Me and Weasel were doing a pitch at the corner of Place St. François in Lausanne. I was playing the guitar, and Weasel, as ever, on the 4-string banjo and singing. We were getting towards the end of the set when the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life came up and stood there staring at me.

I looked around to see what she was looking at, thinking that no girl that good looking could be staring so intently at little ol' me. It was, in fact, slightly embarassing and I had to try not to blush. She was so pretty that looking at her was like gazing directly into the sun, the intesity of her beauty was blinding. I'm not joking!

She was eating some french fries out of a newspaper cone, and even though I don't like "frites", I had to ask her for one. Weasel saw what the scene was, so we stopped playing so that I could get to chatting. I made a date with her for later in the evening, and we went out to dinner.

Altough we spoke French together, I found out that she was from Zurich and was down in Lausanne studying French. We talked about her hopes and dreams. She wanted to have a little farm in the country, with some animals and a garden, and at that time that's what I thought I wanted to do too.

Eventually, we made it back to her little studio apartment, and sipped wine by candlelight and talked some more. Then we got into her single bed, and we slowly began kissing and caressing each other. She was beautiful. Finally, we were both completely naked lying side by side. I made a move to climb on top of her and she said to me shyly, "Je n'aime pas faire l'amour" (I don't like to make love). I think what she meant to say was that she didn't want to make love, but I took her literally and asked her in French, "If you don't like to make love, what do you like to do?", then went down on her. I licked her sweetly, thoroughly and romantically. When I came up for air and moved my face up to hers, my member slid right into place. She loved it, she was moving with me as if we really were one, she was hot, not out of control, but experiencing me inside of her like someone savoring a delicious and rare speciality. Her passion was contagious, and I didn't even try to control my orgasm. It just arose from the depths like a might wave of ecstasy, and them melted into a shimmering cloud of joy.

I was just about to apologize for having let loose too quick when she said to me, "Ç'etait la première fois pour moi". I couldn't believe that that had been her first time with a man, especially not the way she had responded so naturally with me. I had been told that before but mostly by girls who had some sort of reason to "preserve their image". But Silá had no reason to lie to me, sh may have never seen me again.

When she told me that, it turned me on so much that I had to have her again right away. It was fantastic, here she was experieincing the natural joys of the human body for the first time in her life, and I had the honor to initiate such a beautiful girl into this world of sensation and love.

Afterwards, we talked a little more, and she told me that until a week or two before, she had been living with her parents, and that she had a boyfriend but he was in the military at the moment.

We made love again after that, and she put her love on me like the sea upon the shore. If I shut my eyes ...

The next morning I couldn't wait to be back inside of her again, we were one. I loved her, I never wanted to let go of her. But I couldn't dare tell her that.

When I tried to make love a second time that morning, she had to tell me "no". After all, she was a virgin, and she couldn't take it any more. OK, well, I forgot.

We went out for a little breakfast, and she told me as she hugged me with a big smile in her beautiful brown eyes, "You will always be a part of me". I think I told her something similar, whatever I said probably sounded stupid, but she still is a part of me. Something that no one can ever take away.

I had to leave town, and go off somewhere else with Weasel. At the weekend we were playing the Niederdorf in Zurich, and I was positive that I was going to see her that night, you could say it was a telepathic feeling. I kept eyeing the crowd looking for her. Once I thought I recognized her but the girl I was looking at had a scarf around her face, so I couldn't tell if it was her or not. But when I looked at that girl with the scarf's eyes, I looked right into her very soul. If it was Silá, she knew that I knew, if it wasn't - well ...

In fact, Silá did show up that night, she had somehow sensed that I would be there too. She was with a girlfriend of hers, a blond girl sturdily built like a farmer's daughter. Weasel and me and the two girls went out for a drink a little later and Silá's friend offered to give us a ride to where we were staying.

Silá and I got in the back seat, and we were both overjoyed to see each other again. We were kissing like two teenagers (in fact, she was still a teenager), and then all of a sudden she pulled out my hard-on and started stroking it, and squeezing it, and pulling on it so nice, that I just had to ask her to suck me.

On the one night we had slept together, I hadn't tried to get her to suck it. One of my little "Codes of Honor" is that I (almost) never ask a girl to take it in her mouth the first time we make love, and once I'd found out that she'd never had a man before, I didn't want to ask her to do anything too shocking. Everything in its good time.

But not while her girlfriend was driving! She said she couldn't do THAT, but certainly implied that one day soon she would. Call it an investment in the future. By the time we got to where we were going, I was so horny I thought I was going to die, but there was nothing I could do about it.

Weasel and me were supposed to do a little recording at one of my friend's studios. But he was in a shitty mood that day, something to do with the lack of laundrymats in Switzerland. We argued like crazy in the studio, and then suddenly he said, "I know where there's a fucking laundrymat - in Paris!" I told him that I wasn't going back to that shit pit with him, and he told me that I wasn't invited. I took my gear out of the back of his van right there at the studio, and he drove off.

That was fine with me, the only probalem was that part of my gear that he had dropped off was an incredibly heavy Fender Rhodes 88 key electric piano. I left the piano at the studio, and went down to Lausanne to see Silá.

I had to throw stones at her window to get her attention, and she was happy to see me. We had a great night, and in the morning she had to go to work. Her real job was a doctor's assistant, but at the moment she was working at the McDonald's across from the train station. She hated the little uniform, but that's whatcha gotta do. I would play the streets during the day, running from the cops (the pigs in Switzerland won't shoot you for running away from them), and we used to hang out in the Fox Jazz Club in the evenings. We'd make love all the time just like newlyweds, but one afternoon she didn't want to. Instead she started sucking my dick so sweet and pretty, and when I came in her mouth she just swallowed it like it was the most natural thing in the world. I used to believe that if a girl swallowed for you it was true love.

