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From: Katie McN <katie_mcn@earthlink.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} {ASSD} {Song Fest}  "The Song of India" by Katie McN    (MF  Rom)
Date: Sun, 10 Nov 2002 05:10:02 -0500
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"Song of India"

By Katie McN <katie_mcn@earthlink.net>


A thought before the story. Happy tenth anniversary ASSTR.ORG.
Hope everyone remembers to make a contribution to keep things
running. The story is also for all my friends in Texas, and in
particular, all you University of Texas alumni. "Hook 'em Horns!"
I'd also like to thank my best friend JPenguin who helped me with
the story background. He knows a lot about music and just might
have been sitting in the club on Sunset Bl the night my
characters, Ken and Patty, heard the Jazz Crusaders play The Song
of India.


---


A lot of folks at the University of Texas think casual Friday
happens everyday of the week, but not Ken Jenkins. There's a
story about him wearing a black suit and red bow tie the first
time he stepped into a classroom way back in 1968. People who
know him figure he'll be wearing something similar on the day he
dies.

It was Friday around three in the afternoon so most folks were
already gone for the weekend. Finding five students sitting in a
third floor practice room was more than unusual. They weren't
thinking about life changing experiences. They didn't know that
part yet. They were waiting for Ken because he asked and that was
enough for each person in the room. They wouldn't know the rest
of it until later and then it would be too late to turn back.

Music students want to play and the school set up over a hundred
rooms in the Music Building to make sure they could. The practice
room on the third floor wasn't much different from the other
places where music students toiled and dreamed about their
futures. The four boys and one girl had already spent more hours
than they could count in rooms like this.

Ken was the last one in the room and he seemed a little bit out
of sorts. He ran his hand through a full head of white hair and
straightened a stack of sheet music that was laying on top of the
upright piano. He hesitated awhile and then said, "I'm going to
tell you a secret. It's important to me and something no one else
knows."

Ken was standing up front by the piano and the rest of the people
were in chairs facing him. Paul James sat next to Rawleigh Parks
and Ed Dixon was behind the two of them. They were seniors and
knew each other well. They spent the last four years working off
their music scholarships in the Longhorn Marching Band. Playing
the fight song in a burnt orange and white uniform wasn't their
first choice for something fun to do, but it beat following Bevo
the mascot longhorn around with a broom and dustpan.

Bill Monroe was sitting away from everyone else. Pretty typical
for him. Paul couldn't remember Bill stringing more than a few
words together at one time and it didn't look like he planned to
exceed expectations on that day.

Every guy in the room knew the luscious blonde babe sitting right
up front next to Ken. Linda Hatfield was a sophomore. It would be
hard to find a better looking girl and certainly not one with her
talent. She could sing any kind of song with the possible
exception of opera. She played the piano better than just about
anyone and there was talk she might be able to max the orchestra
auditions for five or six other instruments if she felt like
trying out.

Maybe "every guy knew of her" was a better way to say it. A guy
might be able to get out one "Hello darlin'" before she said
"Goodbye cowboy" and was on her way. Paul never saw her with a
guy and there was talk that maybe she was into girls instead.
He'd never seen Linda with a girl either so hard telling.

She looked hot. Paul admired her peasant blouse mostly for the
way it didn't hide her well-shaped boobs. He liked the paisley
thong sneaking out from the top of her flared hipster pants and
he couldn't help thinking if she was a lesbian it sure was a
waste of one sexy woman.

Paul stopped day-dreaming when Ken said, "You're the first ones
to know I'm going to retire at the end of the year." He took some
manila envelopes out of his old brown leather satchel and put
them on the chair next to where he was sitting. "And, since I've
been in the Music Department longer than anyone else, I decided
I'm going to plan my own retirement party."

Ken was a Music Department institution. He could have been the
department chairman, but he liked teaching too much to put up
with all the political bullshit. He taught senior level classes
and helped anyone he thought had enough talent to make a go of
it. Paul wanted to ask a question, but Linda talked first.
"Doctor Jenkins, everyone thought you'd be here forever. Why are
you going to leave now?"

"Forever is a long time, Linda." Ken made sure the stack of
manila envelopes was straight before he finished his answer. "I
made a mistake forty years ago and now I have a chance to make up
for it."

A twenty-one year old college boy doesn't want to think much
farther ahead than the beer bust he'd be going to after finals.
Paul wondered what mystery happened forty years ago that could
still be important. He had no idea what it was, but the look on
Ken's face said there was something that had a hold on him big
time.

Paul was the next one to talk. "Hey, Ken, what can we do to help
you out?" The smile on Ken's face said that was the right
question to ask. Then he did something way out of character. He
took off his coat.

