A Trip Back Home Pt. 01

I made arrangements online to meet with an ear training tutor the next Monday. We were to meet on Wednesday at Rheingold. I could hear violin through the door before I knocked. Cygne's voice answered "Come in!"

I turned the knob and pushed the door open. "Heh, we've got to stop meeting like this."

She laughed. "Hi! Come on in!"

She sat at the piano and moved over to the left end of the bench. There wasn't a chair...they seemed to migrate at will through the building.

"Can I sit with you?"



"Unless you'd rather use the floor."

I perched. She had a good lesson plan. She played the intervals and let me watch the keys. She added a little sol feg to make singing them easier. After a half hour, I was catching on enough to close my eyes, listen, and picture her fingers as she played them. I discovered that I really wasn't bad at interval identification, I'd just never thought about it much and adding the second sense helped. After an hour, we were packing up.

"Thanks, Cyg. I feel much better. I'll buy you a coffee at the Lookout, if you want one."

"Oh...thanks anyway. Gotta class. See you in Music History."

She left. 'That's two,' I thought, mindful of a joke my dad had once told me. I stretched my arms and spine and laid out my music. I was working on a new piece, my first in French, a tongue which I had added to my language classes, and I really liked it. My next lesson was Tuesday and I wanted to have this ready. If I did, I'd probably sing it for Studio class a week from Wednesday.

When I finished practicing, I exited the building and unlocked my bike. Something kept drawing my mind back to Cygne. Maybe the song was doing it. Psyche had the same effect on the poet in the composition. I shook my head and pedaled toward the Power Plant.

Tuesday's lesson went well. I wasn't off the music yet, but I'd have it by Friday at my second lesson. For sure by next Tuesday. I'd need to put it together with my accompanist, but she was a miracle who could make anyone sound good. Music History was a breeze, Theory was easier every class, and I was pleased with the direction my life was headed.

I got a lot of good feedback from the other singers in the studio the next week, and I was headed for the Lookout with a few of them when we overtook Cygne and another violin student, Lena Gooding, heading our same direction. My accompanist, Jennie Mohr, extended an invite for them to join us. I kept quiet...I only had one more chance. They accepted and we got the big corner table where we could all sit together.

I was feeling pretty good, so I bought everyone a soft drink or coffee, and we dissected the performances we'd heard that day. It was agreed that I had done very well and should audition for the baritone role in the Opera Workshop's fall production. Cygne was quiet but followed our conversation with interest.

I rubbed my chin. "Yeah, I think I will audition. Worst thing that can happen is I don't get the part."

Jennie got up to head for her off campus house she shared with about a hundred other girls and guys. It was crowded, but she was able to work with all the students she accompanied from a central location because there was room for her piano. She thanked me for the drink and gave my bicep a squeeze.

The vocalists had all cleared out when Cygne and Lena prepared to go.

"Thanks for the root beer. That's two I owe you."

"Think nothing of it. My pleasure."

"I'll pay you back somehow," she teased.

I threw caution to the wind. Again, the worst that could happen would be she would say 'No.'

"If you've got a free evening this weekend, I'd love to take you to dinner. We can call it all square."

"I'm available on Saturday night," she smiled.

"I'll pick you up at six, then."



"It's a date." She and the other violin student bustled out.

'Yes! Third time is the charm,' I thought.

The rest of the week flew by. Classes...work. Work...classes. There was a surprisingly good restaurant in a trendy student centered district called College Place a short walk from the edge of campus. I had made reservations for two for 6:30. I left my bike in my apartment and walked to Cygne's dorm, up the elevator, and around the hall to her door. I was a little early, so I walked back to the elevator checking room numbers to burn a few minutes and arrived back at her door right at six o'clock. I knocked.

After a short wait, her roommate, who I now knew was Katrina, opened the door and greeted me.

"Hi. She's almost ready. Probably just putting on her finishing touches. Have a seat." She indicated the chair at Cygne's desk.

Katrina kept me entertained with light conversation for a few minutes until the door opened and Cygne entered from a common area where the bathroom was located. I stood and smiled. Her date face was nice. It felt good that she had gone to a little more effort for me.

"Heya, Kelly. Let me get my jacket and I'll be ready."

