The Maestro Ch. 07


As soon as she'd put the brush down, his hand lazily crept over to her, circling her ankle and pulling her back down into the nest of covers. He pulled her in against his body, still hot from sleep, kissing her deeply. His fingers splayed over her bare breasts, caressing them softly. As his tongue ran over her lips and slipped between them, the long fingers of one hand mirrored it, gently stroking and probing her already wet depths.

He nibbled a path down her neck, and she let out a soft sigh. Her stomach clenched in anticipation as he disappeared under the blanket. He held her hips firmly in place with one hand as his tongue replaced his fingers, flicking at her most sensitive spots.

She gasped aloud, as much in pleasure as in amazement that no matter how deeply he took her, how much sensation she sometimes bore, just the feeling of his mouth on her could still drive her to such heights. She felt two of his fingers sliding into her, rocking back and forth. It elicited soft, wet noise, simultaneously embarrassing and arousing her further. God, she was always so wet for him.

She pushed the blanket back, and his eyes met hers for the first time that morning.

"I had to see you," she murmured. The sight of him between her legs made her quiver. The thought of it being her Master there, licking her, finger fucking her, heightened the sensations she felt. Throwing her head back, she gave in to the pleasure, feeling her body tighten around his invading fingers.

He nibbled at her gently as she came down, eyes rolled up, watching her, patient. She opened her eyes, half-dazed, and crawled down to him. She kissed him, wanting to taste herself on his lips. Her hand ran down the front of him to cup his cock, already half hard. He rolled onto his back, and she leaned over him, sliding her mouth down over him.

She felt his hand tangling in her hair, guiding her head ever so gently. Such control. She loved watching him fight to keep it.Her hand wrapped around his cock in a firm grip as her head bobbed up and down. She swirled her tongue slickly around the tip, as she stroked him with steady, even motions. She felt the tension in his body as he struggled against his release, and abruptly let go of him. The breath left him in a gusty sigh and he sat up, reaching for her again.

His eyes roamed her body as she crawled toward him. She swung one leg over him and sank down until he was buried in her pussy. Sebastien gathered her close to him, kissing her lips, her neck, sucking on her nipples even as her breasts bounced against him. His hands squeezed her buttocks firmly, and she let her eyes unfocus, thinking only of her pleasure, and the man whose arms she was in.

He was so warm, his scent intoxicating. She felt the prickles of pleasure building again as she rode him. He captured her mouth with his, wrapping his arms around her, and pulling her as close as possible as he made love to her mouth.

Ah, love. It was like an emotion she'd never felt before that moment, like the newness of eating your favorite food after a long deprivation, rediscovering the deliciousness. Her heart swelled with tenderness for Sebastien, with a sorrow that her words must remain unspoken. She was shaking all over, feeling pleasure washing over her, and she knew she would burst.

Sebastien was murmuring to her in French, so sweetly, but the buzzing in Claire's head drowned out everything but "mon abeille," over and over.

"Maestro, I...I..." she whispered. The words formed on her lips, but at that moment the dam broke. When it did, it was not tender words that rushed out, but fat teardrops that dripped onto Sebastien's shoulder as she rode the edge of pleasure, startling him. She felt him grow harder inside her, and her knees grew weak. She buried her face in his neck, feeling his pulse, tasting the salt of his skin and her tears.

"Mon abeille," he said with concern.

"No, please, keep going," she interrupted, sliding off his lap and onto her hands and knees. She sniffed, burying her head in a pillow. Her heart was aching, but she still wanted him, so badly.

"Claire, are you all right? Perhaps we should-"

"No! Please finish. Please, please," she begged.

"But you are crying," he protested.

"I'm fine. I want you to," she insisted, her breath hitching unevenly. So he thrust back into her, drawing a moan from the back of her throat. He grasped her waist, fucking her as deeply as he could go. Slipping one hand beneath her, he rubbed her clit firmly with his fingertips.

Claire struggled to master her tears, her breathing. She felt the orgasm approaching like a runaway freight train, but it was as if something intangible kept it from barreling into her. It drove her crazy.