Ken still looked formal in his white shirt and red bow tie, but
his classroom demeanor got hung on the chair along with the black
suit jacket. He seemed more relax when he said, "Hey, anyone know
my favorite music? Anyone?" Paul didn't have a clue and none of
the rest seemed to know either. If this was a multiple choice
test 'all of the above' or 'I don't now' would be getting most of
the votes. "Jazz, the kind of jazz with roots here in Texas. Yep,
music that started up in the 50s and is still going strong in
small clubs all over the country. The kind of music I took on the
road when I was your age. Music you probably never heard once in
your lives, but it's still damn good stuff."

Heads turned when Bill spoke up next. "Maybe some of us have
heard it, Ken. Who plays this stuff anyhow?"

"You ever hear the Jazz Crusaders?" Ken asked. Bill shook his
head back and forth and no one else owned up to knowing anything
about them either. "They used to be called Blackhawk when I heard
them play at club in El Paso. A friend told me we could get
served underage there and that's all a wild boy from West Texas
needed to hear." He caused a stir with that remark and a little
bit of laughter, too.

An old person had to be young once, but it's not easy for a young
person to imagine an old man like Ken pounding them down in a bar
in El Paso while he listened to Texas Jazz. Ken's story was like
an extra edition of a tabloid newspaper and there wasn't a sound
in the room once he got into it.

* * *

I decided to go to school in California. My folks wanted me to
try community college for a couple of years and stay in town, but
I already knew everything there was to know about Big Spring,
Texas and I was ready to move on with my life. When the
acceptance letter from UCLA arrived, I decided it was time for me
to leave.

1958 wasn't the best year to go to college. Straight-laced would
be one way to say how things were in those days. Some people
think the clothes I wear when I teach are funny. Imagine a time
when all the faculty and a lot of students wore the same stuff to
class on a daily basis.

Straight music was the only kind being taught and while you might
hear about jazz in a survey class, that was the extent of new and
different. A lot of students listened to what was called race
music on segregated radio stations. Yep, black music on one
station and white music on another. Elvis changed some of that,
but not in the halls of academia.


"Kenny, didn't you say you liked the Crusaders?" Patty Savard was
my idea of a big city girl. She was a Junior and for some reason
she found this country-boy freshman from Texas interesting. We'd
been hanging out since the third week of school. I remember the
day I found her playing piano in one of the practice rooms. The
music was new to me. She called it cool jazz and I got out my sax
and tried to join in. I caught on pretty fast and then showed her
what we were doing in Texas. We played until the building closed
that night and then went over to my place to listen to the record
albums that helped me make my way from Texas to California. We
went out a few times and played music together a lot. We weren't
a couple at first. We were two people who weren't looking for
anyone and got lucky when we found each other. "They're playing
on Sunset Boulevard tomorrow night and since you probably don't
have a date, you might as well take me."


My two-door 1953 Ford was considered an okay car for a student to
drive in those days so we made a night of it and splurged on
valet parking. The cocktail waitress was around our age and told
us, "It's a one drink minimum per set. What are you folks
drinking?" Patty didn't hesitate and ordered a Rum and Coke. I
figured I might as well see if they'd serve me and ordered the
same. The girl knew we were underage, but didn't seem to care.

The Crusaders were getting national attention by 1958 and the
room was full when they took the stage. I had a couple of their
albums in my collection and that night I got to hear them play
all my favorite songs live.

"Hello folks, how do you like the music so far?" When the band
took a break most of them went to the bar for a quick one between
sets. Wilton Felder stopped at our table and talked to us on his
way back from having a taste. Having the sax man from my favorite
group say a few words to me made my day, week and year. Patty and
I both started talking and he acted like our gibbering was making
sense. "I have to get back on stage now, but do you folks want to
hear something special?"

Everything the Crusaders played was special. Wayne Henderson blew
trombone and seemed like the leader of the group. He announced
every number and introduced the other players at least once
during a set. Near the end of the last set Wilton stepped up to
the microphone and said, "We have a special request from a nice
couple I met during intermission so now we're going to play a
tune that Kimsky-Korsokov cat laid down more than a hundred years
ago, The Song of India."

I don't think the booze had much to do with it. I was still high
on the music, but that wasn't the cause either. My mother would
have said it was loose women in the big city, but I figure it was
time for me to loose my virginity and a perfect way to end the
evening. Patty invited me in when I took her home and I ended up
staying at here place for another four years.


"I got the job, Patty. Ace Winslet wants me to go on tour with
his group." I'd been playing a lot around the LA club scene and
was getting a reputation as a good side man. Ace was into rhythm
and blues and thought 1962 was the time to add a white boy to the
group. "I'll be making good money and it's only for two months."

