The Maestro Ch. 06

Ahh, and he was kissing her again, bumping his hips up against hers gently. She ran her hands around to his back, stroking it, then running them down to cup his tight buttocks as they pistoned into her. He grabbed her wrists, holding them up above her head firmly. For an instant, she pulled against him, and then the inevitable calm settled over her. The light buzzing in her head amplified everything else she was feeling, and he was soon nudging her over the edge again. She came breathlessly, whimpering into his mouth. Then she felt his come, hotter than she expected, pumping into her.

She opened her eyes again, and found herself staring right into another pair of eyes, crinkled around the corners in an obviously affectionate smile. Her heart turned over.

"We should clean you up, mon abeille," he was saying, so softly, as he knelt again, running his tongue up her inner thigh.

-----

"So... your birthday is around the corner, is it not?" Claire was sitting up, cross-legged in Sebastien's bed, brushing her hair. She was completely naked but for the sheet that she had drawn up over her breasts. Sebastien lounged next to her in his silk pajama pants, watching her.

"It is. I didn't think you knew when it was."

"You are always underestimating me," he said, with a hint of amusement.

"Well, I don't know when yours is," she replied.

"It's in September, and I am not looking forward to the day you find out how much older I am than you are."

"I'm pretty sure I already know," she said with a little laugh. "Besides, I bet I'm older than you think I am. Why do you bring it up?" She set the brush down and began twisting her hair into a thick braid.

"Well. As you know, I am going to be taking a brief holiday to France, and I wanted to give you a little something before I left."

Sebastien took a leather case from his bedside table, and offered it to her. Opening it, she saw two leather cuffs in a pretty ruby-red color, about an inch wide, each with a small D-ring on either side. "Oh!" she said in surprise, blushing a little.

"I hope that when we are apart, they will remind you of me. And when we are together, well, I think there will be a more... practical application or two."

"Thank you, Maestro. The color is beautiful," she said, already buckling one on and admiring the way it looked against her slender wrist.

"I do have one other little gift to give you. Would you like it now?"

"Maestro, you shouldn't have gotten me anything," she murmured.

He only smiled, sliding open his table drawer and withdrawing a slip of paper. He tossed it onto her lap carelessly. She picked it up, and read the words printed on it. At first, it seemed her brain couldn't quite make sense of what it was, and suddenly it clicked. It was a plane ticket. To Paris. Her mouth fell open, and she looked at Sebastien, who was watching her carefully.

Before she could formulate the right words to say, he was laying a hand on her bare shoulder. "I know it probably comes as quite a surprise to you, but I had hoped it would not be too forward." Claire glanced at him; was he actually feeling nervous about this? She still didn't know what to say. She leaned over, brushed her lips against his. She sat back, saw he was still looking at her expectantly.

She looked down at the ticket in her hand again, read it. Then she threw her arms around his neck, feeling it really sink it. "Ohhhh my gosh, I'm going to Paris!"

-----

July was a positive whirlwind for Claire. The month started off with the symphony's performances of Carmina Burana, which were absolutely amazing. It was a beautiful and humbling experience to be singing a solo soprano role with a choir of over one hundred singers of all ages behind her. She hadn't been overly thrilled with the way that some of the younger girls fawned over Sebastien when they had the chance, but mostly because she sometimes wished that she could be the one touching his arm, smiling up at him so charmingly.

Almost as soon as the mini-series had ended, Claire and Sebastien had left for Paris. It was actually Claire's first time in Europe at all, and it was perhaps the most glorious three weeks of her entire life. They took long strolls through the busy city streets, ate pastries from patisseries almost daily, took the most delicious cheap bottles of wine and loaves of bread to parks for lunch. They spent a weekend in London, and another in Amsterdam. They dined everywhere from casual bistros to Michelin-starred restaurants. He took her to see the normal tourist sites, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, kissing her in its shadow, but also his favorite nooks and neighborhoods.

Maybe the best part was finally finding out why Sebastien had been returning to Paris so often over the last six months. It's true that he had been back regularly during his entire time in the United States, but he had been away more often, and more secretively. When they had landed in Paris, he had driven her to an unassuming building with sweet wrought-iron balconies on a pretty street.

