0 comments/ 19160 views/ 3 favorites A Night at the Symphony By: Ezekiel_Coles One of the advantages of working as an usher is that you get to know everything about your theatre. All the labyrinthine nooks are yours to explore, and before long you find that you have a power over the building to move through it like a spectre. I had been working part time at the symphony for some weeks now and I was coming and going as I pleased. Nights that I had off, I would sneak in, avoiding any hassles because of my familiar face and listen to the glorious music from far above the stage. I found my favourite spot high in the belfry, where I could let the music wash through my body and never once here some yuppie fool make idiotic comments on Berlioz, or his small opinions about the intricacies of Brahms. The only problem was that my sanctuary was fast becoming a lonely place, and I ached for someone to share heaven with. I was so secure from any interruption that I was able to open myself up fully to the music emanating up from beneath. From time to time, a particularly rousing allegro would send me into a passionate frenzy and I would use my fingers to propel myself to climax along with the symphony. And the soft, supple melodies spun out in those heartfelt solos would enchant me so that I'd dream of a companion to romance me. It was around the time that this crisis was coming to a head that a friend introduced me to Calypso at a party. She was an art history major, and we discovered we even had an English literature course together, although we'd never met in the hundred-person sprawl. We had many common interests and hit off into a great conversation at once. I felt comfortable around her, and found her very charming indeed. She was also strikingly beautiful. She was a creamy mulatto with delicate, shoulder-length auburn hair. Her lyrical voice rang out with a soft island accent that made my heart flutter. I could spend hours just listening to the sweet sound of her speech and be completely entranced. I tingled at the thought of her singing a challenging aria. As we talked and talked, oblivious to the cacophony of the party around us, it came up that I worked as an usher at the symphony. To my surprise because we had such similar interests in other areas, Calypso confessed to me that she was not a music lover, and that in all her compact disc collection she had only one 'Best of Classics' album and the soundtrack to Walt Disney's 'Fantasia'. I was taken aback but she quickly expressed her desire to know more about the subject of music and I immediately offered to take her out on my next night off. "Won't you want to get away from the theatre on your night off?" she whispered with her oh so arousing diction. I smiled realizing that such a notion had not once crossed my mind. Calypso naively admired my passion, perhaps not fully understanding that a night at the symphony was not for me what it was for others. Knowing her virginity to the world of professional music, I was acutely aware of the need to take her to the perfect show. It had to be accessible but inspirational or else she'd be lost to me forever in the depths of mediocrity. Of course, I also had my own ulterior motives for our date, so I wanted it to be something that I could get emotionally and physically aroused by, and hopefully sweep Calypso along with my passion. I finally decided on a night that featured Beethoven's sixth symphony as the opener, followed by a second act that included some moderns like Dillon and Lindberg. My plans almost came crashing to a halt when I found I couldn't get the night off. No one I talked to seemed interested in switching with me, even when I made offers that were very unfavourable to my schedule and disposition. At last I talked one of the boys into helping me out. He was kind of an idiot, and I suspect he only got this job because he was a son of one of the major contributors. He cared little for music, and just treated the work as a pay check to finance his drinking parties. He wanted that same night off, of course, for such an evening of revelry, but I at last convinced him to switch. I suppose it was me flirting with him after never showing him any attention that made him more malleable. As our date grew nearer, I began to spend entire days consumed with fantasies about the night. I envisioned Calypso transforming under the music into a feral, passionate lover. In my daydreams, she came undone before me as her heart broke to the first twang of aural beauties she had never imagined. In my tender embrace, she felt us melt together like the complex harmonies and we made love like no human being ever had dared. I strummed her soft womanhood like zephyrs on the Apollonian lyre and she sang out with the glory of the divine. Our love making shook the earth itself, and each person in attendance was overtaken by the blissful tune of our performance. I found myself stealing away from my duties at work to pleasure myself in anticipation of this night. I became a wreck, barely stumbling through my routines with that night always in the forefront of my mind. At long last the night arrived. I arranged to meet Calypso at the nearby subway station, and I was awestruck when she arrived. Hoping to retain a bit of mystery about our evening, I hadn't told Calypso about my heavenly loft and she had evidently dressed as if to sit in the very front row, the envy of every woman in the