mostly from some artists I'd met in Provincetown. So I started gigging more. Did a few shows at CBGBs before it changed. One of the lofts was actually across the street. And we got a place in the East Village which ended up going on rent strike which helped. But she wasn't the maternal type let alone taking care of the baby when it was in her belly. Our partying didn't stop. And the baby was stillborn.

"I don't know if it freaked her out, but she just partied harder. The whole punk thing started happening and she wanted in on it. I didn't. Nothing against it, at least some of it, but it just wasn't my scene. After a few nights in a row with her missing, and me worried and tracking her down, I finally spent what little money I had on a lawyer and got a divorce. By then I was starting to get strung out. And that's when I ran into the Jokesters, very much needing to be cheered up. It was fun, but it wasn't enough. And then when it became this hip insider thing and a lot more people were showing up to my gigs and I kept on drinking and shooting up, barely making it on stage let alone performing with any integrity, I had enough. Things were actually petering out anyway with my brief and slight run in with fame."

"Wow," said Lorelei. "Did you just tell me your life story?"

Joe chuckled. "At least from where it started here."

"Up until you went cold turkey."

"After that it's just wandering and busking. Being a..."

"Hobo. No girls?"

"Like the song said..."

"I guess I'm a wanderer too for now."

"I guess so."

"So long as we're here...," she started moving down his body.

"Nunh-unh. My turn," Joe said, and coaxed her onto her back. After a lengthy kiss, he went exploring, very much enjoying the journey. Teasing her when he bypassed her pussy to work his way down to her toes, by the time he went to where she wanted him, it didn't take long for her to cum with his mouth.

"Any more condoms?" he asked. "And by the way, why would a lesbian have condoms?"

"I guess I'm a boy scout at heart," she giggled. "In my bag."

"You trust me?"

"Of course."

He found her wallet. "Hmm."

"Hey!"

They laughed. "Go ahead," she told him. "You could probably use it more than me."

"I'm just a gigolo," he sang, taking about half, maybe a couple hundred and setting it aside. He kept the condom. "How do you want me?"

"The same."

He knelt between her thighs and rolled the condom on. When he lowered, she led his cock in.

Again they kept it slow for a while, with kisses and gazes. But when she wanted it harder, she said, "I want it doggy style."

"As you wish Miss Lorelei Leigh," he said, moving back and letting her turn onto her stomach. He decided he liked this view almost as much as facing her. She had a great ass, substantial but not too much. And the sensuous curve to her torso had a wonderful feminine beauty to it.

Once back in, he started fucking her hard. Like before, she aided her pleasure with fingers strumming her clit while he leaned over her so that he could tug at her nipples. This time she came before he did. And then came when he did. Another supreme moment of sex for both of them.

When he pulled out, he discarded both condoms, the other lying rudely on the bed, in the bathroom, flushing them down with his piss. She followed after him using the toilet, and joined him in bed, curling against the back of his sleeping body.

In the morning he awoke wonderfully with his cock being cleaned, sucked, covered and rode. He just kicked back for the ride, watching her bouncing tits and her expressive face letting him know how much she enjoyed his cock. But when she came, he pulled her down and turned them over and fucked her hard missionary style, ending where things started. This time without her cumming with him.

"You didn't cum," he said.

"It's okay."

"Nope," and he moved his face between her thighs and brought his fingers high inside her rubbing her g spot. This time she helped by pulling on her nipples. She ended up spurting a little when she came, giving him a pussy juice shower. "Oh fuck!" she growled when it happened. Obviously intense.

He moved over her and let her taste her juices, which she happily did, licking some of them off before kissing him. "Okay if I shower?" he asked.

"Guess you need one," she giggled.

When he finished, she slid by him, naked. "I ordered room service," she said. "Just sign it when it comes."

"They won't care I'm not you?"

"I don't know why they would. Just grab any shirt and pants you want."

"I can put on what I wore."

"You should burn them," she smiled and kissed him. "At least a shirt?"

"Okay."

She ordered a feast. Omelets, fries, fruit, juice, coffee, Danishes. She must have thought he was starving. And it had been a while. "Sweetheart," he toasted the closed door.

When she emerged, dried, and she dressed, she told him, "Eat however much you want and take whatever's left."

"Thanks," he smiled.

She ate her omelet and not much else. They used a plastic laundry bag to bag the rest. "I really need to go," she said.

"Understood," he replied with a sad smile a lot like hers. After a long embrace and a too short kiss, he left.

He knocked at Trac's door. "Just a sec," Trac yelled gruffly.

When he opened it, Joe said, "Left my stuff."

"I noticed. You sleep with Lorelei?"

"Yeah."

"She's cool."

"Very cool."

He grabbed his rucksack, stuffing the plastic doggy bag in it, and slung it over his shoulder. "Thanks for inviting me here," he said.

"Always a pleasure, Joe."

"Definitely," Joe said. "To say the least," he thought.

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

A couple years later Lorelei was touring behind her record, playing a gig in Milwaukee. Someone in the audience looked familiar, but mostly kept back in the shadows somehow. An old friend of hers who she'd known in college and they'd been lovers for a few months until, both being bi, a boy disrupted things, her friend more interested in him and him more interested in Lorelei and it just got weird, so they decided to just be friends, invited her to a party after the show. "Bring your guitar," her friend practically ordered.

