by Lee Duchesne
(04/16/08)

Sprawled in an armchair, Ted watched Marla at the vanity, brushing out her full blonde hair. She paused to dab powder on her cheeks and reinforce her lipstick.

He looked at their guitars leaning against the wall. "Sixty percent country covers. What kind of contract is that? We never played anything like straight country in the States or in Paris -- our own songs were good enough for everyone."

"And we never made this kind of money either. Not to mention getting to swim in the Mediterranean every afternoon."

"Four years ago you told me you were done with cover bands -- and two CDs later, this is where we are?"

He picked up his electric guitar, tuning it. It occurred to him that he'd never get tired of her cheekbones, her smooth skin, her big eyes, her lovely lips. Putting the guitar back down, he knelt behind her, lifted her long hair and kissed her neck.

She guided him around to face her and kissed him on the forehead. He ran his hands along her calves and up under her pale-orange tiered dress. He discovered she was wearing no panties, and circled his fingers through her stiff, thick pubic hair. He lifted her petticoat, and as he moved to her crotch she slid her hips to the edge of the seat for him. He rubbed his nose in her fur. He kissed around her clit. He felt the heels of her cowboy boots land on his back.

Startled at the sound of the dressing room door, he looked up. It was Gilles, the club manager. He began, "Encore cinq --," then saw them and continued in his perfect English, "Please don't take too long."

He left.

Ted dipped his head again. Spectators always excited Marla; she nudged herself toward him more urgently. He pushed his tongue in and tasted her; her body started to dance, her breathing accelerated, her fingers twisted in his hair. She gasped, then sobbed in convulsion, and settled back, satisfied.

As they rushed down the hallway to the stage, she put on her tan cowboy hat. Her smile was even broader than usual, her skin bright, her eyes wide; she was abounding with energy. On stage, the crowd noticed her radiance too: the applause was resounding as they plugged their guitars in, hearing Gilles's voice over the speakers: "Mesdames et Messieurs, de Lawrence, Kansas, du coeur profond d'Amérique, Salina Steel Mill!"

"Hi, y'all," she said into the microphone. "I'm Marla, this is T. C. Tallaby." The crowd applauded wildly, but Ted wasn't sure how many of them could understand her.

She looked at him for a moment, and he felt her love pouring over him. The clapping subsided. She strummed a chord. As he got ready for "Forever and Always," she leaned to the microphone again. "Our contract says we have to play mostly your favorite country hits. But tonight we've decided to treat you to the Salina Steel Mill's own songs. This one's called 'Lying Down the Highway.'"

For a moment he was completely paralyzed. His life would be much less agreeable without Marla's audacious energy, but this was one of the times when he felt that her leaps of will were completely derailing them. In full contract violation, he began the fast-paced rockabilly lead that opened the song. She sang the first lines:

I'm driving and the sun shines

Down the highway

As her rich alto flooded the room, her breasts swelling with each deep breath, he noticed a rising attentiveness in the crowd. When she finished the song, the applause was enthusiastic; it usually wasn't this early in their set. Her blue eyes sparkled in the bright lights.

He tried to say something to her, even to start "Forever and Always" again -- but she was on a roll, and the crowd responded to her. The second song she announced was one of his, "Caught by Her Glance." He felt his anxiousness constrict his throat, but his baritone came out smooth and on-key:

Days go by when I can't see

I want to leave but I can't find the way

Her harmony riveted the audience.

She continued to guide the set. If this was a career crackup, she was making it as comfortable as possible. More people were wandering into the club from the casino, not balking at the thirty-five-euro cover charge.

When she announced their break, he looked at his watch: it was 11:30, and they'd been playing for well over an hour. In the little hallway, he said, "I hope you don't take us past two hours tonight. Gilles will have our heads on a platter -- before he rolls them down the street."

She pushed the dressing room door open. "You're such a pessimist. What happened to your lecture on artistic integrity?"

"What about yours? Doing business, the prerequisite to getting your art out to the public?"

There was a knock on the door. He sighed, knowing Gilles was here to tell them they were fired, and wouldn't get paid for their two shows so far. But it was a waiter, carrying champagne in a cooler, two glasses, and a towel. He handed Ted a note as he put the tray on the table. "The client waits your response, Monsieur."

A smile crossed Marla's face as she took the note. Its polished cursive said, "We love your music. We would be most honoured if you joined us tonight. Sincerely, Peter & Celia."

She lifted the bottle from the cooler. "Louis Roederer Cristal 1996. This is a two-hundred-euro bottle."

"We've got nothing to celebrate. Let's just send it back to them."