One evening while I was just hanging around at her place all alone practicing the flute, the doorbell rang. I opened the door to some guy with a military haircut holding a bunch of flowers with a radiant expectant smile on his face. Once the door was opened wide enough, and he saw me standing there, his jaw dropped.

After making sure it really was Silá's apartment, the expression on his face was one that made me feel very sorry for him. I told him that she was working at the hamburger joint down the road, and told him how to get there. Here was her boyfriend of two years who had spent all that money to take a train down from Zurich, after his stint in the Swiss army, with a head full of great expectations, wanting to surprise his beautiful girlfriend with a message of love. The poor guy.

I reckon the reason the neutral Swiss will never abolish their useless army is because the Swiss women don't want to give up their wild affairs they have while their men are off freezing their butts off in the mountains during their obligatory yearly stint with the military. That's when the girls sow their wild oats, and I'm not kidding.

The number of times I've gotten off with Swiss chics while their old man was away in the army, and the number of "Dear John" stories I've been witness to will easily confirm that. Trust your girl - Ha! Could the kings of the Arabian Nights trust theirs? This is a story older than history itself.

Now, I've never been against a girl having a little fling, as long as I knew I was and would always be Number One. I've always said, "God bless the unfaithful wife, otherwise nobody would ever get laid." After all, variety is the spice of life - just don't let the spice become the meat and potatoes.

Sh was pretty shook up when she got home, and explained to me what I'd already figured out for myself. I guess "Dear John" took the train home.

There was a guitar in her flat, and one day she picked it up and started playing it. She lit into a flashy Flamenco number, followed by some tricky Irish tunes. I was laying in bed, and I say straight up and said, "Wow, that's fantastic. You've really studied!" I was gassed. And then I guessed why she'd been interested in me to begin with: Irish Folk Music. She wanted me to teach her the secret tricks of the guitar. Well, I showed her what I could and she caught on real quick.

After about a week or two of us sleeping together in her single bed in her tiny apartment, it got to be a bit much for her. One day I heard the next-door neighbor say to his wife "Est-ce qu'ils ont baisé encore? Ils s'arrêtent jamais." (Did they fuck again? They never stop.) I guess we were pretty noisy, but I wanted to give her the best education possible, leaving no stone unturned.

And one day afte work, she said she had to talk to me. I thought she was going to tell me sweet nothings, but instead she told me that it was time for me to leave. In fact, it was very difficult for her, but it had always been her that had told the boys when their time was up, and now it was my turn. How did the Crosby, Stills & Nash song go? "Gently but firmly they learn to say 'No'".

So, there I was walking down the street towards the train station, with my duffel bag trying to figure out where to go next. Was my heart broken? No, not really. After all, I'd only spent eight nights with her. What did I care, she never said she loved me, did she? And even if she did say it, did she mean it? Probably not. How many times have I been told "I Love You", and opened up my soul to a woman just to have her tromp all over my heart with hobnail boots. True love never dies, remember? Yeah, what song did you hear that in?

Did I tell her that I loved her? No, that would've been stupid. Maybe I did. Damn it!

Did I cry in front of her? Well, maybe a little, but this was a time when women were complaining that men had no souls, that they had no sensitivity. So, in order to prove that I had emotions, I shed a few tears. Yes, of course, that was the only reason. And did she cry when I left? Yes, she did. Well, if she was so broke up about my leaving, why the hell did she give me the shove?

I went to Venice, caught a boat for Athens, and then another to Egypt. I decided to learn Arabic.

In Cairo, I got a very unexpected letter from her. It began: "Hello, my South Star!" It was all in German, and it took me a week to decipher it. The gist of it was that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and ended with "Lots of Love, Silá". I couldn't believe it, it turned my world upside down. Still there were plenty of things that I wanted to see, and there was no point in going back to Switzerland before the Spring thaw.

After a winter full of adventures in the wilds of Afric and the Middle East, I found myself once again throwing stones against her window in Lausanne. When the window opened, a very unhappy looking guy peered out and asked me what the hell I wanted. I immediately flashed back to that night when I opened the door to a poor lovestruck boy fresh out of the military holding flowers. Boy, did I feel dumb.

But she didn't live there anymore. Well, at least lighning hadn't struck twice. Anyone who knows me, knows that I've never been at a loss to find a solution to a tricky situation. It just so happened that I had her folks' telephone number on a scrap of paper at the bottom of my bag. I went down to the Fx, and rang up. My heart leaped to my throat when her mother answered the phone. Silá's mom is full-blooded Italian, and I always pictured her as the real upright kind that would protect her dausghter's honor to her dying breath.

Well, she wasn't overjoyed to hear my voice, but she said something like Silá had talked a lot about me, and to my great surprise and relief, she gave me the new address (no phone, yet). I couldn't believe it, but I sure was happy.

Nonetheless, with my recent experience at her old apartment fresh in my mind, I was fully prepared to have some surly six foot monster open her door and say, "Yes, she's here, but you better make tracks before I break your nose."

I pressed the buzzer (much better than throwing stones). Oh, man, what if she's not in? What if ...? What if ...? "'Allo'" "Ah, oui, uh, c'est Jeff." "C'est qui?" "Uh, Jeff, uh, l'Americain, avec les longs cheveux ..." "Oh, Jeff, oh no!"

Oh, No!? Was this a mistake or what? What am I doing here? Why did I come here in the first place? I couldn't help myself. Relax, man, it'll all be over in a minute, she'll tell you to go away like before and that'll be it. OK? Just be cool. You know, you just happened to be in the neighborhood, and ...

She met me at the door. She was absolutely glowing with delight. She planted the most amazing kiss on me and told me to come on in and MAKE MYSELF AT HOME!

My heart started beating again, I wasn't holding my breath anymore, my knees stopped trembling. "Uh, hey, I hope I'm not interrupting anything." "No, I was just getting ready to go to bed. C'mon take off your clothes, and we'll talk about it all tomorrow." The new apartment had a double bed, and she'd fixed everything up just how she wanted it. Swiss heaven.

