Lainie Ch. 02

I sat at the bar re-reading Lainie's note over and over again. I could not believe what I saw neatly printed on the soft pink page that I held in my trembling hand.

"What's wrong, Bird?" Geno asked.

I handed him the note and watched his face as he read it.

"Get the fuck out of here!" He exclaimed, returning the note to me.

"Weird, huh?" I commented.

"Weird ain't putting it quite far enough out there, Big Guy," Geno said.

"'Sup, Dude?" Ice asked, motioning for Sally to bring us another round before we went back up on stage.

I showed him the note. He shook his head and smiled.

"Shit like this never happens to me," He said. "I always end up with some old drunk that falls asleep on me before I can get it up."

"Ya, but she says she's my kid!" I howled. "This is freaky. Who goes around screwing his own daughter?"

"Sounds to me like she screwed you, Bird," Geno laughed. "It also sounds to me like she wants you to keep in touch."

"Man! What am I gonna do!" I sighed.

"We're gonna play some music for another set and then you'll probably get tanked, if I know you." Ice said. Then he and Geno both laughed at me.

I found no humor in their obvious amusement. I had no idea in the world that I even had a daughter. And what was even worse, I couldn't even remember what her mother's name was. I only remember that I had spent a crazy night fucking this older girl all night long up in Minnesota, over forty years ago. And now this babe comes along, hauls my ashes up the beach, and then disappears, leaving a note thanking me for the great fuck and telling me she's my kid. And if I'm interested, she leaves her phone number.

Marvelous!

The last set seemed to go on for hours. I kept replaying the night with Lainie's mother over and over in my mind. Then, one of the regulars asked Chuck if we could play Misty. BINGO! Her name was Mitsy. Go figure, it took the music to jar my old tired brains.

It was seeping back from so long ago. I was on my first road gig, playing a series of state fairs across the Upper Midwest, with Royal American Shows. We backed up various headliners and it had been a blast.

We would roll into town in the middle of the night, catch a few winks and be ready to play a matinee show that afternoon and an evening show that night. It was exciting because we were all underage but, the carnival is a world of it's own. The band was usually set up on a long flatbed semi-trailer, which was pulled out onto the racetrack in front of the grandstand. We would all run out and jump up and play fifteen songs or so and then they would pull the trailer aside and the races would commence.

In the afternoons, you could see the thousands of people in the grandstand, but at night, the really bright spotlights blinded you so all you could see was the inside of your sunglasses. We'd play for the run of the fair, and then pack up our stuff and head for the next fair, in the next town.

Six of us lived in a converted 72-passenger school bus, without air-conditioning, for six or seven months and then head back to Florida for the winter. We were hot, cramped, dirty and tired, but the money was great and the fringes were huge. Namely, there were always groupies hanging around to while away the spare time. And for us younger guys, it was a trip. And, being a musician was the best part.

I don't remember too much about her, just that she and another girl came around the bus after the last show and we went with them to an apartment somewhere away from the fairgrounds and spent the night getting laid, repeatedly!

I saw her that one time and forgot all about her until Lainie strolled into the club last night. What a blast from the past.

"You ready?" I heard Chuck ask.

"Huh?" I said.

"We're done," He said. "You can go home now."

Man, I was lost in it for a minute there. I packed up my axe and mic, rolled up the cords and helped load the amps in the trailer. Chuck told me we had to play up in Jax Beach the following weekend, but we had the rest of the week off. I decided to hang out in St. Augustine until Monday so I followed Ice back to his place.

"This is all very strange," I said.

"I can just imagine," He said. "You had no idea?"

"None," I answered. "I still don't believe it happened."

"You gonna call her?" He asked.

"I don't know," I said.

I was beat, so I excused myself and turned in. I had a really hard time getting to sleep. I kept seeing Lainie's face when I closed my eyes. I figured she was married from the rings she was wearing. And she obviously had some bread, because she dressed to the nines and drove the rented Jag. But who fucks her own father just for fun? I guessed she did.

When I woke up, Ice was gone. I had a fat head from the beer from the night before, but I felt all right. I looked out the window at my old car. The '86 Caprice was a stalwart old bus. I'd kept her up meticulously over all the years I'd had her and she was in the finest of condition. The tires were good and I had just had her tuned up and detailed a couple of days earlier. My mind was twirling like a top, but I made it up in a split second.

