The Pianist and His Lover

After we had talked for, well it seemed like hours, I was about to make my excuses and get out from under Ericka's skirts, when she asked me if I had anything important to do that evening.

"No," I replied, curious. I was already in lust with Ericka so any additional time that I could spend with her was fine with me.

To my surprise, she then excused herself, only to reappear wearing nothing except her shoes with 3" inch heels.

I gasped in shock. She was Helen of the thousand ships, she was Venus rising from the sea; she was my womanly ideal. What in the hell was going on?

"Jeremy, this is highly improper, and if you want to leave, you can and I will tell Saul that we can't work together and that he will have to find one of the other patrons to organize your schedule. I will still donate the money and support you.

"But I have to confess, since a little after you started playing for us, I've been hot for you. I want to take you to my bed and make love with you. You just don't know how much your music affected me. That you're so handsome doesn't hurt either. Would you do this for me?"

What a stupid question. There I was a 21 year-old, unattached guy, whose sexual experience was very limited, but never in my dreams did I imagine being offered a chance to have make love with a goddess.

"What about your husband?" I asked.

"This isn't about my husband. I love him completely. But I want to make love to you as well. Aren't I pretty enough?" She put her hands under her voluptuous breasts and lifted them. "Is my body attractive enough for you? Please?"

I thought at the time that she was fishing for compliments, but I would gradually discover that beneath her beautiful exterior was a woman who was insecure with her attractiveness.

She was walking across the room as she spoke until she was standing close enough to touch her. She took my hand and raised it to her breast.

"You are a beauty beyond my wildest dreams. I can hardy imagine that I am in the same room as a women as enticing as you are."

Ericka suddenly went to her knees, and began unbuckling my pants. She unzipped me and her hands explored into my underwear and exposed my now rather hard cock. She took it into her warm and moist mouth and I almost went into shock. This was a first for me — no other woman had ever placed her mouth onto my cock. All I could do was to lay back into the seat and moan.

I came too quickly. I was embarrassed, but I had never had the experience before. I expected Ericka to throw me out of the suite in disgust. But that wasn't what happened.

"AH!" she exclaimed, as she swallowed my seed, "You don't taste bad at all. And now that we have your first time out of the way, you will last longer the next time."

After that we spent hours making love. And I do mean making love. Nothing unusual at that time (although we would some times later be more adventurous), but an experience that satisfied and touched my soul.

We talked in bed afterwards. I was, of course, as the old song went, 'Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered'.

Ericka made it clear though. One look at me and she took my face between her two hands and gently kissed me.

"Jeremy, I hope that this is only the first time of many that we can be together. But let me repeat this right now: I love my husband; I am not leaving my husband for you or anybody else. So lust after me, but do not fall in love with me. You and I have no future together.

"It doesn't give me any pleasure to say this, but I'm too old for you and when you are concertizing, there will be women, many more attractive than I am, throwing themselves at you. And you should take advantage of the situation. You are young, single and handsome. You are charming and talented. You are easy to love. So I will make sure that I don't fall in love with you and don't you fall in love with this old lady!" Even in the half-dark room I though I could see tears forming in her eyes.

And that was the mutual agreement that we reached at the start of our affair.

We dressed and went out to dinner that evening. I wish I could tell you in great detail what a wonderful meal it was, but I was oblivious to the food or my surrounding. I was walking in the clouds just to be with Ericka. She was interesting, charming and so, so, easy to be with.

She did lay a surprise on me. She already had my first job lined up.

My first recital would be a charity fundraiser at her and her husband's house in the Hamptons. Tickets had already been sold and the recital scheduled when the original performer, a well-known older pianist, was hospitalized, and it wasn't clear if he was going to live or not. So I was being substituted to perform in his place in front of all of those rich, philanthropic sorts.

The good news was that I could select my own music from pieces that I already was prepared to play, so I didn't have a lot of preparation.

We parted the next day. Ericka gave me the keys to my new condominium in Georgetown and told me when the movers would be by to move my meager possessions from the old place to the new.

