April Rising

For some reason, the music no longer seemed important. Franco had replaced that certain magic. The enchantment of making love to the music itself had become second place in the reality of things. This was a real man, a real lover and together they made their own kind of music. Unlike the younger men she once teased in foreplay in her not to distant past, Franco remained hard. And unlike the past, she was now ready to take the intensity of sexual intercourse. She desired to take control.

Slowly, April slipped his manhood into her. She was wet and his passage seemed easier now as she pressed down. He held her hips allowing her to gently ride him, using her fingers to touch her clitoris, producing a combination of masturbation and the feel of him inside. The wave of tingling sensations flooded her senses as she reached the pinnacle of her orgasm. The release was tremendous and a new sensation that she had now discovered.

Franco smiled up at her. He was the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes upon and now he looked even more delicious, having fulfilled one of her wildest dreams. She leaned towards him once more and lay in his arms, feeling his warmth and the caress of his fingers as they played through her hair. The closeness of a man had never seemed the same as that feeling she now had.

The only man that had ever shown her affection before was her father until now. Despite her hypnotic beauty, she had deprived herself of sexual pleasures with others. Her relationships with men in the past were kept distant, to prevent her temptations taking over. Nothing more than a deep kiss sometimes, with no feelings, that gave them the impression that she was cold.

It was not that she hated men or sex. It was deeper than that. April was grieving in her own way the sudden death of the man she loved so much, as if she believed that she could belong to no other. Then, the self-loving and vanity took over as the years went by. In a way, it gave her self-confidence to become who she was and made making love to herself and the music more important than seeking love elsewhere.

The chance meeting with Franco DiBarras was an opportunity for her to meet a man she admired from afar for so many years and also a means of revenge, in getting even with his friend Michaelangelo Menotti, who she believed was responsible for her fathers suicide. And it was Marion who would mastermind the plan that would satisfy them both. But April was not sure that Franco should be harmed in all of this. She had never met him until now and before that, killing a stranger seemed something she could partly accept. Now it was different. Menotti was the only one she wanted dead to satisfy her grief, not Franco.

"I have the envelope at my hotel if you want it returning," he said. She leaned up beside him and ran her fingers over his chest, deep in thought. " I can have it sent to you."

"Yes! I want it back." Her ambitious reply made him wonder.

"Tell me what is in it? I need to know. Don't keep it a mystery anymore."

"Like I said, it is a gift from me to Michaelangelo. Nothing special."

"That is interesting, because I spoke to him and told him about you. It took him some time before he realised who you were."

"And?"

"He remembers you. The daughter of his colleague, Andrew Rising, a brilliant conductor. It seems he respected your father."

"Is that so?"

"And it seems that you don't agree with that."

April threw back the bed quilt and dashed to the bathroom. That was enough to convince Franco that there was something not only mysterious about the envelope, but the whole set up he had found himself part of. There were secrets and lies surrounding the whole thing and although he respected her and made the journey to England especially to meet her, now he found himself involved in something that threatened his life perhaps.

He followed her into the bathroom. She sat on the toilet, her mind in deep thought, as if he was not there. "Tell me what is in the envelope and I promise I will keep it just between us. It will go no further." April looked up at him and realised just how much this plan was going all wrong.

"You must not open it under any circumstances."

"Why? You have to tell me." He knelt before her and took her hand in his. "What is in the envelope?"

"It's a bomb."

"A bomb? What kind of bomb?"

"A letter bomb. It will explode as soon as Michaelangelo opens it." Franco stood up and looked at her in disbelief. The audacity of the suggestion that she had plotted to kill his friend was devastating, and he was to be the carrier, the means of delivering it, his nemesis.

"You plotted to kill Michaelangelo? But why?"

"Because of what he did to my father."

"But, what did he do that was so terrible. I don't understand."

"He forced him to take his own life."

"How?"

April explained the time when she was with her father in Paris and Michaelangelo and he had an argument in the hotel room. "My father wrote a composition which he gave to him. Michaelangelo said that the music was similar to one that he had written months before and he accused my father of stealing it. They argued for a long time, almost fighting and then Michaelangelo told him that if he dared to perform it at the concert he would sue him."

