He demands quietly, “Undress for me.”
God help me, I do.
Impulsive ~
I asked Phillipe to come and watch me tonight.
When my mother had first mentioned I should go and stay with Uncle Beau, my first thought had been, Where would I get to play? I didn’t want to be anywhere I couldn’t play my music.
Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy losing myself when I’m on my own, but there’s simply no better feeling than playing at the front of a full-scale orchestra.
It’s hard to explain, but imagine you’re in a smooth body of water as you effortlessly swim along. You’re just rising up with each movement and then flowing back down. Now, add a stormy ocean, and as each loud and powerful wave hits you, it pushes you up, higher and higher toward the sky, before crashing you back down into the turbulent ocean.
You might be scared and terrified, but you love feeling the exhilaration and power of that ocean along with the sheer force and beauty of it.
Well, that’s how I like to think playing in front of a full orchestra feels, like one big powerful wave that crashes down over you.
I use to play as a guest performer with the local orchestra back home. I had told my mother that before I would even consider moving here, we would need to find one close by, and we did.
Tonight, Phillipe is coming to watch me.
Gemma surprises Phillipe when she silently walks to the drop cloth and removes her clothes.
After the way she pulled away from him, he was positive that she would have tucked tail and run. Instead, she is now sitting in pose, nude, with her back to him and the blindfold firmly in place. Probably cursing my name.
He doesn’t understand why every move forward they take feels as though it’s somehow enhanced by the memory of Chantel.
When he originally went into this bargain with Gemma, he did it with the expectation that she would understand Chantel better, and as their story unraveled, she would get to see a side of him he found so difficult to show. He did not count on the intense feeling of connection to Chantel through Gemma. Perhaps it is Gemma herself?
Maybe, if she didn’t seem so bewitched and curious about Chantel, he wouldn’t feel this way. Maybe if she just asked him questions in a perfunctory manner, he wouldn’t be feeling this aberrant entanglement of desire that he can’t seem to shake.
As he looks over to the woman seated on the floor, he remembers the way she came with such force. He can still feel the sweet tight squeeze of her pussy. He knows he isn’t the only one baffled by this strange connection that they seem to share.
“You’re very quiet,” he states, waiting patiently for her reply.
“I’m trying to decide what I want to ask you today.”
“Ahh, I see. I thought you might be sitting over there plotting out a way to leave my evil clutches.”
When she turns her head to face him over her shoulder, he glances at her over the top of the easel. Her eyes are covered, but he can almost guess that they are narrowed on him. Phillipe has to admit that he enjoys the slight annoyance he can sense in her posture. It’s almost a shame this isn’t a frontal pose.
“Who said anything about leaving?” she queried.
“No one. I see there’s no answer about my evil clutches though, hmm?”
She harrumphs softly, but he hears it as she turns back to face the wall.
“Did you enjoy our afternoon together, Gemma?” he finds himself asking her, seemingly out of nowhere. He strokes the paintbrush down the canvas, creating the curve of both her back and hip, making them appear seamless.
“I think you know I did,” she whispers so faintly that he almost doesn’t catch it.
“Then, why are you acting so ashamed?”
He dips the brush into the color before bringing it back to the material. He isn’t here to create a masterpiece. He is using this time to show Gemma how Chantel felt as she sat there in pose.
“I’m not ashamed, and I’m not here to answer your questions. You’re here to answer mine.”
Phillipe finds himself holding back a smile at her pretentiousness. “Well, maybe you should ask me some.”
He turns and puts the paintbrush down on the table beside him, watching as she shifts slightly in her position. Is she uncomfortable or aroused?
Either way, he takes selfish delight in telling her, “Try not to move, please.”
She blows out a deep breath. “When did you ask Chantel to move into the chateau with you?”
Phillipe was waiting for a question, but somehow, he didn’t expect it to be that one.
“Why would you just assume I asked her? Unless, you already know better.”
Silence, thick and tense, stretches out between them.
“Well, with the way you talk about her and the way she writes about you, it automatically makes me think you asked her.”
Phillipe steps around the easel. He walks over to the perceptive Gemma and crouches down behind her. He must have been quieter than he thought because she flinches when the back of his finger traces down her naked spine.
Without moving so much as an inch, he confesses, “I didn’t ask. I begged.” He stands, walks over to the journal, and taps the cover. “But this, you already knew.”
Tonight, when I arrived at the Grand Théâtre de Bordeaux, my uncle led me down to the dressing rooms, and I was greeted by the music conductor who would be up front tonight.
I was nervous about playing this evening. It was not because there would be an audience but because he was going to be there. Tonight, Phillipe was going to watch me play with the local orchestra, and I wanted it to be perfect for him.
I was led to the stage door to start the warm up.
One of the other violinists I was going to be playing alongside for the opening piece told me, “I’m so excited to play with you tonight. I think you’re amazing. To be able to play in such a way and be completely...” She paused as I smiled in her direction. She too was American.
“Blind? It’s okay. You can say it.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not very polite for me to point out something so obvious. I’m sure you get sick of it. When they told us who was going to be playing here tonight, I was thrilled. I know all about you. You inspired me to play.” The girl giggled. “Sorry. I went a little crazy there, didn’t I? I’m Jessica. I’ll be playing second chair violin.”
I liked Jessica immediately. She showed me to my seat, and I began warming up.
Running through the usual warm-up exercises, I felt the music as it flowed through my fingers and vibrated through my ear. It made its way into my heart, and as silly as it sounds, it touched me deep down into my soul.
Thirty minutes later, the orchestra was introduced, and I heard my name along with Jessica’s and two others mentioned. We each stood, and applause filled the room as we made our way—me with the assistance of Jessica—to the center of the stage.
The audience hushed and waited in complete silence.
I felt the warmth of the spotlight as it moved to focus on the four of us. This evening, we were going to be playing Pachelbel’s Canon in D. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and lifted Diva to my shoulder.