The Two-Step Symphony

* * *

Brick decided not to judge New York based on his miserable arrival. Through misdirection from people whom he thought should have known, Brick got lost in the huge Kennedy terminal, but he finally found his way to the baggage claim area. Then with both arms full of luggage, he ran after three or four taxis before learning there was a line to get in for a cab. He imagined what a comical figure he must have been: a cowboy chasing after cabs like pigs loose on a farm.

Next, came the unbearably long ride into Manhattan, part of which was through bumper to bumper traffic. Though it had been less than two hours since his arrival, after seeing building after monotonous building, Brick longed for the infinitely pleasing sight of a peaceful mountain.

So, it was with considerable dismay that Brick paid the cab driver, who stopped before what must have been a twenty-five or thirty story building, and gleefully announced that it was the address Brick had given. Of course, had Brick given any thought to what apartment number 1200 meant in Chris Cannon's address, he would have realized that she lived on the twelfth floor of a high-rise.

But his discomfort did not end there.

"Excuse me, sir, where are you going?" a short, uniformed doorman asked.

"What?" Brick shot back sharply.

"I asked where you were going," he repeated, not deterred.

"I'm visiting a friend."

"And who might that be?"

"Chris Cannon."

"Is Miss Cannon expecting you?"

"Expecting me to do what?"

"Does she know you're here?"

"No, it's a surprise."

The doorman quickly consulted a list. "I'm sorry. Miss Cannon is out of the building. You'll have to wait here in the lobby until she returns."

"Gotta do what?" Brick bellowed.

"I said you'll—"

"I heard you. When will she be back?"

"I don't know."

"Aw, fuck!" But Brick knew he had to abide. If he was going to give New York a chance, he'd have to play by their rules. "I'm sorry, little feller. I'll just park myself over here."

"Very well, sir."

An hour later, Brick's patience was beginning to wear thin, and after two hours he had returned to the same state of agitation he'd been in when he first set foot in this building. But he calmed himself by realizing that his visit was a surprise, so he couldn't fault Chris for not being home.

Whatever annoyance and aggravation Brick did feel was instantly quelled when he caught his first glimpse of Chris as she approached the building looking radiant in a white evening dress. In fact, he was so dazzled that he was not even phased by her male companion.

Chris had not seen Brick, nor did she as she entered the lobby because he was sitting off to the side obscured by tall potted plants. When she and her date stopped in the lobby, Brick was able to move behind a post without being noticed to eavesdrop.

"I had a wonderful time," the man, who was in a tuxedo, was saying. "Shall we go up to your apartment?"

"I don't know, Dave. It's getting late."

As Chris said this, Dave pulled her to him slightly, kissing her neck softly in several spots.

Brick read distaste on her face—at least he hoped that was what he saw. He knew he had to move in and end Dave's pitiful advance. After a moment's thought, he took a deep breath, cocked his hat on his head and stepped over to them. "No, no, no, that ain't how you do it," he said, gently pulling them apart. "Watch."

Brick quickly wrapped his arms around Chris and pressed his lips firmly to hers before she could let on that she knew him. But in her eyes, he saw excitement.

"Wait just a minute," Dave said. "What are you doing? Who do you think you are?"

Brick waved him off.

"Doorman!" Dave shouted. "This . . . this cowboy is attacking my date!"

"She doesn't appear to be resisting, sir," the doorman noted.

As if to support the doorman's observation, Chris tightened her arms around Brick's neck.

"My God, Chris, what are you doing?" Dave pleaded.

Brick chose this point to stop. To Dave he said, "Now, pay attention." Brick then faced Chris again. "Ma'am, may I escort you upstairs?"

"Please do," Chris responded dreamily.

"Oh, Chris, you can't be serious!" an exasperated Dave said.

"Now, what you have to do, Dave," Brick said, "is wait here until the next beautiful woman comes along and then give it a try. Meanwhile, I got to get this lady upstairs, because she's ready."

"I'm not going to stand here and take this!" Dave said. He reached out for Brick's arm, but Brick grabbed his wrist.