"And did the composition belong to Michaelangelo?" Franco asked.

"Yes. My father reworked it and made lots of alterations and improvements. So many that he made it his own work. There was very little of the original score that Michaelangelo had written."

"And then?"

"Two days later my father conducted at a concert that Michaelangelo could not attend. He practiced the additional piece and that evening it was performed for the very first time. My father told the audience that it was his latest composition and Michaelangelo found out. They became enemies and months later my father lost everything he had. The court agreed with Michaelangelo that the composition was originally his. My father was ruined."

The memories flooded back and April began to sob as Franco held her tightly. "I didn't know about this. Michaelangelo is a very private man, he never mentioned this to me at all." As he held her, he realised that if he had delivered the letter bomb, then he too would also be a victim. There was no doubt that he would have been with Michaelangelo when he opened it.

"I'm sorry Franco."

"You do know that this bomb would have injured or killed me also don't you?"

April lifted her head from his shoulder. He wiped the tears from her eyes as she looked back at him. "Yes. And that part of the plan was not my doing."

"Then you are not alone in this?"

"No. I could never mastermind a plan like that on my own."

"Then who?"

She took his hand and walked with him back into the bedroom. Together they sat and she explained the nightclub to him. "It isn't my club. That was a way of getting you there so that I could hand you the envelope. Not only that it was also someone's idea of humiliating you at the same time."

Franco was becoming more confused. He knew that April herself was not the kind of person who could go that far. He let her continue;

"Three months ago I met Marion, the waitress at the nightclub. She found out about my father and Michaelangelo and knew that I was angry inside about what had happened. She also found out that you had an interest in me and discovered that you were trying to arrange a meeting with me to discuss a contract and she also found out how interested I was in you. Well, more than just interested, she knew that I had a thing about you"

He smiled and stroked her face gently. "This thing is obviously that you wanted me?"

"Yes. From a distance, the first time I saw you, I have always wanted to meet you. I fell in love with you I suppose, if that is ever possible."

"In that case, I must fall in love with every beautiful woman that I see."

"No Franco, I'm serious. I had a crush on you. As far as I was concerned, you were the most handsome man I ever saw. And when I found out that you wanted to meet me I was so overwhelmed."

"And Marion? Where does she come into this?"

"Marion came to see me. She approached me as an agent and offered me a partnership in a project she was planning in the US. The promise of becoming a TV presenter was irresistible and I realised that this could be something I might need in the future. But then as the weeks went by I began to realise that she had no project, and her interest in me was for her own purpose. She wanted to use me to get back at you."

"Me? Am I supposed to know her?"

"No. But there is someone you knew, that links you two together."

"Who?"

"Her sister. You and her once lived together. She drowned in an accident."

Franco stood up quickly and suddenly remembered that tragic evening in Capri more than ten years ago. "Yvette! This can't be happening."

"I don't even know her sisters name. But whatever happened Franco she feels you were responsible for her drowning. She wants to even the score."

"I don't understand. I was not to blame."

"I don't know all the reasons for her wanting you dead. But what I do know is that you and Michaelangelo became close friends and Marion convinced me that I too could get even with someone who I grew to hate so much. But then, when I realised that you were involved in her plan, the more I wanted this whole thing to end."

"Then why did you go ahead with it? Why didn't you end it?"

"Because Marion is a very powerful and dangerous person Franco. She threatened me. I saw the things she could do to me if I didn't go along with it."

Now things were beginning to become clearer to him. Yvette was someone he had fallen in love with and she was now in his past. That evening would always be in his memory, as Yvette tumbled and fell into the harbour from the yacht. She had drunk herself into a rage and both of them argued. She told him that she was leaving the party for their hotel room and he was not to follow. The next day her body was found.

Franco sat beside her on the bed again and April put her arm around his shoulders, this time to console him of sad memories. "You were in love with this girl?"