She pulled it out from a closet next to the door and led me out into the hall. We talked music major stuff as we made our way off campus and into the busy street of College Place. Ambrosia, our restaurant, was small on the outside but felt spacious on the inside. Most students gave it a miss... maybe because it was not ostentatious and it was a little more upscale than their pocketbooks. I liked the food and it generally made a good impression on the girls I took there.

The meal was excellent and we headed back to my apartment a little after eight o'clock. I took her wrap and invited her into what served as a 'living room' and offered her a drink.

"Do you have anything a little stronger than root beer?" She asked tentatively.

"You are in luck, I have a few microbrews and a bottle of Pinot Gris. Name your poison."

I was only nineteen, but I had my sources and I never abused their generosity.

"The wine, please," she answered as her phone rang.

She talked quietly while I poured her a glass of the Pinot and myself a porter. When I returned she disconnected and stowed the phone back in her bag.

"Katrina or Lizzie?" I asked, smiling.

"Lizzie. She said I could crash at her place tonight if I needed to."

I handed her her wine glass and we sat comfortably close on the couch.

She sipped. "Oh! I like that!

"My mom picked it. I chose the beer," I said raising my glass. "Here's to first dates!" I toasted.

She joined me in a sip. We talked about or lives, our families, our goals, values, and aspirations. Somewhere after her third glass had been poured, she leaned over and gave me a kiss. I parked my glass on the coffee table and moved closer taking and putting her wine out of the way next to my beer. We began to neck in earnest. I tried to be a gentleman and let her lead as we moved from exploratory kisses to tongue and beyond. She kissed my neck, nibbling. I kissed her eyes and ears taking my time and judging her responses.

I guess you could say I have a "type." I could never stay interested in a girl who wasn't smart. I didn't sort for physical characteristics, but she had to have a brain. Blame my mom. It was always a bonus when someone I was interested in was attractive. With Cyg, I had made it into the bonus round.

She was tall enough...at 5' 8"...to not be dwarfed by my 6' 2". My frame is fairly triangular--broad shoulders and deep chest--which makes it easy for me to carry the two hundred thirty-five pounds I move through space. Most girls feel pretty dainty next to me and I've always felt that that helped them feel more body positive and happy when in my company. Its something I like to tell myself, anyway.

I've never been preoccupied with a girl's shape or attributes because they're all good. An infinite variety of good.

However, Cyg's hair was an immediate attention getter. Long...down to the middle of her back...wavy, honey blond tresses framed a face with a scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. The freckles were beginning to fade now as the cooler months of fall had arrived, but you could still see where they would be next July. Blue eyes with long lashes and a dimple beside her wonderful mouth were features of the terrain.

She was built athletically...like a wide receiver...built for speed. Lithe, streamlined, her breasts were perfect for her body. They were beautiful, but, then, I'd never met a pair that wasn't. She was long waisted gradually swelling into her well proportioned hips and ass. Her legs reached all the way to the ground gracefully to form her complete package. But, for me, it all started with her intelligence and quick wit. Someone had once said that the most important sex organ was the one between your ears.

Her voice was a warm contralto. I was a sucker for a low, husky voiced woman. I think most men underestimate the effect of the sense of hearing. Watch a porn clip with the sound turned off sometime, and maybe you'll see what I mean. After all, the voice was the instrument with which her brain expressed itself. It all comes back to the mind and it's powerful effect on personality and sexuality.

By midnight we had finished our life stories and physical introductions, and I escorted Cyg up the stairs to Lizzie's door. There was a light on inside so Cyg knocked gently. When Lizzie answered, we said our goodnights.

Although we weren't officially exclusive, we spent a lot of time together over the next month. With Cyg's sister's apartment so close, she had a built-in cover story for people. We'd have dinner together which is how I found out what a great cook she was. We studied, kept the apartment neat, talked a lot, and developed a close relationship.

One night in early November, we were done studying and had started enjoying each other on the couch. I pulled her to me and kissed her lips. She kissed back and my left hand went to her breast. I could feel her nipple rise into the palm of my hand. I gently squeezed and captured the raspberry sized button with my thumb and index finger. She hummed quietly and kissed me harder. I moved under her t-shirt and undid her bra bringing my hand back under the cup to her naked tit. After a few minutes, my hand dropped to her jeans and I unbuttoned and unzipped them.

