PRELUDE (the introduction)
When Indra had her first orgasm at age 18, she was standing in the shallow end of her aunt's pool, looking up at her mother, who was standing at the pool's edge filling her in on the family's plans for the evening. Unknowingly, her mother was standing directly above one of the water circulator outlets, which was gently but firmly pulsing water at Indra's clit. Indra was quite relieved when her mother finished her monologue and returned inside the house, because moments later she felt a strange but wonderful sensation roll through her body, causing her back to spasm and her legs to buckle beneath her, which was just as well since it helped muffle the involuntary moan of equal parts confusion and pleasure. Indra's somewhat sheltered upbringing prevented her from immediately understanding what had happened, but some quick research at the library helped her understand what she had experienced. And spending a good part of the rest of her stay at her Aunt's hovering in the shallow end of the pool helped her decide her life's calling. She wanted to learn everything - EVERYTHING - about the human body.
Much to Indra's father's delight, when Indra headed off to University she boldly declared that she was going to become a doctor. This was a relief to both her parents; Indra's brothers had eschewed the family business so with Indra they could claim at least one doctor in the family to carry on the tradition. It also meant that Indra's foolish notion of becoming a musician was going the way of all childish pursuits. Indra was quite accomplished on several instruments, but guitar was her first love. But that first love now played second fiddle (so to speak) to her new passion: the human body.
Fourteen years after her very first orgasm, during which time she graduated near top of her class at Uni, applied to and was accepted at a top-tier medical school in the US, and completed her degree and residency, Indra was a well-respected neurologist at a large metropolitan hospital.
She had also blossomed into a lovely woman. She stood five and a half feet tall, with golden brown skin and lustrous black hair, which she mostly wore in a ponytail. Her look was decidedly plain at work; she wore no makeup, dressed modestly under her ubiquitous lab coat, and still sported flat shoes, despite the fact that she had graduated from dashing around wards to spending much of her time at her desk or in examination rooms. Indra had an engaging personality and was well-liked. She wasn't turning heads at work, and that was how she liked it.
Outside of work, however, Indra was a completely different person. Even through medical school, Indra continued to play guitar, mastering a wide variety of techniques. For fun, she auditioned for an all-girl metal band and ended up landing the spot as their rhythm guitarist. It wasn't the most challenging gig for her, consisting mostly of pounding out power chords at breakneck speed, but the simplicity of her playlist gave her enough time to continue to practice the other styles she enjoyed playing. Her band gigged mostly in the suburbs - too much competition in the big city - and was made up of other professionals like her who saw the band as a hobby and an outlet. It was unlikely anyone she knew at work would ever end up wandering in to one of her shows, and even if they did, they'd likely not recognize her. On-stage she typically wore a white glitter wig, black spandex, and heavy makeup. Her own mother would not have recognized her from farther than three feet away.
Indra's love of physical pleasure that started serendipitously in her aunt's pool years earlier had also blossomed. She loved sex. Sex with men, sex with women, sex with toys, sex with herself. And, like her guitar playing, she treated it like an artform, one she could practice like only an energetic and creative young woman with a doctoral-level understanding of the human nervous system could. She never engaged in group sex - she felt it was a waste of time, diluting the experience. Done right, every sensation in a sexual encounter should be savored, like 30-year-old scotch or the scent of flowers after a rainstorm. Done wrong, sex was a waste of time, calories, and bodily fluids.
Indra chose partners carefully, but with an open mind, both for the individual and the circumstances of the encounter. She considered herself a connoisseur of sex, not a slut. Which is why she felt no guilt nor discomfort with her own behavior one evening after a gig, sitting on the edge of a sink in the men's bathroom of the Motor Club, with the cock of a guy she had met an hour earlier deep inside her.
ALLEGRO (lively, fast)
A nice-looking, slightly shy man in his mid 30's approached Indra after the gig, simply to tell her how much he enjoyed watching her play. He had no agenda. Indra was drenched in sweat and figured she looked somewhat ghastly, and smelled worse, so it was not likely some uncontrollable physical attraction that led him to the stage where she was breaking down her gear.