"Yes. She was everything to me. I was so upset when that accident happened, but I was not to blame. Of course, I knew that her family had ideas of their own. For months they threatened me and then it all stopped. I began to rebuild my life and career from then on. And now this."

"Believe me Franco, I am so sorry."

"Wait. If I'd have gone back to Naples when I should, then..."

5.

A thick mist had settled across the estuary in the cold of the autumn morning. The tugboat chugged its way to the centre of the river and then the engines stopped. Only the sound of the small waves hitting the hull could be heard as Franco moved to the stern and looked over the side. In his gloved hands was the envelope. He took one last look at it and then dropped it into the cold water, watching it float at first and then disappear out of sight as it sank into the murky river.

April stepped up behind him and he turned his head towards her. "That's it. It can't do any harm now," he said. She hugged him, squeezing his arm tightly and giving out a sigh of relief. He tapped her hand and gently kissed her on the head. It was the only way they knew of disposing of the letter bomb.

Franco nodded his orders to the pilot to return to the harbour. The mist began to lift slightly as the morning air warmed in the orange glow of the sunrise. They both sat on the coiled hawser; April linked his arm, cuddling close not only for warmth but affection as the slow moving boat continued on its way. He looked at her and lifted her chin towards his stare "I love your eyes. You have wonderful blue eyes that speak by themselves," he told her. She smiled at him as he gazed into them. "I am drowning in them." She laughed, almost a giggle, finding his comment quite amusing.

"I bet you say that to every girl you meet?"

"No, not every one. Only those with eyes that are as beautiful as yours."

"Oh. And how many beautiful eyes have you met so far?" she asked.

"Countless. But then, yours are the most beautiful so far."

"You say they speak by themselves? What are they saying to you?"

"They are telling me that I am the luckiest man alive right now."

Her smile subsided somewhat. She had detected the meaning of what he meant and he was right to add that, because he was lucky to be where he was instead of returning to Naples when he had originally planned. "I know that deep inside you will never forgive me for setting you up. I didn't do anything to stop you returning..."

He pressed two fingers against her lips to prevent her from speaking. "Hush. You did do something. You made me stay just by being who you are. I couldn't leave without seeing you again."

She still doubted his reason and felt so guilty inside. To appease the moment she smiled again and drew closer to meet his kiss. "Have you ever been to a slosh?" she asked him, after they parted their lips.

"What on earth is a slosh?"

"Good, then its obvious you haven't."

"But I get the feeling that you are going to take me to one, right?" April nodded her reply with a mischievous grin.

The tugboat pilot accepted his fee for the private trip and the two lovers disembarked and got into the waiting car. Then April realised something she had forgotten about. The driver was the same man who drove them to the nightclub and Marion's words resounded in her head; "The driver works for me."

"So where to now?" Franco asked. April stared from the rear seat into the driver's rear view mirror, looking at him. She was horrified to notice him. "April? Are you ok? You look as if you have seen a ghost or something."

"No! I'm ok. I think we should go back to my apartment for a while."

"That's fine by me. This slosh comes later perhaps?"

"Of course."

During the journey through the morning traffic the driver kept on looking at her now and then, using his mirror, and April could feel his glances. Franco was oblivious to what she knew, but now there was a feeling of danger. Marion and those who worked for her were capable of doing anything.

"Driver? This isn't the way we came." Franco said.

"It's a diversion sir, to escape the heavy traffic," the driver replied.

"Sorry, I am a stranger in this city, forgive my intrusion."

"That's fine sir, no problem." April gripped Franco's hand tightly.

"What is it?" Franco asked. She just looked back at him with a worried expression, gripping even tighter. "Tell me?"

"Perhaps the lady isn't feeling well sir?" the driver asked.

"April, are you feeling ill?"

Suddenly the car began to speed along a slip road leading onto a highway that led out of the city. "Just sit tight and I'll have you home in no time," the driver explained. Franco began to realise that something was seriously wrong.

"Wait. Where are you taking us?"

"Home."

"This isn't the way to Miss Rising's apartment you fool."

