A light rain was falling as Steve drove down Kapiolani toward Waikiki. It seemed to him that it always rained this time of day. Perhaps it was the sudden cooling of the air when the sun set. He was grateful for the air conditioning in his VW Bus, as without it he would arrive at tonight's gig thoroughly soaked with sweat. The bump-rump-bump of the windshield wipers added to his sense of urgency as he waded through heavy traffic. He would have to get some lucky breaks to get there on time.
The frustration he felt toward the traffic was no doubt aggravated by the events of the afternoon. Luckily, the banquet manager at the hotel was a good friend, and had arranged for him to come in and set up early. He hated gigs where he had to rush in and set up just before it was time to play.
That had gone without a hitch. Afterwards, what was supposed to have been a pleasant rendezvous with Carol had blossomed into a fantastic session with a beautiful young woman, but while he did get to do the things he liked to do best with her, he was left untouched. Then Carol had turned up in the sexiest outfit he had ever seen her in, which kept his prick rock hard the whole time he was with her. Again, lots of his favorite stuff, but no satisfaction.
It looked like he was going to make it. He caught the lights just right on Kaulakaua, and worked his way to the parking garage. As he jumped out he checked his watch. Fifteen minutes to go. No sweat! He grabbed his clothing bag in one hand and his cymbal bag in the other and dashed for the banquet room.
When he got to the little stage set up at the edge of the dance floor the guys were warming up.
"Wow man, I thought you wasn't going make it!"
"Sorry, Eddie. Close, I know, but it was worth it. What's the occasion?"
Eddie looked up from where he sat spraying down his trombone slide and smiled. He stroked it in and out a few times, gave it a snort, then blew out the spit valve. The erotic symbolism of a trombone was never lost on either of them.
"Some kine birthday party," Eddie replied, sticking the bell of his horn on the stand next to him. To Steve it looked all too much like a cunt swallowing up a big dick. And the curve of the bell made him think again of Carol's pants. Those incredibly sexy pants. Dripping. That seemed to describe them. Dripping, fluid, shiny and wet, like a hot pussy.
"All this for a birthday party?"
"Some big Chinese family. The party's for the old lady. Eighty, I think."
Steve looked around, and sure enough, the vast majority of those who had arrived looked to be Chinese. He wasn't very good at spotting the differences between Chinese, Japanese, and other Asians when taken out of context. He found himself drawn to women from all of those groups, and guessed that he was better off not caring about the differences.
He sat down and started to fiddle with the hi-hat peddle when he saw a superbly beautiful young woman approaching the stage. She stopped to talk to Jack, the piano player, and he pointed to Eddie. He and Eddie just managed to exchange an expression of raised eyebrows when she got to him.
Steve was stopped dead in his tracks. He listened to her talking with Eddie, something about some special requests. Her voice was soft and sparkling. Wonderfully clear laughter mixed with her words. Her smile was quick and bright. She seemed so relaxed, and together, yet so very feminine.
And, on top of all that, she had on a perfect dress. Black, clingy jersey. The same stuff he had tormented Teddi with hardly more than an hour ago. It was cut rather like a cheongsam, but with long sleeves. Both sides were slit up well past her knees. If she were holding a long cigarette holder she would look just like one of those Dragon Lady characters from Terry and the Pirates. But there was nothing evil about her. Just the opposite; vivacious, exuberant youth. Fresh and pure. Somehow the contrast made her more desirable.
He also notice her jewelry, which spoke of wealth somewhere in her family. A very nice jade bracelet on her left arm, several gold bracelets on her right arm, and dangling gold earrings set with lots of diamonds. It made her look like a beauty queen.
What a difference between Teddi and this girl, he thought. Teddi was very attractive, but had none of the sophistication that this young lady exuded. He was never very good at judging the age of oriental women. She could be eighteen, or twenty eight.
His cymbals were all in place. He got his favorite pair of sticks, Joe Morello models by Ludwig, and started doing some soft, quick licks to loosen up. All the while he watched her, transfixed, studying everything about her as if to drink in her very essence. Every move she made set ripples of glistening waves flowing across her gown. For a moment she struck a pose with her left leg stuck out at a slight angle, the slit skirt dropping away to reveal a perfectly shaped leg clad in the sheerest of black stockings. That and the firm shape of her breasts suggested to him that she was wearing the usual assortment of underwear, which was a tragedy as far as he was concerned.