"You guys were great," he said simply. "Metal is usually all noise, but you were playing actual music." Indra smiled. If this was a pickup line, then insulting the genre of the band's music, despite the attached compliment, would not have been endearing. There seemed to be no pretense in the comment. Just appreciation of the night's entertainment. "Anyway, thanks."
He turned to leave, and Indra gave him a quick look up and down. Tall, just over six feet. Nicely dressed, but not flashy. Thin, but not skinny, with an athletic build. She looked at his hands - long, strong-looking fingers. Indra knew the importance of fingers, humankind's magic wands from which all sorts of sensual miracles were crafted.
"Buy me a drink," she called after him.
The next 30 minutes was what Indra referred to as the frog-kissing period. She hadn't made up her mind to do anything with this guy yet. Running headlong into a sexual encounter with no idea about your partner was foolish. On the other hand, it didn't take 5 weeks of dating to determine if you could have some fun. There were a few, but important, criteria. Physical attraction - your partner needn't be a model, but you had to enjoy looking at them (or at least parts of them in a pinch). Confidence, without arrogance. More than anything, they needed to be a good listener - this meant that they actually gave a crap about you and were more likely to pick up on subtle and not-so-subtle cues that would enhance the pleasure of both parties involved. Since Indra was open-minded, she was inclined to give most men a chance, kissing the proverbial frog to see if he was a prince. Most of the time, she'd pleasantly but unambiguously end the conversation and move along.
But sometimes, she'd see something that would lead her to believe that she'd found a worthy partner. So, after the frog-kissing period came the soft-sell. Dropping hints and gauging reactions. Giving off subtle signals that there was the possibility of some fun to be had. She wasn't easy, but she could be very agreeable with the right person. They needed to be interested but not pushy, enjoying the banter, slowly testing the water to see whether this woman was a tease, a slut, or just a fascinating woman who played a solid rhythm guitar. Most never got past the soft-sell, and that was fine with Indra. Quality over quantity.
On that night, the earnest fellow with the sexy fingers had all the right reactions. He laughed, but not nervously. He blushed when appropriate but flirted admirably. He had no idea when he approached this woman that he'd find her this attractive, but Indra had serious skills. She could turn on the charm, and turn on her quarry before they knew what hit them. Indra placed her hand on top of his and stroked his fingers. Strong, with soft skin and calloused fingertips. Not a laborer but worked with his hands somehow. She leaned in as if to kiss him but stopped a fraction of an inch shy. Looking him straight in the eyes, she extended her tongue and traced the outline of his lips and waited for his response. Without breaking eye contact, he guided Indra's hand and kissed her fingertips. A smile crossed her lips and she sighed. We have a winner, she thought.
"Come with me," she whispered urgently in his ear, grabbed his hand, and started off to the back of the club. The line to the ladies' room was three-deep but no one was standing outside the men's room. She walked in and took up position next to the one guy who was standing at a urinal, hands on her hips, sending out the international body-language signal for "hurry-up." He finished peeing and started for the door. "Hey!" she shouted. "Hands!" She was pointing at the sink. Her soon-to-be fuck-buddy laughed, while the guy did a quick wash and dry. Indra kicked the rubber wedge beneath the door to keep it closed.
A mischievous smile crossed Indra's lips, and she launched herself. He caught her, hands cradling her butt while she wrapped her legs around him, kissing him hard on the mouth. Not frantic, sloppy kisses, but kisses with purpose. Indra wanted him to feel the texture of her lips, smooth and pillowy. Her tongue probed, swishing the sensitive nerves on the inside of his lips. Indra's neurology training told her that those nerve endings were half-again as sensitive as those on the outside of his lips, which was an evolutionary trait that helped humans not unwittingly eat anything too acidic or spicy. She also knew it was a hot-button for most people. As if reading her mind, he gently pushed back on her tongue and s-l-o-w-l-y ran his tongue between her teeth and lips. She sighed loudly - I chose well, she thought to herself.