Two months became four and when the band did get back to LA, we
went right into the studio and cut an album that made number one
on the R & B charts two months later. We had to go back on the
road again to support the album and bookings poured in from all
over the country. I kept telling Patty I'd be home soon, but our
going home time kept filling up with new gigs. I figured things
were okay since I didn't fool around with the girls on the road
and sent my money home for Patty to save or spend as she liked,
but it turned out I was wrong.


"Ken, I know you're going back out on the road as soon as you
guys cut the next album." We'd been talking about me traveling
all the time and how much she didn't like it. I was trying to
tell Patty things would be different, but she wasn't buying in.
"Music is your life now, Ken, but I have to have a life, too."

Patty was going to finish grad school and accept a faculty
position at UC, Santa Barbara in their music department. I was
surprised when she told me about the plans she made on her own
and then realized I missed a lot being gone all the time and
could see why she might want to try something new that didn't
include me.

* * *

When Ken seemed finished with his story, Paul wondered what he'd
do if he had to decide between the perfect woman and playing with
a top band. It was only a few months until graduation and it
didn't look like that would a problem he'd have to solve. Paul
was trying to pick a grad school to attend next and decide where
he'd apply for a teaching position after he got his Master's
degree.

Ken got back into teacher mode and handed an envelop to each of
the students. "Don't open these until you get home. Let me tell
you what they're about first."

Paul could feel a sheaf of music and a cassette tape inside the
envelop. There was a large label pasted on the front and Paul
understood what Ken was up to when he read

      Retirement Party Play List

      Work Song - Cannonball Adderley, Sax
      Poem For Brass - JJ Johnson, Trombone
      Moanin' - Art Blakley, Drums
      Better Get It In Your Soul - Thelonius Monk, Bass
      Take Five, Dave Brubeck, Piano

      Intermission

      Song of India - Jazz Crusaders

We were waiting to hear what Ken wanted us to do and he didn't
waste time getting to the point. "In a little over two months,
you're going to be playing these six songs in the Bates Recital
Hall. Yep, most students would give an arm and a leg to play a
recital there and you're going to do it to a full house." Paul
wondered if he heard it right. It sounded like Ken wanted them to
play songs none of them had heard, in a style that was from way
back in the day, and do it in the best venue a UT music student
could hope to play. In two months? Yah, right. "You're five of
the best players I've ever taught and I know you can do it. If
you look at the play list you'll understand why I asked you to
join the group."

There was more of course. He was already setting up practice
sessions before anyone had a chance to say no. He told them to be
ready to play Work Song by next Monday. They were supposed to
listen to the tape and learn their parts as best they could from
the arrangements he'd given them. Paul knew he'd be changing a
few weekend plans when he noticed the featured instrument on Work
Song was his sax. Playing for Ken and playing in Bates Hall made
it all worth while.


The six people split up after the meeting was over. Paul told
Raleigh and Ed that he wouldn't be catching them at the blues
club in downtown Austin that night. Bill seemed to disappear into
the afternoon and Ken waved to the students before heading over
to the faculty parking lot. That left Paul and Linda walking
toward student parking.

"Hey, Linda, I was surprised to see you at the meeting." Paul
thought he hit on a safe topic, but of course he was wrong.

"What do you mean, Paul? You figure I can't play music with the
boys?"

"No, no, I just meant Bill was probably going to be on piano and
I know what the rest of the guys play so it doesn't seem you have
a part."

Paul noticed the look on Linda's face change from what his mother
would call 'peeved' to something else. "Maybe I'm the girl
singer? You know, sitting up front in a strapless cocktail dress
trying to inhale in time to the music while you boys show your
stuff."

"Hey, lighten up. I know you can play. I just didn't see where
you fit in and was only making conversation."

"You better hope I can play, Paulie, because you and I are going
to be featured together on the most important song."

Paul had to agree to something before they went to an off campus
tavern for some long necks and discussion. Linda told him to
think of her as a boy, and after considering it for a second, she
told him to think of her as not just a boy, but his much younger
brother. Paul got the idea she didn't want him to even think
about making a move and hard as that was to deal with he figured
he'd go along.

"You can do my a favor, Linda. I hate it when people call me
Paulie. Maybe you could stop doing it?"

"Certainly, Mr. James, anything for you, sir."

"Hey, I'm not trying to be a jerk. I like my name and 'Paulie'
sounds like you're making fun of me."

"Look, Paul, I have nick names for everyone I like. I don't know
what yours is yet, so you get an obvious one for starters. I'll
try to remember you don't care for it."

Paul heard the part about her liking him and didn't pay much
attention to the rest of what she said. Linda Hatfield liked him.
My, my.

