Chords that Bind Ch. 13


He moved his hands, which had been squeezing her hips and started to spank her round bottom.

"Ouch! Oh James, don't be like that."

"Such a bad girl Tasha. Biting me like that... Mmm..."

She twisted her hips again, grinding him with acuity. "Don't be like that James. If I'm bad, then why am I making you feel so good? Hmm?" She punctuated the question with a lick of her lips and started licking her way up to his abdomen and to his chest. She looked him straight in the eye and bit his right nipple, all the while moving so that her slick sheath massaged his cock perfectly. He couldn't object at the moment. It felt too good. And she was so hot in this animalistic fucking.

With little effort, he turned them both over again. He saw Tasha start to pout, but he couldn't help it. He pounded her with force, both of them gasping and moaning incoherently. James returned the favor, and quickly took Tasha's hard nipple between his teeth. She let out a high-pitched sound somewhere between a moan and a scream. She wrapped her legs back around him even as she tried to push him away and stop him "You started it darling," was all James had to say to her protest.

One more powerful thrust from James and Tasha's weak protest was lost in another, more powerful, orgasm. Her spasming pussy milked his cock, and he succumbed a second time. Even in the throes of orgasm she coaxed the last of his come from his cock, completely satisfying his desires.

He rolled off her and let the powerful surges ripple along the full length of his body. He closed his eyes and felt a pleasant floating sensation. God it was so good. He felt wonderfully drowsy, actually tired, and blessedly fulfilled.

Natasha for her part felt smug. After recovering some, she turned to her side, leaned on her elbow and looked at the man who she had wrung so much pleasure from. She'd been an admirer of James for a long time. For some reason she trusted his musical integrity more than anyone else. He surprised her tonight with his impromptu musicology tangent, but he was the caliber of musician who would never compromise his musicianship. She felt the same way. And now she'd been able to seduce him. He finally succumbed to her pursuit. And the sex. The sex was amazing and hot and spontaneous in a way she had only dreamed it would be.

James opened his eyes to see Tasha, in all her naked glory, staring down at him. She looked like the cat that got the cream. Now that their passions had subsided, he could take her in. If possible, she was even more unspeakably beautiful. She seemed less haughty lazing in the nude. She had luxurious curves, and the air of expectance was gone. He reached up to caress her neck, feeling her pulse underneath her skin. He didn't say anything. She held his hand and kissed his fingers, then his wrist and arm, to his shoulder and neck, finally making her way to his lips. It wasn't fevered this time. It was a passionate, gentle kiss.

"Stay the night." James whispered breaking the kiss. It wasn't a request.

"I thought I already was."

"So presumptuous," he murmured

"Mmmm..." Tasha resumed kissing him.

James disentangled himself from Tasha, and grabbed hold of the room's phone.

"Hello? Yes. Suite 389. I'd like to order room service. Is it possible to get caviar service and chilled vodka? Yes? Good. Thank you."

He hung up the phone and looked at Tasha who was smiling broadly.


James woke up with the slightest of hangovers, and Natasha's warm body next to his. After a snack of caviar and blinis, washed down with chilled vodka, the two resumed their frantic lovemaking. It was midmorning now, but James couldn't be bothered with worrying about how late they'd slept in. He called for tea, scones, and an English breakfast to brought up. Tasha was still sleeping, so he left her in bed, pulled on a plush terrycloth robe, and took his laptop to the sitting room just outside the bedroom.

His email program pinged him with a note from a Berlin music critic. Attached was a review of last night's performance. The man was kind enough to give him a translation: Apparently the performance was very well received. The review was glowing. Berlin was a difficult city to win over, especially for foreign musicians.

Natasha came in, naked as the day she was born. "There you are. I forgot where I was for a moment."

"I ordered breakfast. Take a look at this." James motioned to his laptop. He stroked her neck and hair as she bent over to read the email from the music critic.

"Oh! Oh! James!" Tasha was hopping up and down in her excitement, giving James the most erotic morning show he'd ever seen. "This is good! This is amazing! In Berlin!"

"I know. It's quite unexpected. I gather you're pleased?" Natasha's long, long legs were jumping and her luscious tits bouncing as she took in the good news.

