If you’ve never read any of my work before, then The Best of Kay Jaybee is just the right place to start before you venture on to discover my novellas and novels.
Here’s a taster from Finger Music for you…
Finger Music
The subdued light of the room reflected off the whitewashed brick walls, gathering in one bright spot on the polished floorboards. In the centre of the glow, a pair of oversized brogues were firmly planted either side of a long metal spike; a spike that, as Sally’s eyes slowly rose, turned out to be attached to a double bass. The first member of the jazz trio hired to play in the bar where she worked that evening had obviously arrived early to rehearse.
It wasn’t the presence of the single musician that halted Sally on her way to the staffroom, but the sound he was creating. The wooden panels beneath her feet resounded to the rhythm, humming against her trainers, as she stood transfixed.
Ignorant of even basic jazz, Sally watched as the man played, his bulk equal to the challenge of supporting the instrument, his eyes tightly closed, lost in his music as his digits danced up and down the fret with a speed and agility that belied his thick fingers. And yet, as she watched, Sally realised she’d been quite wrong. This man wasn’t bulky; he was simply tall, fit and immensely strong. A flicker of unexpected electricity climbed up her spine.
With his eyes still shut, a patina of perspiration gathered across his forehead as his fingers increased speed with the tempo of the music.
Sally pushed her back to the door and, bending her knees, slid quietly to the floor, her eyes never leaving those nimble fingers. Vaguely aware that she had never witnessed anything as erotic as those smooth digits as they skilfully played, Sally began to wonder how else he might employ such dexterity.
The tune he’d been playing morphed seamlessly into another, slower this time, calmer, a more sensual glide taking over from the heady yet graceful hammering of the previous melody. Sally glanced up at his face, suddenly realising where she was; sitting on the hard wooden floor, half an hour before the bar opened. Her manager, fellow waiting staff, and the other members of the jazz group could walk in at any moment, expecting Sally to have everything all set up for the evening ahead.
Although his eyes remained shut, Sally felt caught out. She didn’t know if the man was aware of her presence or not. Scrabbling back to her feet, she tried to shake off the hypnotic beat that resonated in her ribcage and between her legs. Trying to stop herself allowing her imagination to mentally replace the double bass fingerboard with her own spine, Sally self-consciously began to edge toward the staffroom door.
‘Did you like it?’
His voice was almost as deep as the notes he’d been playing, and seemed to echo into the abruptly quiet space.
‘I … um … yes …’ Sally felt an uncharacteristic blush cover her usually pale cheeks. ‘I hope you didn’t mind me listening.’
‘That is what I’m here for.’
Already aroused by her fantasies about his manual dexterity, Sally felt a further tug at her crotch as his right eyebrow lifted, and a blast of searing-eyed mischief scorched her.
‘Oh yeah, right.’ Her limbs felt awkward and clumsy in the presence of his obvious confidence. It was as if he knew what he’d done to her. As if he’d summed up her physical condition in just one look.
From nowhere, Sally remembered a line in a book she’d once read that had made her scoff: “it was as if he could see right into her soul”. At that moment it didn’t seem like the romantic clap-trap she’d taken it for. It felt hot and real, and the black cups of her satin bra no longer felt big enough to contain their contents.
‘Would you like to try?’ He gestured to both Sally and the double bass in one go, by tilting the instrument in her direction.
‘Um …I …’ Sally’s throat seemed to have dried in upon itself, but her feet shuffled toward him anyway, her eyes glancing between the entrance to the staffroom and the door that led back into the main bar. ‘I should be getting the room ready for your gig; the others will be here very soon’
‘There’s plenty of time.’ Dismissing her task as unimportant, he grasped her wrist and smiled. Immediately Sally felt his pulse match her own, as he stood her so she was sandwiched between the double bass and his body. As his arms passed around her waist she inhaled his intoxicatingly musky odour, her head filled with sudden flashes of a love scene from the film Ghost. She really hated that film. A giggle escaped Sally’s lips.
Ignoring her nervous laughter, he said, ‘You need to place your fingers like this -’ He splayed his hand and rested it over her chest, making Sally take a sharp intake of breath.
Huskily she spoke. ‘You seem to have missed the double bass.’
‘Basics first, honey.’
