The Jazz Singer

The Jazz Singer

By Thomas Blaine
(thomasblaine@yahoo.com)

The gentle, sultry sounds of the jazz club in the basement of the eighty-year-old brick building were barely audible from the street above. Falling snow covered the boulevard with a smooth, white blanket as antique streetlights cast yellow cones of light on the bare trees adorned with white Christmas lights. Men and women, bundled up in heavy winter clothes, passed by the awning over the stairs leading down to the club's front door. A few stopped to hear the music before continuing on their way.

I walked past the jazz club every night on my way home from the office, and I often went in for a drink in the evening before going home to my wife. That night, the marquee read, "Open floor tonight 8pm - 2am" so I decided to go in and see who would be performing. Singers from the local high school and university frequented the club. Many had the talent to easily become professional musicians someday.

"Good evening, Dr. Whitman," the girl behind the podium inside the door greeted me with a smile. As a regular, most of the staff knew me by name. "Can I take your coat and hat?"

I handed them to the girl who neatly placed them on the coat rack behind her.

"Do you want to sit at the bar or a table on the floor?" She asked.

"Just the bar tonight," I said.

I walked into the main room of the club and took in the atmosphere. It was dark, but the orange candles and soft lighting made the room warm and inviting. A dozen circular tables with red tablecloths dotted the room. A stage against a brick wall filled the wall opposite the bar and semiprivate booths lined the remaining walls.

I took a seat at the bar and ordered a scotch from the male bartender, dressed smartly in a white shirt with a black vest and bow tie. The leather seats were comfortable and I turned mine to face the stage, where a teenage girl sang a ballad, accompanied by a piano and a string bass.

I sipped my drink when it arrived and watched the other patrons. Most of the tables and booths were occupied by a variety of people ranging from teenagers to the elderly. Some wore jeans and t-shirts while others wore suits and ties. There were businessmen and students and people who appeared to be from many different walks of life. Few would probably associate with each other in the outside world, but jazz was the common denominator in that dark and romantic club.

I sat and watched several diverse acts, ranging from solo singers to jazz combos and purely instrumental performances. There's nothing like a little jazz to wind down with at the end of a long day. The chance to relax was why I came to the club so often.

After a few acts, a stunning blonde woman in a black dress came on stage. My heart jumped when I saw her and my pulse quickened at her beauty. The pianist, bass player, and drummer from the previous act remained there to accompany her.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," she spoke with an angel's voice into the microphone. "My name is Jackie and this is my first time singing here at the club. I hope you enjoy it."

The musicians were silent as she started singing a very sensuous rendition of "When I Look In Your Eyes" by Leslie Bricusse. Her smooth voice captivated the crowd and the beautiful music the flowed from her red lips filtered into every corner. I was entranced and could do nothing but sit and stare at her. Her eyes moved around the room as she sung, making eye contact with every member of her audience one at a time. She knew how to seduce a crowd and no one dared to even cough while she sung.

Her eyes met mine and our gazes locked. This beautiful and sensual woman sang just for me, I knew in my soul she was, as if I were the only customer in the entire club. The words drew me into her, like falling in love for the first time. "In your eyes, I see the deepness of the sea / I see the deepness of the love / The love I feel you feel for me."

When she was finished, the room was silent for a moment; no one daring to disturb the silence that followed her last note as if any other sound would be offensive after such beauty. Finally the applause started, the audience loved her and wouldn't let her off the stage until she sang several more songs. Each song a masterpiece, but none having the same effect on me as her first one. Finally, with the next act anxious to come on, the slipped away to the dressing rooms in the back of the club.

I knew I had to follow her because she sang directly to me. I left enough money on the counter to pay for my drink and strode across the floor to the dark hallway leading into the dressing rooms that he club provided for the guest artists to use. Because she was near the last act to perform that evening, she had one of the three rooms to herself whereas earlier they had to be shared with other performers.

This graceful diva disappeared into room number three, which was at the end of the carpet hallway and on the right side. I listened for a second to be sure she was alone before knocking.

"Come in," the familiar angelic voice said.

I opened the door and stepped inside the small dressing room. It was richly decorated with a table and wardrobe, a couple chairs, a couch, an oriental dressing screen, and a door leading into an adjacent bathroom.

"Sorry to bother you," I said, closing the door behind me. "But I just wanted to tell you how fantastic you were tonight. That was really something."

"Thank you," she said. "You were sitting in the back, at the bar, weren't you?"

"Yes," I said. "I had the best view in the house."

"Could you give me a hand with this," she said, turning around and pointing at the zipper down the back of her dress.

"Of course," I said. I stepped forward and slowly unzipped her dress, breathing in the sweet aroma of her perfume. My fingers touched her smooth skin as I helped remove her dress.

"My name's Craig," I said.

