Chapter 15

Like a hummingbird to a flower, like a moth to a flame, Lynn found her way down the concrete path that led to a round, roofed, open pavilion where the music was coming from. She sifted through the shifting little knots of people to the bar, and walked around it till she was on the side where the musicians sat, plucking and strumming their guitars and various unidentifiable stringed instruments.

Colored lights played across the dark features, occasionally catching the flash of a bright white smile, and Lynn settled herself on a stool at the bar to watch, to listen, to absorb. She smiled her thanks when a tall wine drink was set in front of her, with-out her asking.

Even in the dimness of the bar, Lynn was noticed. Before she was two sips into her drink, a man appeared at her elbow.

"May I join you?" he asked, climbing up on the stool beside her without waiting for her answer.

"I'm waiting for someone," Lynn said. "He'll be along any minute."

She smiled at the man when she said it, but turned her back on him immediately after the smile. She felt him leave a moment later. Other males at the bar evidently took the hint. No one else bothered her.

Lynn had her own ideas, right this minute. The darkly handsome young men in the little band fascinated her. There were four of them, all slender, all young, with features that seemed to have been cast from the same mold. And they were all very much aware of her, she knew. She'd felt their eyes on her as she'd climbed up on the stool. In her very short skirt, it would have been impossible for her not to have put her legs on display.

But once she was on the stool, they were careful never to let her see them looking at her. When she sipped her drink, she caught their covert glances, out of the corner of her eye, and felt excitement rising in her like mercury in a thermometer left in the open sun. She turned abruptly to the bartender, who hovered near.

"Does the band ever take a break?" she asked.

"For favor?" he asked, not understanding. He was the same dark-olive color as the musicians, but older. And much fatter.

"Do they ever rest? Between times, when they're not playing?"

"Ah, si," he said, smiling broadly. "One more rest, they take, before they finish playing."

"I'd like to buy them all a drink," she said. "I en-joy the way they play."

The bartender nodded, without speaking, and his smile disappeared as he started making four tall drinks. Lynn had a distinct impression that he knew exactly what was on her mind, and disapproved strongly, but she didn't care. She didn't care about anything at that moment, except to satisfy the craving in her cunt.

She moved restlessly on the stool, crossing and uncrossing her spectacular legs, giving the band every chance to view the soft, warm welcome of her inner thighs. The musicians stared, openly now. As her excitement kept mounting, she had another thought, a thought of utter, wild abandon for a girl who'd been prissily holding hands and walking on a beach and kissing It man carefully good-night a half hour before.

She slid off the stool, all legs, and made her way to the ladies' room, where she took off her panties and put them in her handbag.

Back at the bar, once up on her stool, she swung toward the musicians, so only they could see, smiled at them, hooked her heels in a rung ofthe stool to elevate her knees, and let her knees come slowly apart, putting her pussy openly on display.

The music stopped only moments later. Lynn saw the bartender indicate the four drinks at the bar to the musicians, and she got her knees and her wits together as they. left their instruments and came toward her. She raised her drink and smiled and, shyly, one by one, they all did the same.

"I like your music, very much," she said.

"Gradas," the tallest one said, hesitantly but seriously. "You are very kind."

She looked around. The bartender was at the far end of the bar, talking to an elderly couple. There were a few curious glances coining her way, but no one was within hearing distance, if she kept her voice low.

"When do you finish playing?" she asked quietly "A half hour more," the tall one said. "Maybe less."

"Good," Lynn said.

"Why do you say that? I thought you liked our music."

"I do," Lynn said boldly. "But I like you musicians better. Could you all come up to my room for a drink when you're finished playing?"

They looked at each other quickly, then back at her. She was relieved to see that they all understood English.

The tall one nodded, almost imperceptibly, but said nothing. She could feel eyes on her from be-hind, and for the first time, began to feel uncomfortable. Without saying anything, she held out her hand, palm up. In it lay her room key, with the plastic oblong attachment with its big 212 very evident even in the dimness.

The tall one nodded again, this time feeling for her with his eyes. She met his gaze solemnly, then slid off the stool, careful now with her skirt. She raised her glass again, as in a toast, and finished her drink in one long swallow.

"Half an hour," she said, and turned and walked from the bar, not looking at anyone.

Half an hour, she was thinking, could be an awful long time in this climate.