building. She wore a beautiful, silky dress that accented each curve in her body. Her hair was done up like a film star's, and she was very tastefully made up. Even in my fantasies, Calypso had never been so attractive as she was now and I stared at her completely dumbfounded. She looked uncomfortable though, and I realized how foolishly I'd dressed for the evening. I wore nothing more than I ever wear when I go to my secret place, an old t-shirt and shorts that I can easily get into. Calypso had shown up dressed like an absolute Madonna, and here I was garbed up like some slutty dormitory girl. I launched into profuse apologies and her mood shifted to poorly-hidden jubilation when the details of the night were revealed to her. More relaxed, I took her by the arm and swaggered down the street with the hottest thing in the whole city in tow. We ducked into the alleyway behind the theatre and producing my key, I let us into the staff entrance. A quick glance told me no one was around, everyone's always too busy this close to show time to be guarding the staff door. I took Calypso by the hand and we were off into the maze of back passageways and secret stairs that led to my sanctuary. At last we came to the final hurtle, the rung ladder that ended in heaven. I cattily told Calypso to go first, wanting a chance to gaze up that magnificent dress of hers. She lost her heels and moved as best she could a few steps up the ladder. "You'd better grab those," she sang to me. "I'd hate for some tuba boy to come along and find them." I obediently picked up her shoes and was rewarded with an excellent view of her posterior as I rose to follow. Calypso gasped as she saw the view from my perch. We were up much higher than she must have realized and we stared out over the world like a pair of goddesses. The musicians tooted away in their pre-show, the boorish audience tramped around for their seats, being guided by the ushers, my brothers and sisters. I retrieved the blanket and set of cushions that I'd smuggled up over my time here, and lay them out for our comfort. Having filled her eyes with all there was to see, Calypso slid down and joined me with her dress hiking up just such that she began to look like an artist's model. We made small talk for a few minutes while everything settled down, and then it was time for the performance to begin. Calypso settled in but I could sense that she was more than a little distracted by my proximity. Applause swept through the audience at the appearance of this evening's maestro, and Calypso smiled at me and giggled. He sternly silenced the mob and with the slightest signal to his musicians, the music commenced. As the allegro began, Calypso smiled, recognizing the familiar tune. The lilting melody bounded up into our haven, painting the pastoral landscape of the Austrian countryside. I sat back and let myself melt into the atmosphere. I was quickly losing myself to the power of the music and felt myself becoming aroused. I shot a glance over to my glorious companion, and Calypso grinned back. I could tell that she was not hearing the same music that I was, but I knew her ears would be opened before this night was out. We sat there for the first movement, me sinking deeper and deeper into depravity while Calypso enjoyed the show. Later she would tell me that her suspicions were beginning to be raised, but I like to think I took her somewhat by surprise. With the start of the andante, I knew it was time to make my move. This movement was one of my favourites. I find it to be among the most serene and beautiful pieces in the canon. The flowing, brook-like melody was more than enough to put me over the edge. I impulsively leaned over and kissed my sweet Calypso full on the mouth. She was taken by surprise, but quickly reciprocated. I pushed her down onto the cushions as our tongues danced off each other to that wonderful music. I found her perfect breasts and began to massage them, trying to drive my lover to the same heights of arousal that I was feeling. She grabbed my firm buttocks and began to play with my ass, driving me completely wild. We lay there, far above the symphony, with our bodies intertwined. We explored our bodies together, two pinnacles of form wafting together in the ethers emanating from the depths below. I pulled myself away from my darling and stood up before her. Her eyes moved over me in sweet anticipation. I pulled my tight t-shirt off over my head and discarded it into the blackness. Next, I slid down and shorts and panties together and stood before Calypso completely undressed. She moved to undo her own dress, but I stopped her. She looked so proper being all done up as she was, I wasn't about to let her ruin such perfection. Instead, I sat down on the cushions in front of her and offered myself. She smiled as she moved to me and kissed me with her delicate lips once again. But I was not content with kisses and nibbles and I suggestively pulled my head back so that my breasts bounced forward. She got the hint and started to flick my nipples with her tongue while her hands found her way to my dripping pussy. To the tune of the magnificent sonata, Calypso played my body with as much skill as any virtuoso. Her fingers penetrated deep within me. Her tongue ran all over my breasts and I gagged myself to keep from squealing with delight. I felt the pressure building up within me, and I knew that I was so close to climax. Calypso