"I'm Jackie," she said, turning around to face me. I fell into the pools of her deep blue eyes. Her dress hung loosely on her shoulders, the neckline dipping low across her full breasts.

"If you're not doing anything right now, I was wondering if you'd like to have a drink with me?" I asked.

Jackie nodded at the little fridge under the table and said, "I have a bottle of champagne in there and there're glasses on the table."

"Oh, were you expecting someone?" I asked, noticing the two glasses already set out.

"Nope," Jackie said. "They're just in case someone special came along."

I walked over to the fridge, retrieved the bottle wine, and poured it into the two glasses. Looking up, I watched Jackie's reflection in the mirror. She stood with her back to me, slipping the dress off her shoulders as she walked barefoot towards the dressing screen. Her graceful, naked back was a beautiful picture, just as beautiful as her silhouetted body in the screen. Jackie flung her black dress over the top of the dressing screen put on a blue bathrobe.

I turned off the harsh fluorescent ceiling light, leaving the room dimly lit by the incandescent light bulbs around the mirror and the two table lamps. Jackie sat on the couch and crossed her long legs at the knees. I sat next to her and gave Jackie a glass of champagne.

"A toast," I said as we clinked glasses. "To a beautiful singer with a beautiful voice."

We sipped the champagne and set the glasses down on the coffee table.

I took her face in my hands and kissed her red lips slowly.

"I didn't know you were going to sing here tonight, baby," I said to my wife.

"It's part of your anniversary gift," Jackie said.

"But our anniversary is tomorrow," I replied.

"I know," Jackie said, placing a gentle hand against my face. "But I knew you wouldn't be here tomorrow. Now kiss me, because we have the room to ourselves."

Our lips embraced and my hands pushed open the robe to caress her breasts. I leaned down and kissed her nipples, which grew firm against my lips. Jackie ran her fingers through my hair and pulled my suit jacket off my shoulders. I untied the belt to her bathrobe; she wasn't wearing any panties.

My lips traced a trail of kisses down her abdomen, moving slowly towards the neatly trimmed patch of hair between her legs. Jackie spread her legs and welcomed the warmth of my tongue against her womanhood. I spread her moist lips and pressed my tongue against her clitoris. My fingers reached into her body, first one and then two and then three. Jackie moved her hips as I pressed my face into her, pleasuring her with my tongue and fingers. She climaxed quickly and wrapped her legs tight around me.

"Oh, God, Craig," Jackie said, fumbling with the buttons of my shirt and the belt of my pants. "Come here."

She opened my fly and took my erect manhood into her mouth. Her tongue moved along the length of the shaft and circled around the tip. It was hard with the arousal as she slid it in and out of her tightly sealed lips.

I struggled with my clothes until I was as naked as she. Jackie pushed me back against the couch and spread my legs so she could massage the sack. A drop of semen spurted from my throbbing member, landing on her cheek. She wiped it off with her hand and licked her fingers clean.

She plunged my unit deep down her throat; my hands stroked her naked body as she crouched on the cushions beside me. My hands played with her buttocks and slid down between her legs to find her drenched slit.

Her hot mouth closed tight around me as my fingers probed her body. The orgasm built inside and my body tensed. I wrapped my arms tight around her and released, shooting and pulsing in her mouth. She gulped and swallowed it all. I kept pumping and she continued to swallow until my body was drained.

Her lips released my manhood and she straightened her body to kiss my lips. I tasted the saltiness in her mouth and my fingers vigorously fondled her slit. She turned and sat on my lap, her back pressed against my chest and her fingers carefully guiding my member into her warm, wet body. My hands grasped her breasts and pinched her nipples, our hips rocking and pulsing.

We worked our bodies harder and harder, I stroked her clit to bring her to climax with me. Jackie and I came simultaneously. There wasn't much left in me after I filled Jackie's mouth, but the orgasm was just as powerful. We fought hard to keep from screaming and letting everyone out on the floor know what was going on in the back dressing room.

Our bodies weak and our muscles sore, we collapsed on the couch and fell asleep spooning each other, our bodies still joined. When we woke an hour later, Jackie and I showered in the tiny bathroom, dressed, and I helped her carry her belongings out to the car. The live music had stopped for the evening and the management played recorded music over the club's speakers.

"Have a good evening, Dr. and Mrs. Whitman," the greeter said as she handed us our outer garments.

"Thank you, same to you," my wife said.

"Goodnight," I added.

As we crossed the parking lot next to the building, the clock tower in the nearby train station chimed midnight. Jackie and I kissed each other as the snow fell.

"Happy tenth anniversary," I said.

"Happy tenth anniversary," she echoed.

"Just wait until we get home," Jackie said, massaging my manhood through my slacks. "I'm going to give you a night you'll never forget."

And thus began a night of unimaginable passion that lasted through the next day and the following night.

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to living persons or actual events is entirely coincidental. This story may not be redistributed without permission from the author.