I scribbled a quick note for Ice to tell Chuck that I was going up north for a few days and if I wasn't back for next Friday night to call my brother to play bass. I headed up the coast to Mayport, where I live, to pack a few clothes and pick up a guitar and an amplifier, just in case anything should come up where I needed to make a buck. I got the neighbor lady to look after the old house and feed the goldfish and Mike, my little Pekinese. Then I climbed into the car and headed for I-10 west.

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The mileage on the map told me I had fifteen hundred and change to the Twin Cities. I threaded a couple of CDs into the changer and set the cruise control on 75 and snuggled down into the soft velvet of the old Chevy. The dual pipes were crooning smoothly and I listened to almost every track on every disc I had in the car and finally, I crossed The St. Croix River into Minnesota and saw the sign that read St. Paul, 21 miles. To say I was wiped out was the understatement of the century. It had taken twenty-seven hours to make the drive. I had no clue where to start looking to find Lainie, only the phone number on the note.

I stopped to top off the tank and plugged some coins into a payphone.

The phone rang four times before I heard a young male voice say, "Yeah?"

"Is Lainie there, please?" I asked.

"Who's askin'?" The voice said.

"I'm an old friend from Florida," I answered.

"Ma just got home from Florida yesterday," He stated.

I heard the phone clunk down and the voice holler "Ma! It's some old guy from Florida."

"Hello, This is Mrs. Marsden." Lainie said.

"Lainie, it's Jay," I said, softly.

"Oh," She said, pausing for a long minute. "Where are you?"

"Sunoco station on I-94." I answered. "Says Signal Hills on the sign across there by the mall."

"Why are you here?" She whispered.

"Lainie, I have to talk to you." I said.

"I know, Daddy. I have to talk to you too," She said. "You didn't waste any time getting here. I just got back last night."

"All I have is time, Lainie." I said. "Where are you?"

"Not far," She said, and gave me quick directions to a motel that was close to her house.

I felt like it was better for me to get a room until Lainie and I had a chance to talk. I was still troubled with the fact that we had been sexually intimate at the beach house four nights earlier.

I drove to the motel and had just walked out of the office with the key, when a dark blue Grand Marquis pulled up next to my Caprice. The window rolled down and Lainie smiled out at me.

"Room 417, around the corner," I said.

Her car moved away. I followed. My heart was hammering in my chest. What was I going to say to her? I pulled in right in front of the room and opened the door. Lainie was standing next to the door, flicking the ash from a long cigarette. Her hair hung straight down, just like it had when I'd brushed it during the night we had spent together. She had on tight toreador pants, and a bright yellow silk blouse. All of her female charms showed through the thin fabric. I felt myself churn inside. I stood in front of her and watched her drag on the smoke, drop the butt to the pavement and crush it with the toe of her high spike-heeled shoe.

I opened the door and held it for her to enter. I walked in behind her and fumbled in the dimness of the room for the light switch. Just as the lights bathed the room in a soft yellow glow, Lainie came into my arms and our lips came together. Her tongue was alive in my mouth, her hands caressed me on my back, and my cock had grown stiff as steel between us.

I pushed her away and held her to arms length.

"What are we doing, Lainie?" I gasped, trying desperately to regain control of my runaway emotions.

"I hope we're getting ready to make love," Lainie said, as her fingers deftly parted the buttons on her blouse.

"But," I said. "Why, if I'm your father?"

"Because I want to," She said. "And so do you."

My hands betrayed my mind and I pulled my shirt over my head. I reached for the buckle on my belt as Lainie pushed her pants down her soft thighs. She stood naked before me. We came together again. My cock was standing straight up against her belly as we kissed passionately. She moved herself, rolling my erection between us.

She pushed me back on the bed and climbed up on me. She settled back, guiding my stiff cock up into her hot pussy as she came down. I humped up, burying myself deep in her wetness. Then we just fucked each other. She came first and then I did, emptying fifteen hundred miles of stored up jizz deep in her warm cunt.

I had to sleep then. I'd been awake for two and a half days and I had no more energy. I was vaguely aware of her taking a shower and leaving the room.