stopped suddenly and pulled herself away from me. She had brought me to the very edge and stopped. She knew what she was doing to my body, she was in complete control of the sensations she gave me. "You were having so much fun," she whispered huskily in the dark, "that I thought I'd better join you." She reached around to the nape of her neck and pulled the delicate tie that was keeping her dressed. As the fabric fell away, I saw her incredible breasts unbound. They were so creamy and dark, so much more exotic than my own. I wanted nothing more than to ravish them, devour them completely while driving my love to unknown heights of carnal passion. It was then that the movement drew to an end. We stared at each other, taking in one another's bodies, oblivious to the world around. A rain of applause wafted up, as if all those hundreds of people were cheering on our lovemaking. It quickly died down as the symphony launched into the next allegro. To my surprise, it was the thunderstorm movement. I had been so distracted that I hadn't even noticed the scherzo pass by. But now the energy of the storm raged throughout the hall and Calypso and I threw ourselves at one another like beasts. Our tongues mashed together and our hands ran over the intricacies of each other's forms. I kissed her on her sweet lips, on her brown cheeks and played with her delicate ear with my tongue. She gasped at my touch and silently pleaded me for more. Her breasts were the next to be mine and I kissed and licked them, returning every speck of pleasure she had given to me. "I can't stand this any more," she moaned with none of her previous concern for being overheard. "I want you to turn that wicked tongue of yours loose, where it will do the most good..." I turned end for end with her, bring her darling cunt to my mouth while I shoved mine into hers. Calypso tasted so sweet as I ran my tongue over her lips. I pushed my fingers deep within her from two sides, attacking her asshole with my other hand. She wriggled in pleasure as my two-pronged assault was joined by my tongue diving right to her clitoris. And Calypso gave as good as she was getting, putting her expert skills to good use. I was burning inside now, the pleasure that had just recently subsided was now returning in greater force and I knew that I was close. Calypso's tongue just kept probing and playing and her fingers were pumping harder and harder. I couldn't hold on a second longer, so I shoved my middle finger as far up her ass as I could and came hard. My lover followed me over the edge and I collapsed on her as the music and sex overloaded my system. It was part way through the intermission when I recovered enough to think in words and not in music. In my daze, I must have rolled off Calypso and lain by her side. I sat up and saw that my lover was in a similar state. I leaned over and kissed her back to human consciousness. Her eyes fluttered open and we stared at each other, lovingly, silently. My hand ran lazily over her tight stomach and I thought about the nights we had ahead of ourselves. For now, I wanted to take my angel back to my apartment and make love to her all through the night. Oh, the be able to hear her sweet voice ring out through the night, without fear of being discovered... It was much later when we made our way back down to the earth below. We had spent the second half in each others arms, cuddling, kissing, professing our love for each other. I told Calypso of all the things I was going to do to her when she had room to scream. She told me a few things that I hadn't even imagined. When our plans were made and the show concluded, we dressed quietly and descended. As we got to the staff entrance, I remembered some little thing or other that I forgot. I told Calypso to wait while I ran to my cubby for it. The audience and performers had all left by now, and if I did bump in to anyone, it would just be another usher. I could easily make an excuse for that. But I was distracted as I walked by one of the dressing rooms from a sound within. The door was slightly ajar and I peered in when an abundance of flesh tone caught my eye. It was Paula, one of my fellow ushers, and she was passionately kissing another woman. I recognized her, she was one of the violists, and she was very beautiful even though she was nearly twenty years Paula's senior. I felt myself starting to become aroused again, so I dashed back to my Calypso and, taking her hand, pulled her out into the night. A Night at the Symphony (This is a sequel to my story "Elegance". I don't think its absolutely a requirement to have read that one although I obviously wouldn't mind.) Oh my god, its HER. My breath catches so suddenly I have to put out a hand to the wall and steady myself. My right hand of course. My left hand is holding my Champagne glass and although I want to catch her attention, the sound of breaking glass is not how I prefer to do that. My name is Serena. My parents named me that in the fond hope I would be serene. I like to think I am. I don't think that they expected I would turn out to be a lesbian and a butch to boot. That's not always an easy road to travel, particularly when you're black. I think I've handled it though. I'm fifty, single with a full life and no real desire to settle down. I work for myself, running my store "Asides" where I sell a variety of products from candles to books of lesbian poetry to my own metal