Just then, the bell rang, announcing the arrival of breakfast. Natasha skipped back into the bedroom to slip into a robe and let James handle the door.

They settled to tuck into breakfast. They sat too close to each other, stealing touches and deep kisses. They were ready to descend into further intimacy, but they had a rehearsal scheduled. "We have to live up to expectations now." Natasha chided. She was right, but James didn't want to tear himself away. He was hard again, and now that he knew what an expert lover Tasha was, the anticipation fanned his ardor.

Natasha was donning her gown from last night. James didn't have anything to lend her. "How far away is your hotel?"

"Not too far. I am at the Ritz." She smiled ruefully. She would make quite a sight returning to the hotel in a scarlet evening gown in the mid-afternoon. She was unabashed by her coming walk of shame.

James kissed her once more in the elevator. He insisted on helping her into a cab. "I'll see you back at the concert hall."

He returned to his room with a lift in his step. He couldn't believe the change in his outlook from yesterday to today. After months of depression and self-inflicted punishment James had turned a corner.


James arrived early to the concert hall. Natasha wasn't there yet, and they were scheduled to rehearse almost everything before the Berlin Philharmoniker arrived so that James could guest-conduct Prokofiev's third symphony. Alone in the acoustically tuned room with a Stienway G all to himself, James sat at the bench, lifted the lacquered cover, and outlined some chords that weren't the least bit classical. They weren't romantic even.

He started tapping out an eighth note with his left heel, outlined a chord progression with his left hand, and let his fancy fill in the rest. James came to love jazz in America. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the fact that right now, there really wasn't a wrong note to play.

His mind filled in where he wanted a drummer with some brushes to hold down the pocket. This was a freedom in which he rarely indulged. He hummed along with the spontaneous music he was creating. In his mind's eye he imagined Tasha, naked, straddling him again, just like last night. Just the thought made his cock start to harden.

A staccato rhythm interrupted his fantasy. He stopped mid-phrase. Tasha was walking towards him with a beguiling smile on her face. Gone was the red dress. She was in head-to-toe black, wearing slacks and a matching blazer that was supposed to be conservative, only her silky camisole had a plunging neckline. She'd accentuated the feature with a long, thin, gold chain that dipped right between her delicious cleavage.

"That doesn't sound like Rachmaninoff, James." Tasha was trying to tease him.

"No. It's more like Bach." James smiled at his own quip, but clearly Natasha didn't want to talk about improvisation.

She set down her cello case down and pulled out her instrument. James started loosely playing parts from the cello sonata, but inserted plenty of chords with jazzy extensions. Natasha frowned at James' musical playfulness. Once she was set up, she turned to him with much seriousness.

"Enough of that James. You are a much better pianist than that." The comment caught him off guard. He thought Natasha was loosening up.

"Okay. If you're ready we can do this for real now." James tried not to sigh. He was only being playful.

"Good. Let's begin."

The momentary schism was overcome immediately. They sounded good. If possible, they were improving upon last night's rendition...

James' excitement for performance was returning. He couldn't wait to see what Natasha would wear tonight, and couldn't wait to take her out of it when the show was over.




"Encore! More!"

James glanced at Natasha. She hadn't disappointed. She was wearing a strapless turquoise column this evening. She held the neck of her cello in her left hand and squeezed James' hand with her right. They beamed and took another bow. She raised an eyebrow as if to ask, "Should we play an encore?" James shook his head though. He preferred to keep them wanting. Besides, they hadn't rehearsed anything else, and it would be in poor taste to take an encore since the orchestra had refrained.

He pulled them backwards to allow the curtain to close.


"Ahhh!!" Tasha moaned in approval as James thrust powerfully into her center. She was incoherent after her first climax and was already building to a more powerful second. James, for his part, loved the way he was able to make Natasha respond. She could be so picky when they rehearsed, but when they came together like this, they were of one mind.

He bent to nibble her ear, only to have her jerk her head away. She forced her hips up to his, trying to force him deeper. With lust-fueled strength she lifted herself up and circled his neck with her arms.

