Seeing Her Pt. 01

Seeing Her Pt. 01

A woman's mid-life renaissance.

~~~

Author's note:

My first story in this category (Beautiful Honesty) was well received, but criticized by some as needing more plot and less sex. This one has more plot and character development, so a slower burn and longer read, but hopefully leading to a hotter flame. You be the judge.

Grateful for your feedback and comments.

MP

~~~

The audience in the jazz club clapped politely when the quartet stepped onto the stage and walked to their instruments. Madeline came last because her piano was closest to the steps. She sat, pulled the bench in and experienced a powerful sensation that she was being examined as she positioned her feet on the pedals. Getting looks wasn't new for an attractive woman in her 40's who looked like the classical musician she actually was, playing in a jazz quartet. She wore a stylish suit that enhanced her figure, with rich auburn hair hanging to the small of her back and 3" heels that people often commented on. They'd ask, "How she worked the pedals wearing those things?"

So, she got looks, but this felt like more than a look?

She shrugged it off when they began playing and gave herself to the music's seduction. As usual, the quartet followed a familiar playlist to 'warm up' before getting loosey-goosey in the second set. Madeline's performance inevitably grew fluid before the others. Her body animated, swayed and jerked as it became the music her fingers played. Even as her soul longed to play freely, she relished the restraint of the written score. In a way, it was part of her performance arousal, her high. An inner hunger to be wild pushed the envelope of written music and enlivened her playing. It invigorated the entire quartet. She wasn't the leader of the quartet but in many ways was its emotional soul.

Madeline went beyond the boundaries of her life playing the piano, and with each sweet taste of freedom she yearned to go further.

Halfway through the set with her fingers skillfully working the ivories her head lolled to the side and her gaze swept over the audience. She didn't focus until her eyes caught on his like sliding silk catches on the point of a knife. The effect jolted, her fingers faltered.

She didn't know the man sitting by himself at a table normally reserved for groups. He wore a tailored suit with tie loosened and he was scrutinizing her. Madeline realized his gaze was what she'd been feeling, and felt as if he could see through her public presentation. She felt like she was the only one on the stage and became self-conscious of her racy underthings, her naughty secrets, always worn but hidden from sight when she played jazz.

He was absorbing everything about her. Consuming her.

Madeline lost her equilibrium.

She looked to Sam, on bass, who set the tempo. Their eyes caught and she fell in with his timing. They finished the set with the audience unaware she'd had a vertigo like experience. One person in the audience knew. And Sam knew. "Are you alright Madds?" He asked.

"Sure." She responded without conviction and couldn't hide her flushed appearance. "I need a water."

She wound her way through tables as audience members resumed conversations, visited the restroom and ordered fresh drinks. Behind the bar, Isla saw her coming and had a tall ice water waiting. It was Isla's club, called simply Isla's, and she always helped at the bar during breaks. She extended the cold glass to Madeline who drank deeply, then said, "Thanks" with genuine gratitude.

Isla smiled at her, and then at someone who'd come up behind her. "Madeline, meet Frank Church. I asked him to come see you tonight."

Even before Isla spoke, Madeline knew the presence behind her was the man she'd noticed in the audience. She felt him as certainly as if his chest pressed into her back. She turned to him with vague apprehension, then relaxed somewhat in the warmth of his smile. His presence embraced her. Strangely, neither of them felt the need to speak when she took his extended hand.

"Frank is my silent partner."

He finally said "Hello Madeline" while continuing to hold her hand. She almost pulled it back but felt compelled not to and he let go before she got uncomfortable.

Isla said, "Sorry guys, but I've got thirsty patrons." She moved down the bar and was immediately busy.

"You came to see the quartet?" Madeline asked.

"To see you." He replied.

She almost blurted out that she was married, but stopped herself just in time. That would have been weird. He doesn't mean me. He means the quartet. She felt the ring on her finger.

His gaze said he did mean her.

As she had on stage, Madeline felt exposed. His expression was normal and genuinely friendly, as far from leering as it could be, yet it was as if he saw through her performance persona, through clothes, hidden undergarments and even skin, and saw desires she didn't acknowledge. Madeline blushed with heat. Her nipples stiffened against restraining lace. She had to get away from him and spoke abruptly, "I need to get ready for our next set."

