Celia and Sibelius

Celia was getting old for her vocation. She was a "gentleman's escort." A whore. Most of the men wanted to fuck young chicks and she only got the leftover jobs.

One had rejected her services and had cancelled the credit card payment. That had hurt her a lot, she had known her days as an escort were numbered but when the number came up she was not ready for it.

She cut back on her spending and prepared to survive as a waitress. Her house and everything in it was paid for, as was her Corolla. A client had gifted her with a large flat screen TV for taking on six of his friends making him look like a hero. She was very glad to pose as his wife for the evening. She liked to fuck.

Ten years had passed since then. During those ten years she saw the lines in her face lengthen and multiply, she saw her tits sag. She noticed that she now preferred lots of kisses and long fucks rather than wild jungle fucks. She now preferred salads rather than pork ribs. She was forty-four. She was no longer a chick.

Her agency seldom called.

She did not mind serving tables. She liked the people she served in her little neighborhood restaurant. Celia had waited on tables there since high school. She would now never consider leaving the place.

For years Celia had told herself and any one that would listen that she would leave the job in a second if she could. For fifteen years she could have but she didn't. She was now glad she had not. She was now a shift supervisor and emergency chef. She loved gong to work.

Almost five months after her last escort job she got a call from her agency. "This old geezer wants company to the symphony, no sex. Want it?"

"Yes" she said.

She had never accepted a no-sex job until her wake up call five years before. It paid a third of the usual. Two no sex customers wanted her to fuck them but they were just trying to beat the system. She declined and turned them in to the agency.

She was surprised herself when she did not feel like fucking them. What she wanted was to go home, have some wine and listen to her music.

One no sex customer did a fine job of seducing her, treating her like the love of his life. He made her feel special. He made love to her all night. He left her in the hotel room to sleep late and gave her a kiss, a thank you note, and a hundred dollars before he left. That was the event in her mind when she masturbated now. That had been two years before.

She was very glad about the symphony job, she had never been there and she enjoyed classical music.

She asked a retired friend that was an occasional usher at symphony hall about proper dress and she said, "Gentlemen wear suits or sport coats and ladies wear simple black dresses, no sequins, beads, feathers or dead animal prints."

Celia shook her head. Her friend had just described her wardrobe.

She went home and spent the night removing beads off a dress. She left three rows of beads around the collar then had the dress dry-cleaned. Unfortunately that was the money to color her hair so she decided to go with her natural dark brown hair. It had been months since she had dyed her hair and it seemed natural by then. She had once tried to pull out the gray ones but it got painful, there were too many. Her friends told her they loved her hair.

She decided to go with minimal make-up; it was just some old geezer anyway. But she knew she no longer wanted to attract attention to herself. She no longer wanted to be a painted lady.

She was to meet her date in his room at a hotel downtown. He answered his door and in a deep somewhat gravelly voice and said, "I am ready. Lets go."

He was simply the sexiest man she had ever met. He was tall, had salt end pepper hair, and deep black eyes. He was not particularly old, perhaps early fifties.

She began to regret the no sex part of the assignment.

They walked the two blocks to the symphony hall and she was grateful she was not wearing her "come fuck me" shoes.

His pace was casual slow and so was his conversation.

He praised her dress and her hair. He seemed to be telling her the truth and not giving her a bunch of B.S.

She said, "Thanks."

As they waited for a light to turn he asked her what her real job was. Without thinking she told the truth. He did not seem surprised or disgusted. In fact when the light turned he took her hand in his as they crossed the intersection.

Celia looked around and saw a lot of couples that looked just like they did as they were entering the symphony hall. She relaxed. She also saw a couple of the younger girls from her agency. It crossed her mind that was what she used to look like, out of place.

They sat in the middle of the middle and she looked at the program, then groaned.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, sorry nothing. I'm fine."

She was not fine. The first number was Tchaikovsky's Romeo and Juliet Overture. It always sent chills up her spine. Then a Chopin Piano Concerto that she loved. After the intermission the program read Sibelius Symphony number two. The fourth movement of that had always overwhelmed her and she almost always burst into tears.

She knew her date was going to walk away from her. She mentally shrugged. She decided she was going to enjoy herself. This was going to be a night she would always remember.

"Do you know any of these pieces," he asked her.

"Yes, all of them. They are in my iPod."

He gave her a smile like someone that had just discovered something wonderful.

"So Celia, where is this restaurant of yours?"

She was taken aback; she had not realized she had given him her real name. After a moment of hesitation she again told the truth. She went on to brag that they had the best Puerto Rican food in the city.

He grinned at her as if he liked her, she thought.