It was the full moon and she wasn't disposed to make a mess, so she just slithered down my belly, grabbed my snake in the grass, licked me off sooo tenderly and then fell asleep in my arms.

In the meantime, she had got herself a job as a medical assistant and had to be up and out really early in the morning. I just sort of made myself at home, and hung out waiting for her to come home for lunch.

When she came back, she told me all about what she'd done during the months I'd been away, and I sort of told her a few stories about Africa and the Mid-East.

That night we went out for dinner, you know the scene: Two long lost lovers reunited after ages rediscover the thread of meaning that runs through life.

Back at home it was just like it should be. We slowly undressed each other article by article, kissing and hugging standing up. She takes off my shirt, I unbutton her blouse - one button, one kiss. She undoes my belt, I reach around her back and undo the clasps on her bra, and bring it up so that her breasts rub against the hair on my chest. She squeezes my crotch through my levis, and I put my knee between her legs to let her rub herself up against my thigh. She reaches into my unzipped trousers searching for the swollen end of my gland, when she finds it I have to groan. I let her play with me a little, then I begin kissing her neck, moving slowly down. I get on one knee, and admire for what seems like the first time in a millenium her luscious brown mammies. I put my head between them and kiss her heart, she holds me against her breast like the most precious treasuer in the world.

While down on my knee, I began tasting her nipples which tense up at the touch of my tongue. She rubs her hands through my hair pushing my face against her as if trying to merge me right into her body. I slip my hand up the inside of her thigh, slowly but surely making my way towards her bush. I rub her clit from outside humid panties, and then move her knickers to one side to put a finger in. She didn't resist at all, there were no obstructions either physical or psychological. It was all wet and smooth. I move my fingers around her little lips, "painting" them with the delicious liquid she's exuding. She moans and a shudder goes through her body.

I stand up, my two middle fingers all the way up inside her with the heel of my hand massaging her swollen love button. As I come up to kiss her lips, I can see that her face is flushed, and her eyes have that distant glazed look that shows that she is absolutely high with passion. She kissed me with lips that were even softer and wetter than where my fingers were between her legs, and clung to me gyrating her body as I moved my hand in small sensuous circles around and around in and out.

It was time. She wanted it and I wanted it. I turned her around, still standing up, and put her hands on a table. I slipped her panties down and entered her from behind. I eased it in very slowly. Put it in a little, pull it almost back out, then just leave it there at the threshold a moment. In a little bit further this time, slide it slowly back out, wait. Push it in about three-quarters, she lets loose a little "oh". Pull it almost all the way out, wait for a second that's an eternity. Now, almost so slowly that you can hardly tell there's any motion, I begin letting my full measure enter, slowly, but relentlessly, I push the entire length of my rigid rod into her. When I arrive at the hilt she pushes back on me, and we push into each other as hard as we can, the end of me into the depths of her. And we hold it like that. We stay like like that for what seems forever, I can feel the blood throbbing through her inner walls, her heartbeat pulsating against mine.

Then I flex my member, sending fresh blood coursing through the organ, the head swells, and I begin moving the muscles in my dick, but not moving anything else. She senses what I'm doing and somehow seems surprised. She was even more surprised, when I pulled it almost all the way out again, and then Ha-Whuumpf! let her have the whole length at one fierce go! Then I pulled out all the stops, I was fast humping her like a day at the races. She couldn't believe it. While I was going away at her, I was looking at her ass. She had such a beautifully formed bottom, pert muscular cheeks, so perfect! I thought to myself "Oh lord, what did I ever do to deserve a girl with an ass as nice as this!!!" I was the luckiest man in the world.

Eventually, we made our way to bed. And the night continued just like it should.

In the morning, I had to go out and make some money. The only instrument I had with me was the silver flute. Even though I could do alright by myself, I figured I could do better if I had a partner. I hitchhiked to Geneva, to try to do a couple of street pitches.

When I got there, all the pitches were taken. Most of the buskers I didn't know. I hadn't been to Geneva in ages. But I saw this accordion player who I'd once been to his flat in Neuchatel, and thought maybe he'd let me do a set when he took a break.

I cam up to him and said "Hey, man. How ya doing?" He had a big scowl on his face, and very little money in his case. I asked him when he was going to take a break. He told me "midnight" (it was 10 o'clock in the morning). Then he gave me a long story about how he'd come here to make money, finishing off by saying that he wasn't making any dough standing around talking to me, so I ought to make myself scarce. He later became a bus driver.

So I wandered down to Place Molard, and there was this guy playing guitar by himself and I thought maybe we could team up, so I invited him for a beer.

Kansas City Pete was his name. As far as I could tell he'd never been within five thousand miles of Kansas City, but Blues was his bag and he said he wrote songs too.

We did a couple of pitches together, sometimes I'd play the flute, and other times I'd bottle the crowd. Silá was going up to see her folks in Zurich for the weekend, and there was a huge summer festival going on in Lausanne. So I invited him to come to see me and we'd try to make some money at this festival.

The Lausanne festival is always good. They have a strong love of Jazz that must come from being so close to Montreux. Everywhere there's live music, and good musicians, too! It was hard to find a place to set up.

We started by working the bottom of the covered stairs leading up to the Cathedral. Then we did a little pitch at almost every landing, until we finally arrived at the square in front of the Cathedral itself. Pete had this one song of his that we played over and over "Cheap wine, cheap wine, distilling away my mind".

At the Cathedral, we set up under this little archway, and about two songs into the pitch it started raining a bit, so everybody joined us under the archway. It was a very intimate atmosphere, and suddenly eveybody was friends.

The rain stopped, and the people left. We had a walk around the outside of the Cathedral, and lo and behold there was a PIANO under a wet plastic covering just sitting there with nobody watching it. INCREDIBLE!!!