He knew he was hooked. Tonight, like so many other nights, he would set aside his relationship with Carol and pursue this women. His goal was always the same, to get the chance to play with her and the gown she wore, to see how she took to the idea of being tickled as sex play. Where other men would be satisfied getting to bed with her, he wanted to first see her wearing that gown with nothing underneath, tickle her a bit, then make love to her, long, slow lovemaking that left them completely drained.
As always, he wondered if this was going to be a hit. He wanted it to be. In that respect, tonight's safari was different. He usually picked out a reasonably attractive woman and tried a few lines to get a reading on her sensuality. If he sensed that a woman was a stick in the mud despite her slinky dress he passed her over. This girl he wanted. And that meant he wanted her to be willing to partake of his strange habit. He knew he was setting himself up for a fall, but was powerless to do anything but throw his chips on the table and play out his hand.
She finished talking to Eddie, and as she turned to walk back to her table she caught his gaze and flashed a smile. His heart melted. As she walked away he turned to Eddie, who watched him with a whimsical grin.
"Who was that?
"She's one of the granddaughters. Name's Vivian. Chin, Cheng, Chan; something like that. Just your type, yeah?"
"I'll say. What a beauty! Hold me back, man, I think I'm in love."
"Easy, Steve. Her Dad's a big shot lawyer. Got the big house in Kahala, the Jag, the boat, the whole t'ing. Fo' real. You no can afford that kine, I t'ink."
"Daddy's little girl, huh? How old do you think she is.?"
"Old enough to be legal, that's fo' sure. What? Make difference to you?"
"Come on, man. Am I that bad?"
"Hey man. You da one when pick up the queen of the senior prom last week."
"Ok, ok, you win."
"I t'ink she goes school back east. Radcliff or someplace li'dat. Brown, maybe. So what, twenty maybe?"
"Brother! She looks so mature. But to me they always do. It's the way they dress."
"Yeah, and what a dress. Did you catch that thigh show? No wonder so many Chinese in the world!"
Good old Eddie. He would notice the skin, and miss how sexy the dress was that covered it. Well, maybe not. There had been that time a few months ago, when they had got together one evening to discuss some new tunes to add to their repertoire. Eddie had brought along a date, a girl he saw often. She was a classical pianist, just finishing her bachelor's degree. She had worn a long jersey dress, silvery white covered with a wild print of red, black, and green lines that swirled around in crazy patterns. They ended up ordering a pizza, drinking beer and listening to some old Miles and Coltrain.
Late in the evening they were all sitting on the floor, he and Eddie trying to explain how jazz musicians worked out what to play when they soloed, something Eddie's girlfriend had never learned to do. She was snuggled in Eddie's lap, his arm around her waist. Then Eddie started running his fingers over her belly and along her side, very casually, never falling out of the conversation. This went on for quite some time, and the sight of it really turned Steve on. She closed her eyes, and he was sure he saw he shudder several times, ever so slightly, but she made no move to stop him.
That was the only time he had ever seen someone else doing what he loved to do. He had no way to be sure how she was reacting to it. Maybe she was too drunk to feel it. Maybe she just wasn't ticklish. But as he watched, and later, whenever he thought about it, he liked to assume that it did tickle, a lot, and that she was getting very turned on by it. Actually he hoped that after they left they went back to Eddie's and picked up where they had left off.
That episode spawned many fantasies for him. He liked to imagine that those shudders were actually little orgasms, that she had come right there in front of him, just from being tickled. He imagined himself joining in, casually reaching out and tickling her feet, he and Eddie driving her wild with passion from the gentle agony of tickling.
He had never mentioned the episode to Eddie, and made it a point to make no moves on his girl. Eddie was much too good a friend to treat that way. Besides, he wasn't at all sure what really happened. Left alone, the incident was a titillating memory. To follow through and learn the truth about how she felt about erotic tickling could easily lead to a less exciting conclusion. The mystery of it made it much more exciting, and the risk of pursuing it was too high.
"So what? You going move on her?"
"Eddie, please. You make it sound so cold. I tell you, man, I've been smitten by Cupid's arrow." Steve dropped into a soft singing voice with "'Cupid, draw back your bo-ow...'"
"She going need one flack jacket for defend against you."
"Aw gee, Eddie. Where's you sense of romance?"
"Come on guys, let's get started. 'One Note Samba' nice and easy."