"Ahh, ahh, I can't, I can't," she moaned. Can't come again, can't say I love you, can't leave you. "Maestro, please..."

"What, mon abeille?"

"Fuck me," she cried, gasping as he complied with a pace faster than she expected. She could hear their skin slapping together, the sparks of pain and pleasure as he bumped into her as far as he could go. It would never be enough, she thought, she would always want more.

Sebastien's thrusting grew erratic, and with a final push forward and a loud exhalation, she felt him shooting his come deeply into her. Then she, too, cried out, fingers grasping desperately at the bedsheets as she shivered violently.

Claire realized at once that she had been holding her breath. She felt Sebastien's hands stroking her back as her body calmed. She didn't resist as he pulled her up to face him, but turned her face away.

"Don't look at me," she mumbled. He took her chin firmly, turning her head back to look at her squarely.

"Enough of that nonsense," he said shortly. "Now, what is wrong?"

She looked at him, so serious now in the bright noon sunshine. Her lip trembled.

"I can't tell you."

"Can't tell me?" he echoed with consternation. "Why ever not?"

"I just can't," she said miserably. "Please don't be angry with me."

Sebastien sighed. "You know I am not," he said more softly. "But make no mistake," he added in an ominous tone. "You have been acting strangely, and I will find out why, one way or another."

At that moment, she had no doubt.


It was late August, and now nearly every day was sunny and warm, though it was growing darker and stormier in Claire's heart. She caught Sebastien giving her strange looks. Lovely nights with him grew uncomfortable as the words she longed to say died on her lips, leaving inadequate phrases behind. René, too, shook his head in baffled disapproval, though strangely it seemed equally directed at Sebastien and herself.

In the middle of a particularly grueling week of rehearsals, Claire arrived a bit earlier than usual, to find that the auditorium wasn't set up as it generally was. The music stands were clustered in one corner of the stage, and the chairs ranged in a wide semi-circle around the back of the room. In the center of the stage, she saw Sebastien conversing casually with two people she didn't know. What was going on? She leaned against the wall, half-hidden in the shadows, watching them.

Sebastien was listening attentively with a charming smile as the woman was talking animatedly to him. Then the man must have made a joke, because all three of them laughed. Claire twirled her hair for a moment, not wanting to interrupt the conversation. The decision was made for her, though, as she suddenly sneezed. It was soft, but loud enough in the echoing room to get everyone's attenion.

She shuffled her feet in embarrassment as they all glanced in her direction, but her heart twinged when she saw the warm smile on Sebastien's face. He excused himself to the others, and strode across the stage toward her, deliberately slow, so that she had ample time to watch him and anticipate his touch. All he did was run his finger lightly down her cheek, but the touch - and the look in his eyes - made her shiver.

"Mon abeille, I am pleased to see you here today," he said, reminding her that she hadn't been on the day's rehearsal schedule. "We have a surprise today."

"What's going on?"

"You'll see," was all he would say.

When the orchestra was gathered, Sebastien addressed them. "You have all been working very hard on the repertoire for our season opener, and I would like to commend you on it. But I feel as if a little essential something is missing from your performances, something I hope to remedy today. Most people lack a basic bodily awareness of this music, which was, after all, largely intended as music to dance to. So I have invited Scott and Mary, local dance instructors, to teach us all some of the traditional dances of the time period."

A wave of sound rose as members of the orchestra murmured to each other. Claire heard one of the cellists exclaim to the bass player sitting beside her in surprise.

"This is so cool! I'm pretty sure he's never done anything like this, at least no while I've been with the symphony."

"I think you're right. But don't you think he's been acting really weird ever since rehearsals started up again?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Almost like he's, I dunno, happier."

"Maybe he's getting laid."

"Oh, sure, like he ever had a problem with that before."

"No, seriously! Maybe he's dating someone."

"You don't think we'd know? There's never anyone around."

"Hm. Maybe he's dating one of us," said the bass player thoughtfully. Claire stiffened a little, but both women just giggled dismissively after they'd thought about it.

"Everyone, quiet please. I know it is a bit unusual, but I think it will help. It had better," he went on in a warning tone, "because I can't fire all of you." Nervous laughter from the musicians at this. Sebastien gestured to the instructors, moving off to the side to lean against the wall and watch.