I said to Pete "Watch this, man!" I pulled off the cover and launched into some Boogie-Woogie. We had a huge crowd in no time. Pete went around bottling and we were doing great!

Somebody said to Pete "Wow, man that guy sure can play the piano!" Pete grumbled "Yeah, dammit". He was jealous. It turned out that Pete was a piano player too, but can't touch me when it comes to technique and groove.

Pete then decided to try to play some songs on the piano, but about halfway through his first song, the crowd dissolved. I said "Look man, lemme show you how it's done."

I had just sat down to drum up another crowd, when the police came up. This cop tells me "We told you already not to play here. So why are you here playing again?" That sounded pretty wierd because nobody had said anything to either of us. I said "You never told me anything". Then he said "Yes, I did. I distinctively remember that it was YOU. Don't argue with me. And if we catch you playing piano here again, we'll take you in." OK, OK, I get the message.

Pete had had enough, and was crushed because I play the piano better than him. So he decided to go back to his van to go to sleep. I pulled out my flute and decided to try to make just a little more change.

I stood at the side of the Cathedral, on a natural kind of a stage, and began playing. Suddenly, there were a hundred people watching me, I felt great. I had never had that many people collect to watch me play the flute before, it was a rush. I played the first fast Irish tune, and then started into the second song that I usually did. Halfway through, it began to rain again. The crowd (and the rush) disappeared as quickly as it had come.

One of the people in the crowd looked somehow familiar, he sort of kept standing around looking at me a little funny, even after the rain began. He kicked the ground, and started to shuffle off, in a disappointed kind of way. Then I recognized him!

It was the same guy who had showed up at Silá's door the year before with flowers and a military haircut. It was her old boyfriend!

I followed him a little ways, and then introduced myself. He pretended not to recognize me at first. Maybe I was stupid to walk up to him, but he didn't look angry, just sad. So, I reckoned he wouldn't hit me. Besides that was already a year gone by.

As you could imagine, the subject of most of our conversation was Silá. He wanted to know if she was in Lausanne, if I had seen her, and on and on. Like I say, I felt sorry for the guy, and I strongly suspected that he had come to Lausanne for this festival in order to "coincidentally" run into his long lost love.

He ran into me instead, the guy whom he had long lost her to. He stilll had some demons to exorcise, and we walked around getting drunker and drunker while he got the whole thing off his chest and sorted out. I tried my best to be concerned, sincere, and honest with him, knowing full well that she had booted me out once, and that I might be in his position myself again someday.

He told me that he didn't have anywhere to stay, so naturally I offered to let him stay at Silá's place where I was. When we got there, he looked at her clothes, and pictures of her, and it all had a subtle effect on him. Like maybe dusting the attic of his dreams.

As it was, we had to sleep in the same bed. Just before falling asleep he confessed that in all the two years he had been together with her they had never fucked.

I didn't say anything, and almost pretended that I didn't hear him. In any case, anything I might have said would have probably been the wrong thing. So I kept my mouth shut and fell asleep.

He left really early the next morning, in a choked kind of way he wished us the best of luck. I didn't get up to see him out the door, but I also wished him the best. Oh, hell. What a world!

Here this guys spends two years with this girl, he worships the ground she walks on. Treats her like a queen. Then she meets me while he's in the military, and in the matter of a couple of hours I'm in her bed and we're bonking away.

Maybe that was part of his problem. The fact that he held her in such high regard. Lots of women have told me they lose interest in a man if he's always putting her on a pedestal, always doing everything for her, giving her everything, and looking at her with awe-filled eyes as if she were some kind of goddess.

Is there an answer? Probably not, she almost certainly would have left him at some point anyway. That's the trouble with goddesses, they know they can get any man they like, and if they get bored with the old one - simple: get a new one, better looking and/or with more money.

It's not enough to be an artist, it's not enough to be a clean-minded honest person, it's not enough to have a good heart and sincerely care about people, it's not enough to believe in true love. It's just NOT ENOUGH! Because as long as they're looking for something better, they will never be satisfied with life as it is.

It's only when a person becomes mature enough to cash in their fairy-tale adolescent dreams of knights in shining armor with castles in the country, accepts reality for what it is, and learns to deal with life in a realistic way, that true love can ever hope to bloom.

It was summer and Silá had some holidays. Since I was just busking with the flute for a living, I was free to go anywhere I pleased anytime I wanted. She took me to her parents' place which is on a little curve on the side of the road in the middle of the heart of the back country.

We showed up in time for the evening meal. I didn't understand anything. Although I did finally master Swiss German in the end, I was just barely beginning to learn High German at that time and I was completely lost. Luckily her dad spoke French pretty well, but her Italian mother just sort of glared at me. She's got bigger brothers, the one built like every sturdy truckdriver should be, and the other more "city-fied" studying at the University.

She's also got two younger sisters. They are twin sisters, but something happened when the two were born. The second one is crippled and had brain damage at birth because the umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck and there was nobody in the room when the twins arrived. Silá told me almost nothing about her poor little sister before arriving at her folks' place, so I was kind of surprised to see what the scened was when I showed up. They have to feed her like a baby and even then she was sixteen years old.

After the meal, they showed me around the place. They run a beverage delivery trucking service around to the stores in the area, and also do telephone taxis. I guess they must do alright to be able to send all their kids to school and own all that land.

We talked about a lot of things, and finally they told me that I would sleep in Silá's room. I guess my face must have revealed what I was thinking because they immediately countered with "But SHE'S sleeping with her sisters!".

Well, I guess that figures. We all decided to go to bed after a while and Silá came into her room, where I was lying in her old bed, to say goodnight. I just thought she'd kiss me and that would be it. But suddenly she stuck her hand under the covers and started massaging my dick. I got hard right away, and as soon as it did, she began jerking me to beat the band. I said "What the hell are you doing?" And she said "Shhh, hurry up and cum. We haven't got much time." So I just lay there kissing her while she brought me off with her hand in the bed she'd slept in all her life. Wow! What more could you ask for? Totally unexpected. And then as soon as I'd shot my load all over her clean sheets, she left. Incredible!