Sally’s sense of humour and feelings of uncertainty escaped in a further strangled chuckle.
‘Are you ticklish?’ He moved his hands gently, fixing them upon her firmly, as if holding a set of strings.
‘No! Look, this is silly.’ Sally giggled as she wriggled away from him, aware of something dying inside her as she left his grasp. ‘All that is missing is the potter’s wheel!’
He scrutinized her carefully. ‘I wouldn’t have had you down as a chick-flick romance sort of girl.’
With her self-consciousness climbing to a whole new level, Sally scrubbed a stray red hair from her eyes, awarding him a mental point for understanding which film she was referring to without her having to launch into an explanation. ‘I have a housemate; she makes me watch crap movies.’
His eyes narrowed sceptically. ‘That would explain it.’ A giant right palm came forward, bringing Sally back to the matter in hand. ‘I’d like to teach you. Come on.’
‘Someone might see.’
‘Now why would that bother you, I wonder?’ He was mocking her, but despite the silence, Sally could still sense the music; and something in her yearned to hear it again. ‘I was only going to show you how to play.’
Sally swallowed. She couldn’t believe how badly she wanted this man. She didn’t even know his name. He was just an anonymous part of the jazz trio, the remaining members of which would surely be arriving soon.
More than a little aware of her damp knickers, Sally gave in to her reservations and allowed herself to be pulled back against him. The top of her head only reached as far as his neck, and he rested his chin comfortably on her shoulder. He whispered now, the breath of his words caressing her earlobe, ‘Close your eyes and feel.’
This time he squeezed her tightly between him and the double bass and, as if she wasn’t even there, began to play.
The shock of the notes as they rang through her body, throbbing between her pussy lips and igniting her breasts, dried her throat further, sending her imagination into overdrive. Bringing the instrument closer, the musician squashed her chest beneath his fast moving arms, making her very aware of the bulge that had developed in his trousers behind her lower back.
So engrossed was she in the sensations the man and his strings were creating, that at first Sally didn’t notice that his arm had moved, and was diving inside the thin black T-shirt that formed part of her waitress uniform. Without breaking his stride, the bass player popped her small breasts free from their satin holster and continued his fingering. This time though, her bare flesh and hard, taut nipples had replaced the strings directly, and every nerve in Sally’s body shot to her pussy.
Colours danced behind her eyelids, flashing blue and green before, with a firm thrust forward of his groin, and an increase in the speed of the flowing notes, blazing reds and oranges lit up the inside of her eyelids. The lust that the music had been quietly nurturing, combined with the deft touch of his large yet incredibly gentle fingers, abruptly centred itself on her snatch.
Forgetting where she was, and that they might be disturbed at any moment, Sally moved to meet the thrusts. Her arms, previously limp at her sides, reached around to his back, so she could clench the stranger’s arse. Pulling him nearer, Sally could feel the erection that was becoming more defined by the moment.
As soon as she grabbed him, his hands abandoned the bass entirely, wrapping themselves around her. Keeping up his tactile fingering, and as if Sally herself was the instrument, he carried on playing, her breasts, torso, and stomach replacing the fingerboard and strings. The only thing missing was the music, yet it was buzzing through her as, shifting his stance a little, he centred his entire musical prowess on her breasts, her nipples becoming the sole objects of his agile playing…
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If you want to find out what happened next, you can find The Best of Kay Jaybee in e-format and paperback from all good stockists, including-
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Blurb
Fourteen of the very best erotic tales of dominance, submission, bondage, and romantic lust, are delivered with lashings of kink from the pen of Kay Jaybee.
From the sexual adventures recalled by a woman as she stares at her favourite shirt, to a deliciously dirty orgy on a bed of cardboard boxes, the after-hours education of a rookie soldier, and the bizarre obsession of an Egyptologist, each story shows why Kay Jaybee has been hailed as ‘a master of the craft of erotica’ (Oysters and Chocolate). As a girl writes messages of lust on the body of her best friend’s lover, and a mistress’s employment of ropes and chains on her slave co-insides with the application of emulsion, we discover just how Kay has earned her reputation for producing ‘super-heated kinky stories,’ (Kd Grace), which are ‘a sublime pleasure to read’ (Violet Blue).
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Happy reading,
Kay xx