"Ken didn't mention this at the meeting, Paul, but there's a
reason I was asked to be there besides me being able to play,"
Linda said. "Ken and my grandfather jammed together in the
sixties and they've been close ever since."

"You grandfather play Texas Jazz, too?"

"Yes and he's the reason I'm here at UT. My parents think music
is a hobby and told me they wouldn't put out a dime for my
education unless I got into something like business. When Grampy
found out what they were trying to do he wrote a check for the
whole four years and here I am, much to the dismay of my folks."

"I couldn't imagine being in something like business. A bad
sports jacket, bolo tie and hanging out at the Petroleum Club is
not my idea of a good time."

Linda was giving Paul a look that said he'd got it right. "It's
worse than that for girls. My folks want me to marry rich and
hang out with my mother at the country club until I give them two
or three grand children."

Paul's folks got by okay, but never would have the kind of money
that Linda grew up with. The Hatfields lived just outside of
Midland in a mansion designed to look like the White House only
it was bigger. They referred to the place as a spread, but it was
over 15 thousand acres with 500 head of Santa Gertrudis cattle,
40 horses and more chickens, goats, pigs, cats, and dogs than you
could shake a stick at. Ranching was not a big money maker. No,
it was the 37 producing oil wells that made the property
valuable. The family also owned a piece of 28 other producing
properties, a share of the refinery out by Big Spring, some
control over the pipeline that moved oil to the east and all the
rest of the things you'd expect an oil family to dabble in. Rich
was not enough word to describe the Hatfields.

"Grampy went to work for his father when Ken moved to California.
It broke up their band, but not their friendship." Linda must
have heard the story more than once because she was telling it
like she was someone else. "There was a time when it seemed like
our drilling rigs could punch a hole anywhere and make a strike.
Grampy never did change much, but my dad got to like being a rich
man. He married a woman from Kansas City because he didn't think
the girls around Big Spring had enough class. Didn't take long
before the family was part of Texas society and no one much
remembered the wildcatting days where one day Grampy didn't know
where his next meal was coming from and the following day he
started on the road to being one of the richest men in Texas."

"Tell me about the music, Linda." Paul was impressed by her
stories of wealth and power. He knew why Linda was so aloof
because there had to be plenty of men who'd want to cash in on
her looks and money. "Why do I have to hope you can play?"

Linda flashed Paul a smile that got him thinking he might not be
able to remember he promised to treat her like his younger
brother. "I've heard every one of those songs a million times. My
Grampy must of worn out a bunch of albums listening to them over
the years. He and Ken knew the guys who played that music and Ken
traveled with a couple of those bands during the sixties. Grampy
told me about flying his plane off to Chicago, Los Angeles, and
New York to hear Ken play, and how they used to party when they
got together."

Paul ordered them a couple more beers and asked for menus. It was
getting to be dinner time and he didn't want to call it quits
just yet. "Since you've heard all those songs you must know what
instrument you'll be playing in our band."

"Sure trombone, same as always. When I was a kid Uncle Ken used
to stop by our place and Grampy always wanted to jam on piano
while Ken played his sax. My older brothers played bass and drums
so, if I wanted to sit in, it was trombone or nothing. I learned
the trombone and that's all there is to it."

"I can't imagine you playing trombone, Linda."

"I suspect there's a lot about me you can't imagine, Paul." She
said it with an emphasis that indicated she was saying his name
right on purpose. "Anyhow, when you hear the Song of India you're
going to find out that we have to play together like we're one
instrument and if either one of us screws up, we'll sound like
crap."

* * *

The trip from the airport didn't take long, but it seemed like
the end of a forty year journey to Ken. "Patty, I can't believe
you decided to visit me. You're still beautiful after all these
years."

"I'm an old lady, Ken, so quit trying to flatter me. Why wouldn't
I want to see you again? You were a hunk in college and it
doesn't look like you turned out too bad now that you've grown
up."

Patty was going to stay for a week and Ken had every minute
planned out. He put her suitcase in the guest bedroom and broke
out a bottle of wine along with some snacks he had waiting in the
fridge. "Do you remember this wine, Patty? Thunderbird. Yep, the
only thing I could afford to bring the first time you asked me
over for a visit. I was hoping the evening would lead to
something more, but it was too much fun getting acquainted for me
to remember to make a pass."

"You didn't do bad in that department, Kenny, once you got
started. We were like bunnies if I remember correctly. I couldn't
get enough of you even though I tried to pretend otherwise."

"You pretended otherwise? I don't remember it that way. Seems to
me you were expecting to have sex just about every time we were
alone, not that I'm complaining of course. You remember the time
at the beach, or, that time when we played strip poker and you
were the first one to get naked?"