Her thought process was halted when the maestro stepped to the podium. She applauded with energy.


Romeo and Juliet begins slowly like a theme from a movie that everyone knows but doesn't remember. Then the conflict begins and the strings go nuclear. He saw her body stiffen and her eyes go wide open. She was absorbing every note into her body. She was barely breathing.

He was jealous. He had felt that way about the music once but he had lost it somewhere along the line. He watched her relax and breathe when the conflict ended and the romance resumed. He saw a tear fall from her eye as she blinked.

As the music led them to the second conflict he took her hand in his. He was not sure she noticed. As the musical conflict escalated she gripped his hand with amazing strength but her body was less involved. He could not decide if it was his hand or the fact that it was the second such passage.

She noticed her hand was in his and relaxed her grip. She looked at him and silently said thank you. He did not release her hand.

During the third conflict and death scene she managed to stay within herself and was on her feet leading the ovation for the orchestra. She felt so happy that she kissed him.

"Oh, sorry," she said.

"Anytime, please."

She looked to see if he was just being polite. She mentally said, "fuck it," and kissed him again.

When they sat. She looked at the name of the piano soloist and she asked him if he knew who he was.

He said he was the latest young sensation. It would be his first time to hear him play.

From the start it looked like there was something wrong. He was late coming into the piece and struggled with the first movement. Less than a quarter of the way through it when he was at everyone's favorite part he stood and left the stage.

The people that were seated where they could see the side curtain gasped.

He had apparently collapsed.

Several minutes later the maestro said something to someone at that side of the stage and an older woman was rushed to the concert piano. The maestro began the piece again and the woman played masterfully.

Everyone broke protocol and gave her an ovation after the first movement. Again they were led by Celia who also led the ovation at the conclusion of the concerto and again as the maestro introduced Maria Beltran, piano teacher at the Prestigious University's Conservatory.

Maria lived in Celia's neighborhood. She dined in the restaurant often. Celia had served her often. They were friends.

She gave Maria a shy wave although she though Maria would never see it. She did and Maria bowed to Celia with a smile.

As they left for intermission he asked her, "Friend of yours?"

"She was my piano teacher once. Now I see her at the restaurant. She is bold and sassy lady. I adore her even though she is a lousy tipper."

He laughed at her comment and Celia soon found herself with an apple martini in her hands as he drank a seven and seven. They wandered around for a while then held hands as they returned to their seats. Many smiled at them.

They were not the smiles she had seen before; the ones that made her feel dirty. She was getting genuine smiles.

One woman told her she loved her dress and appeared to be sincere. She managed to say thanks.

They settled in and the maestro returned. Sibelius number two began.The first three movements were too early twentieth century for Celia. There were beautiful passages along the way but just hints at the power of the fourth movement.

She squirmed as the third movement segued into the fourth.He held her hand. The melody was getting to her. It was the theme that would be repeated at the conclusion. Then the monster musical tidal wave began, quietly with a touch of mystery.

As the wave grew in intensity she wrapped her arms around one of his. Tears began to flow.

She tried to hide from the music. She was sobbing.

When it ended she was drained. She could not stand and join in the ovation.

She looked up at him and saw tears in his eyes. She stood with him and looked around. She had not been the only casualty of the tidal wave. She joined the ovation for the orchestra.

Several people around her patted her shoulder as they made their way out. A tall redheaded woman with tears on her cheeks kissed her. Celia laughed and hugged her. That redhead had magnificent tits.

When they exited the symphony hall she was still shaking a little. He had an arm around her waist as they walked in the direction opposite his hotel.

Instead of going back he led her to a club restaurant a block away. They had appetizers and a drink, which Celia sorely needed. They danced to a couple of songs. They kissed as they went out.

They took a cab to his hotel and he told the cabby to take her home. She loved his goodbye kiss. She wondered if he was gay, or married. He had made no effort to seduce her. Perhaps he simply remembered how they came to be together.

She decided to just remember it as a magical night.

The cab dropped her off next to her car four blocks away and she drove home. In bed that night she masturbated just once before going to sleep.

The next morning she called the escort agency and told them she was now out of the business. She did not see how another job would be better than the one last night.

At work the next Monday she was the only one that had ever been to a symphony and was the only one she knew that was aware of Maria's star turn.

When Maria came in Celia was about to give Maria an ovation of one until she saw the look of desperation on her face. She clapped but changed directions and announced that her best tipper was there at last.

Everyone laughed as Maria gave her the finger and sat at her usual table. As soon as everyone's attention was elsewhere Celia gave Maria a kiss on the cheek.

"You were magnificent," she said.

Maria whispered, "Thanks. But I do not want people to treat me like a diva."