~~*~~

I arrived at JFK the day before the recital. It was an easy, short, flight.

Ericka picked me up with a black Lincoln Town Car. She had a driver, who she introduced to me as 'Herb', who grabbed my luggage and put it into the trunk, while I settled into the back seat with Ericka.

While Herb had been dealing with my bags, Ericka whispered that we would talk privately during the weekend, but not to say anything that would clue Herb into our relationship being anything more than that she was a patron of my work. There was no privacy window in the car.

That wasn't difficult because, as Herb drove us up the Montauk Highway to their estate, she had a lot to talk to me about the event — what it was for, and who would likely be there. It was a propitious time for the fundraiser, during the early summer when the area was full of part-time residents, who lived most of the time in the City, as well as full-timers, and even wealthy refugees from New York just taking vacations.

She asked me if I was comfortable in my new digs — the magnificent condo that the patrons (including her husband, who was in essence donating it to me to use) were providing. I told her it was wonderful — much more luxurious than anywhere I had ever lived.

She also asked me about the grand piano that they had provided for me. That I had to absolute rave about. It was a rebuilt used Baldwin concert grand with the Renner action, so it was like going home to my parents place. I would spend hours practicing on it simply because it gave me such great pleasure. And one of the results was that I was learning new music to add to my repertoire.

We arrived at what could only be described as a mansion! I later learned that it had once been a potato farm that was purchased by one of the 19th Century robber barons and he built his summer estate there. The exterior was in the style of the period. It had been immaculately maintained and periodically modernized an updated. Modern toilets, showers and electrical systems. But it was still surrounded by something like 160 acres, including a section of beach that could be seen from the rear side of the house.

Ericka seemed perfectly happy and comfortable. I was terrified. I was sure that her husband would look at the two of us and immediately know that we had slept together.

It wasn't like that at all.

Thomas Blumenthal was about the same height that I was, trim, with clear, honest looking, blue eyes. He had, I guess, a handsome face, with light sandy brown hair and a warm and welcoming smile. He was, at 45, more than twice my age.

"Jeremy," he began after our initial introduction, "It's so good to meet you! Ericka has been raving about you. She claims you are the next great star of the music world."

Glad that the topic had started with my musicianship, my nerves calmed down a little.

"Thank you, sir. I think that she is overstating the case!"

"Oh, no need to be modest. If Ericka says you are, I believe her. And, by the way, call me Tom. 'Sir' seems so formal for someone who I know," as he pulled Ericka from the side into his body with his arm around her waist, "is going to be a great friend of the family!"

Ericka interrupted at that point.

"Tom, let me show Jeremy up to his room and give him the tour of the house and the grounds."

Tom grinned at me, "Ericka knows that I'm working from home today and was just taking a break to meet you. But we will have more of a chance to talk at dinner tonight."

With that, he shook my hand and Ericka began to lead me upstairs, while Tom retreated into his office.

She showed me the way to 'my' suite. It was a large room on the third floor with a king sized bed and an en suite bathroom. It was in the same style as the rest of the house, with dark rich wood furniture, deep carpet that one sank into, and the usual Victorian accents such as crown molding. Ericka told me that this bedroom was reserved for very special guests. My luggage had been brought up for me and I had both a dresser for my foldable clothes and an armoire to hang my shirts and suits.

I turned to Ericka and began to speak, "Ericka, your husband..."

But before I could say anything more, Ericka brought a finger to her mouth, and silently said, "Later."

Ericka proceeded to give me the tour of the old, historic house, telling me about the history of the place: it's previous owners and occupants, the modifications made over the years. She was a great tour guide!

Then we went outdoors to walk the grounds.

When we were far enough away from the house, she finally began to talk to me on a more personal level.

"Jeremy, I shushed you in the house because, and I don't know for sure, but I think that my husband has certain places in the house bugged with listening devices."

I was thinking that sounded somewhat perverted.

She looked at me and laughed.