"A girl my age isn't supposed to know about such things, but I
remember them just like they happened yesterday. You think I
didn't love having you guys get turned on looking at me? You
didn't see me trying to cover up like some of the other girls did
when it was their turn to take off their last piece of clothing."

An hour after they sat down in the living room of Paul's home it
seemed like they'd never been apart. Conversation flowed easily.
Paul never did marry. There were women, but it never seemed like
the right time. Patty was married to the same guy for 23 years.
He was a teacher and the father of her two children. He started
drinking after they were married and it changed him. She didn't
like being slapped around, but somehow couldn't get up the
courage to leave while the kids were still at home. The day she
was sure her daughter was going to stay in college she told him
to get out. It was a nasty divorce, but finally it was over and
she'd been by herself ever since.

"What are your plans, Patty. Selling your business must leave you
a lot of free time."

"Believe it or not, my condo is on a golf course and I plan on
being a low-handicap player, and there are a lot of other things
I do beside work. Painting, decorating, meddling with my grand
children, the works."

"You ever think of getting married again?"

"I used to think about how it would have been if we stayed
together. I think it helped me get through some of the worse days
with my ex. Would have been fun."

"We could still pick up where we left off, Patty. It's something
I'd want."

"You're so sweet, but I think it's way too late to recapture
something that died a long time ago. Let's forget about that and
you tell me about the recital you're having on Saturday night."

* * *

"Dammit, Paul, your screwing up again." Linda and Paul had been
practicing for two hours and neither one was satisfied with what
they were playing. "We only have three days before the recital
and you still aren't getting it right. The Song of India is the
featured number and Ken's favorite song. What's wrong with you?"

"It's not me, Linda. So let's try it again and this time you get
your part right."

The dress rehearsal was on Friday and neither one thought they
were ready. Someone standing outside the practice room could have
thought differently, but musicians are never ready until after
they've played and then it's time to pick out all the little
mistakes that no one else could hear.

* * *

Ken sat next to Patty. He had worked on dinner for hours before
he picked her up at the airport. Everything was simmering in the
kitchen in the two crock pots he used when he made a Cajun meal.
She didn't know if she'd like gumbo or jambalaya until she tasted
them, but pleased Paul when she asked for seconds. They only had
a couple of glasses of T-Bird before switching over to an
expensive California wine Paul picked out for the occasion. They
weren't drunk, but there was a glow that said the wine was going
down real smooth. "Do you remember how we used to sit on the
couch, Patty, pretending to watch television or talk about what
we thought were important matters of the day?"

"Sure, and I always acted like I wanted to you to stop the first
time you tried to kiss me, but that never lasted for long."

"Kind of funny how people acted in those days. Even though we
were living together, we still had to start out shy before we
could get on to the real thing," Ken said.

"Yes and I felt like a strip teaser with you giving me all those
long kisses with a button being opened here and a zipper pulled
down there. I always ended up completely undressed before you
took off a single thing."

"It wasn't always like that, sometimes we'd just run home and
jump into bed. Neither one of us knew a quickie wasn't
politically correct."

Ken put his glass down and pulled Patty into his arms. She didn't
hold him, but she didn't push away either. The kiss reminded Ken
of days gone by and he could feel heat in places where he hadn't
known it for quite awhile.

"Ken, I thought we weren't going to be doing anything like this.
Maybe you should finish your wine now."

"Is this one of those times when you might be saying no and
waiting for me to try again."

"Well, there's only one way to find out."

Ken kissed Patty again and this time she responded. There were
two or three more passionate embraces before Ken slipped his hand
under the hem of her dress. He moved his hand slowly up her leg
until he discovered the snap of a garter. He moved on to find the
soft flesh of her upper thigh. It contained hot magic that moved
through his hand and up his arm where it was lost in some hidden
place a thousand miles into his mind.

Her panties were silky fluff. Her butt was a little bigger than
her remembered, but it still felt good and his briefs were
beginning to fill up as his cock noticed something interesting
was happening.

They both knew what came next, but neither one wanted to rush
into it. There was a lot more kissing. The zipper on Patty's
dress was pulled down to let Paul find that her back was still
smooth to his touch. A arm was released from the sleeve of her
dress. Both garters were visible and Patty made no effort to hide
her red panties when they finally came into view. Kisses,
touches, holding, more, more, more.

He took her hand and led her into his bedroom. She saw the water
bed and was reminded of the one they shared in her little
apartment in Westwood. "See, I've changed. I didn't take all you
clothes off first."

"Ha, ha, ha. I guess wearing a garter belt, stockings and high
heels means I'm not completely undressed, or, does it mean that
you still get turned on by this kind of underwear. Maybe I should
leave this stuff on?"