"Now, wait a minute, pardner," Brick said, laying on the cowboy heavily. "No need to get rough. Be a sport." While talking, Brick noticed Chris nodding to the doorman.

"Sir, if you're going to get violent," the doorman warned Dave, "I'll have to summon security." But Dave turned and stormed out.

Brick slipped a ten-dollar bill in the doorman's hand. "Little feller, see that my luggage gets up to Miss Cannon's apartment."

Once inside the elevator, Chris burst into laughter. "That was priceless!"

"I hope I didn't mess up anything."

"Are you kidding?" she said, still giggling "He was a bore. Besides, I haven't invited a man up to my apartment since you and I . . . what are you doing here, anyway?"

"Well, you wouldn't move to Colorado, so that only left one alternative."

"You're moving here?"

"I'm going give it a try. If you'll have me."

"You don't even have to ask."

They spent the entire elevator ride up locked in a tight embrace, lips pressed together passionately. Once inside her apartment, Chris's phone rang, and she answered it without checking the caller ID. Covering the mouthpiece, she whispered to Brick, "Make yourself at home, I won't be long."

Glancing around the luxurious apartment, Brick was not particularly impressed. It looked too stuffy and formal. But he resigned himself to get used to it. He stepped into the small kitchen and checked the refrigerator. He didn't expect to find any beer in it, so he wasn't disappointed that there wasn't any.

Then he heard Chris's voice become louder from her bedroom. Walking silently, he stopped just outside to listen.

"—not having this conversation with you. Then I guess it's over, isn't it?" She was silent for a few seconds. "No, we've been over this. I'm hanging up. Then that's it. Bye." There was more silence.

Brick peeked his head in. "Everything okay?"

"Just Dave. The man you met in the lobby. Trying to tell me what a big mistake I'm making."

"Again, I hope I didn't mess anything up for you." He found her sitting in the middle of the bed, one leg folded in, the other stretched out straight. The hem of her dress was nearly up to her crotch, but she didn't attempt to fix it as he came nearer the bed.

"He was trying to tell me if I didn't relent it was over between us. The funny thing is, there was nothing to be over. We've only dated a few of times." She chuckled.

Brick sat on the edge of the bed and returned the chortle.

"Did you hear me on the phone?"

"Just a little when you got louder."

"Sorry. This wasn't the way to welcome you here."

"No worries." He leaned against the head board. "I guess I should have called first instead of just showing up."

"That's okay. I'm thrilled to see you."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really. Are you absolutely sure you want to move here?" She touched her hand to his leg.

"No. But I missed you enough to give it a try."

"I missed you, as well." Chris slowly slid her hand up. With a sheepish grin, she added, "Know what else I missed?" She rubbed the spot on his pants where his cock was.

Brick's erection was almost instantaneous.

"And it feels like he missed me to." She undid his pants and slid his zipper down, then pulled his underwear down enough to spring his dick free. "Haven't seen one this big since." Now, she was stroking him.

"He did miss you too," Brick said, smirking.

Chris eased off the bed to assist Brick in removing his boots, socks and pants. He undid and took off his shirt. She dropped her skirt down to her panties and removed her top and bra completely.

"Remember how I like it with you."

"I do," Brick confirmed, turning her onto hands and knees. He pulled her panties down to her knees and she dropped her upper body flat. Spreading her ass cheeks, he buried his face between her legs, licking everything his tongue could touch.

Chris was giggling happily. When his tongue darted into her pussy, she started moaning.

"Oh, Brick, it's been too long. Stick it in me," she pleaded.

So, he did in that exact position. He let it slide in slowly.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she cried.

He forced her completely flat, straddled her legs and fucked her.

She couldn't spit out "Yes" enough times.

"Was Dave any good?" Brick whispered.

"Dave never got anywhere near this."

"Ha, ha, haaaa!" Brick laughed. He rolled her over onto her back, pulled her panties off and flung them, then he held her legs wide apart to eat her delicious pussy again.

All Chris could do was moan her delight. "Yeah, fuck me hard!"

He did for a minute or so, and when he accidentally slid out, he grabbed his cock at the base and slapped her pelvic area with it.

