Blues and Reds

Red Guitar by Corey Barksdale.

On the occasion we feel the need to get out, Angie and I like to head out to a dinner club where we can get some thing to eat and take in a professional act. Blues and/or Funk, preferably, because the visceral effect that kind of music has on both of us. We can do Rock, but the crowds tend to be too young and alcohol fueled, and the clubs are more like beer halls, or simply dives.

Last night we went to see the blues great Luther “Guitar” Johnson at a dinner club outside of Boston, and about thirty minutes from our home up north, called Johnny D’s. Great atmosphere: cozy, subdued lighting in amber, red and blue hues; understated holiday decorations. A long oval bar off to the right of the entrance acted to show case those seated and entering down the aisle way. The restaurant was off to the left, down a short flight of carpeted stairs.

Tables and booths were arrayed to the front, left and right, of the small dance floor and compact stage set in the middle of the restaurant. Various instruments, amps, and lighted keyboards set up on the stage reflected the colorful Klieg lights overhead in a rainbow riot of colors. A smaller elevated section to the far right of the seating area made for a multi-level layout in the restaurant. Every table in the restaurant was either full or reserved, so Angie and I decided to find an available space further back in the bar area to stand and maybe get something to eat.

We strolled past the bar on our way to a stand-up counter to the rear of the grotto, overlooking the dance floor and restaurant right of dead center. On our way past the bar I noticed several couples, small groups, and some single patrons seated on the opposite side and both ends of the bar’s long oval. The side nearest our path was still unfilled as it was early enough. The crowd was in our preferred age range of thirties to mid fifties, and dressed in casual but stylish attire. Not a single baseball cap to be seen in the place when we arrived. We drew the brief interest of several people, and I returned a couple of gazes with a smile, confident I was a lucky guy with a beautiful lady on my arm. Angie looked great, and I felt good because I knew we were going to enjoy the show.

Once Angie and I made our claim to our space I went to the bar to give our orders to the barman. Angie’s drink was a Pravda vodka with tonic and a lime, and mine was a Johnny Walker Black. I looked over the crowd around the bar again. One couple in particular caught my attention. He stood at over six feet; his silver hair was short and wavy, and his face was ageless. He wore a black shirt with pin strips and a grey woolen blazer. I am straight, but I have no problem admiring a good looking guy. If I am going to envision my lovely wife with another man, I want her to have the best. His wife looked like she was once a model. She was probably Angie’s age, and tall; her shiny raven hair was cut to the mid point of her lithe neck and across her forehead; her glimmering earrings were elegant. She wore a black knit pull over that hinted of her pert breasts. Her wedding band sparkled as she held her wine glass to her mouth. Her lips and finger nails were ruby colored. Our eyes met and held, and we smiled a greeting to each other. He saw the direction of her gaze and looked over to me and gave me a small smile and nod in acknowledgment of my appreciation for his woman. They were gorgeous.

In the time it took for our drinks to arrive I wondered if that couple was open to play with others, and if so, would they understand the unique arrangement between Angie and I; that being she is free to play and I am her willing and devoted cuckold. But I did not discuss any possibility of finding new friends with Angie when we made plans to go out. This was an evening I intended solely for us.

Luther and his band were sensational. Taking the crowd through the sultry sounds of the Mississippi delta blues to the swing-inspired blues of Chicago, the crowd really got into the flow. Everybody was dancing and rocking to the rhythm. The heat in the house wasn’t coming from just the jumpin’ and jivin’. Some felt the mood like Angie and I, and could be spied fondling or smooching their lover were they stood. We ordered a few more drinks as the night went along.

http://www.box.net/shared/2f8guhrks8<-- click on file to hear the music

The Gorgeous Couple were out on the killing floor, moving with the tempo. They connected with each other through their eyes; and tantalized with their suggestive movements, an open mouth kiss, or subtle brush of the hand to the lower part of their partner’s body. At one point he inexplicably left her alone. She stood their swaying slightly to herself as she watched the band. I thought at that moment, what better time for an introduction? Curiously, she was approached by a younger woman, and accepted an invitation to dance with her. Young Woman at one point took hold of Raven Hair Beauty and ran her hands down along her waist. He came back and they maintained a three-way dance triangle for a while before Young Woman excused herself.

Changes to the house and stage lighting put a red glow to the surroundings, in counterpoint to the flavor of music that patrons were immersed. I stood close to Angie with the front of my body pressed against her as we watched the band and the crowd. I wanted to be close to her to touch her and smell her essence. I ran my fingers through her hair to twist it and comb it out with gentle strokes. She moved her curvy hips in time to the music, sometimes bumping me in the crotch in an overt but subtle way of teasing me. I ran my hands down over her derrière, and looked back in a moment of awareness to see two women behind us smiling at my public indiscretion.

We stayed in that flow for another hour or so. The Gorgeous Couple had their fill of dance and drink and slowly made their way to the coat rack and out the door. Since we had a drive home, and I had to get up reasonably early this morning, we did not stay as long as we might have wanted.

Our mood did not abate when we finally landed in bed. Sex with Angie is always great, but gets even better with the lasting voodoo effects of blues/funk music stirred with the visuals of human sensuality. Angie did not let me come in her, and I was bidden to spend time with my mouth. Eventually I confessed to her what I witnessed earlier in the evening. Angie gently chided me for not sharing the experience with her at the time. We whispered in each other's ears the delightful scenarios we could envision: my preparation of her lovers, and service afterward. I masturbated myself while penetrating her with two fingers of my other hand to stroke her deeply to orgasm. Angie spoke what she read in my mind, and in that moment I came on her stomach and breasts.

The open and erotic admissions were as exquisite as the physical pleasure we shared. We kissed each other longingly and repeatedly as we descended the arc of cooling passion in each others arms, and slowly drifted off to sleep with gentle caresses to one another.

I think we will be going back to the blues house. Yes indeed.