"But you are a diva," Celia said with a smile.

Maria gave her the finger again then squeezed Celia's hand.

On her return to Maria with her breakfast she asked what had happened to the soloist.

"Before the concert was over he was in surgery having his appendix removed. He is a good kid, I hope he recovers fast."

"Is he still in the hospital?"

"Yes, his appendix had ruptured."

"Give me the name of the hospital. I want to send him flowers."

Maria did and asked Celia to send flowers in her name too.

Maria's tips got better. Celia thought about making a big deal of it but settled by giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

It was two weeks before she heard the Sibelius again. It did not compare to the power of hearing it live. Neither did the Tchaikovsky or the Chopin. She decided that the City Symphony was a lot better orchestra than the ones that made the recordings.

She began to attend some Thursday or Sunday concerts. The cheapest tickets were in the front two rows which had limited view, she could not see past the strings, but had the bonus of being able to become a nodding acquaintance to some string players.

She slowly upgraded her wardrobe and allowed her hair to grow long. She never noticed but she now looked a lot better than she had eight years before. Of course many told her so.

Maria saw her at the symphony hall and began to leave tickets for her instead of a tip. Celia's kisses migrated from cheek to lips.

Maria said, "Now there will be people whispering about us."

"Oh sorry," Celia said and gave her a torrid kiss with a strong embrace.

"Is that better?"

Maria swatted her butt and left but she had a big grin on her face.

Three months after her first concert Maria left her a ticket for a Saturday night. As she approached her seat she saw it was in the middle in the middle, the expensive seats, the same seat she had been with the gentleman.

The very fine looking redhead that had kissed her before kissed her again in greeting and her husband smiled at her. They liked her. Then they greeted someone behind her.

She turned around and there he was, the man that had introduced her to live symphonies.

He gave her a soft kiss and said, "I brought two handkerchiefs."

She kissed him back and said, "We will not need them tonight."

"Speak for yourself. Schubert's Eighth always gets to me."

"So, how have you been?"

"Lousy, I called the agency and learned you had quit. They would not give me your number. I have been to every Hispanic restaurant in town and nobody knew you."

"The restaurant is not Hispanic, it is a seafood restaurant. I just mentioned it had terrific Puerto Rican food."

"Now I am chagrined too. Anyway, each time I came here I also looked for Maria. Apparently she is only here to help tune the piano when there is a guest pianist."

"I know, we were here Thursday of last week. She plays passages of that night's piece on the piano before the soloist arrives. The tuner adjusts it if she says to do so.

I drove us here that night and I got to meet some of the orchestra including the maestro. She introduced me as a former student.

I added I was also her present day waitress, that she had done her best but it didn't take.

I stood by her as she checked out the piano but I tell you in front of at all those seats the stage is a really spooky place to be." 


He chuckled at her experience and said, "I asked Ms. Beltran about you but she would not tell me anything. I don't think she likes me very much. She thinks I would hurt you. 
I never would. But at least she did agree to give you the ticket for tonight."

"Best tip I have ever had." She said as she took his hand and led their way to their seats.

They chatted before the concert began and Celia told him about Maria's refusal to talk about that night.

"She may be worried that her friends treatment of her would change," he said.

Celia nodded in agreement.

They enjoyed the concert. He held it together for the Schubert but both almost lost it at The Gates of Kiev.

They returned to the club restaurant, had appetizers and a drink, danced to a couple of songs then walked to the underground garage.

"You rented a car?"

"No. This is my car. I live on the coast down the expressway. I was at the hotel because I had a fire at my house.

The insurance company said they would pay my living expenses but would not pay to replace my second computer so I lived in the most expensive hotel in town for three and a half weeks. Getting me a computer and living at Super Eight would have been a lot cheaper for them."

"My car is behind of the Newspaper building" Celia told him.

He drove her to it and asked, "What part of town do you live in?"

"South on the expressway until you get to the beltway, get off after it, and then left for two blocks and right for four blocks then right again for one."

She wondered why she had given him specific direction to her house.

He smiled. "You live thirty minutes from me."

Both laughed, kissed, and then drove off.

She was happy to see he was following her. She made sure he would not lose her.

He stopped behind her when she got to her house.

"I thank you for your company. I would like to see you again," he said to her.

They kissed.

He was definitely not gay she learned.

They kissed again and she backed way."What is your name?"

"Vincent. I had worried I had not told you."

"What do you do for a living?"

"I'm the Principal at Craig Biggio Intermediate School in my small town."

They looked at each other for a few moments then she said,"Well Vincent, would you like to come in? I have some Tito Puente we can dance to."