The next day we had a walk in a part of the woods that the family owns, and sunbathed on the side of the hill which overlooks their house. When we came back down the hill, we saw that the three men were just finishing building a shed. They showed us what they'd done, and then sort of chided us for just laying around doing nothing on the side of the hill all day. Well, we were on vacation, weren't we?

A couple of days later, we went down to the family's vacation apartment in the Italian section of Switzerland. We had the place to ourselves, and the first thing we did when we got there was to have a communal bath to wash off the road dust. We got it on in the bathtub, and then continued into the living room. It was just then that we realized that all the windows were wide open and the neighbors were ourt on their balcony watching us screw. Ahem!

In the morning, I had to hit the street to try to make some money with the flute, and she went to the swimming pool. I was standing at this little crossroad at the walking street, so foot traffic was coming at me from all directions. It was the perfect spot to do a little pitch.

There was my case in the middle so that nobody could miss it, with my usual plant of seven francs in the hat (it's bad luck to play with an empty case - The punters look in and think to themselves: "Well, if nobody else gives this guy any money, why should I?" Also, the planted coins should be relatively large because the punter says to himself: "I guess I'll give what everybody else is giving". If he sees only pennies, then he'll throw in pennies too. But if he sees big coins in the box, he's much more likely to also give a big coin. Which is why you always "seed" your box! Tricks of the trade, my boy!), and no sooner had I played the first couple of notes then this copper rounds the corner.

I had no idea what the law was in Lugano, so I just kept on playing. Sometimes the cops will just walk right on past you if you stay cool and play good.

This one didn't. He came right up to me, and motioned for me to grab my box. I picked up my case, and sort of made gestures like I'd just stroll away "No harm done you know, I appreciate the warning, uh, don't worry, I won't do it again, etc" and tried to bow out gracefully.

But he pointed and wanted me to come with him. Damn! Just what I needed to ruin my day, spend two or three hours being interrogated and quite possibly fined and strip-searched on top of it. Well, I'd been through that scene too many times in my life, they ask you all sorts of stupid questions and leave you sitting in the tank for hours for no reason at all, and then to add insult to injury take a big chunk of your hard earned busker's wages for the crime of playing music in the fresh air. And my girlfriend was waiting for me at the beach.

He started walking on ahead, and I was walking along behind. I got an idea and started walking just a little slower, and then a little slower, and then once I figured he was far enough in front of me that I could outrun him, I took off in the opposite direction as fast as I could.

I didn't even look back, if he was going to shoot me I didn't want to know about it in advance. I was barefoot, and running down the cobblestones, I bruised the bottom of my heel.

Finally I arrived at the swimming pool, panting out of breath, fully expecting to see a uniformed policeman hot on my heels.

I didn't mind the fact that I'd had a little run in with the law, what I did mind is that I knew that I wouldn't be able to make any money while I was there. OK if I'd been busted on my third or fourth day there, but not on the first song of the first pitch of the first day! Bad luck.

In the evening we went out to the promenade, and I played the flute for her sitting on a park bench in the moonlit night next to the lake with the background silhouette of Lugano's Gibraltar-like mountain which juts out into the water. I didn't play any real song for her, just an impromptu modal improvisation which rippled over the surface of the lake in ever widening circles.

In the morning, we went up to the top of the mountain. Then we walked down, with a little picnic lunch she'd prepared. We stopped by the side of the road (she'd brought her guitar along), I had my flute of course, and we made beautiful music together.

Afterwards she said that thought it was a fantastic day, and the music made it perfect. I could see the love in her eyes. She was so beautiful.

We could only stay a few days because the rest of the family was coming down for the weekend, so we made our way back to Lausanne.

There were a lot of things we never talked about. She was kind of shy, and not very talkative. I think she kept things inside, and had trouble opening up and telling me about what really mattered to her.

The whole time I was with her, we never had a single argument. She never raised her voice, and she was always tender and considerate. Maybe she was too nice. Maybe if she could have let herself blow off some steam from time to time instead of keeping everything bottled up inside, things would have been healthier.

Often beautiful girsl are very egotistic, but she was very self-effacing and even humble, if that's the right word.

Through the Swiss Folk Club's secretary, Peggy, I managed to get the band invited to one of their regular meetings. Silá came along to Fribourg with us to see the scene. After the bla-bal and "business of the day" we all went upstairs for a little concert.

I figured that even though we were playing for free we might get a few contacts and gigs because of our goodwill. We played the usual songs and the Swiss folkies were appreciative in their typical calm respectful way. It's kind of difficult to explain what Swiss audiences are like. In many ways they are the most blasé people in the world, you sometimes wonder why they even go to concerts at all if they just sit there and do nothing the whole time except for politely clap after each song. In other countries they shake and boogie and groove and move. Let me tell you, if you can get a Swiss audience to let their hair down, you can be successful anywhere in the world.

After the wee session, we all went over to this youth hostel where they'd arranged for everyone to sleep. Well, nobody was tired yet, and the lot of us were sitting around in a circle on the floor smoking dope and jamming. At this point the other guys in the band were just "playing for pussy". After a while I decided it was time for me and my lady to climb into the sack and get it on. We left the rest of them to continue playing and partying.

We ended up in a single bed in this dormitory with about ten bunk beds in it. There were already some people snoring away when we got there - Party Poopers! But me and Silá's party was just beginning.