Frank Church said, "Of course." His softly indulgent smile said he knew she was fleeing.

Madeline's most complete escape was always into her music and she poured everything into the second set. The audience watched spellbound. Her band mates glowed with her and during the second break she didn't leave the small stage. Even through the final set, Maddie was careful not to focus on anyone in the audience. Afterwards, the quartet retired to a room adjoining the stage to critique their performance and unwind. No one was allowed to join them there except Isla. She brought their drinks - a beer, a bourbon rocks and a scotch rocks for the guys, and two fingers of Talisker Storm Scotch straight up for Maddie. She loved its bite and smoky aftertaste following a performance.

"I'm having some people come up to the condo," Isla said. "Can you guys join us?" Her condo was in the building next to the club.

The guys nodded but Madeline demurred. "I shouldn't. Tim and I are driving to his parent's country home tomorrow."

Sam objected. "Come on Madds, let's go as a group. You can nap while Tim drives."

She relented when the group gave her the party pooper look, and Isla added, "I know Frank want's to visit with you." Madeline realized that was the very reason she'd originally said no, but decided her discomfort about Frank Church was ridiculous.

Leaving her assistant club manager to close up, Isla reconvened with just over a dozen guests in her condo. Her place was perfect for entertaining, complete with a 'help yourself' wet-bar that Madeline was trying to get to in the great room. It was difficult because the quartet became the center of attention when they arrived, with effusive praise directed to her playing in particular.

It had been a wonderfully energized last set and she glowed in the recognition, then grew uncomfortable with it. She preferred to be mostly unseen, covered - like her body.

After finally making her way to the bar, Madeline looked for the Talisker that Isla always had out for her. It wasn't there. Then Isla appeared and apologized, saying she'd get a bottle from the back pantry. Madeline stopped her. "Stay with your guests. I know where it is." Isla smiled and gratefully squeezed her arm.

The noise of the animated gathering lessened as Maddie moved to the back of the expansive condo, until it was a murmur. Separating herself from the party, while still feeling like she was part of it, calmed her and it felt right to leave the bright overhead light off when she entered the pantry. She knew where things were and preferred the softer light coming from the hallway, but as she looked through the bottles something blocked that light.

Frank Church spoke from behind her. "I wondered where you were going." Madeline jerked in surprise and didn't know how she kept from calling out even though his voice was soft. It was the only sound in the pantry. When she turned to him he was inches away. Away from the torrent of smells in the club she smelled a hint of his woody cologne but her body reacted more to something else in the confines of the pantry. The scent of aroused male pheromones reached something long unbidden within her and revealed it in discovery. Her body responded to his primal scent with an inner willingness. She struggled to reply until she finally stammered, "I told Isla I'd get the Scotch."

When he stepped forward to reach beyond her, she fell back in surprise and he caught her with his free arm. He held her even after she regained her balance, and produced the bottle of Talisker he plucked from the shelf in his other hand. Because of his height her face was against his neck when she turned to see it and nodded. Still he held her, and she didn't attempt to get free. Her nipples pebbled on soft tit crushed to his chest and his covered manhood responded against her stomach. Madeline's body flushed with invitation. This is wrong.

She didn't step back when he pushed into her to return the bottle to the shelf. This is wrong. He leaned back, took her face in his large hands and their eyes met. She didn't shy from his gaze as she normally would. The scents, warmth and closeness of this dimly lit pantry was spellbinding. He tipped her face up to his. Then her lips opened when he kissed her. Just like that. His tongue slid into her mouth and against hers and her arms went around him as their tongues twisted together in a languid, unhurried dance. Surreal, and so, so wrong.

Frank ended the kiss, then leaned back with their lower bodies still pushed together. Her hands stayed on his back as if glued and he held her eyes when he opened the top button of her blouse. So fucking wrong. And the next. When he opened the third she felt her breasts pushing the blouse open even as they were restrained by her bra. She felt air on her exposed skin. She stayed silent as he opened yet another button and felt the heat in his eyes and didn't want him to stop despite the frantic demands of her conscience. After opening the lowest button, he saw no resistance and eased the blouse open.