Scott and Mary started up the music recording they'd brought, and demonstrated the dance moves.

"It may seem staid and conservative compared to the close-quarters dancing often seen today," Scott was saying, "but remember that for many young people, this might be the closest they'd get to their intended until their wedding night. In a way, even holding someone at arm's length could be considered a kind of foreplay." He wiggled his eyebrows, twirling Mary around the floor and eliciting laughter from the orchestra.

Claire stole a look at Sebastien, but he wasn't looking at her. He was watching the dancers with a slightly amused expression on his face. As if he sensed her looking at him, he turned his head, finding her at the back of the group. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she blushed, quickly looking away.

"Well, do you think you've seen enough of this one?" called Mary. "Why don't you all get up, find a partner, and we'll try it out!"

Claire hung back, not feeling as eager as the others to grab a friendly fellow musician and twirl around with them. She figured that she would just wait to see if there was anyone left without a partner, and then she could pair up with them. But there was no one left. The couples were already ranging in a circle around the stage, just like the ballrooms in movies.

She shifted in her chair, wondering if she should stay seated, or get up and move to a place even more out of the way. But Scott, who was walking around and adjusting the starting positions of a few musicians, saw her fidgeting.

"Well, that's no good. You've got to have a partner, too!" he exclaimed.

"No, really, I'd rather just watch."

"Nonsense. Well, Maestro Boulet, how about you?" he asked teasingly.

"Yes, Maestro, come on," some of the musicians urged, obviously in a good humor and hoping their conductor was as well. Sebastien pushed himself off the wall, and walked over to her. She swallowed. This would be one of the very few times he had ever voluntarily touched her in front of the orchestra. He bowed slightly before her, holding out his hand.

"Mon abeille," he murmured out of earshot of the others, "would you dance with me?" She felt the blood rushing to her cheeks as some of the musicians whistled or called out cute comments at them.

"Remind me to kill you later, Maestro," she grumbled, placing her hand in his and allowing him to help her up.

"Don't overstep, Claire," he said in a low voice. He led her into the center of the circle.

"Shouldn't we be with the others?" Claire asked.

"Certainly not. Haven't you ever seen dance scenes in films? The stars are always in the center," he said, and she wasn't sure if he was teasing her or not. She frowned up at him. "Besides," she added," I already know how to do this dance, and you can just follow my lead."

"Mmm, well aren't you just multi-talented," she mused.

"I am glad you see you've noticed," he said with a half-smile. He took her hand in his, setting his other lightly on her waist. Her heart leapt in her chest as he gazed down at her. The music started.

Sebastien spun her around easily and the world melted away. Everything narrowed down to the throbbing violins, the feel of his hand on her, the intense gaze in his eyes as he twirled her about. The others were chatting merrily, laughing as they fumbled steps and bumped into each other. But Claire had no words to say. She had been in his arms so many times before, so many ways, and yet it was an entirely new experience. Every fiber of her being wanted to close the gap between them, sink into his body, breathe in his scent.

Every step was like a drop filling her heart up until it washed over her, nearly bringing a tear to her eye. They moved so slowly, deliberately, round and round. It really did feel like a dance of seduction. Of promise. She had shifted her eyes downward until she was sure she would not cry. When she looked up again, that shining fullness of heart must have shown. Sebastien let the most tender look fill his face, and her eyelashes fluttered briefly, feeling for all the world as if any moment their lips, their hearts, would meet.

Then the music stopped, and the moment was over. Claire reluctantly let her arms drop, and then she suddenly became aware that everyone else had stopped dancing, probably ages ago, and she had Sebastien had been the center of attention. There were a few exchanged glances, a few incredulous looks as Sebastien brought her hand up to his lips.

"You have beautiful form, Maestro Boulet," Scott said. "And you two move so well together. That's rare to see the first time two people dance together. It is your first time, is it not? Claire was silent. Was the blush on her cheeks giving her away? She inclined her head slightly toward Sebastien, knowing he would save her from answering.