"Did I say it was sir?"

"Turn back now!"

"Make me," the driver replied, now looking at April full on in the rear mirror with a malevolent grin on his face. She closed her eyes as panic struck her, but she fought it off, she had to be strong, she had once again compromised not only Franco's life, but now her own.

"Don't worry darling, I'll sort this out soon enough." Franco assured her.

The drive took them into the countryside and to a house set back from a quiet country road. The car turned into a driveway through open gates and as they continued the gates shut behind them automatically. "Where is this?"

"It's where Marion lives." April replied.

The house was large, spread out on one level and the car drew up to the front door. There were other cars parked nearby of all types including one distinctive green Lamborghini. The driver unlocked the doors and Franco jumped out to confront him, but he found himself restrained by two men in dark suits that seem appear from nowhere. They each held him by his arms. "Let me go!"

"Oh please, lets not have all this fuss." Marion came out of the house through the front door and walked towards Franco. "Let him go boys."

"The waitress. So we meet again."

"Look, I'm no more a waitress than you are a brain surgeon. But lets not go into that now. Welcome to my humble abode Mister DiBarras, I have been so looking forwards to meeting you again."

April remained seated in the car. The driver leaned on the door waiting for her to get out. "You staying there all day?" he asked. She looked at him and then got out quickly, slamming the door shut.

"Franco I'm sorry this had to happen."

"Don't worry April, it seems that Marion here is very determined to have me for a guest." He looked at Marion and smiled at her. "I hope that we are welcome."

"Of course. There is a little unfinished business to tend to. Please go inside."

Inside the house seemed huge. They followed their host into a drawing room decorated with erotic paintings hanging from the walls and a large window that spread from wall to wall overlooking a lawn that seemed to go on forever. The morning sun shon into the room making it airy and light.

"Please make yourselves at home. Alfred take their coats for them."

Alfred, the dwarf servant waited for Franco and April to remove their coats and then left the room with them draped over one arm. Franco watched as the little man struggled somewhat to close the door behind him. "You have a strange way of inviting your guests."

"Sorry about that. But it was the only way I knew I could you here. Would you two care for some refreshments? Perhaps some breakfast?"

"No thank you, we already ate." April replied.

"This is a very nice house you have Marion." Franco told her.

"Yes it is. It's a pity you never got to see it twelve years ago." Marion replied.

"Ahh yes, I was invited by Yvette, but had other things to do."

"Why are we here Marion?" April asked, cutting to the chase to prevent further false pleasantries that might begin to arise.

"Well, I thought a little fun might be in order."

"What you mean is; you want to kill me?" Franco said. He had now adjusted himself to the fact that they had both been kidnapped.

"Did I say that?" Marion asked. "You really do have a very low opinion of me Franco. I am very disappointed in you."

"He knows about the letter bomb, Marion." April explained.

"And you told him everything about our little plan I suppose."

"Everything he needed to know."

"You know, that was a really good plan if I may say so myself. It's a pity it never happened. And April, you were the weakest link."

"So you intend to have fun with us?" Franco asked. "Like the other night?"

"You enjoyed it."

"Maybe I did. I love the touch of a beautiful woman, especially one that makes me cum as you did. And by the feel of your fingers, I could also detect that you too were enjoying it. Your hand was trembling, perhaps with the desire to have our game go further."

Marion smiled and moved closer to Franco. She ran her finger along his thigh and stopped at his groin. "I love it when I make a man cum. It gives me a sense of control, and domination over him."

"Just like someone else I once knew." Franco replied smirking.

"Yes. But that someone else wrote in her diary about the things you did to her."

"She wanted those things. Surely you can understand that?"

"What are you two talking about?" April asked. She was feeling left out of the conversation and trying to keep ahead of the situation that was unfolding.

"Yvette and Franco." Marion replied.

"What things?"

"Our private little games." Franco replied. He and Marion were locked in eye contact as if communicating with each other's minds, but they were simply locked in a state of verbal one-upmanship, waiting for each other to make another comment.