She raised her hips as I tugged her denims and panties off, taking my place between her knees. She put her ass down on the edge of the couch and I breathed in her scent. Her whispy bush was damp and I bent to lick those droplets up. I breathed softly into her folds. The tip of my tongue ventured down and touched her clit. She tensed. I continued and licked her entire slit. I extended my tongue down to her taint, lapping her length again. I circled her clit and repeated the process. Her moans were low and constant punctuated with soft groans of pleasure. Her thighs tensed and I took a last trip south going as far as her brown rose. She tensed again. I rolled up to her sex and concentrated around her clit avoiding direct contact. She took a deep breath and held it. A slight exhalation marked her rising excitement. I read her cues until she came on my tongue, bending at the waist she vocalized her pleasure.

When she recovered, she smiled and we swapped places. She kissed the end of my cock sucking it into her mouth and gently tongued my glans. Up and down she moved leaving her mouth's natural lube on my shaft. She added her hand at the base and soon had me on my way. Lips, tongue, and hand conspired to enlarge my hard on until she brought me to a shuddering climax.

We cuddled for a few minutes until she lifted her face and searched my eyes.

"Kel, I need to ask you something." Again with the eyes. "You know I'm not a virgin, right?"

"I do, yes."

She opened her mouth to speak then did a double take. "What? How do you know that? I've never shared that with you."

I shrugged. "Barry."

"Barry? Barry Silva?"

I nodded.

"That little shit." She broke contact and moved away on the couch crossing her arms across her chest. I leaned back against the arm putting some space between us. I didn't want to appear intimidating.

"Why did he tell you?" Angry tears gathered in the corner of her eyes.

"You know guys...well, some guys, anyway...they need it for their self esteem. It's not enough that they know something, others have to be made aware as well."

She sniffed. "How long have you known?"

"Umm...since the Monday after...in Workshop rehearsal." I had the feeling this wasn't exactly the direction this conversation had been intended to go.

"Shit." She paused and collected herself. "Well, besides Barry. You know I'm not a virgin."

"No. But I suspected. You're way too good at stuff."

She glared at me then looked uncertain. "So why haven't we, you know, made love?"

"Well, I suppose because one of us IS still a virgin and intends to stay that way for a while."

That stopped her. She looked at me open mouthed and, after several false starts, finally managed to say: "You're a virgin?"

"I've never had sexual intercourse. I do a lot of other stuff that you seem to enjoy, though. You aren't faking anything, are you?"

"Oh, no! I really enjoy what we do. I'm not faking anything." She paused looking down and away. "Is it me? Do you not want to have sex with me for some reason?" She gasped and turned back to face me. "Is it because of Barry? What I did with Barry?"

"It's kind of a long story, but it has nothing to do with you or Barry. Might be easier to tell you if we took a trip home. It really is about time you met my folks, anyway. Doing anything tomorrow?"

Cyg frowned, mentally checking her schedule. "Nothing now."

"Good. I'll pick you up at ten."

"I'll be at Lizzie's."

"Even better. We can get out of here by nine, then."

We made an early evening of it, and I delivered Cyg to her sister's door. I pulled her close, gave her a warm parting kiss, and made my way downstairs again.

I was up early and dressed in Levis and a western shirt. I made my way behind the apartments to the long line of garage units. In #1 sat my '55 wide window Chevy. I checked the oil and the water level before I got in and cranked the engine over. It purred. I pulled out and parked in front of my apartment. At 9:00, I went up the stairs two at a time and knocked on Lizzie's door.

Cyg met me, calling over her shoulder to her sister as we left. I opened her truck door for her and circled the front of the pickup to get in. She slid across the bench seat to sit beside me.

"I didn't know you had a truck."

"Yeah, I don't need it around town, so I keep it locked up."

"I like it." She said. "I've never seen a seat that goes all the way across. The upholstery is really cool."

We headed out of town, but, after ten miles, just across the state line, I turned off on a secondary road. We made our way through the countryside driving along a fairly large stream...Federal Creek.

I took a left and two miles on, a right onto a gravel road. The road wound up the slope of the valley, the creek shrinking in our rear view. At the top I pulled over at a wide spot. A grove of trees marked where a house had once stood.

"This is where my great, great grandfather was born. His folks had come west and this 160 acres was the original homestead."