We were spooning, and at first she didn't want to maske love because there were other people in the room, but in the end the end was in. And we fucked and fucked and fucked and fucked. It went on and on and on. People started coming in one by one to crash out, but I was keeping the whole room awake with creaky springs and slurpy noises. And I just kept on humping and pumping. In fact I was realy getting off on the fact that everybody in the room was turned on (and getting frustrated) by our lovemaking. The air was charged with lust. Nobody said anything, but I could tell they were wishing we'd get it over with so they could get some sleep. When I did finally blow my wad, there was collective sigh of relief. "Endlich!" somebody said. Then they all started laughing. I fell asleep still inside of her.

The next morning the two of us took a shower together. She was really hot and couldn't wait to get me inside her again. While we were screwing under the cascading hot water, I was rubbing her clitty. I remember being surprised at what a big one she had. When she was horny her clitoris would practiacally swell up to the size of my thumb! A fat lot of good that did her though, because even with my vast experience and expert technique, I never managed to bring her off. She loved sex, but never came. I had been with other girls who had never experienced an orgasm, and generally it didn't bother me very much. In Silá's case, I was really frustrated by my inability to bring her to a climax. I don't really feel complete if the woman doesn't get hers too, you know. As they say "Ladies first". I had suggested masturbaton to her, but she wouldn't hear of it. I also tried to explain to her that an orgasm doesn't just "come", you have to try to make it happen. After that she did "try", but since she had never actually cum, she told me that she didn't really know WHAT it was that she was trying to do. A couple of times she said that she felt like something was going to happen, but then it would just go away. Maybe it had something to do with how youg she was.

One of the things about busking is that you can't just work the same town day after day after day. You're obliged to travel. Lausanne wasn't such a bad base because there are a bunch of little towns around where you can make some bread on the street. Also when I worked a town, I'd usually do a few bars in the evening too. I was up working in Neuchatel, and since it was summertime, the terraces were full. At the last terrace I did there was a really pretty girl who was sort of staring at me. I sat down to have a beer, but I didn't say anything. After all I was catching the last train to Lausanne, where the most beautiful girl in the world was waiting for me.

I finished that beer and went up to the Pickwick Pub. Most Pickwicks in Switzerland had a piano, so I figured this one might too. Unfortunately (from my financial point of view) this one didn't. I went upstairs and was looking over the railing at the dance floor watching a bunch of stiff people trying to dance to the music blaring out of the loudspeakers. It was pathetic, and suddenly a voice next to my ear echoed my thoughts.

She (in French) "It's crazy, isn't it. All those people trying to be 'free', and just look at them!" It was the same girl that had been at the table at the terrace. We started up a pointless conversation, both of us knowing where it was leading.

Her name was Cynthia (at first I thought she said "Silvia", which for some reason startled me), and she told me that she "just had to get to know me".

As it turned out, Silá had already arranged to go to a little party at her folks' place up in Zurich the next weekend, and there was a big summer festival down on the lake at Luasanne that very same weekend.

I made a date with Cynthia for Saturday afternoon, and that evening we were milling with the multitudes on the promenade at Lake Geneva in the balmy summer night.

There were loads of live bands, magicians, theater pieces, stands and places to eat. It was perfect. We were holding hands walking around, and it got so late that it was clear that she was going to be sleeping at my place (well, Silvia's place actually).

When we got to the apartment, it was immdeiately clear that a woman lived there. Cynthia picked up a photo of Silá that was lying on the table in the living room. Then she held up the picture and said "Is she your girlfriend? She's very pretty." I said "So are you." She asked where my girlfriend was, and I explained about the party at her folks' place.

We dropped the subject and got into bed. When Cynthia took off her clothes, I was stunned. She was really foxy. I thought to myself "No point in getting into trouble for just any old girl, but this one is definitely worth the risk!"

Cynthia had one of the wierdest feeling pussies I've ever come across. Like the opening was so tight that I could hardly get my hard-on in at first. It was like she was using her muscles to "lock the door". And when I did finally get "past the gates", it was like being on the inside of a balloon. I couldn't feel anything, mainly because I wasn't touching anything. Every so often while "poking around" I would touch one of the walls. It was wierd and frustrating. I guess she must've noticed the look on my face and asked me if something was the matter. Of course, I wasn't going to say "Uh, yeah, your cunt's too big." Anyway, for me it wasn't very nice, but it served me right I suppose. I brought her off (at least I hadn't lost my touch), then faked an orgasm and fell asleep.

In the morning, I decided it would be a good idea to have a real orgasm and tried to poke it in her while she was still sleeping. She had to go to the bathrrom though, and by the time she came back I had lost interest.

I got up and took a quick shower, deciding that I'd attack her again once I'd shook the cobwebs out of my head. When I came back, she was already dressed. I just had the bath towel around me, with an obvious bulge growing between my legs. It didn't take me long to get her knickers off, and soon I was eating her out trying to get her as hot as possible. Then I manoeuvered around to the 69 position so that she could suck me. I remembered what that vast chamber between her legs felt like from the night before and I was sure I would get more pleasure from a good licking. Well, she didn't want to take it in the mouth, even though I tried and tried, she just refused. Damn! That sort of pissed me off so I just stuck it up her snatch and came as quickly as possible.

Some days you eat the bear and some days the bear eats you. At this point it was getting later, and my girlfriend was due back in about an hour. I told Cynthia that it was time to leave, and walked her down to the train station.

When Silá got back everything was in order, I sort of asked her how her party was and she sort of asked me what I did over the weekend. I mentioned that I'd been up to Neuch and that I'd gone to the festival down at the lake, and then I told her that I'd screwed this chick.

She just looked at me for a second and then ran into the bathroom crying. I tried to console her saying "It didn't mean anything, in fact it made me love you even more."

I've never met a girl yet that would believe that line, even though it was true. She said that something had "broken". And before you know it I was back out on the road.

I went around the world by way of the east, and ended up in California. In between times she wrote me a couple of letters and said that she wanted to see me and be with me again.

Years later, I ran into an Irish guy, this old friend of mine by the name of Tony. He was the singer and bodhran player who used to be Red the banjo player's partner. Silá had met him through me and then had run into him again in Ireland while I was making my way around the globe.

