Jason wiped the condensation from the bus window with the back of his hand and looked out at the emptying festival site. The British weather had been unremitting since Thursday, and the once-green fields had long since become a swamp.
His attention was suddenly drawn towards a beautiful young Indian woman in a group of festival-goers leaving the site. The girl was barefoot, calf-deep in the cloying mud, with the hem of her long, tie-dyed gypsy skirt caked in filth. Her raven hair clung to her as tightly as her mud-spattered vest top, and on her back, a small rucksack was flanked by two copper drums, which bounced on her hips as she waded through the mire. Unlike the other festival-goers, whose faces crumpled in disgust as their Wellingtons once more became stuck, the young woman smiled as she moved, laughing each time she lost her footing, her eyes ablaze with the carefree abandon of youth.
“Don’t you dare close these fucking doors!” Jason yelled urgently to the driver.
**********
As Jason sat in his tent doorway, strumming absent-mindedly on his guitar, he became conscious that he wasn’t alone.
“Wanna jam?”
The young Indian woman before him had seemingly just arrived on the site since she was still carrying all her belongings on her back, including a pair of copper drums. On her head, she wore a daisy chain tiara.
“Don’t you want to pitch your tent first? It will be dark soon,” Jason replied.
The young woman smiled coyly. “I don’t have a tent. I’ve never… had the need.”
The weather forecast had told of several days of rain, so coming to the festival without a tent seemed foolhardy. However, the young woman didn’t seem unduly concerned as she dumped her belongings on the ground beside Jason’s tent.
“So, you wanna jam?” she asked again.
There was no question of Jason saying no. The young woman was as intriguing as she was beautiful, and as she bent over her rucksack to pull out a rug, her short denim skirt rode up to the top of slim, Wellington-clad legs. Then, rummaging deeper, her loose pink crop top gaped at the front, affording Jason a view of even more luxurious dark flesh.
“What are you playing?” Jason asked as the young woman sat cross-legged facing him and dragged the two drums into position between her wide-open thighs.
“Tabla,” she replied. “When played well, the sound can be mystical… spiritual, even. Sometimes, it’s as if the gods are walking among us.”
The young woman began to play, and Jason paused, listening to her beautiful, haunting rhythm before deciding how best to complement it on the guitar. But the young woman’s serene, exotic beauty distracted him as her palms and dark, slim fingertips picked out the rhythm. Eventually, with the long strum of an E minor chord, Jason launched into a slow blues progression.
Jason was happy to continue playing until his companion became bored, but the young woman showed no sign of losing interest. Instead, with each new improvisation, her rhythms became more complex and her proficiency on her instrument more apparent. By the time the first spots of rain began to fall, a crowd of over twenty festival-goers had assembled in the half-light, enjoying the skill and dexterity of both players.
As the rain became heavier, the audience reluctantly sought shelter; however, the young woman’s eyes remained closed and her face tranquil as she played, apparently unaware of the deluge now beating down upon her.
Eventually, she looked up coyly from under long, dripping lashes. A gentle smile crept over her lips, and after a slight nod, her playing became increasingly frantic as the jam reached its climax. Finally, with a two-handed slap on the tabla, she drew the music to a close, and with applause rippling from inside the nearby tents, she and Jason quickly dragged their instruments and belongings into his tent and closed the zip.
The tent could only sleep two comfortably, and the small plastic dome wasn’t sufficiently high for either to stand once inside. The young woman sat on Jason’s makeshift bed, and with the rain battering the tent relentlessly, she was seemingly going nowhere.
Jason switched on a small light, pulled a towel from his rucksack, and passed it to the young woman. As he sat down next to her, he watched the gentle curve of her breasts rise and fall as she breathed, and noticed the unmistakable contours of her nipples through the thin wet fabric of her top. Jason felt his body begin to respond to her undeniable allure.
The young woman removed the daisy chain and roughly dried her hair. “Don’t you just love making music in the rain?”
“That was my first time,” Jason conceded, more concerned by the strengthening erection increasingly visible through his clingy wet shorts. “Now, why don’t I wait outside while you take off your wet…”
Jason stopped mid-sentence as the young woman crossed her arms, gripped the hem of her crop top, and pulled it over her head. Having discarded the item into the corner of the tent, she immediately reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, which soon joined the crop top on the tent floor.
The young woman’s breasts were every bit as beautiful as Jason had imagined. Her flawless, tawny globes were crowned with small, dark peaks, already erect from the cooling rain. Jason couldn’t help but stare as the shadows danced on her velvet skin.
The young woman looked at Jason, seemingly offended. “You don’t like me to strip in front of you? Why so?”
“No, yes… It’s just…” Jason couldn’t find the words.
“It’s just that you have never seen a woman this way before,” the young woman replied, a sudden realisation on her face. “I understand,” she said, insouciantly unfastening her skirt at the back and raising her bottom from the bed to simultaneously remove both the skirt and her panties.