Madeline's skin goose bumped when he traced her cleavage with a finger. She saw a knowing look on his face when he looked down at her sexy bra. It was fashioned to seduce, with push-up half cups that presented her breasts magnificently. He saw her nipples through the sheer fabric and she felt them pebble. They hardened more when his fingers lightly brushed them through the lace fabric. Like he owns me.

When he raised his eyes to hers he breathed, "Madeline. You're irresistible." He softly kissed her on the lips again, then her chin. She felt him kiss her neck and felt the wet touch of his tongue when he moved lower. Her breaths became gasps before his mouth arrived between her breasts where he kissed fully. Her hands were still on his back and tightened when he licked her cleavage. He was tasting her. She wondered if he could release the front clasp of her bra with his mouth. She wanted him to. The wickedness of what she was doing heightened her arousal.

The sound of Isla's voice broke the spell and snapped them back to the condo. She was calling as she approached. "Where'd you get off to?"

Madeline pushed herself away from Frank like a sinner caught. She hurried to button her blouse but he stopped her. "I'll do it." He watched her eyes as he methodically made her proper again. He didn't rush and she knew he saw the clash of emotions overwhelming her.

"There you are." Isla spoke from just outside the pantry, then reached in to turn on the light. Madeline looked like a deer in headlights. Isla said, "Easier with the light on."

"We could see alright." Frank replied, then retrieved the Scotch and stepped past her. He walked towards the sound of the party. Madeline looked down as she subconsciously straightened her shirt, then realized how that looked and quickly brought her face up to Isla's.

She knows.

"Where did you get off to Maddie?" Isla wasn't asking. She was teasing with an affectionate smile.

She's not surprised.

Saying, "He's got your Scotch." Isla turned to follow Frank.

Madeline struggled to gather herself before following them. What was that? What the fuck was I doing?

When she walked back into the party, Frank was pouring two fingers of amber Scotch into a glass for her. His cell buzzed as he handed her the drink and after checking the screen he muttered "Damn." His appearance changed from relaxed to 'all business' like a switch had been thrown. "I want to know more about you Madeline, but I have to go." He didn't make a move to touch her in the presence of others, instead walking to Isla to extend his regrets, and disappearing.

After he left, Isla turned to look at Maddie and saw her features soften with relief at his departure, then cloud with other emotions.

Madeline felt emptied. Like she had nothing. Like she'd found something special, something about her - and lost it. What the...

~~

Madeline was uncharacteristically horny on the drive home. What was that? What happened? It seemed unreal, yet she felt sexier than she had in... maybe ever? Irresistible. The warmth of the unexpected arousal in that pantry not only lingered, it grew hotter. She thought her need would be obvious to Tim and hoped he would respond to it. She remembered the passion they had before the girls, the passion that somehow never returned even after both daughters went off to college. Tonight she needed more than they'd ever had. She needed them to find a new level.

When she entered the kitchen from the garage she heard him on his cell. "Sure." His voice was warm. "I'll make it happen. Tell my assistant to book it all." When he turned and saw her he said, "Gotta go" and abruptly clicked off.

Madeline's sexy mood evaporated. "Who was that?"

"Allie."

His young associate. "At this hour?" Madeline was thinking about the tone she'd heard in his voice when he was talking, an amorous tone he hadn't used with her in more years than she cared to remember.

"We're finalizing things for management presentations for Smithson, the boat manufacturer we're brokering."

"When?"

"Next month, the fifteenth through the eighteenth, in Chicago."

"Tim..." Madeline was stunned, "the concert is on the sixteenth."

His expression said he'd forgotten. "Madds, I'm sorry but this is an important deal for the firm."

"My concert isn't important?"

"Of course it is... but this is work?"

"And the symphony is my work."

"But this is work to secure our financial future and something to leave the girls."

"So my work is unimportant? Because it's 'art' instead of boring?"