"I was surprised to see you still wear stockings and a garter
belt. I thought women were more into panty hose these days."

"I haven't had stuff like this on in more years than I can count.
You figure you're the only one whose been thinking about what
once was? Why don't I lay here on the bed and watch you take your
duds off, big boy?"

Ken started to remove his shirt and noticed Patty wasn't taking
her eyes off of him. She let a finger move over one of her
nipples and it wasn't long before he saw it get hard. When he
finally got his shirt off he saw her hand trail down from her
breast to the round shape of her tummy. Her body was a few years
older, but it certainly wasn't worn out. Ken could feel his
erection trying to force it's way through his pants and hurried
to finish undressing. His cock sprung out when he pulled his
briefs down and Patty applauded his little show.

He wanted her to show that he still knew how to make love and
decided to take it nice and slow. She spread her legs to make
room for him and he felt her hand pull his cock into her pussy.
Her body moved up and down and set a pace that would cause him to
get off much faster than he wanted.

"I'm sorry I only lasted a couple of minutes. I really don't know
what to say, Patty."

"You don't have to say a damn thing, Kenny. Sometimes a girl
likes a guy who gets so excited making love to her that he can't
control himself. That would be particularly true of a girl my
age." The rosy glow on her face said that he had made some
impact. "Let me go to the bathroom for a minute and you think
about an encore."

Ken watched Patty walk out of the room. He didn't think she knew
he was looking at her until she wiggled her ass just before she
went through the door. His cock was coated from the pleasure that
was inside her pussy. Well, maybe it had been a long time for
her, too. Nice.


"Let me clean you off with this warm washcloth, Kenny, and then
we'll find out if I still know how to give head."

She took her time wiping Ken's cock clean. He wasn't hard at
first, but it didn't take long before he felt the blood rushing
back into his penis. Her hands felt good cleaning his cock and he
liked how thorough she was. He noticed that she was working on
the same places more than once and pretty soon she gave up all
pretense and started giving him a hand job.

She kept playing with his dick until it was hard as a rock once
again. She lowered her face and started licking his dick and
balls. She wouldn't let him do anything but lay there while she
teased and excited him. She buried his dick in her mouth and held
it in place as she slowly pulled back. When he thought his cock
would jump out of her mouth, she changed direction and let her
face move toward his body. She was very slow at first and then
picked up the pace. He thought she was getting him ready for
another fuck, but he soon realized she didn't plan on stopping
until he got off in her mouth. He didn't think a man his age
would be able to cum again so quickly, but as soon as he felt her
concentrating on giving him pleasure, he exploded for the second
time. He felt her move up and down just enough to suck him dry.

"You certainly can't control yourself, Ken. You didn't last three
minutes that time. If I didn't know better, I'd figure you for a
teenager."

Somehow she was able to get him hard again. She climbed on top
and this time she moved her body up and down at a comfortable
pace. She was able to put tiny kisses all over his face and then
they locked in a fiery embrace that brought both of them to a
wonderful conclusion.


Ken saw the morning sun start to shine through his bedroom
window. They'd been making up for lost time and sleep wasn't part
of what they needed. "Do you have to teach class today, Kenny?"

"Nope, took the day off and don't have to get out of bed until
the dress rehearsal tonight."

"Okay, then why did you stop? I'm just getting in to it myself.

* * *

Paul couldn't believe how good the band played. They went through
the first five songs without a single error. Ken wanted everyone
to play the five numbers just as he had them arranged. They'd get
their chance to improvise during the Song of India.

The stage in Bates Hall is made of highly varnished wood. The
wood panels surrounding the expansive surface give the illusion
that musicians magically appear and disappear as they make their
entrances and exits. The back wall is an enormous pipe organ that
looks good even when it doesn't play.

The hall was set up stadium-style with 800 empty seats watching
the five players put down the sweet songs of Ken Jenkins' past.

They decided to wear school colors since it was a retirement
party. Everyone looked good in their burnt orange polo shirts
with the big longhorn on the shirt pocket. Paul was worried he'd
get his white pants dirty, but so far so good.

When they got to the intermission, Ken said they'd done just fine
and should keeping going so he could time the show. They decided
to change costumes for the last number and set it up so Bill and
Ed went off stage left, Rawleigh exited near the back, and, Linda
and Paul left stage right. There really wasn't a good place to
change stage right, so Linda had a screen set up to give her some
privacy. The players were going to switch from school colors to
black suits and red bow ties for the final number of the night.

