A Dream of the Heart

"I've got my ways. A few searches of the club listings and a call to a friend who follows the local club bands. You didn't see me checking out the place last week."

"You were there? I'm sorry I missed you. But I honestly feel flattered that you took the trouble to find me."

I continued my story, recapping my life as briefly as I could, but she would stop and quiz me about some trivial point or another. I told her about the calligraphy, how I had scribed it years ago because I did have a bit of a crush on her. Especially that photo of her on the cover of the Little Queen album.

"You liked that picture on the cover?" She seemed surprised.

"Hell yes. That look in your eyes got me off better than a Playboy photo. Unless, of course, you had ever posed for Playboy."

She laughed again. I could get used to this.

"That calligraphy is one of the nicest things a fan's ever sent me." Her smile turned a bit sad. "I don't get much from fans anymore. It's tough being a burnt-out rocker in a has-been band."

"Burned out? Burned out bullshit! You're still gorgeous and sexy and rocking. You can still tear someone's soul in two with just your voice. I read a review that called you a 'weapons grade voice."

"I read that review, too." She gave a little, derisive snort. "Yeah, right. Like my voice can have that kind of effect."

"Don't underestimate your power, your voice full-force can bring a man to his knees or leave him crying like a child. Croon a soft love song and the only thought in his head will be how to get you alone. You don't realize it, but damn, you are sexy beyond words."

"Nice use of a song lyric, at least you didn't say you'd love me like music. That'd be too corny. But take it easy, tiger. I know we've got a reputation as a party band, but I don't sleep with fans."

"I bet it's the big hair and big cleavage from the '80s that got you that reputation." I leaned back, away from her so she wouldn't think I was trying to pressure her. "If you just want to talk, that's fine. There's no place I can go that's half as good as just sitting here with you."

"Yeah," She snorted and looked down at her impressive breasts. "Big cleavage. The cleavage is a little too big now and so's the rest of me."

"You look great. Your curves are softer and sexier now." On impulse I leaned forward and kissed her soft tummy, right where I thought her bellybutton would be. She started laughing again, not a girlish giggle, but a full, hearty laugh. I went on kissing.

"Stop it, that tickles!"

She grabbed my head and lifted it to look me in the eyes. She stopped laughing, her eyes got that faraway look again and her lips parted slightly. What is it about the way a woman moves her head that lets you know she wants kissed? I kissed her mouth again, slowly and deeply. Her body was soft under my hands and sweet on my lips. Her hands grabbed at me hungrily, clutching fistfuls of cloth and skin. We staggered up off the couch as one and lurched towards the bed, unable to let go of each other and leaving a trail of discarded clothes. I'd like to tell exactly what happened in that bed, but a lot of it is still a haze and I want to keep some mystery. I'm sure it's easy to figure out. Let's just say that I sang her songs without words and those tongue trills on the flute came in very handy. I found out that she could still hit a sustained high note. Much later, we fell asleep in each other's arms, naked, sated and sweaty.

The midmorning light through the window woke me up. Alone. I looked all around the room, the balcony and even in the bathroom. She was gone with all her stuff, but she had left something on the nightstand. A round object covered with a cloth. I reached for it and the cloth slid away to reveal a ball, a real crystal ball. I wondered if it was the same one she held in the photo on the Little Queen album cover. I stared at it, marveling for a few moments. Then I recognized the little embroidered heart and realized what the cloth wrapper was.

It was her panties from last night.