He was able to cradle Indra easily with one hand and with the other he cupped her breast, still contained in her lycra top and sports bra. His thumb found her hardening nipple and traced tiny circles, which earned him another satisfied sigh. She released her grip around his neck and started deftly opening the clasps on her latex pants. She motioned her head toward the sink and getting the hint he carried her over and deposited her on the edge, helping her strip off her pants, with Indra extracting a condom from her pocket before they fell to her ankles. She grabbed his belt buckle and pulled. In perfect synchrony, she unbuttoned his jeans as he pulled down his zipper. She grabbed the waistband of his boxers, pulled them toward her and then released.
They paused. His cock wasn't huge, 7 inches, maybe 7.5. But it was beautiful. Smooth, cut, pulsing up and down with his heartbeat, straining skyward. His pubic hair was trimmed short, but not meticulously - hygiene rather than manscaping, she concluded. Indra reached down and cradled the shaft in her hand, feeling it twitch up and down. She licked the thumb of her other hand and placed it below the crown of his cock, turning gentle circles just as he had done with her nipple. He licked his thumb and placed it on her clit and matched the slow circling motion. His index finger grazed the outer edge of her slit, feeling the wetness. He raised his finger to his lips, closed his eyes, and moaned softly.
Indra tore open the condom with her teeth and with practiced precision, slid it over and down his throbbing cock. With one hand on his cock, she placed her other hand on his butt and pulled softly. As she guided him to his pussy she leaned up and whispered in his ear, "Easy ..."
"... does it," he finished her guidance.
He entered her agonizingly slowly, both of them savoring the sensation of his penis pushing her open. Further and further, until their pubes were touching, she pulled him. Buried deep inside her they paused. Indra pulsed her vaginal muscles around his cock once, twice, three times, then she closed and held him there, letting him feel her strength and tightness. She wanted him to know who he was with: a woman who understood pleasure, who knew what she was doing.
He knew. Indra recognized the look of awe that crossed his face and she smiled. He kissed her firmly, part gratitude, part lust. She released her grip on his cock and he slid slowly back, stopping with two inches still inside her. Matching the speed of his previous thrust he pushed back in, bottoming out and then feeling her grip him tightly once more. Once again, he retreated, stopping before he exited her completely. He had no desire to be anywhere but inside her.
He began to thrust again, but this time Indra was bearing down, squeezing as he penetrated. "So tight," he mumbled aloud. In response, she clamped even tighter.
"You have no idea," she whispered back, then released. He kissed her again, and then she said urgently, "Follow my lead." He had decided he would follow her pretty much anywhere at this point. She grabbed his butt and let her pull him deeper inside, then released the pressure. He pushed back against her hand, quickly figuring out the pace she was looking for. Again she pushed and he slid inside her, then back out. When next he was all the way in, he pulled her waist toward him, trying to grind her clit against him. "Good boy," she hissed, which got a quick laugh from him.
The next band on stage had finished their set-up and were getting ready to start playing. Muffled introductions came over the PA, and then the music started. Bass pounding, drums thumping, and a guitar grinding out the same three-note heavily-distorted chords over and over. It became Indra's soundtrack. Their thrusting matched the music, with Indra varying the clamp and release, like a soloist riffing over a never-changing beat.
Indra's first orgasm arrived quickly. She threw her head back and squealed. Everyone on the line that had formed outside the men's room knew exactly what had just happened, but Indra didn't care. These were the moments she lived for. By slightly varying the angle of her hips, she was directing him to hit different nerves; it turned her on knowing how she was able to control this, give herself the pleasure she craved, while giving this happy soul the ride of his life.
She came again, and briefly hoped she hadn't clenched too hard. If she had, you couldn't tell from the look of bliss on his face. She could tell by his breathing that he was beginning to approach his own orgasm, which would essentially be the end of the ride (poor mono-orgasmic guys!) so she wanted to make the most of it.
"Trust me," she mouthed at him and he nodded. She relaxed her grip and leaned back slightly, letting him penetrate as deeply as he wanted, but reducing the pressure and the friction slightly. She wanted him to feel the sensation of sliding all the way in with no resistance. It was glorious and frustrating for him all at once, and of course Indra knew this. Slowly, she began to increase the pressure, making herself slightly tighter each time. She had practiced this for years and the reaction she received never got old. A look of amazement crossed his face and she smiled knowingly. Clamping down too hard would distract him, not hard enough would lose his momentum. She played him perfectly.
