“Hey Jide, how’s it going?” the man at the door asked, with a friendly smile that seemed out of place, considering his imposing appearance.
“Well, let’s see,” I replied, closing the distance between us and grabbing him in a bear hug. I lifted until I saw stars but was barely able to get his feet off the ground. “Damn Buchi, either I’m getting old, or you put on weight.”
With a sheepish grin, he replied, “What do you expect? You’ve tried my wife’s cooking. I’m lucky I can still fit through the door.”
I laughed, glad to see him in such good spirits. It was only a few months ago that he was injured when a fight in the bar spilled out to the street. While trying to break up the melee, a thug pulled a knife and caught him under the ribs.
He had been in the hospital for a week, then at home for another ten days before being able to return to work on restricted duty.
I stopped by to see him several times, along with virtually everyone who worked or played at the club on a regular basis.
Buchi was very popular, for good reason. He would always offer to help if you were loading gear into the club. He personally escorted every waitress to get a taxi or bus at the end of the night and, unlike many of the bouncers in town, worried about the people like me who worked at the club occasionally. He always found a way to help you get work when he knew you needed it.
There were a lot of sound engineers competing for gigs in the city, so it could be hard to make ends meet. Once Buchi got to know you, he will go to extra lengths to ensure the bands and agents knew who you were.
Some people tried to network with fancy advertising or by constantly making phone calls. I knew the best way to stay busy was to make friends with the people in the trenches and do a good job. Word of mouth had made me a fairly good living.
That’s why when there was a last-minute cancellation for this gig. I received a panicked phone call from Okon, the manager of the club. The headlining band had told him they wouldn’t work with anyone but me (and I knew that probably came from Buchi whispering in someone’s ear).
“So should I be thanking anyone in particular for tonight?” I asked with a smile.
He shrugged, trying to appear innocent. The truth was written all over his face. Buchi liked to help, but only behind the scenes. It embarrassed him to take credit for his good deeds. I shook his hand and walked inside, not wanting to make him feel awkward. It didn’t matter. We had an understanding. I knew that he was aware of how grateful I was.
The club was already loud, despite the small crowd. I made my way to the back as I slipped in earplugs, not wanting to get a headache early, then have to sit through three hours of live bands. On the other side of the stage area was the DJ’s booth, which was next to the load-in door.
I said hi to Kike, the cute lady who worked on Saturday night and stepped out the door.
The back of the club was leading to a second door with access to the freight elevator that serviced the whole building. I spent the next half-hour moving my gear up to the stage, then started working at breakneck speed to get set up in time. Even though I got called at the last minute, I knew from experience that the only thing people would remember is if the band started on time.
Everything went smoothly, and we hit the sound check for the opening band a few minutes late but finished within the designated time. I glanced at my watch and saw it was ten minutes until showtime, so I went to the bar to grab a drink.
“Hey Sylvia, can I get a glass ?” I asked the bartender.
She was beautiful and had an amazing body, like all the women Okon hired. He knew how to make an impression on male customers by hiring attractive women who were friendly and smart as well. I knew to ask for a glass because Sylvia would soon be deluged with guys trying to talk to her, and it would be tough to get a drink quickly.
While I was waiting, I turned to my left and saw a woman just outside the door talking to Buchi. She had long hair that was obscuring her face. What I noticed most, however, were her legs. She wore a pink miniskirt that showed off an incredible pair of long, tanned, toned legs.
They disappeared under the skirt, where I saw a beautifully curved ass that looked like something out of my dreams. It took Sylvia three tries to get my attention to hand me my beer.
I stumbled toward the stage, looking over my shoulder to catch another glimpse of her, wondering what she looked like. She stayed in the doorway, just out of my sight, so I finally gave up and sat behind the mixer, ready to start the show.