Paul's suit was on a hanger next to the screen. He got out of his
school colors and started to put on his dress outfit. He could
hear Linda undressing next to him and tried not to imagine what
she looked like as she took off her clothes. Somehow he'd been
able to make it through two months without hitting on her, not
that he hadn't thought about it. He didn't want to ruin Ken's big
night by making Linda upset so he kept his desires in his pants.

The screen was two seven foot by ten foot opaque panels moved
next to each other. They were set at a slight angle to fit into
the room and that's why Paul got into trouble.

He was standing next to the intersection of the two panels and
noticed that he could see Linda on the other side. Her polo shirt
couldn't hide the fact that she didn't wear a bra so he wasn't
surprised to see a perfect expanse of white flesh where her shirt
used to be. He sucked wind when she dropped her trousers and he
found she wasn't wearing panties. He'd thought about her perfect
moon shaped ass more than once and now he had a chance to see
that hidden treasure up close and personal.

She turned to get her suit and he had a nice side view of a
perfect breast. She had a way of standing that disguised how big
her chest really was, but now he could see that her cups
certainly would runneth over if she ever did wear a bra.

He turned away so she couldn't see that he was checking her out
and hoped the suit coat would hide what was going on in his
pants. Ken called them back on-stage and Paul made sure he went
first so Linda wouldn't see the impact her body had on him.

* * *

"There's no one out there. We're playing to an empty house." Bill
Monroe seemed panicked He hadn't been able to shut up since he
arrived at the Hall and he was beginning to get on everyone's
nerves.

"Billy, don't freak out." Paul noticed that Linda was trying to
act cool. He guessed someone had to do it and was glad it wasn't
his job. "The doors aren't open yet. I'm sure people are going to
come to the show."

Ken had introduced them to Patty. They didn't know if they were
supposed to know the details of their relationship so they acted
like college kids and did some polite mumbling without saying
much at all.

Paul was wondering if anyone was really going to show up when the
doors opened to what looked like a stampede. The room was going
to be full, no doubt about that. There were people of all ages
moving toward the seats. College students pushed toward the front
wearing the same clothes they wore to school on a regular basis.
There were some older people dressed up like they do when they go
to a special event. There was a lot of salt and pepper hair and a
few white manes in the crowd. Paul figured Ken had kept track of
all his favorite students and invited them back to his retirement
party. Paul felt they might be in big trouble having to play for
a room full of musicians who'd be able to hear every bad sound
and off-key note.

It took longer to get through the first five songs then it did
during dress rehearsal. Ken was introduced at the start and he
decided to let everyone know about him and Patty getting married.
That news brought the show to a stop before it ever got started.
Ken said a few words about the recital and finally, they were
underway. Paul was surprised to hear that they were playing
better than they did at dress rehearsal. Applause interrupted the
songs after every solo and went on forever after each of the
first five songs. Paul felt like he'd found a new drug that was
taking him to a higher place where he wasn't playing anymore, but
now he was part of the music.


Paul decided he wasn't going to look when she changed clothes at
Intermission, but found himself taking a peak just in time to see
another strip tease. Well, it would be the last time he'd get to
see her naked so he decided it was worth looking even though he
knew he could be sorry.

After they changed their clothes, Linda and Paul listened to
several people toast and remember Ken who seemed to be crying at
that point. There were a few war stories from some of the
musicians who played with in the 60s. Paul was surprised to see
how many of them made the strange and winding journey from 1962
to present. Finally, it was time to go on.

"Good thing there were so many speeches, Paul. You'd look silly
standing in front of 800 people with a hard-on." As soon as she
said it, Linda walked on the stage and took her place. She acted
like nothing happened. Paul could feel the heat of a blush come
up from his neck to paint his face bright red. The first note of
The Song of India got his attention and he forgot about
everything, but playing.

The Crusaders developed a style designed to fit the members of
the band. The core was made up of Wilton and Wayne on sax and
trombone. They played in a way that they sounded like one
instrument. Linda and Paul were able to capture that quality and
the rest of the guys complemented them perfectly.

The first part of the arrangement was played exactly the way the
Crusaders played the song in the late 50s. This was followed by
each person doing an individual solo. Ken told them to play
something original that fit with the song and to take three
minutes to do it. Linda and Paul played individually and then
finished off the extemporaneous section by playing together as
one instrument. There was heavy applause after each person
finished and the show came to a halt when Linda and Paul stop
playing.

Eventually, the group was able to start into the final bars of
the song. They were doing a reprise of the first part and the
audience knew the concert was coming to an end. That's when it
started.

One of the old musicians sitting near Ken took a horn out of a
case and started to join in with the music. He added a trumpet
part that was never there before, but sounded pretty good to the
people on-stage. More instruments appeared and soon there were
people playing in the aisles, standing on seats with the tools
they brought with them, and rushing the stage to add new twists
to Ken's favorite songs.

