Jazzed

[Thomas Paine]

I wish I could extend appropriate credit for this, but I got it on a music-related e-mail list which identified it only as the winner of a porn short-story contest with the following rules: "200 words or less, no profanity, all anatomical references to be replaced with musical instruments, players or references."

It's too good not to pass on.

JAZZED

It was a balmy night and I was feeling thelonious. I hadn't had any tatum in so long I could have bixed a choirgirl. But I wouldn't have to - the moment I entered the Luboff Lounge, the babe with the giant eubies fixed me with a "come duke me" look. She uncrossed her legs and I could see almost all the way to birdland. I felt a tingle in my tito puente, and with a smile, I had her. This was it.

No sooner had we closed my front door than this hot django had grabbed me by the hines and pulled me close. I insinuated my hand under her sweater until I found one of her brubecks, then I slowly traced a circle around her lee
konitz.

"Oh, baby", she cooed, "you make my red norvo wet." She unzipped my getz, and reached in to cradle my johnny hodges in her hand. "I'd love a little mingus, darling. My Gillespie is aching."

By this time my king oliver was ready to take a solo; I could hardly wait to coda, but I obliged her. She hoisted her skirt, and I saw that she wasn't wearing any basies. I dove right into her satchmo and attacked her lennie
tristano.

"Ooh," she moaned, "I want your krupa! Zoot me! Miff me! Fill my cootie Williams!"

I was ready - almost. I felt my pocket. Uh oh. "Sorry, sweets" I said. No blakey tonight. I'm all out of condons."

***********************************************************

 

[Ally C]

"Cor Anglais!" trilled the French waitress, as the maestro's grand piano loomed into view. She would have said "Sacre Bleu!", but this was non musical and would have been a waste of time.

The interracial overtones of the ebony and ivory made for provocative overtures, and hinted at orchestral manoeuvres in the dark. Not one to blow his own trumpet (though prone to excessive and frenetic baton waving) the maestro ordered a horn of French ale.

"A French horn?" asked the waitress.

"No, a horn of French ale," said the maestro rather testily - yet secretly amused at getting to repeat a musical instrument's name.

"No need to be so angry," chided the waitress, whose name was Belle. "Any more of that and you'll be banned!"

"Band?" queried the maestro, whose name was Piper Flute.

"That's what I said," countered Belle, unaware of the tone of Piper Flute's enunciation.

All of a sudden a one-man band walked in. He was wearing a drum, a cymbal, a mouth organ, had a guitar, a trombone stuffed down his pants, and [remembering that the short story had to be of a 'porn' variety] promptly started playing with himself.

"Sacre Bleu and Cor Anglais!"




***200 words***

 

[Ally C]

Mischka

I dug this one up for you. Enjoy.

 

[Mischka]

You rock - thanks!

 

[Ally C]

You rock - thanks!

Was that a short story? Only 3 words there, but at least you mentioned 'rock', which is a form of music.