Hot Habañera

People think of the performing arts as a glamorous way of life, but they don't often think of the hard work and difficulties involved. I am a soprano, and I practice most of every day. If I am not giving a performance, then my work is learning new pieces and practicing my skills. Singing is very physical, and I have to watch what I eat and also exercise regularly. Furthermore, performing is extremely stressful. Besides worrying about performing well, I worry about how audiences will receive me, which is a different issue. I have to deal with all kinds of people, who sometimes have strange ideas about music and musicians, and strong opinions about them.

Furthermore, traveling and working in many different venues bring their own challenges. situations. Touring is an important part of my career, because that is how I get to be known in the wider world and how I get more engagements, but it is also very difficult. I have to deal with travel issues like canceled and delayed flights, uncomfortable accommodations, bad food, and unsatisfactory performance venues.

As a solo artist, I also have to have a good piano accompanist. A good accompanist has to be, first of all, a good musician. Furthermore, he/she has to have musical compatibility with the soloist and also has to be a good work partner. I am so lucky to have Eric as my accompanist. He checks all the boxes. Also, while he has always been a complete professional, he supports me emotionally, something that I really appreciate.

One might think that a romance, or at least a physical relationship, might develop between a soloist and her/his accompanist. They are thrown together in all kinds of situations and have to work through them together. Those experiences usually create a special bond, but what kind?

Eric has been, from the beginning of our association, totally correct and professional with respect to me. While I really appreciate his support, he has been so physically restrained that I sometimes wondered if he was gay. After an especially good or an especially bad recital experience, he would often give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, but that was all.

The one exception to that rule, prior to our most recent tour, about which I will tell more soon, occurred when I slipped, fell, and broke my ankle. Eric pretty much had to carry me to get help. I was draped over him, and our bodies were pressed together. I felt a bulge in his pants grow, press against my body, and then, eventually, shrink again. That somewhat answered the question of physical attraction, but, afterwards, Eric returned to his character of being a consummate professional, musician, and gentleman.

Our most recent tour started out as many tours have, but it turned into a logistical nightmare. I missed one recital when one of our flights was delayed, and we missed the connection to the next city. In another place, the piano on stage in the hall was poorly tuned. Eric, in a rage that was partly real and partly tactical, demanded that the piano be retuned, "Immediately," (which it was).

On our way to our final stop, we encountered another flight delay. Since we had already missed one engagement on the tour, we didn't want to miss another one, so we rented a car, and Eric drove us five hours to this last destination.

By the time that we got there, I was exhausted, stressed out, and jittery. I didn't think that I could deal with looking for dinner, so Eric let me rest in our hotel, and he soon returned with Chinese take-out featuring some of my favorite Chinese comfort foods: egg rolls, wonton soup, and fried rice.

When I went to take a shower on the morning of the recital, I found that the shower in my room didn't work. I immediately called the hotel management, and they promised to find me another room. However, time passed, and no new room materialized. After a while, Eric said, "I'll take a little walk, and you take a shower in my room." I readily agreed.

When I finished the shower, I found myself taking my time drying off and delaying getting dressed. "What if Eric came back while I am undressed?" I asked myself, and I answered myself, "That would be fine." I stayed in his room, hoping to be able to show him my naked body.

After a while, Eric knocked on the room door, opened it, and stuck his head in. I was standing outside his bathroom, totally nude. "Oops!" he said, and went back out. I realized that nothing more was going to happen at that time, so I got dressed and returned to my room.

I consider myself to be primarily an opera singer, but, when I give recitals, I often include other genres of music, like Broadway show tunes and high-quality popular songs, depending on the venue. That is what I did in the final recital of this tour, and the program was well-received. The audience applauded each number warmly and gave us an enthusiastic ovation at the end. As we took our final bows, Eric, in his gallant, affirming, and professional way, kissed my hand. I wished that he was kissing me on the mouth!

We decided to give an encore, the Habañera from the opera Carmen. In that aria, the title character, a "gypsy" woman (I use the quotation marks because "gypsy" is no longer considered an appropriate term for a member of the Roma people, but everybody still describes Carmen as a gypsy.) presents herself as a strong-willed, independent, and very sexy personality. Many singers, in staged productions of Carmen, show noticeable amounts of leg and cleavage while singing the Habañera. When we decided on the encore, I didn't have any particular plan for stage business, but I soon got one.

When Eric began the sly, seductive, introduction to the aria, I completely got into the mood of the piece. I was also overcome with feelings of love and desire for Eric. I sang, "Love is a rebellious bird that none can tame, and it is quite in vain that one calls it, if it suits it to refuse," and I unzipped the back of my gown. A wave of murmuring swept through the audience.

I continued singing, "Nothing to be done, threat or plea. One suitor talks well, the other is silent, and it's the other that I prefer. He says nothing, but he pleases me." I let the top of my gown drop, exposing my top half. The murmuring from the audience continued. Eric's page turner looked alarmed and retreated from the stage. Eric gave a quick glance at me and continued playing.

I sang the climax of the first stanza, "That's love! That's love!" I stepped out of my gown, standing now in panties and bra.

I continued with the second stanza of the aria, "Love is a gypsy child. It has never, never known a law. If you don't love me, I may love you, but, if I love you, be on your guard!" As I did so, I took off my bra, revealing my 36Ds. The noise from the audience got louder, but Eric continued playing, and I continued singing.

When I got to the second climax, singing, "That's love! That's love!" I pulled off my panties. The audience cheered and applauded. I sang the third stanza completely nude, and then I got on my hands and knees and made my way over to Eric on the piano bench. I unbuckled the belt of his trousers, unzipped the fly, and pulled down his pants. I rubbed the front of his undershorts a bit and then pulled them down.

At this point, he could no longer play. His fingers struck a few random notes, and then he wrapped his arms around me. I could no longer sing. I fondled his large balls to make him hard, and I took his stiff cock in my mouth and sucked on it a bit. Then I stood up, straddled Eric, separated the lips of my shaven pussy a little, and lowered myself onto Eric's cock. We entered into a deep, wet, firm kiss. As I pumped up and down, a delicious tingling spread from my pussy through my entire body, and the audience cheered us on, shouting, "Go! Go! Go!"

We came almost at the same time, and I managed to signal that event with the last two notes of the aria, full voice. The audience gave us a long standing ovation. There was no second encore. There was nothing that could follow the hot Habañera.