Incredulous, Jason watched as she slipped both items over her Wellingtons, which the young woman showed no sign of removing. Instead, she placed the daisy chain on her head once more.
She turned to Jason and began to pull off his wet T-shirt.
“Tonight will be a night of firsts,” the young woman decided. “The first time you make music in the rain, and the first time you make love in the rain.”
Before Jason could process her words, the young woman turned to his shorts. Pushing him flat with the palm of her hand, she unfastened the buttons and pulled the damp, cut-off denim over his legs.
By now, Jason’s erection had reached its zenith, and as he looked down, he could see his trunks gaping as his cock tried to escape its confines. The young woman gripped the waistband, eased it over his member, and pulled the trunks over his feet.
Excitement flashed in her jet-black eyes, but it wasn’t the sight of Jason’s manhood that animated her.
“Come,” the young woman said, turning towards the tent opening and unzipping it. “Now we will be free.”
Jason could barely believe what the young woman was suggesting. However, whether it was the magic of their shared musical experience or the uninhibited spirit the young woman possessed, she had already rendered him spellbound. At that moment, he would have followed her anywhere she wished to go. He watched her round, smooth bottom, and Wellingtons disappear as the young woman crawled out of the tent flap.
“Come on,” he heard from outside the tent. “It’s wonderful!”
As he emerged into the dark, wet night, the sight that greeted Jason was utterly stunning. With the rain still falling in sheets, very few people had dared venture outside, and the lights of their tents dotted the hillside like a hundred thousand Chinese lanterns.
“What now?” Jason asked with a mix of bewilderment, embarrassment, and amusement.
“Now, we run!” the young woman cried joyfully.
Before Jason could respond, the young woman took flight, effortlessly weaving through the maze of tents and guy ropes, her arms aloft, jumping and spinning as she welcomed the rain on her dark, naked skin. With his cock still fully erect and with nothing on his feet, Jason made chase but could barely keep up with the young goddess as she crisscrossed the campsite wearing nothing but Wellington boots, a daisy chain tiara, and a broad, white smile.
Eventually, the young woman stopped in the corner of the field, on the edge of the campsite. Out of breath and bent double with laughter, she held out her hands as Jason finally caught up with her.
“I told you it was wonderful,” she said, gripping his hands and pulling him close. “Now, make love to me. Do it here, in the rain.”
As they dropped to the ground and Jason took the young woman in his arms, he barely noticed how cold and wet the grass had become. Kissing her for the first time, the warmth of her body, the thrill of her tongue, and the depth of her gaze enraptured him. As she finally lay back, parting her legs to welcome him inside her, the young woman closed her eyes, her face assuming the same unclouded serenity as when she had played earlier.
Jason gasped as he felt her warmth envelop him. Inexperienced and uncertain, he paused as the young woman’s hips met his, and he felt her fingertips rest lightly on his back. Knowing it was his first time, he had expected her to take the lead, telling him what to do. But the young woman’s eyes and mouth remained closed, her thoughts seemingly elsewhere.
Then, Jason felt her fingertips moving on his back, not gently rubbing as he might have expected, but a slow, gentle, rhythmic tapping. As a musician, it didn’t take him long to realise she was beating out the rhythm she wanted him to follow and that, once more, he was to improvise to her music.
Jason began to slowly move inside her, and he saw the trace of a smile on her lips as she realised he understood he was to follow her lead. Soon, she increased the tempo, using her palms and the heels of her hands as well as her fingers to increase the strength and depth of his thrusts. Jason didn’t know how long he could last but knew it wouldn’t be long. The young woman must have known it, too, because soon, she had him thrusting hard inside her, seemingly urging him towards a premature climax.
Jason let out an anguished groan as he felt his orgasm build, and the young woman opened her eyes and coquettishly looked up at him as his crisis unfolded. As Jason burst inside her, filling her with his thick white wetness, he felt a two-handed slap on his back and heard a soft sigh as the young woman drew their magical music to a conclusion.
They lay silently on the grass, letting the rain beat down on their naked skin. But the young woman’s eyes now looked unhappy and uncertain.
“Hey, let’s find the tent and change into some dry clothes. Just let me pee first - I’ll be right back,” Jason said, reluctant to bring their adventure to a close.
But when he returned, the young woman was gone. Utterly distraught and unconcerned by his nakedness, Jason scoured the campsite for his tent, desperately hoping to find her there. When, after much searching, he finally found it, he ripped the flap open, but all that remained of the young woman was a daisy chain tiara, lying forlornly on the bed.
**********
Dashing to the front of the bus, Jason waited as an endless line of passengers processed up the stairs. Finally losing patience, he squeezed between the cursing festival-goers and fought his way down the stairs.
Eventually, he reached the door, but as he burst into the evening drizzle, the young woman had already dissolved in the warm summer rain.