The singer gave me the thumbs up, so I brought up the system, and the opening band started. I hadn’t worked with them before, but their set list indicated they played all cover songs that were easy to dance to. This club got a lot of different acts, but I knew these types of bands really got the crowd going. Sure enough, about two minutes into the first song, several young women came out on the dance floor.
Two songs later, the dance floor was packed. I had the band dialed in, so my eyes wandered to the people dancing. It was a predictable group, mostly women in their early twenties, a few of them able to drag their boyfriends onto the floor.
I noticed one guy dancing like he knew what he was doing. He looked comfortable and confident, moving with a gracefulness that most men lack. When he turned, I realized he was dancing with the woman I saw earlier. What I saw took my breath away.
She was absolutely stunning, with a beautiful thin face, high cheekbones and full lips. Her blue eyes were so bright they seemed to shine. The white top she wore was sleeveless and buttoned down the front, showing just the perfect amount of cleavage to be sexy. As she danced, her hair flew around her, giving her a wild appearance that made me feel a deep longing as strong as any I could remember.
I watched in awe as she moved like sex itself. She grinded against her partner, allowing his hands to access her body at will. Soon, a space had cleared for them as others enjoyed the wild display. When the song ended, the band began talking to the crowd about their social media accounts and upcoming gigs, giving the dancers a chance to run back for another drink.
The woman disappeared in the crowd, and I shook my head as I turned back to ensure everything was all right on the stage. ‘How can anyone be that sexy?’ I wondered.
It’s not that I didn’t date, but I hadn’t been with anyone who looked remotely like her since I stopped playing in bands years before. Being in clubs always gave me mixed feelings; being so close to so much beauty and passion but still not a part of it.
I sometimes flirt with women in the crowd, but since my job revolved around making the band sound good and keeping everything running, there was rarely time. It would look really bad if there was a problem and the sound guy was gone, trying to pick up a girl. Because of the potential problems, I usually resolved to stay in my corner and watch life happening around me.
The band launched into another song, drawing my attention back to the stage. Within seconds, the dancers started returning to the floor. About halfway through the song, something I saw out of the corner of my eye drew my attention.
My little hottie was back on the floor with a different guy. This dance was exactly like the last one, except the guy did very little dancing and mostly groping.
‘Son of a bitch,’ I swore to myself. ‘That wasn’t her boyfriend?’ I watched her dance and looked over at her new partner. He was a decent-looking guy, but nothing like the first one. It was a little puzzling. I would have said she’s just nice, but the dancing was well past that line.
My thoughts about her motives evaporated as I watched her short skirt twirl, giving me tantalizing glimpses of her black panties. It fueled the desire that was already growing inside me. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
When the song ended, she returned to the bar, only to come out with a different guy during the next song. Over the next half hour, she danced with at least five different men. They seemed to have nothing in common other than being happy over her attentions.
I watched as another song ended, and she passed close by me, flashing a quick smile. Time seemed to slow as I took in every detail. The way the perspiration was making her top cling to her body, her breasts clearly outlined through the thin material.
The scent of her perfume, the sexy way her hips swayed as she walked, her body language screaming that she was looking for something or someone.
The band launched into its last few songs, and she headed back towards me again, this time with the first man she had danced with. I could feel my heart beating harder and faster as I watched her glide with him. Their movements were so erotic it was like watching people make love. My mouth went dry as he dipped her, giving me a perfect view of her breasts down her top.
They danced for one more song. Then she finished the last song of the set with a new partner. This one was the most puzzling of all. He was very plain, not well dressed and wasn’t smooth on the dance floor. She picked up on his tentativeness and moved her body against his, swaying her hips while dancing in one spot.
This let him basically stand in place but still, move with her and look like he was competent. If I hadn’t been watching closely, I probably wouldn’t have noticed.
When the song ended, I went up to the stage and pulled all the mics so the bands could change over. The headlining band already had their gear set up and checked, so I had about a half-hour downtime while Kike worked the crowd.
I walked toward the back door to put my mics away.
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