Eight sax players waited for a solo turn. Three people sat at the
piano and came up with a new way to tickle the ivories. Guitars,
horns, and band instruments never intended to be part of the song
forced their way in.

A lot more music filled the auditorium. The Song of India made
way for someone else's inspiration and as soon as a player kicked
off a tune, twenty other people knew how to join in. The band of
Ken look-a-likes tried to keep up with music that went back forty
years. Everyone found a way to jam. It mostly worked and no one
cared when it didn't.

Ken's solo finally put an end to what was now morning. He'd been
sitting back watching everything with Patty right at his side. He
finally took the stage and went on playing for five minutes by
himself. The crowd went wild of course and when he was done he
thanked everyone and said let's all go to Denny's for a Grand
Slam Breakfast and pretend we're back on the road. A hundred or
so people took him up on it and Paul figured it would be a big
surprise for the folks at the restaurant when those people showed
up.


"Wow, I never had so much fun playing, Paulie." Paul decided that
she would be allowed to call him that name after all. He kind of
liked the way she said it and hearing her sweet voice took his
mind off the fact that their time together was coming to an end.
"Could you do me a favor? I can't leave my stuff in my car and
I'm too tired to carry it in myself. Any chance you could give a
girl a hand?"

When Paul got to Linda's parking place he could see why she
couldn't leave anything in the car. She was driving a Porsche
Boxster that didn't have enough trunk room for much more than the
car's running equipment. They finally got her stuff loaded up in
the passenger seat and he followed her over to her apartment.

"Your place sure doesn't look like something a student would live
in, Linda." The rooms were huge and filled with furniture that
looked like it was expensive. It certainly beat the rummage sale
specials that Paul used to furnish his rooms.

"It's my mother's idea. She decided that even though I was
breaking her heart by taking up music instead of homemaking, she
couldn't have me living in something tacky. I believe you're
looking at two Neiman-Marcus truck fulls."

"Hey, I'm sorry I checked you out while we were changing. I don't
know. I'm a guy. You're hot. Couldn't help myself. You know."

Linda had made coffee and they were both on their second cups.
The suit jackets and bow ties were long gone, but they still
looked like dress-a-likes in their white shirts and black pants.

"Paulie, your acting silly. Don't you know me well enough to
realize if I didn't like something I'd have no problem saying
so?" She was giving Paul one of her smiles and he couldn't do
much more than stand there like a deer trapped in a headlight.
"You figure it was just your luck that I happened to be standing
by the opening between the panels both times we changed clothes?"

Paul thought he was going to get an earful from her about
watching her change. He was relieved to find out she wasn't mad
at him. "Look big boy, what makes you think I don't like being
looked at?"

"Well, we sort of agreed that I wouldn't make any moves on you
and it seems like that would be a move of some sort."

"Dang boy, I haven't been seeing anyone at school because I'm
here to learn how to play music and not here to play around. Even
if I was going to start seeing someone it wouldn't be a student
because that would just encourage a bunch of jelly beans looking
for a hot babe with money to start making their moves. And, I
didn't figure it was a good idea to start something new with the
recital coming up, but being looked at never once wore a girl out
so don't worry about it."

She picked up their coffee cups and brought them to the kitchen.
Paul was feeling much better about things and hoped they could
remain friends. He hollered out to her when he heard her moving
around in the kitchen. "Thanks for being so nice. I had a
different idea about you before all this and I'm glad I was
totally wrong."

Linda walked into the living room as he finished talking.
"Thanks, Paulie, but you forgot a couple of things." She was
standing in front of the couch where he was sitting looking as
good as she did when the long day started fifteen hours ago.

"You don't seem to be bothered by the fact them I'm rich and
that's a big plus for you." She pulled her shirt tails from her
pants and Paul noticed that the shirt was already unbuttoned. "We
worked well together practicing for the recital." She shrugged
her shoulders and Paul watched her shirt slide down her arms
leaving her bare from the waist up. She wiggled her shoulders in
case he missed the part where she took her shirt off and her
breasts reacted just the way she planned.

"You're going to graduate in a couple of weeks, Paulie." He
noticed her hand work at the button on her pants and when she
wiggled her butt back and forth a couple of times, they slid down
to her ankles. He could see her pussy with highlighted by just a
tuff of hair pointing to the good stuff, that didn't hide a
thing. She stepped out of the pants and said, "The only problem
I've got is that you don't seem to know what to do with a naked
lady. Do I have to drag you to the bedroom or can you figure out
how to make it there on your own?"


The End

The Song of India

by Katie McN <katie_mcn@earthlink.net>

Red more stories by me here
www.asstr.org.\Katie_McN\
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