That made her giggle.

Brick rested his penis on her belly and leaned forward to kiss her. He then spread her legs wide again and fucked her with his tongue before jamming his rod back in. They were both in playful moods, so he toyed with her by thrusting once, pulling out, rubbing the length of his cock between her labia, shoving it back in and repeating the process.

Chris laughed, loving it.

After several times, Brick went back to straight fucking. He used his fingers to rub her clit and she started coming. Her screaming became louder and she threw her head back. "Yes, yes, yes! Give it to me." Her muscles tightened, and she went still. She grabbed his sides to stop him with his cock completely buried. He could feel the throbbing of her pussy around his shaft. It was wonderful. Finally, she relaxed after a minute or so.

Chris then pushed him off of her and rolled him onto his back. She mounted him cowgirl and started fucking him. She leaned over to dangle her tits in his face. When he slid out, she teasingly rubbed her wet pussy up and down his chest and abdomen and he loved it.

When she guided him back in, Brick then sat up and she stretched her legs out around his hips. They kind of just moved against each other in a position he couldn't ever remember trying. She felt herself coming again, once more tightening her pussy around his shaft. He was ready also and held out until she was finished. He then pulled out and with his cock sandwiched between their abdomens he spurted his cum against their skin. The feeling of his penis sliding between them with the gooey semen actually had him dribbling more.

When he was finished, they remained locked in each other's arms, careless of the mess between them. After several minutes, they separated, cleaned up, returned to bed, cuddled and fell asleep.

* * *

Brick had the incredible good luck—if you wanted to call it that—to arrive at a time when he could sample all of the different cultural arts. It was undoubtedly one of the most difficult chores of his life to choose which he liked best, particularly since it was a relative decision.

His first "adventure" was to a concert of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra, where he finally got to hear a Mozart piano concerto, number 17, and a Beethoven symphony, number 7. Chris had politely suggested that he leave his western hat at home. He reluctantly complied but felt uncomfortable without it all evening. It was a new experience for Brick, and though he rather enjoyed the music, he felt completely out of place during the intermission when they met some of her friends who were there. They were, at first, polite and had no negative reaction when they learned he was from Colorado—in fact, they commented on the state's natural beauty—but when he admitted to being a country musician, they had little else to say to him.

Chris attempted to pacify Brick when they returned to their seats by saying that the couple were merely acquaintances and not among her best friends. It didn't matter to him one way or the other.

The next event on the cultural calendar was the opera, Madame Butterfly. Though all the performers had lovely voices, it was positively not the type of vocalizing Brick was accustomed to, and then, for him, it was too much singing. Then he was confused that the story was about a Japanese woman in love with an American sailor sung in Italian, a language he, of course, did not understand. So, even though Brick read the program notes which told the story, he found it hard to follow what was happening on stage. Occasionally, Chris would whisper what a particular character was saying, but it didn't help. When it was over, not only was he glad, but he knew he didn't like opera.

Somehow, a bunch of people in lace and tights tiptoeing and twirling to music to tell their story made ballet just as complicated for Brick to understand as opera. But he rated ballet just above opera because he could still hear the music without the piercing shrill of the soprano voices—and because the women wore less clothes.

After the ballet, Chris took Brick to a coffee house for dessert. There, they met more of her friends, but ones, she assured, that she was much closer to that those from the symphony. So, Brick cordially accepted their invitation to join them.

It turned out Chris was right. These people were much friendlier. They truly tried to make him feel comfortable by including him in their conversation.

"Do you play the stock market?" they asked.

"Naw, I shoot a little pool, that's about it," he responded.

But they didn't know whether to take him seriously, and only smiled politely when he said he was joking. They apparently did not have much of a sense of humor. From then on, talk was like a willow tree in a wind storm: it just wasn't strong enough to support itself.

The art museum was at least better than the opera and ballet. While Brick saw many "things" he would have been hard pressed to call "art," there were several paintings and sculptures he found appealing.