Tony had some strange stories to tell. During our conversation, he said that Silá had said a few things to him about when I had brought that girl over to her apartment. Apparently, the worst for her was that she could smell the other girl's funk all over me, her bed and her apartment. Some people like that kind of smell, but I guess for her it was like adding insult to injury.

Tony also told me that Silá had asked him to marry her. Well, since I distinctly remembered as her to marry me, I was more than a little envious.

It would have been stupid to ask "What did you say?", because it was perfectly obvious that he wasn't married to her or anybody.

He told me how the both of them were sitting in a pub in Dublin, and "She looked up at me with those big brown eyes ...". I asked him how he could have possible told her "No". He said "She just wanted to live in Ireland, if I'm going to marry somebody it's for love not for papers." Right on, Tony.

So, I was back in California in 1980 and Silá still wanted to come to L.A. to see me, in spite of my having had a girl over to her place in Switzerland.

I couldn't believe it, but sure enough on fine summer day I met her at the airport. She looked fantastic. We had a lot to talk about, and she was so happy to see me.

At that time my folks were living at this nudist ranch. So we went out there to stay with them. I found that I couldn't even hold her hand without getting a hard-on. And everybody knows it's bad manners to walk around with an erection at a nudist camp.

After a few days, we took the car for a tour of the Great American Southwest.

First stop was Phoenix. We showed up at Trish and Brujo's at about midnight. We blew up a joint, and talked under the stars in the hundred degree dark. Later, Silá asked me how I'd got to know these people and I explained that Trish was my first fuck.

We had to sleep on the floor, and it was so hot we couldn't cover ourselves with more than a sheet. Our hot sweaty bodies sliding up against each other at two in the morning, after a dusty ten hour drive. We wallowed in each other, and so as not to make a mess, we started 69ing with me on top. I came and she lapped it up.

She said she wanted to go to at least one disco while she was in the States (she really liked discos). Well, I've never really been so keen on them, so what we decided to do instead was go to Mr Lucky's. This bar had two live bands: Upstairs - Rock, Downstairs - Country. Naturally, we went upstairs. Biffers and his Hawaiian girlfriend, Trish and Brujo, and me and Silá. The girls all wanted to dance, but Biff and me bowed out. Trish said "Oh, so that's how the girls dance in Europe!" Well, that's how that one danced, anyway.

I remember once a couple of years earlier, me and Biffers were sitting around looking at some old Playboy magazines, and he said "Wow, man! I've been looking at these magazines for years, and all the time the girls always looked so much older. Like so superior. Look at this bitch! She's only eighteen! Oh, man, wouldn't you give anything to have a Playboy bunny for a girlfriend?" Biff had a real thing for the whole legend of the Playboy bunny. His Hawaiian girlfriend worked at the Phoenix Playboy Club, so he'd finally got himself one. But my Swiss Miss put his chick to shame. Last laugh Biff old boy!

The trailer park where Trish and Brujo lived was full of bikers, and Silá said she'd always wanted to have a ride on a Harley.

That night was "Cruise Night". So, Spider and Teddy Bear with their sixguns on their hips roared off with the love of my life into the Phoenix night. And they were gone for waaay too long. Spider's old lady was getting pretty worried too! "I should've known better than to let my old man run off with that fucking bitch". Hey, watch what you say about my lady!

When they finally did show up, Spider was in for a screaming argument. Those biker chicks can sure cause some hell. I asked Silá what they could have possibly been doing all that time. She said they'd taken her up to the top of Camelback, to have a look at the city and smoked a little reefer while they were there.

She also said they had threatened not to bring her back. They probably did screw her somewhere up in the hills, she was so beautiful it would be hard for anyone (especially a biker) to resist such a tasty treat.

Anyway, the important thing was that she was back, and she was really relieved, too. The next day we drove up to the Grand Canyon, and I showed her around. We took a helicopter ride. They take you across the top of the forest, and then when you hit the rim, the guy cuts the motor and falls a few hundred feet. There were only three passengers, me and Silá and some other lady. This other lady almost lost her lunch when the pilot pulled his little stunt. I thought it was great and Silá got to sit in the middle so she could take pictures from both sides. Later I read that they stopped doing those flights becuase of collisions with planes.

After we left the majesty of the Grand Canyon, we stopped at a 7-Eleven on the Indian reservation to get some root beer, and when we'd bought the drinks and come back to the car there was this Indian kid hanging around the car with a wierd kind of smile on his face. I didn't think much about it at the time. But about a quarter of a mile down the road one of the tires went flat. Slit open with a knife.

We put on the little spare tire, drove back to the 7-Eleven and I had to pay the garage next-door 85 bucks to get a new tire. Attacked by wild Indians!

We got a hotel for the night (not on the reservation!), and we watched a rock concert on TV. While we were screwing, they started playing "Hand Jive", and I said "Hey, let's try to do it to the rhythm!" Bad idea! Far from being romantic or rhythmic, we ended up thrashing back and forth like two seasick whales in the midst of a hurricane.

The next day, as we were driving north through the four corners region (which looks a lot like Switzerland in parts), I asked her if she'd ever made love in the forest. She said she hadn't, and at the next likely looking little campsite, I pulled over, got out the blanket, laid her down and "got back to nature". It didn't take me very long at all to drop my load, and she seemed kind of disappointed that it had lasted such a short time, but it's dangerous fucking out-of-doors in broad daylight. You can get arrested!

We made it to Denver, and I took her to the commune where I used to live. We had a nice time, but in the meantime there was some jerk named Bob who fancied himself as the head of the place and went around telling everyone how to live their lives. The vibe was uptight and not the community I remembered.

We went to see some Indian cave dwellings, and then headed for Utah. I showed her all the fantastic places in that state that make it one of the most beautiful places on Earth.