sculptures. I make a good living for myself and enjoy how I make that living. How I make that living is why I'm here tonight at the first concert of the city Symphony Orchestra and incidentally for the reception after the music is over. As a local artist I rated an invitation. Sure, I'm paying for the seat and for the privilege of hob-nobbing with the intelligentsia but I'd pay more. If nothing else, the attempts to suppress the looks of surprise when I arrive are worth the cost of admission. I thought about tails and a top hat but simply went with my hand tailored tuxedo. Perhaps I'm giving the wrong impression. Yes I do love the startled looks I get. But many, most perhaps, of the people here are friendly and accepting. I think a number of them get a kick out me, all dressed up in what they consider male attire and flirting with all the ladies, young and old, plain and gorgeous, just as the men do. Unless I make a point of drawing attention to it, the coat hides the fact that I am wearing a brand new strapon. I don't expect to have the opportunity to use it but I enjoy knowing its there and I'm taking the time suggested by the manufacturer to get used to it. I was circulating through the crowd, taking the opportunity before the music began to chat with different acquaintances and an occasional customer. Don't get me wrong, I quite enjoy classical music and tonight's program had several favorites but I need to make a living too and upper-class patrons of the arts have more disposable income than most people. The bell had just rung telling us to find our seats when I saw her. At first I wasn't sure it was really her. After all, from behind, all tall, cool blondes tend to blend together. But then she turned around and my heart leaped as I recognized her. It had been several months since the afternoon she and I had spent together in the loft where I live over my store. To be precise, we had spent that afternoon in the queen sized bed in my loft where I had happily ravaged her, with her enthusiastic support. I studied her. She was standing sideways to me now. She was as lovely as the first time she walked into my store. A light blue strapless and sleeveless dress that showed off the white of her arms and shoulders. The dress clung to her, accentuating her body. A slit up the side showed off those firm slender legs. Matching high heeled sandals that were practically nothing at all framed her feet. She might be wearing fine white pantyhose but I was willing to bet they were thigh high stockings. A shift in weight and I smiled as I caught a glimpse of flowery tops and a single garter strap. Her blonde hair was swept up in the back of her head. If she was wearing make-up, beyond a touch of lipstick, it was invisible from where I was standing. I thought about going up to her but hesitated. She was standing in a group, none of who I knew. One of those people standing there could be a husband, a boyfriend, a girlfriend, a life partner. I simply didn't know. It was almost funny. Had I not known her at all, had she simply been a woman who caught my interest I would have walked right up and introduced myself. But I couldn't make myself approach her. Perhaps I could catch her eye later. And more than her eye if I could. The crowd surged forward into the auditorium and I lost track of her. I found my seat, murmured pleasantries to the people around me and settled in listen to the first half of the concert. Or tried to anyway. I was distracted. My beautiful sexy blonde was only part of the problem. Tonight I was wearing something new in place of my old reliable strapon. There was no harness. A single silicone piece, it was curved with a bulbous end that fit up inside me and held it there. Ridges in the molded curve coming out of my vagina were designed to stimulate my clitoris during sex. Supposedly when NOT actually engaged in sex it rode comfortably and without triggering any arousal on its own. Well, that was probably true, but as I kept twisting and turning and searching the darkened auditorium for a light blue dress topped by blonde hair I felt it shifting in me. Of course I was aroused on my own as I remembered a tall, slender pale body under me, arms over her head and wrists tied to the headboard. I remembered long strong legs locked around me. And then I could have blushed and I thanked goodness that the theatre was dark, for my hand had slid between my legs and I was pressing the distinct bulge of the girl cock, rocking it inside me. Yes, those ridges worked just fine. I snatched my hand back up, peeking out of the corners of my eyes to see if anyone had noticed. Thankfully it didn't appear anyone had. That would be great for business. "Say Mary, remember that black butch in the tuxedo at the Symphony? She was jerking on the artificial bulge in her pants right in front of everyone." I mean, I am comfortable with who I am, I like me and usually I think "To Hell with you" when people look down at me. Still, I had been a little over the top and I was glad it had gone undetected. People were standing and applauding. Automatically I was on my feet with them. I had sat here all the way through the first half of the concert and not heard a note. As I made my way out to the lobby I vowed to pay more attention in the second half. Once again I mingled through the crowd but this time I had a purpose. It was to no avail though, no matter where I looked, there was no trace of