In between all this culture, Brick hit all the usual New York tourist attractions, including, of course, the Statue of Liberty, some on his own, others with Chris acting as tour guide. She spent considerable time at home with him during the day, which she probably would otherwise have been working. An amazing amount of that time was spent in bed. In all that time, there were no serious conversations regarding the duration of their current lifestyle.

The final item on the agenda Brick knew was going to be the worst, the most boring, the most potentially embarrassing of all. It was a cocktail party for one of Chris's discoveries, and he only consented to going because he could see it was so important to her. Knowing he'd be subjected to the pungent attitudes of her friends and acquaintances like the ones he'd already met, Brick decided to say as little as possible, by only answering questions with a yes or no.

The tactic was only necessary when Chris was beside him. When she was off mingling, everyone left Brick alone. He got the impression that Dave, the couple from the symphony and the couple from the coffee house, all of whom were present, had spread the word about him. It didn't matter. He enjoyed simply watching Chris circulate. She looked especially incredible tonight; more so than her usual incredible.

Halfway through the party, Brick's only real complaint was that only champagne was being served. Beer was his favorite alcoholic beverage and he was beginning to miss it. In fact, he was dying for an ice-cold beer at this very moment. The woman from the couple at the coffee house had just asked Chris if the two of them could speak privately about something, and Chris obligingly followed. Scanning the room, Brick found that they were nowhere to be seen.

Well, since he'd been in town, Chris had neglected some of her friends. Probably just some girl talk, which might take some time. This party was being held in a reception room of a hotel. Hotels always had bars, and bars always served beer. And no one was sure in hell going to miss him.

Nothing went down easier and smoother than a draft beer, and Brick's first went down so fast, he just couldn't let it end there. He took it a little slower with the second, and while sipping it, strains of a conversation drifted his way from a group concealed by the corner of the L-shaped bar.

"Damn it, why don't you listen to reason, Chris?" a male voice was asking.

Of course, upon hearing that name, Brick honed his hearing in.

"Don't you know how ridiculous the two of you look together?" a female voice said.

"Yeah, this isn't the movies," yet another masculine voice argued. "Women of culture don't fall for cowboys."

Even before that last reference, Brick knew what was going on. Obviously, a group of Chris' so-called "friends" were attempting to set her straight. He was tempted to step over and put his two cents in, but Chris had yet to speak, and he wanted to hear what she might have to say.

"There are more of the right kind of men right here in New York instead of you having to settle for some Texas cowboy," a different woman's voice said.

Finally, Brick heard Chris' voice. It was much calmer than that of her acquaintances. "It doesn't matter to any of you that I'm happier than I've ever been, does it?"

Brick smiled.

"How long do you think it's going to last? You can find a more enduring happiness with one of your own kind. You haven't even given Dave here a chance."

"Well, if you're not going to think of yourself, think about the cowboy. How many more symphonies and operas do you think you can drag him to?"

"He comes because he wants to," Chris explained.

"Haven't you ever noticed the look of sheer boredom on his face? The man is like a fish out of water."

Brick was just about to step in, but that last statement prevented him. He glanced around the ornately decorated bar and realized that he'd never been in one so fancy. And he'd never worn one of these miserable monkey suits before coming to New York. Suddenly, he felt uncomfortable. He was like a fish out of water. He'd only been in New York a few weeks, and except for the time he'd spent alone with Chris in her apartment, he hated it.

He despised looking out of any window in her apartment and seeing only more buildings. He detested always having to dress up to go out. The city was too large and there were too many people. You couldn't step outside your home and not see hundreds of people. You had to travel for hours just to get away from people. There was no place to do serious horseback riding without also traveling. How much longer could he last?

On the other hand, Chris loved all the people, wanted to live in the big city. She wasn't overly fond of the country, hated horseback riding.

They could force themselves to stay together, but Brick feared that to do this, they would be forcing themselves apart. How long would it be before love turned to hatred?

Brick guzzled down the last half of his beer and casually walked out of the bar. He bypassed the entrance to the reception room, continuing his slow pace outside the hotel. He well knew what he was going to do, he just needed the leisurely stroll back to Chris' apartment to convince himself to pack his bags and leave without saying anything.