Copyright 1999 Shon Richards Ann's Guitar By Shon Richards ***Author's note- The guitar is magical, for that matter, so is Ann. I thought it would be neat to do a love triangle with a magical person, her fetish and some poor guy. I got distracted by another idea, dropped this story, and never seem to have the time to come back to it.********** I was the poorest manager of a successful club that ever lived. I was sure of it. My father owned the place but before I was finished with High School, he conned me into working here. By the time I was twenty-two, I knew everything there was to managing the club. Unfortunately, I had to drop out of school to devote all my time at the club. Without even a High School diploma, my chances of getting a job on my own were pretty much nil. My bastard father knew this and felt I was lucky to recieve the low salary he gave me. This was how miserable my life was when Ann walked into my it. It was a Friday night at The Club Name, and the place was packed. The crowd was here for the live band and the the air was thick with sweat, smoke and odor. I had to fire one bartender early in the night for skimming money, and one of my bouncers had called in with the flu. My attitude was the pits and I was very close to calling Dad and telling him I quit. The crowd in front of me began to part, which was alarming in itself. Fearing the worst, I was unprepared for the vision of womanhood that was approaching. It was her jeans that I noticed first, they were impossibly tight and blue. Blue jeans shouldn't look like they were poured on top of a person but they were. She walked comfortably, which something I'll never understand. How could any woman move in jeans so tight you could admire the curves of her thighs? Besides those sexy jeans, she was wearing a black t-shirt with the name of some band I had never heard of. Her stance was one of complete confidence, and she had wavy blonde hair, cut short to her shoulder. Her brown eyes that greeted me when she walked up, and all my previous irritations evaporated. A smile came eaily to her lips, and the dark club brightened slightly. Whatever she wanted, I was going to give it to her. It was that simple. "Do you have an opening tonight?" she asked. "I would really like to play for everyone here tonight." I sighed. I could give her anything except that. "This is kind of short notice," I said, regret- ting every word. "I already have a band scheduled for tonight." Before I could explain how to book herself, she interrupted me by placing her hand on mine. "Maybe you should go check the band," she said calmly. "I just heard that they came down with some- thing. I was in the neighborhood when I heard about their illness and I thought I would drop by." She swung her guitar around that was on her back. while I was thinking, she absent-mindedly ran her fingers down her guitar's neck. I kicked myself mentally. I was so in awe of this woman I hadn't even noticed she had a guitar. This was not good for business when I let a pretty face destroy what per- ception skills I had. I told her I would double check with the band, and headed towards the back. Silently, I was praying that she was right and that I wouldn't have to say no to her. My prayers were answered that night, all five of the band members were fighting over the bathroom with hysterical diareha. On another day, it would have been comical, but that night I was simply relieved. This meant the mystery woman could play tonight. I told the band they could pass tonight on their performance and I would still pay them. There was no way that I was going to allow them time or reason to recover. They were all very grateful, and I left them quickly to see the woman play. Her name was simply Ann, and I introduced her to the impatient crowd we had that night. She took the stage like she owned it, and twirled her guitar by it's neck in a flashy way that brought a laugh from the crowd. The laughs died when she played her first note. She started with something very dramatic, a neat feat considering she was the only one playing. It was a powerful song, all about ships, dreams and lost people. The crowd was hooked. Releif washed over me as Ann proved her talent. Sure she was gorgeous, but I didn't want to start a policy of putting tone-deaf models on stage. I didn't reconize any of the songs, they were all part rock and part pop. Sometimes we'll get a band or singer here who'll have one or two original songs. They then spend the rest of the time covering whatever popular tune they learned to play at home. Having an artist who actually played all her own music was a rarity, and I was appreciating Ann all the much more. A few more like her and this might actually turn into a real club. For over an hour she manipulated the entire club. She had them dancing and she had them crying. when she was done I quickly lead her offstage and into the back. Not that I thought the crowd would be