They'd gone up to the fifth floor, the top floor of the building, and Claire had become more curious with each passing moment. Surely this was no hotel.

"Where are we, Maestro?"

He smiled as they turned the corner at the end of the hall, walked all the way down to the door at the end - so like his apartment building, she thought.

"You wanted to know why I was spending so much time in Paris, did you not?"

"I did, but-"

"This is why," he said, pulling out a key with a little flourish, and unlocking the door. The room he ushered her into was small, and opened up into a little kitchen done in a sunny yellow tone. Beyond that was a sunken living room, where an upright piano rested against the wall. Venturing further into the apartment, she saw that there were two additional rooms around a little corner, and a bathroom between them. The front bedroom had its own balcony, with a short spiral staircase that led, where? To the roof, it looked like. The whole apartment was furnished in dark woods and muted earth tones, similar to Sebastien's apartment back home, but softer.

When their luggage was safely stowed away in the bedroom, Claire wandered to the windows that faced the street and looked out, amazed at how different this city was from home. Sebastien stood beside her.

"Well, what do you think?"

"It's lovely, Maestro, but I still don't understand."

"For years, when I returned to Paris for a visit, I took a room in a hotel, or stayed with my relatives. Once I realized that I would want to take you with me someday, I decided that I should get a more permanent place. Not," he said, going on before she could respond, "to keep you away from my family, as you are no doubt already suspecting, but because, well, you may already have noticed quarters are a bit tighter here. I thought we could use the privacy."

The low tone of his voice sent a shiver up her spine. "Do you understand now, mon abeille?"

"You were here looking for an apartment... for me?"

"For us. It took me a while to find one that needed as many renovations as this one did, so I could soundproof it."

He looked at her, and that was all it took. She felt herself grow wet. It was crazy, she told herself, how much she wanted him. All the time, her body craved his touch. It seemed more and more, her heart was as touched as the rest of her. A thought occurred to her.

"Am I going to meet your family?"

He hesitated. "I thought I would leave it up to you. I know that my sister is anxious to meet you, now that she has proof that you exist."

"Oh, did you tell her we were, um, seeing each other?"

"I could hardly avoid it, wouldn't you agree?" he said with a wry smile.

Claire managed a small smile, but her voice was serious. "So... what did you tell her about us? I suppose you couldn't introduce me as your plaything?" she asked, attempting to make a joke.

Sebastien nodded slowly. "I actually told her nothing more, preferring that I discuss it with you first. She does not not know who you are, or even your name."

"I see. Well, I would like to meet her, but I think we should figure out what you're going to say first."

"I agree. Girlfriend seems juvenile, but lover, though true, makes it sound like what it is, which is perhaps not the image we want to give."

It was Claire's turn to nod, thinking it over. "I don't think we should say just, friend, that would make it too obvious we were sleeping together and not dating, wouldn't it?"

"We are not dating?"

"I... I don't know. We've been to dinner together, but it's not really like you're, you know, courting me."

"Hmmm," he said, "perhaps I am not trying hard enough, in that case." Claire blushed, and looked away.

-----

Claire smoothed down her sundress for the fiftieth time, then ran her fingers over her hair nervously. Sebastien glanced at her, then ran his fingers down her shoulders to her wrists. He slowly pulled them behind her back, holding them firmly in place. Her head whipped around, wide-eyed.

"Stop," she whispered. "He'll see!" She tipped her head toward the driver of their car.

"Then be quiet," he said mildly. Claire flushed, and Sebastien jerked back a little, making her shoulders ache a bit. Almost immediately, she felt calmer. Sometimes, she hated that he knew how much it calmed her to be restrained. Still, it did work.

"Let me go!" she hissed.

"Will you be calm? You were beginning to make me nervous."

"You, nervous? I'll believe it when I see it," she muttered. He tsked at her, but let her go. They were traveling across the city, to a row of townhouses, one of which belonged to Sebastien's sister, Sarah, and her family. It turned out that she was his older sister by three years, that she had been married for eight years (and after him to marry for almost as long) and had two children, one an infant. They were going for an afternoon visit. Claire thought she could handle anything for a few hours, and a visit with Sebastien's family should be a snap.