her. I returned to my seat just before the lights dimmed again, half convinced that I had imagined the entire thing. This time I listened to and enjoyed the music. Most was familiar, with just enough new pieces mixed in to make me pay attention. There were several solo performances, including one very intricate and delightful flute piece. I sat back and drank it all in. After the concert there was an opportunity for the "patrons" (which translates as "donated enough money") to meet the conductor and the principal performers. Well, its a tax write-off. And besides, I was really enjoying myself, particularly when I found myself chatting to the solo flutist. She was a tiny woman, barely 5 feet tall at most. Her black hair was cut just below her ears and she had the loveliest deep brown eyes I had ever seen. I generally prefer my women taller and more rounded, but she was an exquisite little gem. She was shy and retiring but opened right up when it came to music, her knowledge of which was broad and deep. She was neither intimidated nor surprised by me, with her head tipped back to look up in my eyes as we talked. She touched my arm twice as she made a point, and when she told me she needed to leave she patted my side for a moment before wishing me a lovely night and disappearing. I turned to get another glass of Champagne and there she was. My elegant blonde bombshell. She was working her way through the crowd, speaking to others and nodding and smiling. My fingers tightened on the stem of the glass as she stopped beside me. She shook hands with me, asked how I was doing and told me it was so nice to see me again. She asked about the store and listened to what I had to say. As with our previous meetings, it seemed she really was listening to what I said. After a bit she nodded, smiled warmly, and moved on. I drained my glass and moodily set it back on the tray. Well it was nice to get acknowledged anyway. Maybe it was time to go. I turned and froze again. She was standing by the door, looking right at me. I couldn't read the expression on her face. But then her hand touched her thigh and her fingers curled around the hem of the long slit in her skirt. For a moment she drew it back, showing me that long, gracefully formed leg and the creamy white thigh spilling from the top of her stocking. Then she turned and walked out. I followed her. If I was wrong, if that gesture had not been an invitation or hadn't been for me, well, I would find out soon enough. We went through the door and down a short hallway and I discovered we were back in the auditorium. She took a right turn and followed the wall. At first I thought we were leaving the hall but just before the exit she turned again, through a curtained archway I had barely noticed before. I hurried to close the distance between us. We were climbing stairs now and my eyes were riveted on the sway of her ass and the movement of her legs. She had to know I was behind her but she showed no sign of it, never looking back. Then we reached the top of the stairs. A line of small doors was on the left. She entered the third one, leaving it open behind her. Without hesitation I walked through the doorway. I sensed the door closing and turned around as a slight click announced the tripping of a lock. There she was, my blonde temptress, leaning against the door. I managed to tear my eyes away long enough to look around. We were in a small curtained alcove, obviously one of the private boxes over looking the main auditorium. The cleaning crew must have already been here, there were no chairs, no furniture of any kind. But I didn't need anything but her as she let her hair fall around her shoulders. Two steps is all that I needed to reach her. I locked my mouth onto her's. Red lips parted and my tongue plunged deeply into the warm welcoming mouth. My hands were on her shoulders, caressing the smooth skin. As I ravaged her mouth, my hands slid down. In one quick movement I hooked the front of the blue dress and pulled down, spilling her exquisite breasts. I took them and found the nipples rock hard already against my fingers. I pinched and pulled and rolled them until I thought she was going to scream in my mouth. Then my lips replaced my fingers as they slid down her sides, grasped the fine material of her dress and began to work it up her legs. My right hand found the slit up the side and brushed over her stocking top. I bit gently on one nipple and plucked the garter strap my fingers found, snapping it against her thigh. She gasped and then I felt her hands on mine, helping me pull up her dress. The instant her dress cleared her hips I unzipped my slacks and pulled my new girlcock free. There were so many things I wanted to do. I wanted to push her to her knees and have her suck it. I wanted her on all fours and me spanking her as I took her from behind. But one quick look down made up my mind. Above her stocking tops was nothing but her garter belt and her. No panties. Droplets already clung to the fine blonde hair. I gripped her ass, as deliciously tight and firm as I remembered it, and lifted her. She clung to my neck, her eyes meeting mine. I lowered her onto the tip of the shaft. There was a moment where I was not exactly in the right position, then she shifted slightly and I was sliding deeply up inside my gorgeous white lady. I echoed her moan. My god, the advertisement for this new piece of equipment was right on the