Right before Tasha's body tensed with her second orgasm, James found his release and shot cum deep into her. They threw their heads back and were momentarily silent. James collapsed on top of Tasha, their bodies so slippery with sweat from their lovemaking that their combined heat was almost too much.

James wanted to hold Tasha close, but he was overheating from exertion. Too soon, he withdrew. Tasha's pussy was still spasming gently, the ravages of her orgasm easing into gentler tremours. She moaned in protest at James' withdrawal.

"No. Not yet." She whined.

"Maybe a bit later. You're spent. Look at you." It was true. Her hair was in complete disarray, and she was in a deeply languorous state. James wasn't sure when she would come back down. Her aquamarine dress was thrown over the footboard. Her lacy undergarments were literally thrown across the suite. James knew her heels were kicked off somewhere near the door. And as for his own clothes, they were in a slightly more orderly heap by the bed.

The evening's performances were nothing short of flawless. James reflected on his duet with Natasha. He'd never had this level of intimacy with a musician before. This was unprecedented and it was clear that it greatly improved the quality of their music. He was feeling what she felt, and he was sure she felt the same way. In bed they were amplifying these feelings, and emphasizing this oneness. For once, his love life and his artistic life were on the same page.


James and Natasha's next stop was Minsk. They were scheduled to tour together for the next two months, making their way across Eastern Europe and into Russia, until they had to part ways in Tokyo. From there, Natasha would return to Russia, and James would start the next phase of his tour with Mae.

Natasha was thrilled to have James all to herself on their travels. On stage, he was a perfect musical partner. In between rehearsals and performances, he was attentive and romantic. Sometimes his attention to her was overwhelming. He noticed everything. She loved the push and pull between them, the way the energy shifted back and forth. On the whole, she had him wrapped around her finger. He tried to make demands of her, but didn't push her when she decided she wanted something else. Usually, it was in bed where they played an invisible game of tug-of-war, each trying to assert control and both tumbling over the edge in rapturous pleasure.

Their flight to Minsk was relatively short, only an hour and a half. They had been in the air for about half an hour, but Tasha was sound asleep. Fair enough, they hadn't slept much last night. James watched her gentle breathing, and imagined the breathless way she'd made him come last night. He looked to her wrist and enjoyed seeing the black enamel Halcyon Days bangle on her wrist. She'd been surprised when he slipped it on her wrist before their last performance in Berlin.

It wasn't a collar, true. But then, James was reconsidering the dark part of himself, the part that demanded control and obedience. He was taking this time away from London to reassess some of his choices. He didn't regret Josephine's departure anymore. They never would have been happy. And Cecilia. . . his weakness for someone like her nearly ruined her life. His own life was enormously complicated by it. It had been a grave error in judgment to pursue someone like her. He was somewhat disgusted with the relief he felt being away from her. Proximity to the girl was too much for him to bear for sustained periods of time. His dual nature was at war with itself whenever he even looked at her.

But Natasha! Here was a gorgeous woman who knew him as an artist, who didn't care about the prestige and society he'd given up to pursue art. Instead, she could match him musically. He couldn't even contemplate what dominating her would be like. It was simply an impossibility. She was too controlling herself. This must be what a healthy, normal relationship was like. The power dynamic wasn't predetermined like his other relationships. But her passion was it's own erotic delight. When he had her underneath him he felt a potent, if very different, source of power. She was headstrong and stubborn, wouldn't cooperate unless she felt like it, and that meant his seduction had to hit all the right notes. She was a challenge, and a bit of a handful, but watching her come undone was worth it.

His relationship with Natasha was heady because it was proof that James didn't have to be in control all the time. In fact, a relationship with her wouldn't work if he asserted that desire. It was time for him to pack away those fantasies. She was beautiful and talented; he didn't need the extra trappings. Wanting the rest of his fantasies implied that there was something lacking when there wasn't.


Minsk treated them even better than Berlin did. By the time they reached Kiev, international music critics were asking for interviews. The community of elite musicians was abuzz with the reports of the musical perfection the two attained when they played in tandem.

