When Misty and I first met, she shook my hand softly and her eyelashes fluttered. Holy shit her eyelashes fluttered like a throw back Betty Boop 20s noir pen up flutter. They were pretty, big, brown, doe eyes. Her skin was a sun kissed gold color and if her hand was any indication, her skin was very soft. She wore the clothes of a vintage styled peasant girl, long skirt that brushed the concrete, flowing blouse that covered her hands and jewelry that dangled and jangled.
"Nice to meet you, Fury" Misty said with a slight country twang and a smile....and jeez yet another flutter. I found myself instantaneously awkward.
Misty was a songstress. Her record label exec thought it would be a good idea that we meet. She was new to the city and he said she needed someone with "a good heart and mind' to keep her preoccupied from all the vultures that circle my city. The three of us sat in the back of a taxi headed to her rehearsal session. Misty sang the whole way. I floated on her deep lilting honey coated voice as I stared out into Summer in the city visuals.
Misty's overall style could only be described as 90s blippie (Black hippie) with a neo soul/hip hop influence. It was rare she'd be seen not fully covered in thin materials. The wind would blow and the fabrics would cling to her accentuating the plentiful curves. Her breasts were big and full, her behind round and soft. Once, she caught me admiring her. I fumbled through the eye contact, stammered trying to think of something to say. She clutched her water cup to her full lips and sipped slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. She licked her lips and smiled.
"It's just so hot in here today." She winked and went back to her rehearsal room with a little more switch in her step.
Misty's album was full of bluesy tunes about love lost and empowering women after horrible love mistakes. But there was one sexy song on her album that a label head called her "give it to me" song. As I followed her into rehearsal, she cued the band to play it. With closed eyes she sauntered to the mic, folded her fingers around it softly, her mouth approached it coolly as the music broke, she parted her lips and sang the first words
"When are we... gonna stop these games..."
Her eyes opened and found me in the dark recesses of the room. She pointed in my direction as she sang.
"I've been waiting for such a long time..."
My temperature increased ten fold. I was too awkward and clumsy in the moment. I tried as hard as I could to evade her eye contact for fear she would see me for the mladroit young guy I was. By the time she was done, her manager was applauding. He loved the new direction of her performance. So did I...
That night I received a surprise call from Misty. She needed "info" on the next scheduled rehearsals and knew I kept them handy. That conversation lasted for three flirty innuendo-filled hours. I was tentative at the onset, but soon we fell into a hot rhythm. She made sure to tell me she was "too hot" in her apartment so she stripped down to her panties and a bra. Her sensuality echoed through the phone. She purred her every word. I could just imagine her voluptuous body twisted across her bed, small underwear pushing close to her body. One hand twirling her hair, the other caressing her body as we spoke. That night with thoughts of her in my mind, I stroked myself slowly but firmly as I thought she would. And when I exploded, I imagined her full lips taking my manhood between them and smoothly extracting every drop from me.
At her next performance, she requested I stand within view. It was a regular performance for me. The crowd cheered as she went through her string of songs that I'd seen performed ad nauseum in rehearsal. Then the band kicked into her "give it to me" song... Her eyes went directly to me as she purred. Her lips annunciated every word. Her tongue twirling between them with dexterity. Her hands did something new in this show, they travelled...around her body. The audience squealed as she directed her eyes to them, but always came back to mine. I could feel the sweat rise on my forehead, the excitement rose in my pants. I licked my lips slowly and to show me she saw me, she licked hers right back...
"Good show." I nodded standing uncomfortably in her dressing room full of label people, background singers, bandmates and assorted hangers on. She asked if I liked "my song". When I feigned ignorance, she smiled and whispered "yeah, THAT song was for you."
At the next rehearsal, Misty wore only a white tank top, her black bra visible through the thin fabric and some short cut off jean shorts. She fanned herself as she walked by me "Wooooh, it just got hotter in here." She laughed with her background singers. Wait, was she trying to play me? I watched the soft skin of her strong legs as she rehearsed again and again. She fluttered her eyes at me as her lips parted and sang song after song. Everyone in the room felt the tension.
Later as we all disbanded for home. I walked Misty out to the busy avenue to catch a cab. Her back up singers walked ahead of us chatting as she and I openly flirted. I couldn't help but stare at her face, her body. She was long from the hippie chick today. I could smell her sweet perfumed oils as she brushed me closer. Soon the other singers were jumping in a cab and she ran behind them.
"Bye Fury!" She waved with a wink as I watched her round firm ass run away from me.
I turned to walk back to the subway. Disappointed and dejected I couldn't join her back to her place. Once again, I had failed to "close" on something I wanted.
"Fury! Fury!" She yelled. I turned to see the cab door still open as she came running back to me, her platform heels clopped on the hot concrete.
"What's wrong?" I was confused as she moved in close. Her fingers wrapped around my waist, she pulled me closer. Her lips parted as she closed her eyes. Her mouth touched mine. Soft, sweet lips on mine.
Her warm tongue parted my lips and slid between them. Our tongues moved in waves. in concert. The loud sounds of the summer city were quieted. I could feel her hands pulling me closer trying to occupy my space even more. Her firm tits pressed against my chest. My hands caressed the soft skin on her cheeks. She was a good singer and a great kisser. Her soulful sound was present in her kisses. My hands found her waist and then her ass. I cupped her ass softly. A slight deep moan left her lips.
Then in a flash the world returned. Honking horns, bustling streets and yelling background singers...
"Misty!! We're blocking traffic!" They shouted together...and slightly off key...we'd have to work on that the next day.
Misty broke our embrace, wiped her pretty lips and smiled.
"If you only knew..." She said with a devilish smile then ran, jumped into the cab and sped off releasing the traffic.
Misty and I never did finish what we started, but "my" song always brings a smile to my face...
I am The Fury...sing me a song...