She was also holding herself at the edge. It wasn't always possible, but her timing was perfect that night. She felt the telltale flare of his cockhead signaling the start of his climax. She grabbed his butt with both hands, pulled him deep inside her and waited. They convulsed at the same time, her back arching backward to where her head hit the mirror behind the sink. He moaned low and loud, struggling to push deeper inside her. The violent uncontrolled contractions of her pussy alternately strangling and caressing his pulsing cock, prolonging his orgasm to the point where his knees were starting to buckle.
Indra buried her face in his chest and waited, savoring the involuntary twitches of his cock as the last few moments of his cumming faded to stillness. She loved this moment. She was basking in the endorphins of the physical pleasure, while glowing inside at her mastery of the act itself. She hadn't learned everything and certainly hadn't experienced everything, but she knew that 99 times out of 100, for her partner she was the best they'd ever had, and that made her feel special and powerful.
She always waited for them to grow soft and slip out. There was no reason to rush (despite the crowd of guys who needed to pee that had formed outside). When his cock reappeared, she hopped off the sink, pulled up her pants, and before he could react, she had peeled the condom off and deposited it in the toilet stall and flushed. She gave his balls a quick, playful squeeze, kissed him lightly on the mouth, and said, "Thanks." She kicked the door wedge out of the way, pulled the door open and announced with a grin, "Back open for business. Sorry for the delay," and she waded through the grumbling crowd.
Pulling his pants up quickly, he was greeted with a mix of looks of annoyance and grudging admiration. He pushed his way back toward their table where Indra was collecting up her gig bag and guitar case.
"Wait, I ..." he began.
"Shhh," Indra replied, putting her fingers over his lips. "Nothing else to be said. You were amazing, really." She meant it. She'd often say that because the male ego needs that kind of reinforcement from time to time, but in this case she was impressed. "Look, we have a gig here in six weeks. Maybe I'll see you then, maybe in the light of day after a shower you'll decide against it. Either way, I loved every second of you." She grabbed him by the ears, pulled his lips to hers, and plunged her tongue into his mouth. Even the band seemed to miss a beat at the sight of a kiss like that. She lingered in the kiss for a moment, then broke away, grabbed her gear, and headed for the door.
"But, I don't even know your name ..." he called after her. She looked back, blew him a kiss, and left.
She entertained the thought of giving him her number but decided against it. Why risk sullying a wonderful memory, she thought. If our paths cross again, so be it.
So for him to be standing in her office doorway on the very next morning came as a bit of a surprise.
INTERMEZZO (connecting interval)
Despite her scientific background, Indra had a deeply spiritual side. She believed in karma (which is why she always tried to treat people as she'd like to be treated) and was certain that the universe at large had a plan for everyone. How else could the stars have aligned so well for her? She discovers the wondrous sensations her body can provide, which sets her on a path for fulfillment physically, spiritually, financially - she is a doctor that specializes in all of the mechanisms and oddities that make our bodies feel. She uses that knowledge every day, sharing it freely to heal the sick and arouse the healthy. What could be more fulfilling? Plus, she gets to continue her beloved hobby - music - by playing to live audiences. If this wasn't the universe smiling on her, she didn't know what to think.
So, for the man with the strong hands, sweet smile, and gorgeous cock to be standing in her door not 12 hours after they had fucked each other silly meant that either he was a VERY good stalker or the universe had plans for them.
"Excuse me, doctor?" he said tentatively from the door.
Indra's head snapped up and her eyes went wide. She gathered her senses quickly and replied, simply, "Yes?"
"I know this is going to sound very strange, and please don't call security on me, but is it possible that you moonlight as a guitarist in a metal band?"
OK, Indra thought, maybe he's a stalker, or maybe he has a legitimate reason for being here and maybe he doesn't recognize me without my makeup and wig.
"You're right," she replied.
"Yes. That is a strange question. And knowing it's a strange question, what prompted you to ask it? And, while we're at it, why shouldn't I call security?"