She continued to smile. "We can celebrate them giving it to us -- and it's only decent, not to mention professional, to treat 'em as our guests." She looked at him. "See what artistic integrity gets you?"

He snorted. "Lot of good if you're out of work."

She walked over to the vanity for pen and pad. She wrote, "Such a fine gift can only come from the finest people. Please come to the dressing room after the show so we can thank you personally." When she showed it to him, he rolled his eyes.

When they returned to the stage, the applause was huge. People were kneeling at tables, standing crowded along the walls. Marla was more radiant than before. She led him through a series of covers that were light years from their contract list: "The Wreck of the Old 97," and their vocal duet of the Carter Family's "Wildwood Flower."

She was giddy when they got back to the dressing room. As soon as the knock came she stood up. It was a couple in their forties, pleasant, and appreciative about being invited to see them. Still, Ted kept expecting Gilles to show up in a fury.

"What a privilege to meet a real singing cowgirl," said Peter in a steady English accent. "Your voice is truly wonderful -- both your voices are fabulous."

Celia looked Ted steadily in the eye. "My, you look even younger in person -- you're not even twenty-five."

He smiled. "Twenty-eight."

"So she's not robbing the cradle?"

"We're pretty close in age." He wondered how warm the woman must be in her black leather pants, which showcased her thickening hips and thighs.

"Time for champagne," said Marla. "And two more glasses."

Casually Peter said, "Why don't we go upstairs to our suite? More bottles, and glasses as well."

Quickly they dropped their guitars in their room, then joined Peter and Celia on the sixth floor. Looking out from their balcony to the Mediterranean, Ted felt that a portion of some very old dream was coming true.

Peter opened the champagne. He then produced a hash pipe that he passed around.

"It's so warm, isn't it?" said Celia after a few puffs. She unbuttoned her black silk blouse. For a moment she sat in her black lace bra, then unhooked it, revealing breasts improbably huge and balloon-like. The hash amplified Ted's excitement. Marla was captivated too.

Celia said, "Like them?"

He nodded. "Umm, yeah."

"They're totally beautiful, Celia -- you're beautiful," said Marla.

Celia's eyelids lowered. "Shall we have the treat of seeing your boobies too?"

Peter's laugh exploded. Without a trace of shyness Marla extracted one arm from the sleeve of her dress, then the other. She undid her bra. Her breasts were full, heavy enough to bounce with her movements.

Ted felt Celia's hand take his. She rubbed his palm gently, then placed it on her nipple. She gasped as he touched her. She put a hand on the back of his head and pulled him to her breast. On his knees in front of her he kissed them, and her nipples swelled and hardened in his mouth. Peter stood behind Marla's chair, cupping her breasts.

Celia moved out of her chair to embrace Ted, and together they lay down on the Oriental rug. He undid her leather pants. She rubbed his crotch, but he moved down her body so he could ease her pants off. They were tight around her thighs, sticking with sweat.

She took over the task. He waited for her when he'd undressed, then guided her to the enormous bed, on which Peter and Marla had already found a place. He began kissing Celia's belly, self-conscious about having only half an erection; disappointment was plain on Celia's face. Ted looked across the bed at Marla's big smile. She pointed to the condoms she'd just dumped out of her bag, and he took one.

Slowly, Marla took Peter's cock into her mouth, making Ted envious of the very solid -- though smallish -- erection he saw.

Celia's round ass was touchingly cute; Ted struggled up and began kissing it. He rubbed his face against her wet skin and the sweat in her crack. He ran his tongue along the cleft. She stiffened and sighed. He became more aggressive: his tongue dipped further; he separated her cheeks, revealing the ocher folds of her anus, grazed by the black coils of her pubic hair.

He slowly inserted the tip of his tongue into her asshole, moving it in and out as deep as he could. There was a sudden flood of vaginal scent. "My, my," she said, laughing a little. Her hand touched his cock and she gasped again, discovering its sudden stiffness. He dipped his fingers into her dampness, rubbed her gorged clit.

He watched Marla suck in most of Peter's sheathed length.

Celia spoke. "Could you -- ?" She hesitated. "Would you please bugger me? You wouldn't mind that?"

He laughed as he tore open a condom. He rolled it on and began fingering her slick asshole.

"Just go right in!"

"If I don't stretch you, won't it hurt?"

"Isn't that the whole idea?"

He nodded. He placed himself between her thick legs and thrust, hard. His full length disappeared into her rear and she screamed. Marla looked up, startled; Peter was already watching closely.

Ted hesitated. "Keep going, keep going," Peter hissed.

Ted pushed in again...out...in. Celia's wail was loud and continuous. He was still doubtful, but the sensation of her tight sphincter and hot, mucous rectum persuaded him. He held her hips and rolled her with him onto her side. Wrapped tight behind her on the bed, he cornholed her, grunting with effort and lust.