"No, he isn't interested in listening to other people having sex. But he sometimes has business associates over and I think that he wants to know what they are saying about their businesses, any problems that are having, what they want from him that caused them to come here. Those kinds of things. More industrial espionage than voyeurism.

"But I didn't want you to talk about us thinking that what you were saying was private. Again, I'm not sure, but my husband knows that information is gold. So I'm taking no chances."

I nodded, confirming that I understood.

"Ericka, I do have a question though. Why me? Your husband seems like very respectable man, and from his closeness to you when we were introduced, I believe that he loves you a great deal. And you've told me that you love him deeply as well. So again, why?"

Ericka sighed.

"First, Jeremy, I want you to know that you are the first, and only man, other than my husband, who I have made love with, since Tom and I were married."

She paused as we walked a little while in silence.

"As you mentioned, I do love Tom deeply. He is a good man. He is my lover and my friend. He is all of the things I wanted in a husband when I married him. And this is still true. Until I met you, I have never been tempted in the slightest by another man.

"But, you provoked a passion in me, as I listened to you play, that overwhelmed me. When I'm not with you, I see you playing at the keyboard. I hear you pouring out your heart into the music. I want to take you in my arms and protect you from the world and I want to make love with you.

"You don't have any idea of how desperately I want to love you this weekend, but I will resist, because it would break Tom's heart if we were caught, and the risk is too high.

"I also want you to meet other women; there will be some beautiful women, closer to your own age and eligible at this recital. You, as a single promising artist, will attract many women, from very young to very old. Be open to new experiences. Don't be like me and become obsessed with me the way that I am with you."

Then she took me by the arm and we began walking back to the house. I could see Tom standing out on one of the balconies. Ericka waved and smiled at him and he waved and smiled back at us. Once again I was a bundle of nerves: what did he think seeing me walking along with his wife clutching my arm putting it into the side of her breast. Oh well, I reasoned, I hope SHE knows what she is doing!

Dinner that night was casual, but it was a larger gathering than I expected, and it was catered and held outside on the back patio that looked down to the ocean. There were several of my patrons in attendance, and some of the large donors to the charity had been invited as well. As Ericka had promised there were also a smattering of younger women at the dinner as well, although I think most of them were married.

The tables were set up in a 'U' shape, with Ericka in the middle (she was the host for the charity) with Tom sitting on her right and me on her left. To the right of Tom was one of the men who was also one of my patrons, and to my left was one of the older women, Diane Steel, who was also a patron. She was a good-looking lady in (I guessed) her late forties. I was quite amused by her in that, while she was looking very dignified as she sat there, she kept reaching over beneath the tablecloth trying to check out the equipment. I was a little startled at first, but honestly, I wasn't too disturbed. If it gave her a little thrill, then bully for her!

The catered meal was actually tasty — a choice of prime rib (that was really 'prime' grade) or grilled salmon, with select red and white wines, veggies cooked to perfection and a choice of desserts to finish the meal.

Afterwards there was a certain amount of additional interaction as people left — Ericka insisted that I also be at the doorway bidding the guests adieu. My aggressive older patroness, Diane, pressed a note into my hand as she left, which, without looking at it, I stuck in my pocket.

It was still fairly early in the evening when the guests had left, so Tom, Ericka and I sat in what I guess was the family room. There was a large fireplace in the room, but it wasn't lit as it was too warm, with overstuffed chairs and a couch with a number of small tables to let you put down your drinks. It was an intimate room, not as large as the other 'public' spaces.

Ericka started the conversation.

"Goodness, that went as well as could be hoped. I think that both Jeremy's patrons and the large donors who were invited appreciate having time to meet Jeremy in a more exclusive setting than the recital tomorrow"

Tom and I both nodded in agreement.

Tom opened a bottle of single-malt Scotch and poured us all a wee dram, and then we talked and celebrated until late in the evening.