"Is it some kind of hootenanny?" she smirked.

"Something like that," her friend grinned back.

"Then maybe I should bring my fiddle too."

"Good idea."

None of her band mates wanted to go, but truth be told she didn't mind. Being in close quarters for a couple months can sour any relationship, especially ones not all that well grounded in the first place. And the tour had been hit or miss. Some shows, like the one in Minneapolis where her album had been played on both the University station and another independent station, and there were fans actually singing along had been pretty great. And the one in Iowa City had been like that too. Two in a row. But most hadn't been all that well attended, and a couple were practically desolate. Milwaukee had been somewhere in between, but was a bit of a let down after Minneapolis and Iowa City. So the polished players she played with, ones that she'd worked with on the record, weren't quite as enthusiastic about playing her music or hanging with her for that matter as when they started out. And it might not have helped that she had her own car, bought from her gig with Leo and the Lions along with residuals for a minor hit she wrote that he performed. She at least rotated who would accompany her and not be stuck in the van with the gear. And it was a comfortable ride, an old Buick station wagon her brother the mechanic kept in running shape.

"I guess I'll see you guys in Chicago then," she told them. They had a gig there in three days. One of the band members was from there and his family would let them crash at his old home.

Her friend stuck around after the show to ride with her and show her where they were going. Her boyfriend would meet them there. She carried around a small case for her mandolin which she had taken out of her boyfriend's car before he left.

Karen, her old friend, guided her clear across town to a neighborhood that looked lower middle class with a bunch of small houses fairly close in and mostly black faces that she noticed. "Up there," Karen pointed.

"The old movie theater?" Lorelei asked.

"The Bijoux. Used to show what they called race movies."

"Sure."

"Park in back."

"Okay."

There were several cars, mostly older, some looking on their last legs, but a couple fancier imports and what looked like a brand new Lincoln Continental. When they got out with their instruments, they saw a homemade sign that said, "In Here," on what must have been the old back exit. But what struck her was the illustration on the sign. A hippy looking badger and a hipster looking coyote. Characters that adorned Joseph Solomon albums, painted by Joseph Solomon. Joe. Lorelei swallowed. Joe. That was him at the back at her concert.

A large older black man sat at a table just inside the door. "You come with instruments it's free," he smiled. "Welcome."

"Thanks Joe," Karen smiled. "Follow me, Lora." They walked up a couple stairs to a long lean stage. "Grab a chair," Karen instructed, gesturing to a leaning stack of folding metal chairs.

"Let me," said a man on stage who turned around. Short hair. Clean shaven. Less gaunt.

"Joe!" Lorelei immediately set her instruments down and went to him and they hugged.

"My beautiful Lorelei," Joe murmured.

"But what...?"

"It's my hometown Lorelei. Want to meet my mom?"

"Sure."

He took her hand and led her back down the stairs. An older woman, her long brunette hair becoming gray, stood, tall like Joe was tall, with an attractive face and smile lines radiating from her blue/gray eyes.

"Mrs. Solomon?"

"Call me Peggy, and I'm Ferguson now, my maiden name. Hug?"

While they hugged, Lorelei murmured, "Thanks for what you did for Joe."

"Nonsense," Peggy said when the hug broke. "My son just needed someone to look after him for a while. Who better than his mom?"

"If you say so," Lorelei shrugged, tearing up. "What's going on?"

"Monday at the Bijoux," Peggy said proudly.

"But it's Wednesday."

"Special event," said Joe. "Come and meet some of my friends."

"Okay."

He took her hand and they went up the aisle. Movie theater seats that had seen better days but looked at least repaired. A slightly musty smell spoke of age. They passed through swinging doors to an altogether different smell. "That's Big Joe's Everything Stew," Joe explained. "You don't want to know what everything is, but it sure tastes good," Joe chuckled.

Beyond an antique looking movie house counter with a popcorn machine full of popcorn and a rolling hot dog cooker with hot dogs sat a lower table with a couple portable stoves, one keeping warm a large kettle, the other with fried chicken. Two slim young adult African Americans, a man and woman, served the food there, and another younger girl worked the more traditional counter.

Both Lorelei and Joe got served paper bowls of stew. "Ask Marissa if you want a roll," Joe nodded towards the younger woman. "And there's a box there if you want to donate."

She slipped a twenty in the box while Marissa put a white dinner roll on a napkin and handed it to her. She also poured a couple cups of lemonade from a large clear vat for Joe and Lorelei.

Lorelei followed Joe to a large round table filled with strangers. A couple she recognized. "Greg Collin?" she asked.

"Guilty as charged," Greg chuckled. "And you must be the mysterious Lorelei."

"Mysterious?"

Another man she recognized as a former Jokester said, "We all thought you were some fever dream."

"Then your album came out," said a woman beside him.

"Joe?" Lorelei asked.

"I might have mentioned you a time or two," Joe admitted.

"But just a night..."

"A most memorable night. It wasn't for you?" He looked worried.

She smiled. "It was Joe. Maybe the most memorable."

Joe sighed with relief. "I saw you were coming and I found out Karen was an old friend so I kind of arranged this."