When I opened my eyes, it was pitch black dark in the room. The only discernable light in the room was the light from the parking lot that framed the drapes covering the window. The acrid odor of cigarette smoke was present in the room. As I drew my self up out of the depths of slumber, I focused on the red glow of the cigarette.

"Lainie?" I asked.

"Close, but no cigar, Guitar Man," A husky female voice invaded the darkness.

I reached for the switch on the lamp next to the bed. I was momentarily blinded as the lamp filled the motel room with light.

An older woman, of some seventy years sat in a chair in the corner by the table near the window. She had silver hair, which hung in soft waves around her exquisitely made up face. Her lips were bright red and her smile was soft. She had long carefully manicured nails tipping her slender fingers. Large diamond cocktail rings adorned the third finger of each hand.

The dress she wore was smooth fawn velvet and fit her like a second skin. Lying on the bed, I could tell very little else about the woman in my room. I pushed up to a sitting position and stared into her dark eyes. I was still at a disadvantage, because she was somewhat in the shadows away from the light, and I was sitting on the side of the bed with the light behind me facing her. I was also very naked.

Now I gotta tell ya, this old man ain't a pretty picture any more. I'm 6'-3" and I weigh a little over 220 pounds. Most of it hangs in a whisky belly around the middle. The hair is long and still mostly dark brown and I usually wear a full beard, because I hate shaving. All the years of sitting in the bars playing music and drinking have taken its toll on me. My one saving grace, I guess, is I still have eight inches of thick meat that'll get hard as iron, when correctly provoked.

This woman exuded a subtle elegance that I have seldom seen in my fifty-eight years. So you might expect that sitting here with my dick hanging between my legs, trying to act nonchalant, should have embarrassed me. It did.

"Lainie tells me you still fuck like Trigger," She said. "Been a long time since I've had a sausage like that one in my old tired pussy."

Like an idiot, I looked down at my dick, lying there quietly on the sheet between my legs. Then I looked back up at the woman sitting across from me at the table. I felt Mr. Johnson start to crawl along the sheet.

"How long has it been?" I asked.

"Forty two years, four months and six days," She said.

"Keepin' pretty accurate track of time, aren't you?" I asked.

"Some things are worth remembering," She whispered. "So tell me, whose idea was it for you to fuck the kid?"

"Well, if I'd known who she was, it never would have happened the first time," I said. "This afternoon, it was all her idea."

"That's what she told me, too," She said. "Is she any good?"

"I think she's fantastic," I answered.

My cock had picked himself up off the sheet and was staring straight at Mitsy. And he was hard as granite.

Mitsy stood up and walked around the table to where I sat. She kneeled at my feet, put one hand on my chest pushing me back down on the bed, and took my cock in her other hand and lowered her head to my lap. Her tongue reached out and slowly curled under the smooth head of my blood filled dick. Lapping slowly and easily, she soon had me dripping in a steady flow of clear fuck fluid, which she savored ravenously. I saw her lips part and her head advance, covering me with her red painted lips. Then I was gone into her mouth. Mitsy gave better head than her daughter. Our daughter.

Her head moved smoothly up and down on my cock. She used her tongue to massage me as she worked her magic mouth over me. All I could do was lie there and revel in the sensations she bestowed on my stiff prick. I could feel myself building toward a monster cum and told her I was getting close. She kept sucking for all she was worth until I dumped a gigantic wad of scalding sperm down her throat.

"Now, Sweet Meat," She said. Get dressed and pack your shit. You're taking me to dinner, and then you're coming to my place and fuck me stupid. And you won't be needing to stay a this rat trap motel."

"I'll just be a second," I said. "I have to catch a quick shower."

"No need," She said. "I just sucked Lainie's pussy smell off your dick a few minutes ago."

I took the shower any way and put on a fresh pair of chinos and a Hawaiian shirt. I threw my stuff back in my grip and we left the room. Of course, Mitsy has a Mercedes convertible. She climbed aboard and waved for me to follow her and we headed for the other side of the city.

She guided us to a small steakhouse on a major thoroughfare, where she instructed the mater-de like she owned the place and soon we found ourselves in a very private little nook far away from all the rest of the patrons. Wine appeared, as if by magic, and we were suddenly alone in a very romantic scene right out of a movie. Mitsy found herself a smoke and held it for about three seconds before a tiny female hand appeared with a light. I hadn't even had time to fumble for her lighter, which lay in plain sight on the table.