Marla looked bewildered at the sight and sounds across the bed, and jumped when Peter began clapping. Though Celia's face was twisted in apparent agony, her joy was patent. When Marla saw the looks on their faces -- the man she loved lost in ecstasy, fucking this howling Englishwoman like neither of them expected tomorrow -- she felt a flood of tenderness that she'd missed after their quarrel this evening.

She put her arm around Peter's shoulder, her other hand wrapping his cock, stroking. She kissed his cheek. "Want to do him?"

"What?" he said.

"Want to fuck him while he fucks your wife? Shove your beautiful cock up his ass while she gets his up hers?" She felt her wetness as she spoke.

He gave her a look of annoyed perplexity. "I don't do that sort of thing."

She was taken aback. "I didn't mean anything -- Ted really likes it."

"Well, your boyfriend and I are obviously not cut from the same cloth."

Easing away from him, she crawled across the bed. She stroked Celia's shoulder, holding out a hand to Ted's mouth, which he kissed. Leaning down to Celia she kissed her lips, to be met with eagerness. Marla felt Peter's hands on her. She guided Celia's head to her crotch and the Englishwoman began licking and nibbling.

Peter intensified his attempts to grab Marla, who was already having a shivery cascade of orgasms. But then he maneuvered lower, aiming now for his wife, trying to pry open her legs. Ted spread his own thighs to make way for him. When Peter managed to push his cock into her, Celia moaned like a wounded animal and pulled her head back from Marla. Feeling the hard thrusting of Peter's cock through Celia's rectal wall, Ted couldn't hold his orgasm. He spasmed and cried out.

Celia, still impaled on two cocks, frantically kissed and mouthed Marla's crotch.

Peter kept trying to push deeper into Celia, but Marla's ass kept bumping his chin. He tried to heave her away, growing increasingly aggressive. Marla moaned, louder and louder. Celia raised her head to look.

Ted climbed over Celia's body toward Peter and Marla. Peter was violently manhandling Marla now. Grabbing Peter's wrists, he yanked. He wrapped his arms around Peter's ribcage. Peter pushed him away and he fell to the floor.

Ted stood, but Peter was already on his feet and gripped him by the shoulders, throwing him backward. Ted pushed back toward the bed, but Peter spun him around and shoved him again, hard. He lunged. Peter blocked him, then seized him in a lock from behind, thrashing him from side to side. Ted's head banged the wall.

Celia was cooing and gasping, hands working her crotch. Marla jumped onto Peter and Ted's backs. She shouted: "Stop! Just stop!"

The two men separated. All attention suddenly went to the bed, where Celia was writhing and moaning, hands pumping between her legs. They watched in awe until she subsided.

Marla turned and barked at Peter. "What the fuck did you do that for?"

Peter looked at her, surprised. "Do what?"

"Ted, you all right?"

Ted ran a hand through his hair and across his forehead. "Sure," he muttered.

Marla spun back at Peter. "You scared the shit out of me!"

Peter said sheepishly, "I didn't mean..."

"What did you mean?"

He answered quietly. "It gets her off, watching men fight."

Ted leaned down to pick up his clothes, foggy from hash and champagne. "Too weird for me."

Peter said, "Sorry -- I didn't know -- "

Marla began snatching up her clothes. She put her cowboy hat on first, at which Celia laughed a bit deliriously. "A real cowgirl!" she gurgled.

Heading away from the room, Ted and Marla walked in silence, occasionally glancing at each other. When they entered their room, Ted shuffled into the bathroom and unfastened his pants. The rubber was still on his cock.

As he removed it, he decided that anal sex was too intimate a thing to do with strangers. Of course, he thought, that's what made it so outrageously exciting. He chuckled. He swayed from side to side, trying to shake off the night's intoxications.

Marla called to him. "Ted, listen to this -- it's from Gilles." She held a torn envelope and a sheet of notepaper in her hand.

Ted's face sagged. "Our pink slip -- but, Jeez, to tell the truth, it's good news right now. When do we check out?"

"We don't. Listen. 'Dear Marla and T. C., you captivated our customers tonight with your sublime music. Please continue to do so. Here's a bonus for you from the increase in revenues from drinks and entrance fees. Your friend, Gilles.'"

He went back into the bathroom and flushed the toilet. Stepping back out to see Marla holding up a banknote, he chuckled, "A hundred euros -- that's nothing at the current exchange rate. Hundred and thirty dollars maybe."

"You're such a pessimist."

He was smiling as he washed his hands. Marla had followed him back into the bathroom. She stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the back of the neck.

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