mark. The part deep inside me was massaging my G-spot and the ridges were already giving my clit a workout. And from the sounds my white goddess was making, muffled though they were by my neck, she was enjoying her impalement too. I staggered slightly under her weight as she settled down onto the up thrust silicone cock. It took only a second to pin her against the wall and for her legs to surround me again, her ankles locking on my ass. I began to thrust, wasting no time on a slow build up. I wanted what I wanted last time, to fuck her, to make her mine if just for these few minutes. My hips drove, back and forth, up and down. I held her between me and the wall, supporting us both. She was rising and falling on my strapon, her strong arms helping her to meet me each time I drove into her. Suddenly she stopped as I drew back. Using the grip of her legs on my waist she held herself in the air, pulling the girlcock from her pussy. A hand reached down between us and she took the shaft in her fingers. Whispering to me "Wait, wait," she slid the soaking head back along her perineum until the sensation of something trying to give told me the tip had touched her puckered hole. "Oh yes," I couldn't help but gasp. I had wanted to take my elegant lady in her taut ass from the first time I saw her. Now I was going to at her invitation. Out of courtesy I let her take the lead. After all, it wasn't MY ass that silicone cock was slowly working its way up inside, especially since the only lubricant was the coating of woman's nectar she had already left on the shaft. Her leg muscles were quivering, letting that lovely body lower bit by bit as her arms slowly relaxed. The blonde head tipped back and her eyes closed, mouth open in a soundless cry of passion. I held her, my fingers squeezing and releasing the firm cheeks. A change of position was indicted I thought. I turned around and leaned back against the wall, bracing my shoulders and the back of my head. My feet were spread wide and more than a foot away from the wall. She leaned back too. Biting her lip, her eyes still closed, she released the tight grip her hands had on my shoulders and sank onto the upright dildo until her ass cheeks met my legs. I did nothing else for a few moments, allowing her to fully accustom herself to the intruder deep inside her ass. Them, as before, she began to move. Slowly at first, almost gingerly. Her hands crept back around my neck and she leaned towards me now. Her muscled legs flexed, helping her rise and fall farther and faster each time. My hips were beginning to pump back, meeting her each time she fell onto the girlcock. My blonde beauty's face was screwed up into a grimace and her eyes were still closed tightly. Had she not been repeating a gasping "Oh God, yes, Oh God, yes," I might have worried she was not enjoying herself. Of course the way she was bouncing harder and harder on my new dildo, riding it deeper with each stroke of my hips, each rise and fall of her pale body would have tipped me off that everything was good. And that was good, because everything for me was approaching critical mass. Every motion, every vibration of her body on one end of the new cock transmitted deep inside of me. Its like she was fucking me as well as me fucking her. A vagrant thought passed through my head. Maybe one day I would have to let someone fuck me. I never had, I had always been the one wearing the strapon but maybe I should.... Never mind, I'd think about that later because right now I was coming like a railroad train was about to hit me. And so was my beautiful white lover. I could feel the bottoms of her spike heels digging into my ass. She pulled herself against me and her hands beat on my back. I kissed her and we both muffled screams in each others' mouths as both of us orgasmed again and again. After we finally were able to breathe again I gently slid out of her ass and lowered her until her feet touched the floor. She surprised me again. I worked my new dildo back inside my pants (I guess its easier for guys since I understand theirs deflate after sex, something mine does not) and straightened my coat. That only took moments, but by the time I turned around, that other woman was once again the tall, cool and collected blonde she had been at first sight tonight. Her hair was down but neatly arranged and I swear her dress wasn't even wrinkled. How did she do that? Was it some sort of femme mystique not known to butches? She kissed me and touched my cheek. An impish look crossed those perfect features. "I saw you, you know, earlier tonight. That's why I didn't have any panties on. I took them off at intermission in case I still interested you." "You always interest me," I replied. "Good," she said. She smiled one more time and then she was gone. I took a deep breath and managed somehow to find my way back to the now nearly empty parking lot and my car. That night at home I carefully hung up the tux. As I did, a slight bulge in the jacket pocket caught my attention. From it I drew out a wisp of blue lace that was every bit as sexy and as tiny as I knew her panties had to be. I smiled and laid it under my pillow. One of these days I really need to learn her name. I smiled again as I withdrew a crumpled piece of paper from another pocket. I had one name anyway, and a phone number to go with it. I was looking forward to seeing if that cute little flutist would fit on my lap. (The End)