Harvelle’s had been established in 1931. It was smaller than I expected, and the room was long and narrow with a bar almost its entire length on one side. There was a high-backed upholstered bench down the other, with small tables lined up along it and two chairs at each table.
You could imagine this place when it first opened: a smoky bar packed with a Benny Goodman-type band or Cab Calloway singing
I was busy teasing Flo about a man who’d bought her a drink when someone sat in my lap. I smiled when I realized who it was.
“Angel! Jett told me you were their manager,” I said.
Angelina ‘Angel’ Hargrove worked for Tom and managed Eve Holliday, my ex-girlfriend. Tom had hired Angel from Stone Mountain Records. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her. It had to be over a year ago.
“Thank you for that. I think Birthrite is going places. We just need to get more original songs to record.”
I introduced Angel to everyone. She only stayed a moment because she had to go deal with some emergency that always seems to crop up when you’re doing something like this.
When the band began to play, I pulled Rita onto the dance floor. Jett winked at me because when we started to dance, others joined us. For an older woman, Rita had some moves. She left me and sent Flo out when I began to show her some of my better ones. Rita actually laughed at me. All I know is that Jett and her band were a lot of fun.
◊◊◊
Rita and Flo left around midnight, but I hung around until the music stopped. Jett had come by our table during a break and asked me to stay to the end. I was surprised when she waved goodbye to her bandmates and joined us.
“I’m starved. Take me somewhere where we can get breakfast,” Jett said with her big smile.
Fritz said he knew of a place, and we left.
“You were good tonight,” I said as we ate.
“It’s easy when we have everyone up and dancing. You’ve got some moves for a white boy,” she teased me.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You forget we’re in California, the home of political correctness,” I said in my best uppity-white-boy voice.
“Puleeease!” she said in disgust. “I’ve had more sexist things said to me since I’ve been here than I ever heard in Chicago.”
“We’re going to the beach house and surfing in the morning. Want to join us?” I asked.
“That was smooth. Was that your way of asking me to sleep with you?” Jett asked.
Fritz suddenly had to use the restroom.
“I wouldn’t say no, but we do have guest rooms.”
“Let me call Hana. She acts like a den mother. If I plan to be out all night, she wants to know, or she’ll call my mom and tell on me,” Jett said.
I totally understood that. Your best friends could be evil sometimes.
When we finally arrived at the beach house, I showed Jett where the guest room was. I also showed her where Halle’s bedroom was so she could borrow a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. While Jett got settled, I took a shower because I’d been dancing all night and could smell myself. I didn’t want to stink up the sheets. I came out to find Jett in my bed, wearing nothing but a smile.
“Here’s the deal: I like you and want you to be my friend. If this would screw that up, then I’ll go back to my room. On the other hand, it’s been over two weeks since I’ve gotten any. I could really use some loving.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?” I asked.
“No,” she said and smiled. “Do you?”
“No boyfriends. Or girlfriends. I do have some close friends. Halle, Rita’s daughter, is one of them.”
I liked that she thought about it before she committed.
“Drop that towel. I want to see what I have to work with.”
I did.
“Not bad for a white boy,” she purred.
I launched myself onto the bed, and she squealed. That started a tickle fight that suddenly stopped when I nipped her nipple. Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes got big in mock shock. I rolled on top of her and kissed her.
“Roll over,” I told her.
I’d brought the vanilla-scented massage oil to the beach house. You never knew when it would come in handy. She watched me, looking like she was worried about what I had planned. When I poured some oil on her back and then on my hands, she relaxed.
“Oh, my. That feels good. I’ve never had someone give me a massage,” Jett admitted.
After I’d finished her back and legs, I concentrated on her butt and sex. I helped her have her first orgasm before I put on a condom and gave her a deep massage from behind. She arched her butt up to meet my thrusts. I grasped the back of her neck as I set a steady rhythm.
When she finally groaned, and I could feel her shudder, I was already close. I let myself go and came.
“Thanks, I needed that,” Jett said as I rolled off her so I could go dispose of the condom.
She got up and joined me in the bathroom. We both needed a shower to get the excess massage oil off us.