In Kiev, Natasha stunned James. He never wanted to take an encore, even after she suggested they practice another piece just in case. Tasha thought he was too reserved and modest for a man of his talent. She looked to him to see if today would be the day he took an encore with her.

He smiled but shook his head. Taking an encore didn't serve the music. It seemed gratuitous to him. Perhaps he was a bit too English in that respect, but that's just the way he was. A look crossed Tasha's face. A brief spark lit her features, and as hundreds of people in the hall applauded their performance, she pivoted on her toes, and kissed James full on the mouth. He was flabbergasted and didn't respond right away. What was she doing?!

But then the whistles and cheers grew louder and less restrained. He smiled in spite of himself and returned her kiss, possessing her fully for just a moment before they broke the kiss, bowed one more time, and let the curtain fall.

Tasha was turned on by the exhibitionism. She was beside herself with pride to have captured James' attentions so thoroughly. She wanted everyone to know she had won such an elusive prize. She turned to pack up her cello, and saw James' stoic face.

"What is wrong James?" she thought he would be pleased. She'd just declared her feelings to the world. She'd never done that before.

James paused, trying to figure out the right words. He valued his privacy. He wasn't one to revel in celebrity or exhibitionism. Outside the musical community and certain cultured circles in London society he enjoyed relative anonymity. But Tasha's display changed that. It changed the dynamic between them.

"I- I- guess I just didn't expect that." The relationship was still so new, he hadn't thought of dealing with attention like this.

"Oh, come on James! They loved it! It's such a romantic story: Two amazing musicians, magical performances, both young and beautiful... There have been rumors about the two of us for weeks." Tasha was feeling playful now.

That much was true. Rumors had been circulating, but James didn't care to acknowledge them.

"Yes, but now they're not just rumors. Now everyone knows. I would have preferred to talk about this first." James felt undermined.

"Come on. Now everyone knows you're mine. Tell me that doesn't turn you on to know that I want everyone to know..."

That wasn't the point. He walked to her and looked at her face intently. She didn't break eye contact. She seemed so pleased, expected him to be so excited. He supposed he ought to be flattered. Tasha's icy reputation was well known, and she enjoyed the air of selectivity it gave her. Choosing to show she was in a relationship with someone so publicly was quite a signal from her.

"Well, when you put it like that. . ."

"I knew you'd see it my way." With that she unbuttoned the collar of his black dress shirt. "I'm off the market now, and everyone knows it's because of you."

Tasha's ego was something else, but James didn't wholly dislike her spin on this. "You don't think it's too soon?" he asked as she kissed his neck.

"Live a little James! I know I'm happy about where this is heading." She kissed his mouth and silenced his doubts. The chemistry was so strong he let himself get swept away, returning her kiss and trying to enjoy Tasha's enthusiasm. She was insatiable and he felt their mutual need building. "Let's get out of here then."


After Natasha's stunt, requests for interviews became nearly unmanageable. Publications that normally took no interest in classical music were asking for photo shoots. James' agent called with contracts for various endorsements. Natasha was booked to walk in a runway show when their tour was over. When they arrived in Moscow they were greeted warmly, with exceptional hospitality. Somehow, as a couple, James and Natasha had achieved a celebrity status far beyond the scope of classical musicians.

In her home country, Natasha was a sensation. Candid photos of the two of them having dinner and walking around Moscow made it into the society pages. James couldn't wait for it all to blow over. Tasha loved it though, and took it as her due.


Abe pulled out the culture section of the Sunday Times. He usually set it aside for Clara and read the news and sports pages. He did a double take when he saw a photo of his best mate. It looked as if the tour was going well. He scanned the page further and saw another photo of James. This time he was locked in an ardent kiss with Natasha Dubnikov. Abe swallowed. This was so unlike James who liked to keep everything coolly professional. He read the whole page, reading the columnist's glowing review of the duo—no—couple's performance, and getting snippets of the budding romance.

He found Clara enjoying her day off in the kitchen, no doubt preparing something wonderful for dinner. Cecilia was with her, naturally. The two were practically inseparable. Normally, that wouldn't have troubled Abraham, but he wasn't sure he wanted Cecilia to see this.

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