How High the Moon - Sex Stories

How High the Moon

... know that the added impetus that made tonight’s set gel so well came from her. “And this must be the last one on our set. It’s a number that I, for one, will always associate with the Village Vanguard. The Bill Evans classic: Gloria’s Step !” This unscheduled third encore is for Paul’s benefit. It’s a number perfectly attuned to his virtuosity and he takes up the challenge with relish and much to the delight of his adoring fans. Tomasz’s face beams with a smile almost as broad as Paul’s and Lynn can feel the ache in her own cheeks as the musicians coalesce in one last improvisation. The audience know that three encores are enough and aided by the lights being raised by the management, they get up to leave at the same time as the Lynn Wood Trio gathers their water bottles together to leave the stage. The woman in the second row still sits there as the rest of the audience head off to the door and the steps leading up to the Manhattan streets. She stands up and pulls a long leather overcoat over her shoulders. She glances up half-expectantly towards Lynn and is clearly surprised to see the pianist approach her. “So what did you think of the gig?” The woman chokes slightly to be addressed so directly, but she recovers her composure even though her white freckled skin is unable to hide the colouring that fills her cheeks. “It was probably the best concert I’ve ever heard!” she says. Sensing more is needed, she adds: “I particularly enjoyed those melodic tunes you played in the ...

... middle. How can music be so beautiful?” “Indeed!” says a gratified Lynn. “I’m glad you enjoyed our set. So, what’s your name?” “Tina,” she says. “Tina,” she repeats. “I’m called Tina.” “Tina,” muses Lynn. A nice short name, but this Tina is very unlike the soul chanteuse who is her namesake. “You’re a Brooklyn girl aren’t you? Are you going back home by subway?” Tina nods and Lynn studies her face. She is sure her instincts are right. This is a woman whose passion for Lynn could easily become physical. She just needs the opportunity. As the pause between them lengthens, Lynn sees excitement and nervousness battle to set her face in repose. “I really truly enjoy your music,” Tina gushes at last. “For a long time, Kirsten was the only tune of yours I really appreciated, but now I’m addicted to every song you play or write. And this show was much, much more enjoyable than I’d ever thought possible.” It would be too soft to admit to Tina how much Lynn’s fantasies of conjugal passion added to the success of the set, but there is no way that the pianist can allow the woman to disappear into the streets alone. “Stay a moment, Tina, and I’ll accompany you to the subway. I’ve just got to say goodbye to the boys.” “Accompany me to the subway?” Tina gasps. Had she ever imagined that the famous Lynn Wood might ever make that suggestion? “There’s so much we can talk about, I’m sure.” “There is?” Lynn takes Tina by the shoulders, feeling her slender frame through the patent leather. She ...