Damn, the whole thing made me feel right at home with these people, which was even worse. I liked Tom. He was not some sort of rich asshole; he was a nice guy who happened to make a pile of money. But he still remembered his childhood roots on a farm in Pennsylvania. I could see why Ericka married him.

The guilt I felt was terrible.

Ericka could read me like a book. While Tom thought I was nervous about the recital the next day, Ericka knew that it was our encounter that was bothering me.

As we all left to go to bed, she pulled me aside and whispered into my ear.

"Jeremy, stop worrying. You and I have nothing to do with Tom and I. Now go to bed and get some sleep. Open your window and listen to the waves pounding on the sound. I guarantee you, you will be asleep in no time."

She caught up with Tom and as they walked away to their own rooms, I could catch the periodic sounds of Ericka talking to Tom.

"A little nervous, I think..."

A laugh.

"...Open his window... the sound of the ocean..."

When I got into my room, I was taking off my clothes when I rediscovered that note that my patroness had slipped into my hand.

"Jeremy -- I feel like such a disgusting old woman, but I hope that when you are in Cincinnati, I could spend some time with you. Privately. Call me at (XXX) XXX-XXXX when you are in town. Diane"

I laughed a little, wondering if this might be something I would have to deal with while I was on the road. She was older, but she was good looking for a woman her age. And she was one of my patrons. I thought that I should give her a call and go to dinner or something with her when I was in town. I would have to talk Ericka about it.

~~*~~

The concert/recital went over very well. The lunch had been served outside in temporary tents beginning at 1:00 PM and my recital started at 2:30 PM — lots of time for people to eat and socialize before my debut concert.

I won't go through the details of the program, but I tried to give the audience what they had come for. So, about ¾ of the pieces were the same as the other pianist had selected (just a quick comment: it is amazing how much of the piano repertoire most pianist have in common) and in those cases where I didn't know the piece that had been originally selected, I found something else to play from the same composer.

The audience appreciated the music and gave me a standing ovation. I played two encore pieces and the audience was ready for more, but I had to put an end to it — I was exhausted from the experience.

After the concert I mingled with some of New York's rich and famous, as well as some of their daughters! It was a new experience to be savored, being treated as the star attraction of the event. I had women from 12 to 75 who wanted selfies with me. There were also the classical music groupies there as well (yes, classical musicians have them too), some attractive single young ladies as well as a few married ones. At least they were more discreet than the women throwing their room keys at Elvis or their panties at Tom Jones!

As things were winding down, Ericka joined me. She again took my arm as we walked.

"So, did you get any phone numbers from your new fans?" she asked.

I think I may have blushed she laughed when she saw my face.

"Oh my god," she exclaimed, "You are so sweet and young!" She leaned over and kissed my cheek right there.

"To be completely honest, I didn't want to be impolite or offend you. I don't know what the rules are. I mean about women after a performance; I also mean about you and me," I said the last part very quietly.

She smiled at me, and noticing the sound of many people talking in the room, spoke to me, sotto voce.

"Jeremy, you should flirt with the women. Gently, unless you really want to bed them. As for you and me, we can have our times together, but in public I want to be your friend, but we can only be lovers when we are alone together. So if you have the chance to pursue other women, I want you to. It will actually make it safer for you and I when we are together.

"Now," she patted my arm, "circulate for a couple more minutes. Everyone will be leaving soon and it will be time for dinner."

As she was leaving, Diane Steel came by and kissed me on both cheeks as she was leaving.

"And remember, call me when you are in Cincinnati," she said, and then in a whisper, "I'll make it worth your while."

With that she patted my arm and exited the house and got into the limo that would take her back to the Midwest.

Ericka had seen the short interaction, of course.

"What was that about?" she inquired. I suspected that she had some idea.

I told her about the note and the promise to make it worth my while to call her while I was in Columbus.

Ericka chuckled.

"First, Diane is probably your wealthiest patron. Her husband, who was 20 years older than her, ran one of the largest mutual funds in the world. And when he died, she was his only heir. She may be the wealthiest woman in the U.S., and there are only a couple women in the world with more money.