When they got out of the car, Claire smoothed her sundress once more. It was a soft yellow, and she was wearing matching sandals and a flower in her curling hair. Sebastien was in his usual casual chic, a light grey suit with pale pink shirt, open at the neck. Before they had even passed through the front gate, Sarah had breezed out of the front door, shutting it conscientiously behind her.

Addressing Sebastien with a sigh, she said - in English, Claire was pleased to note, probably for her benefit - "Mon chou, ah, Maman is here."

"Is that so?" He looked calm, but Claire could see an almost indefinable sense of tension rise in him.

"Ye-es, but not just Maman." She looked apologetically at him. "Also Papa, Raoul, Gerard, Justine..." She trailed off, as Sebastien raised his eyebrows at her. "And their families. Oh I'm so sorry, mon chou, I didn't expect them all."

Sebastien definitely looked irritated. "How did they even find out I was coming here today?"

"Welllll, I mentioned it to Justine, but I thought that she would be discreet. Evidently, no. Please forgive me."

He sighed heavily, turned to Claire. "Well, adorée, what do you think?" Hmm, adorée, a new pet name? She assumed it meant just what it sounded like, but wondered why he was using it. Perhaps he wanted to keep his usual term of endearment private? How sweet.

"I don't know," she ventured, hands going nervously to her hair again.

"You look lovely," he said reassuringly. "I will make it up to you, I promise."

She bit her lip. "Well, we're already here. Aren't you going to introduce me?" she asked with a little smile.

Sebastien relaxed minutely. "Ah, of course. Claire, this is my sister, Sarah. Sarah, my companion, Claire," he said, using the term they had finally agreed upon.

Sarah extended her arms, and the two women came in for a brief hug. "I am very pleased to meet you at last. Sebastien has kept your existence a secret for far too long, I think."

Claire murmured her agreement, and the three headed inside. She was positively bombarded by people as she was led into the parlor by Sarah. She felt Sebastien take her hand and squeeze it firmly. A parade of people were introduced to her, and she knew she could never remember their names. All she knew for sure was that Annette and Théodore were Sebastien's parents, Raoul and Gerard his older brothers, and Justine his younger sister. Justine was not yet married, but the brothers were, and both, like Sarah, had two young children apiece.

Altogether, this meant that there were seventeen people - and two dogs - crammed into the parlor, overflowing into the kitchen. Justine made room for both of them on a sofa, rising and handing "baby Zoé" to a very surprised Claire. She glanced sidewise at Sebastien, wondering if she could possibly communicate her disbelief in a look subtle enough for the others to miss. He gave her a carefully expressionless look in return.

The shock wasn't just that there were so many of them, but that they were so... different from what she had imagined. Sebastien was so elegant and restrained, and Sarah had also seemed very sophisticated on the occasions Claire had seen her. Yet, in this small house, there was so much warmth, such closeness. She had expected his family to be quieter, reserved, maybe even cold. She had seen Sebastien relax somewhat and be sweet and affectionate when it was just the two of them, but what kind of person would he be around his family, and could he be that same person with her there?

Sarah came over, holding her little one, Valérie, who looked to be about a year old. "Here, say hello to your nièce, mon chou," and dropped her into Sebastien's lap. He blinked at the child, who immediately babbled at him unintelligibly. He smiled broadly, striking up a conversation with her, even tickling her, much to Claire's amazement. It was completely surreal.

At last, Sarah had settled herself down on a chair opposite them, and directed her question to Claire. "So, tell us about yourself. What do you do?"

Claire glanced at Sebastien, suddenly nervous again. He answered for her. "Ahh, Claire is the soprano soloist at the symphony," he said. The room grew much quieter suddenly. Sarah looked surprised.

"Really, is this true? But mon chou, I thought you always said you would never date anyone with the symphony."

"I have said so, but-" He cut off, glancing at Claire, who was doing her best not to look uncomfortable. "Mon adorée is someone very special. But, I do not need to tell you. You have come to our performances this last year. Would you not agree?"

"Ah! I did not, ah, recognize you, I am afraid. I apologize." Claire smiled demurely, not knowing what to say. "I agree, you have a magnificent talent."

"Thank you very much."

