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Then I hear it. A slow single clapping pair of hands!
Turning Chris loose I look in horror to my musical appreciation teacher, Mr. Franklin, walking his way down the aisle of empty seats. The earlier desire to have an audience has fled with my orgasm. I squeak in embarrassment and scurry over the side of the piano and hide myself behind it.
"A masterful performance Miss. Van Pelt. And you as well Mr. Doran. I have never heard you play with that much passion. Truly your greatest performance to date."
He stops at the edge of the stage looking up. I have myself hidden behind the piano while Chris is standing there looking shame faced.
He smiles at Chris, then looks to me.
"Perhaps you should take up drama next semester Miss Van Pelt. That was a work of true artistry how well you managed to break through the shell of arrogant pride that our young prodigy here has grown over the years. However...," Mr. Franklin looks back to Chris. "I think that the rest of this concerto should be performed somewhere other, than on the top of my piano."
"Yes sir." we both say it in an embarrassed whisper.
He smiles and give a silent clap then turns to leave, then stops looking back. I duck back down having almost stood up.
"Mr. Doran, one more thing. You are not, no matter how skilled your playing is, Jerry Lee Lewis. Don't you ever kick over my piano stool again."
Chris turns redder than I am. He nods letting his head drop. He doesn't see the smile. Nor the way the Mr Franklin winks at me.
I watch my teacher walking up the rows of seat. I hear him chuckle. He is laughing loud enough for us to hear by the time he goes through the door and it closes with an echoing boom.
Chris is looking at me when I glance over at him. I stand up and move my hand away so he can see me. His eyes take in all of my body again. Looking down I notice that the hard bulge he had when he kissed me has faded away.
'" love you," I say to him then. "I just want you to know that. I know you don't love me, but if you could find it in yourself to maybe just barely tolerate me... that would be enough for me... for now."
He takes a deep breath, let it out in a sigh and looks from me to the scattered pieces of sheet music that litter the floor. Bending down he picks up one by his foot.
Feeling the absolute worst dejection I have ever felt I wipe the sudden flood of tears from my eyes and move to where I let my dress fall. Leaning down I gather it up.
"Lucy... I can't love any girl. I'm married to my music."
I stop in the act of straightening out my dress and look back at him. He's holding that single sheet of music like it's all that's keeping him from screaming. Clutching my dress for a second the same way I let it fall again to the floor and step over to him. Pulling the paper from his finger I let it fall only to give a gasp when I take his hands and find his fingers are bloody.
I lift his hand to my mouth and slowly places kiss after kiss on the red tips, the slight taste of copper washes my tongue when I wet my lips. I move his hand to my bare breast filling his palm with it. When I look down at it I see that the bulge has returned to his pants. I let my hand leave his and I cup that hard warmth.
"If your married... then please let me to be your Mistress."
After several seconds his slow nod is a music to my heart far greater than any I heard tonight.
- COMMENTS
Anonymousover 10 years agoSo this is what Lucy and Schroeder would be like if Charles Schulz had ever let them grow up? An interesting, imaginative take--Schroeder giving Lucy the pitch out again. You're probably right that Schroeder never would exchange his music for more attention to Lucy. I'm not sure that the guy's obsession with his music is really arrogance, though, or is the arrogance supposed to be covered by some other element of this story? Is this perhaps one of our UK writers attempting to come across as American? A good story line that could have benefited from an editor, many more commas, and a lot of trading of single quotes for double quotes. The move from present tense to past and back to present went smoothly. A good contest entry.
Anonymousover 10 years agoLove and passion is not always returned, but it doesn't cease to be something that touches your soul nevertheless. This is the tale of such a passion. Very original storytelling.
It started a bit slowly with the back story bogging down the beginning but by the time I was halfway into the page, I was enjoying it too much. It built up momentum and thundered to an absolutely lovely finish. There could be no other ending.
I loved the idea and the way that the contents of the basket were used... very seamless. The use of music was especially well done. Some of the writing was definitely amazing but my only gripe is that the story badly needed to be edited for it to be completely enjoyable.
Pedagogyover 10 years agoThis is just wow. I get it though.It's bittersweet. A life of second fiddle to the music. Just like husbands who are married to their work. It worked with the ingredients, well written.
Anonymousover 10 years agoI agree with Pennlady, I am not sure what to think while some moments i thought wow! other moments left me deflated. Good job, I think... I worry if all of us from the contest leave our names with our comments it will be too easy to tell whose who so I am leaving this anonymously but i am looking forward to see who wrote this one and maybe look at their other stories.