Madeline heard the challenge in her voice and was crestfallen they'd fallen into this argument again. She desperately wanted to stop and he also wanted to keep the argument from going where it inevitably would. He placed his phone on the counter and embraced her. She softened in his arms.

"Madds, I'm sorry I'll miss your performance." He leaned back to look in her eyes. "I really am."

She nodded, but her eyes were moist and threatened to spill. She struggled to contain the yearning that threatened to overwhelm her, the crushing sadness that he couldn't seem to understand. "I know." She murmured. Her gaze fell to his phone on the counter and she remembered hearing that tone in his voice when he was speaking to Allie and in that moment she surrendered to her unhappiness. It swallowed her.

Tim felt her go limp in his arms and invigorated his hug, holding her head against his chest. "Damn Madds, I'm letting you down again. I'm sorry." He felt her head nod but through the fabric of his shirt he couldn't feel the tear slide down her cheek. "C'mon, let's go to bed." When he turned and led the way towards their bedroom he took her hand but didn't look back and see her despair.

In the walk-in closet Madeline replaced her suit with a terry robe and looked at her reflection in the mirror before tying it closed. She still wore the sexy bra and pantie set and remembered Frank Church's reaction when he opened her blouse. She heard Tim get in the bed as she got ready in the master bath, and decided to speak to him beyond the doorway.

"Isla's business partner kissed me at her after-party." There. She waited for his reaction. She watched her reflection in the mirror.

"Oh?" His voice drifted to her from the bedroom.

She expected more, but it didn't come. "Does that bother you?" She finally asked.

"Well, I suppose it gets pretty loose at a gathering of 'jazz types'."

Madeline brushed her hair without responding. Jazz types? She was about to say that he'd opened her blouse and kissed between her breasts, but hesitated, and when she finally turned off the light and entered the bedroom saw he was looking at his phone. It hit her. He doesn't care.

She walked to the foot of the bed and waited. When he finally placed his phone on the nightstand and looked up, Madeline opened her robe with uncharacteristic seductiveness. She felt like she was standing on the edge of an abyss as she scanned his face for desire. She let the robe drop. Then she arched her back, opened the front clasp of the bra and freed her tits with a shake.

He watched.

She took her breasts in her hands and squeezed them, presenting herself. Her nipples stiffened as she rolled them. Precariously perched on that ledge, she yearned to see animal desire in his eyes, but saw... mild bemusement?

He patted the bed next to him. A simple gesture, which devastated her with the clarity of its meaning. They would make love like they had the last time, exactly like they had so many times before that.

Tim was an attentive lover, skilled with his mouth and fingers and cock. A lover any wife and mother should be thrilled to have, but Madeline yearned for more from him. Starting sometime after giving birth to their second daughter, she wanted him to be more aggressive. She hinted that she wanted to be held down and forced, even wanted him to get a bit rough. When hinting didn't work, she came right out and told him what she wanted but he said as the mother of their daughters he respected her too much to "treat her like that." She'd stopped hoping long before the girls were in high school. Those years passed so quickly. By the time the girls graduated, sex had become a twice monthly part of their marriage that had the metronomic regularity of holidays, birthdays and anniversaries...and as much passion.

She thought her yearning had finally faded, until tonight, in that pantry, with Frank Church. Irresistible.

Madeline returned to the master bath to finish undressing, then took her place in their marital bed.

~~~

Her weekly therapy session with Dr. Ellen Simms was the next day. She normally resented going because the therapy was Tim's idea, to fix her inexplicable unhappiness, but this time she resolved to get something out of it. She desperately needed to understand why she felt unfulfilled in a marriage that checked all the boxes.

Madeline started the session with uncharacteristic bluntness. "Is it your job to make me understand why my marriage doesn't satisfy me?"

"No."

"Well, then what are we doing?"

"I'm glad we're finally talking directly." Dr. Simms said. "Instead of beating around the bush like the first two sessions." She added, "I've been waiting." She let that hang, so Madeline had time to absorb it. "I usually don't accept referrals set up by someone's spouse. The very notion is ripe with conflict. But something in his tone when he spoke to me about you..." she hesitated, "screamed need."