dangerous, they were too busy clapping to do the usual stage rush. I just wanted to keep my eye on her, and hopefully get a phone number. As it turns out, I had nothing to worry about. "Got someplace I could crash tonight?" she asked. Just like that. "Sure," I responded. My head bartender became assistant manager for the night and Ann and I went out the back door. She didn't have a jacket or anything, she just slung her guitar on her back like some medieval troubador. I was flushed with excitement although it was freezing outside. Ann refused my offer of a jacket, and some- how she wasn't shivering at all. "You might want to take my jacket," I said. "It takes forever to flag down a cab sometimes." "Not with me around," she said. She walked to the corner, and I suspected she was going to do one of those sexy hitchhiker tricks you see in movies. Maybe flash a little leg or lift her shirt. Instead, a cab was just sitting there, not doing a damn thing. Ann stepped into the cab and I followed. It turns out the guy was finishing his dinner, and we hit him right at the right moment. At the time I just figured Ann was lucky, it wasn't till later that I would discover that this was normal for her. In the elevator to my apartment, she grabbed me and kissed me. Just like that. I didn't have time to be cool or shy. Ann was incredibly strong and pratical- ly lifted me off my feet when she dragged me towards her. My lips were buried by her passion; she kissed me like she was trying to consume me. At that moment I just wished I knew what the hell I was doing right to have such a hot woman sucking my tongue. We entered my small apartment and she immediate- ly fell on my couch. She didn't comment on my clutter, which placed higher in my book if possible. My lips were still bruised from the kissing in the elevator; tingling from furious passion. I got her some water like she requested, and sat down beside her. Like Psyche, I wasn't content with the unknown. "Where do you come from, I've never seen you around before," I asked. Like Cupid, Ann dodged the question with faith. "Isn't more important that I am here with you now?" "Can you at least tell me how you learned to play so well?" I asked. I thought maybe I could open her up with questions about her music. Any artist can talk your ear off if you ask about their craft. "I did my time," Ann answered. "All the prac- tice in the world though doesn't matter until you find the right guitar." She pulled her feet under her like a young girl and leaned closer towards me like she was going to tell a secret. I might have laughed except she was acting very serious. She placed her guitar between us, and holding it just right in the light, she revealed to me designs that I hadn't seen on the guitar before. Curves that glittered with mettalic accents traced up and down the neck of the guitar. My eye tried to follow the intricate patterns but it seemed like the lines kept moving. I wasn't sure if it was made of metal or wood, and there wasn't a jack for a cord but I could have sworn she played it electric on some of the songs. The strings were very faint, but I could make out that each one was a different color. I don't know much about guitars, but even I could tell that this one was a beauty. "Wow," I said, and I meant it. "That's what I think too," she said as she set the guitar on the coffe table. I was quiet for a moment, just trying to get those swirls out of my head. While the conversation paused, Ann took the oppurtunity to lean against me and kiss me again. She was softer this time; not nearly the same rush that was characteristic of the elevator kiss. I had her in lap by the time she finally broke off, and I had to stop her from unzip- ping my pants. "Why are we stopping?" she asked, those brown eyes destroying my willpower. "Ann, we just meet," I said. "That's ok," she shrugged, "I kind of like you." "Thanks," I said. "But I guess I like you too much to have sex with you right now. I've just met you, give me a chance to really appreciate you before we make love." A frown appeared on her face, and she no longer looked like a young woman but instead a million years appeared behind her eyes. For a brief moment, she was very weary in my arms, but like most things about Ann, that soon vanished. "Well this will be new," she said. Before I could react, She kicked her legs out on the couch and laid her head down on my lap. Nestling her head on the rising bulge in my pants, she turned to me and smiled. Now she was care free again. "Tell you what," she said. "I'll catch some sleep, and if you need me, just let me know." Just like that, she feel asleep on my lap. All I had to do was sleep sitting up with an attractive woman on my lap. I had never been happier. The next week was a whirlwind of romance, laughs and long talks. Like any real romance, it was filled with details that are of no interest to those outside the relationship. Besides, they're too personal.