The afternoon passed much more quickly than Claire had expected, with small talk aplenty, and Sebastien's skillful maneuvering around such questions as whether they were getting serious enough to be talking about marriage and children. She had kept her own thoughts assiduously away from such topics since she and Sebastien had begun their relationship, and she was not about to compromise what they did have. They weren't even in love!

-----

The night before they were scheduled to leave Paris, Claire was lounging in Sebastien's antique claw foot tub, covered in mounds of lavender-scented bubbles.

"Mon abeille," he said, peering in from around the doorjamb, "it is almost suppertime. I thought we might stay in tonight. Could you come upstairs when you are dressed?"

Claire combed her hair back, pulling it back tightly against her head. She dressed in a sexy little slip of a dress that Sebastien had bought her in Paris - against her protestations, and along with a passel of really gorgeous lingerie - green, filmy, clinging. She went out onto the balcony off the bedroom, admiring the balmy atmosphere, the lights coming on as the sun went down. She had not yet been up on the roof in the entire three weeks they had been there, Sebastien always gently discouraging it.

When she got to the roof, she was astonished to see that there was a garden on the rooftop, with all sorts of flowering plants and vegetables, plus a bushy herb garden in one corner. Thousands of tiny lights had been strung up everywhere, casting a golden glow over the roof. To one side, a table had been set up with a bottle of wine and their dinner.

Sebastien was lounging up against the railing on the edge of the roof, watching the city lights. She walked over to him, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"It is just beautiful up here," she sighed.

"Not as lovely as you," he said seriously, brushing a stray strand of hair off her forehead. "But you see why I chose this apartment. When I saw this, I knew it was perfect. Come, shall we eat?"

That night, conversation revolved mostly around Sebastien's family, and everything they had done on their trip. Recalling running into other tourists, getting lost in Amsterdam, missing a train. At length, there was a lull in the conversation, and Claire sighed contentedly. A chill was beginning to creep into the air.

"Are you happy, mon abeille?"

"How could I not be? Here, in Paris, with you. I don't think I have ever been happier."

"It is hard for me to believe that I almost did not hire you," he mused, half to himself.

"I - wait, what?" she asked, her reverie broken.

Sebastien chuckled softly. "Well, you certainly had the most lovely voice out of all those who auditioned, but most had much more experience than you did. I did take a bit of a chance on you, that you could handle the material I would choose, and the performance schedule, the audience."

She wanted to be offended, but she did see his point. "I'm glad you hired me, too. There weren't any other positions I wanted. I had already fallen in love with the city, and-" And you, she had been about to say. But it was more like lust at first sight, no, fascination. That was it.

"And?" he prompted.

"Mmm, nothing."

"Shall we go to bed, mon abeille?"

She followed him downstairs, sighing as he undressed her. He laid her down on the bed, running his fingertips all over her, waking up her nerve endings and making her shiver. He nibbled on her nipples as they hardened. His fingers worked their way between her legs, where he found that she was already wet for him. He slid two fingers into her, alternating between penetrating her unhurriedly, and swirling them around her most sensitive spots.

Claire arched her back, moaning softly as his fingers and tongue worked her up to insanity. She felt the pleasure mounting, loved the way he knew how to make her come so fast. His mouth was on her neck now, biting the skin gently and nipping at her earlobe. She cried out as she came, feeling his fingers inside her. He withdrew his fingers, running them in featherlight circles around her clit, making her writhe.

"I could make you come all night long," he said in a low voice.

Now she felt his fingers invading her again, but the touches on her clit were firmer, more insistent. She had been coming down from her high, and was vaulted up again, until her hips were jerking against him and she was moaning out again. The fingers sliding over her clit were now pressing in so firmly that she rode the line between pain and pleasure.

The sensations stopped, and she opened her eyes to see Sebastien undressing. He knelt on the bed again, taking his cock in his own hand, smearing her juices all over himself. Her eyelids fluttered lazily as she watched him. She was aching to feel him inside her.

"Maestro," she murmured.

"Yes, adorée?"

"Please, would you?"

"Would I what?"

She blushed a little. She still hated to say it. "Fuck me, Maestro."

"Ah, you want to be fucked, mon abeille?" he asked, moving closer to her and dragging the tip of his cock up her inner thigh.