"Claire and I have not danced together before, no," he said, apparently choosing his words carefully. They had danced together, once, but without music it was rather different. "But Maestro and soprano are used to moving together in other ways. Working together to make music is very similar. Claire is excellent at taking my every direction, when she wants to be." It was quite a compliment for Sebastien, Claire thought, and from the looks some of the musicians were giving each other, she was not the only one who did. Sebastien was either oblivious or, more likely, didn't care.

"Well, everyone, you are all free to remain here and practice your parts, of course, but I suggest you all take the afternoon off to rest instead." He touched Claire's shoulder, which she took as a sign that she was not free to go, and moved away to speak to Scott and Mary further.

Most of the musicians wasted no time in leaving. Sebastien walked the instructors to the stage door, and Claire dawdled, playing a jaunty little tune on the piano as she waited. She heard his soft footsteps and stilled her hands, letting the soft reverberations float into the air.

"I had hoped, mon abeille, that you would consent to dance with me once more, this time in private." Her heart turned over as she looked up at him under lowered lashes.

"Of course, Maestro, it would be my honor." She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her back to center stage. He tapped the stereo with his shoe, and soft music broke the silence.

He took her into his arms again, guiding her smoothly across the floor. She felt more relaxed knowing they were alone, and gave herself over to the music. After many rotations around the stage, she again got the urge to close the arms-length space between them. This time, she did not stop herself.

Surprising him, she stepped toward him at a time when she should have stepped away, bumping into him. She rested her head on his chest and gave out a little sigh. Taking his cue from this, he wrapped one arm securely around her back, holding her close.

The smell of his cologne was thick around her. The warmth of the room and the spinning made her head fuzzy. So when next Sebastien spoke, at first she was sure she had misheard him.

"Hmmm?" she asked vaguely.

"I was saying that I believe it might be time to announce our, ah, involvement to the orchestra."

Claire pushed back in surprise.

"You what?"

"Come, surely you can't mean to keep it a secret forever. As careful as we are, we are bound to let something slip now and again. Supposing a musician had forgotten something and surprised us, even as we are now, or worse. We are lucky it has not happened yet. And after this afternoon, surely they are growing suspicious."

"What about this afternoon?"

"I would have a hard time believing that anyone who saw the look on your face this afternoon could think we are only colleagues." Her face burned with embarrassment.

"You should have said something!" she said indignantly.

"Oh? You think I should have leaned down and told you to stop enjoying yourself so much?

"Maybe," she said uncomfortably. "Plus, you didn't see the look on your own face, so-"

"Very well, we are both to blame!" he said in exasperation. "But that does not change the face that it has happened."

A bubble of panic began rising in her throat. She couldn't do this. It wasn't what she'd had in mind for this afternoon, or for her life. She was shaking her head slowly, over and over, and backing toward the stage door.

Then in a flash, she was gone, footsteps clattering as she ran. Ran away from him, and the truth. He let her go.


Late afternoon found Claire perched on a rock at the beach, her knees drawn up to her chin, watching the surf. She didn't particularly want to think about the last words she and Sebastien had had with each other. She wanted to pretend the conversation had never even happened. She was more content to watch the tide roll in and out as the sun sank lower.

The footsteps she'd been expecting for the past hour finally crunched up behind her, and she turned to see the young man she'd first noticed days ago. Was it only days ago? It felt like months away.

"Hi," he said, a bit awkwardly. "I notice you here a lot, so I thought I would introduce myself. The name's Malcolm." She glanced down at him, brushing stray strands of hair from her forehead.

"Pleased to meet you, Malcolm. My name's Claire." They chatted for a few moments about nothing in particular. She learned that Malcolm was a graduate student, and that he came to the beach for a quiet place to study. She listened to him, but her inner voice was marveling at how different their lives were, when they were probably barely different in age. His life seemed so easy, carefree, while hers had taken on a distinctly darker tone.

She noticed movement out of the corner of her eye, and looked up to see Sebastien leaning up against his car, watching them. Malcolm turned to see what she was looking at, and turned back to her.

"Oh, it's that guy. Listen, has he been giving you any trouble? You never seem happy to see him."

"Hmm, no, things are just... a little complicated."

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