"You've obviously been here before," I observed.

"I own it," She stated.

Silly me, I thought to myself, why didn't I think of that?

"What prompted Lainie to come looking for me?" I asked, after taking a sip of very expensive wine.

"I suppose it was me," She admitted. "When she found out that you really existed, she was very insistent on my telling her everything I could remember about you. All I knew was your name, and that you lived around Jacksonville, and that you surely would still be playing music. The first time I heard you, you left me with a damp spot in my panties, if you recall?"

"I remember that night as if it were yesterday," I lied. I had completely forgotten about it until Lainie showed up.

"Then when she asked me why I had never married," Mitsy continued. "I had to tell her the truth. After that night I spent with you after the fair, no man has ever been able to build a fire in me like that again."

"Then why'd you wait forty years to come looking for me?" I asked. "And why did you send Lainie instead of coming yourself?"

"I was afraid that you wouldn't want an old hag like me hanging around," She admitted, her eyes welling up. "She laughed at me. She said no man could be that good in bed."

All I could do was shrug. Mitsy is a looker, even if she is pushing seventy. I could see Lainie all over her face. Lainie is a real charmer too.

"I thought Lainie is married," I said.

"She is," Mitsy said.

"So why is she fucking me?" I asked.

"I think it was idle curiosity down in Florida," She said. "But you loaded her up now. She told me this afternoon that her husband has never turned her on like you did."

"That make you jealous?" I asked.

"Hell no," She scoffed. "I fucked her husband Dale three or four times and he's a cold fish. Lainie and I make better fireworks together than he can make with either of us."

"Excuse me?" I choked.

"Oh, please," She barked. "You're a musician your whole life. How many married women you bedded in all them years?"

"More than I can ever remember," I answered.

"And why in hell do you suppose they wanted you to fuck them?" She asked.

"I get your point," I said. "Hubby ain't that exciting anymore. And the bass player's a change of pace. I get the picture."

"What my daughter will never know," She said softly, "is that she almost had another daddy. I was engaged and after I met you at the fair, I dumped him like yesterdays garbage."

"What's so special about me?" I asked, overrun with curiosity.

"You've just got heat," She cooed. "There's a fire in you that I've never found in any other man I've been with. And mister, I've fucked a bunch of 'em."

"If it feels good, do it!" I said.

Over the years, I'd spent my share of time doing the 'Wild Thing' with more women than I could ever hope to remember. Music, booze and pussy had been my life. I had managed to get married twice. Each time, it ended in divorce because they felt like the music meant more to me than they did. The truth can be hard to take some times. But it's still the way things are.

Food arrived and we ate. The tiny redheaded waitress hovered over Mitsy, who cooed her appreciation with every opportunity. It soon became apparent that they had other issues.

"The redhead takes good care of the boss," I remarked.

"In more ways than you might imagine," She replied.

"I have a very vivid imagination," I said.

"I just bet you have, Guitar Man," Mitsy observed.

After the meal and more conversation, during which time I learned that Lainie had four children. A son eighteen, an older daughter who was twenty, and twin girls just turned sixteen. It appears that Lainie was a prolific breeder for a while before she had her tubes tied. Her husband is a lawyer and she lives the good life.

Mitsy was an entrepreneur. She had built the restaurant with the sweat of her own brow, and was very proud of it. It had given her all she had hoped for in life and now she was in a position to command the respect of her peers.

"I'm getting old, Jay," She concluded. "It's time to settle down."

"So you sent Lainie to fetch me?" I asked, knowing I should have kept my big mouth shut.

"You really know how to hurt a guy, don't you?" Mitsy asked, obviously wounded by my callous remark.

"Sorry, Mitsy," I said. "I had no right to say that."

"You're forgiven," She said. "But, you're almost right on the money. I had to know how life had treated you. I've hated myself for a lot of years for not coming after you. It wasn't like I was in love with you. I think I was more in love with the idea of being in love."

I wondered where this would lead.

"Lainie's smitten with you too," Mitsy said. "I think she's got that itch after twenty years of marriage but won't leave Dale for another man. She has it too good. It's like you're safe to do it with."