"It's a pretty view."

"Good farmland, too."

We retraced our steps and continued down the creek until we came to a large grain storage and fertilizer dealer.

"Great Grandpa started this business."

We crossed the creek and climbed up a draw to the top of another grade. I pulled over again. Pointing east, I told Cyg she could just barely see the trees at the old homestead.

"Gesturing from there through the width of the windshield, "Part of our land."

I head checked and pulled back out onto the road. Cyg focussed on a sign attached to a fencepost near a gate.

"I keep seeing that sign. It was at the first place we stopped and where we crossed the creek...and on the grain thingy"

"It's our corporate logo. You'll see it everywhere we work. Some of the land we own, some we lease, and, of course, it's on our subsidiaries like the fertilizer company."

Cyg nodded. We continued winding through the countryside and Cyg would note to me every time she saw one of our signs. We came to the outskirts of Schyler, my hometown. We drove down Main Street and pulled into the parking lot of a large four story office building with our logo prominently displayed over the entryway.

I parked in a 'Reserved' space and Cyg followed me out the driver's side. I held the entry door and she went ahead of me into the foyer. The walls were covered in art with agricultural themes. Lots of Herefords and John Deeres. I stepped up and took her arm, leading her to the reception desk.

"Hi, Ruth! Are Mom and Dad in?"

"Hey there, Kelly. Yes. They said to send you right up." She gestured and inclined her head to her right.

We entered the elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor. When we got there, we exited straight into the large open office that encompassed the entire floor. Mom and Dad were at their respective desks, but stood and approached as the doors slid shut behind us.

"It is so nice to meet you, Cygne." murmured my mom. "Kelly has told us so much about you." They hugged and then parted as Dad stepped forward to shake her hand.

"Pleased to meet you," Dad smiled. He gave me a squeeze on the shoulder.

"It's almost ten. Shall we go for a coffee and find a quiet place to talk?" Mom asked.

We returned downstairs and stepped out into the sunshine on Main Street. Turning left, we walked a block and a half to Cuppa Joe's and placed our orders. The conversation was light until we found seats in a more private corner of the coffee shop.

After a few more minutes of small talk, Dad brought up the subject.

"Kelly says you have some questions of...um...a sensitive personal nature."

Cyg's eyes opened wide, her lips a thin line, and she turned to me.

"Whoa, Cyg, let's just listen." We turned back.

"You can see that our family is fairly prosperous. We have been for the last three generations. Additionally, we live among a small population most of whom are engaged in some aspect of of our industry...agriculture." He paused to catch a breath.

"All of the Carroll predecessors enjoyed a simpler time. They grew up, found their loves and married. I met Genevieve in first grade. Unfortunately, by the time Kelly was a young man, times had changed. People had changed. The internet, among other influences, changed the small town mentality."

Cyg's expression became more puzzled. She looked from face to face.

I stepped in. "After I graduated high school, I was headed to Europe for six weeks with an honor choir. We were going to gather in New Jersey for rehearsal in the last week of June. The Thursday before I was to fly out, I got an invitation to dinner from the daughter of one of the neighboring farmers. She was a classmate and we'd always been friends, so I didn't think twice about accepting."

Mom added. "He was eighteen. We didn't think anything of it either."

"Thanks, Mom." I said laying my hand on hers. "So I went to Jean's house. She had her older brother and one of her friends there, Lindy Smart. We had dinner...with a little wine. Well, maybe quite a bit of wine. My glass seemed to always be full, and it was really tasty."

"Take it easy, Kelly. Remember, Cyg doesn't need all the gory details," said Dad.

I nodded and breathed deeply. "I got pretty drunk. Soon, Lindy and I were the only ones around. Jean and her brother had disappeared. We were on the couch and I was pretty sure I was gonna get lucky. Mom and Dad had always raised me to be fairly careful...but, in my own defense, it was a sexual perfect storm."

I paused, remembering my close call. "Then, there was a knock at the front door. I was worried someone would see Lindy in a compromising situation, so I backed off." I shook my head. "Two of my classmates, Aaron Bixby and Jerry Gestern, had somehow found out about the dinner. They gently, but firmly, gathered me up. Jerry took my keys and took my truck home. Aaron supplied my transportation. Mom and Dad took over from them at the back door."