When I turned thirty, I decided to travel to the east coast. There was no particular reason except that I was restless. Katy had moved on, and really after her, not many stood a chance. So I figured I could use a holiday.
I had left bartending and become a manager at "sprawl mart." There was an opportunity to transfer to Virginia. Not many wanted to leave Texas, but I was ready and very willing. So, I applied, and after two phone interviews, I was hired. I immediately quit my job, sublet my apartment and headed up to Blue Ridge Mountain territory.
Being a cheap bastard, I decided to drive and pocket the rest of the moving allowance. I could think of better things I could do with the relocation money besides buying a plane ticket. Besides, I would really miss my truck if I had left it behind.
Taking a week of vacation time, I planned on enjoying this ride. The route I chose took me to Atlanta, Georgia, and then cut up north. I got the cheapest motel room I could find and hit the best barbecue joint the locals could recommend. Because of the area I stayed in, it was easy to find some real "home town" folks who told me where to get some authentic BBQ and ice cold beer.
With only two wrong turns, I arrived at Fat Matt's just in time for the band. They were still serving sandwiches and baked potatoes, along with beer from an iced down metal tub. I bought two sandwiches and two beers to start and found a corner table to hide at.
I'm a voyeur, and corner tables are my favorite spots, especially a dark corner in a smoked filled room. There's something about that whole scene that makes beer and BBQ complete - well, that and the band.
Fat Back Deluxe churned the air with Mercy Me while I began to enjoy my evening in Atlanta. Ah, but the trick was to enjoy the evening and not miss Katy. You see, that lovely piece of God's most beautiful handiwork introduced me to the blues.
The first time I heard Cleo's Mood, I understood why sax and sex went hand in hand. People talk about the piano. They talk about the guitar. For me the sound that went down to my balls and woke up my soul came from that j-shaped horn. Ever notice how the sax looks like it's got a hard on? Think about it.
I can't do anything around the blues without thinking about Katy, so I drank my beer slowly, allowing each mouthful to wash over my tongue and then slide slowly down, hoping to wash her memory down as well. But I'll be damned if her shadow didn't linger, her fine ass seductively swaying to every note against the crotch of my jeans. God damn, I said aloud as I finished the first of two more beers.
While pressing the cold beer bottle to my lips, a voice broke the thick smoke and called towards me.
"You alone?"
I tried to see her, but all I could make out was her shape outlined by the dim bar lights and neon reflections off the stage.
She was about five seven, plenty of legs curving into shapely hips, a firm torso with about a mouthful of breasts and crowned with dark, shoulder length hair.
"Have a seat," I half-yelled, standing up and pulling the stool out, trying to take note of the face that belonged to the body. Sun Shines Down made for a great background effect as she introduced herself. Diana.
As I took the lighter out of my pocket and lit the cigarette she held in between two beautifully manicured fingers, I caught a glimpse of her face. She did not disappoint, and I smiled, pulling my hand back and putting the lighter back in my pants. I adjusted myself quickly while my hand was in place - my cock's attention had been aroused.
When Country Boy began, I asked Diana to dance, and we hit the floor. I held her close, our hips rolling to the bass. We turned corners quick and sharp, with a long slide away and then back into each other's arms. She was damn good. Not as good as Katy, but she sure made the memories begin to fade, at least for a moment.
We danced a couple more numbers before the band took a break, and I retrieved more beer for us both. When I returned, we had a quick chance to talk a little. She lived in New Orleans but was in Atlanta for a business conference and had come out to blow off some steam. I was happy to oblige.
After the band finished their set, she invited me to her hotel room. The lounge was still open, so we went in and had another drink before going up. To be honest, I felt horny as hell, but there's one thing you learn if you have any sense about you -- you never rush a woman. Might as well say goodnight and give yourself a hand job. Ain't gonna happen unless it's in her own time, my friends.
She bullshitted through two martinis and now a glass of wine. The drunker Diana got, the more she talked, and we finally got to the topic of favorite sexual experiences.
"He was older, of course, but God, he was so good looking. Even at that age, I knew how to pick a man," she began as she sipped her Merlot, leaving a shimmer of dark red lipstick on the edge of the glass. "I can't tell you how much I miss him. The first time usually isn't so great for a girl, but honey, let me tell you. He was the exception to the rule!"
Diana touched my shoulder as she laughed. She had a gorgeous smile, and her laugh was contagious. I couldn't help but join in. We were having a hell of a good time, and I could hardly wait to hear the details. I wanted to hear all about what, and who, was coming, so I encouraged her to continue.
"Ross was a grease monkey and a friend of my brother's. My favorite memory is of him visiting my grandparent's house to play cards. This one night, I knew he was coming over, and I made sure to wear these shorts that cut just under my butt cheeks. I had a nice ass back in the day. You might not be able to tell now, but my ass cheeks were round and tight, Priest."
"They're holding up quite well if you ask me," I coyly replied, lifting my glass in a toast to her ass before taking a sip of jack.
"You're sweet, honey," Diana smiled and reached over to pat my hand. I looked into her dark blue eyes and smiled back. Then, she took another sip of wine and left her hand on mine as she confessed more.