And then it was time to hit Las Vegas. Just as we were getting into the glitziest city in the world, I noticed that the battery was low. We checked into the hotel, and asked the guy who took the car to put it on the charger overnight. He suggested that maybe the cables needed cleaning. He came up with a wire brush, and while scraping away, a bit of crap got in my eye.

We went striaght to the hotel room to wash out my eye. And as soon as I was sure it was rinsed out enough, I picked Silá up, sat her on a table, pulled up her dress, moved her panties to one side and stuck my raging hard-on inside, without even a howd'y do.

She was pretty surprised, but pleasantly surprised nonetheless. Boy, did this girl like to get laid! After we got undressed and made it to bed, I made up for all the quickies she'd been getting lately, and gave her a rollicking good humping. At the end, I put her on her hands and knees on the bed and had her suck me off, while I watched the whole show in the mirror. Oooh, it was great, watching the prettiest little lady in the world pulling me off in her mouth and swallowing my jism as it hit the back of her throat. An unforgettable memory.

Immediately afterwards she just had to call her family in Switzerland. She said "Hi! Can you guess where I am? Las Vegas!" I couldn't figure out what the big deal was, yeah, we're in Vegas, so what? But for her it was so incredibly special, she was absolutely ecstatic.

By then it was getting towards midnight, so we went out on the town. Since the car was being charged, we couldn't get down to the big shows on the strip. But we walked around the main casinos in Glitter Gulch, wasted a little money on the slots (I've never been a gambler), had a great Chinese meal and listened to a piano player.

The next morning we hit the long, hot road to L.A. Somewhere along the way we picked up a young British couple, and we were talking about Europe and all kinds of things. Then suddenly the air conditioning went off, then everything started going off, and finally the car stopped. The battery!

I flagged over some guy in a pickup truck to take the Brits down the hill, and gave them a number to call to get my folks to bring out a new battery to get down the hill. We were only about 20 miles from the Ranch.

Well, we waited and waited and I figured either those kids had lost the number, or there was nobody home. So, after a little siesta, I stuck out my thumb and caught a ride down to the Ranch. I knew somebody there would have a car and a battery I could borrow.

So I went around and pulled a battery out of one car, and another guy lent me his truck, and I was on my way back up the hill to save the day!

Just as I hit the front gates, there's my folks with the other car in tow and Silá with them. Everybody looking a little withered from the desert sun. Well, all's well that ends well.

Now back in the city of the Lost Angels, it was time to show my lady around the town.

We went out to the Santa Monica Pier (which doesn't exist anymore), to Hollywood, and of course Disneyland. At the Santa Monica Pier I took her for a beer at one of these little stands. She said, "Man, why do you always go to the cheapest, scuzziest places?" I guess it was just force of habit, being a busker and always hanging out with cheap scuzzy people. I just never felt very comfortable in these "classy" places. And with my ass-length hair and beard, the people who worked in those kinds of places never went out of their way to make me feel very comfortable either.

So, in the end we went up to this restaurant (later destroyed by the same monster storm that demolished the entire pier) that looked out over the water. In fact, it was really posh inside. She had one of those frivolous cocktails with umbrellas and swizzle sticks and cherries and lemon twists etc that women seem to like so much. As always I had my beer.

We had this little discussion about why I was so cheap. I reckon the most important factor in this psychological analyis, is the simple fact that I've been stone broke all my life. If you never have any money, it's not very easy to be extravagant. The Swiss have money coming out their ears, and they spend it like crazy. And a little Swiss girl whose daddy's always paid for the best of everything all her life finds it pretty difficult to understand that some people have to scrape and fight for every penny. At least she picked up the tab in that place.

In Hollywood in those days there was nothing at all to see or do. The only reason I took her to Grahman's was to prove that point. But she wanted to watch a movie in the Chinese Theater, so we bought our tickets and tried to kill two and a half hours walking around the streets.

Like I say, there was nothing to see and nothing to do. And there's only so many cups of coffee you can drink before wishing there was another coffee shop to go to.

There was this busker bashing out some rubbish on an out-of-tune guitar. And everybody was ignoring him. Then when we came back his way, he'd put away his guitar and came up to us and said "Hey, man I'll do your portrait for 5 bucks". I told him that I already knew what I looked like and didn't need my portrait done. Then he said "Look, I'll do it for three dollars". I said "No" again. He said "Two dollars" - "No" - "A buck and a half" - "No" - "Fifty cents! and that's my last offer", "Look, man I already said 'No' five times!" The busker turns around to me and says, "Man, it's people like you that make the world so fucked up!" And went away.

The worst of it was that I was a busker too, asnd that Silá had met me while busking. She didn't say anything, but if she felt sorry for him then she could've given him some money herself. Besides, if he drew as shitty as he played the guitar, it would've been like paying somebody to get insulted. Oh hell, I don't know.

She had only one week of vacation left, and I had started working this job. She'd hang out at the nudist ranch all day getting sun, and studying for some kind of exam she had coming up. And I'd come "home" at about four in the afternoon.

After I'd got my first paycheck, I wanted to do something really nice for her. She's a very good guitar player, and I wanted to buy her an electric guitar to take back to Switzerland. I told her that, and we drove down to this music store. Then in the parking lot, she told me that she didn't want me to buy her an electric guitar. I said "C'mon! Let's just have a look around". She got real stubborn and sour, and just would not go in. OK, fine.

At the airport, my last words to her were, "I love you". She answered "I do too". Pretty non-committal, eh?

In retrospect, I know that I actually got bored of her. Her inability to express herself, her shyness, the fact that she always expected other people to keep the conversation afloat otherwise she would just sit there and say nothing.

I made some pretty stupid mistakes, too. I had this idea that true love will never die, and I pushed her to the limits to see if her love for me really was true.

Maybe true love doesn't ever die, but you sure can kill it if you trample all over it.
copyright 2005 Jeff Brent

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