The Maestro Ch. 06

The orchestra was a tuneless jumble of noise, each practicing a different part, some just improvising little melodies on the spot. It was Saturday afternoon, and no performance was scheduled for that evening, so everyone was relaxed. Claire was packing away her things at the far end of the stage when Sebastien approached her.

"Claire, how would you like to come to dinner with me tonight?"

"Why, Maestro, are you asking me on a date?"

He frowned down at her. "Not in so many words," he said stiffly.

She pursed her lips, unsuccessfully trying to hide her amusement. "I'd love to."

"I shall come for you at six." As he walked away, Claire felt her heart speed up. Whatever he had said, this was a date. Where were they going to go? Oh. My. God. What was she going to wear?! Okay, this was ridiculous. They saw each other almost every day. He had seen her in almost everything in her closet, and he had seen her in nothing at all.

She tore apart her closet anyway. She really wanted to knock his socks off.

Better start from the ground up, she thought, picking up a lacy black garter belt and slipping it on over her bare skin. She glanced down at her neatly trimmed mound peeking out from underneath the lace, and decided to forego the panties. She felt sexy already. She clipped on black silk stockings with a dramatic seam up the back, and picked out a black push-up bra. Over everything, she smoothed a body-skimming siren red dress.

She bent over to slip on stiletto heels, taller than she normally wore, and admired her cleavage in the bedroom mirror. Sebastien, so much taller than she, would have a nice view.

Claire did her hair, makeup, circled her throat with cream-colored pearls. At 5:50, she was pacing her living room nervously, getting used to her heels. When she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she almost didn't recognize herself. For the first time, she could see herself as the kind of woman she had always pictured on Sebastien's arm. Perhaps it was a little over-the-top, but she felt so different, so sexy.

The buzzer rang, interrupting her thoughts. Her heart stopped. She hit the speaker button.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded calm, but breathy.

"Mon abeille, it is I."

"I'll be right down." She grabbed her jacket and bag, walking out into the hallway. She took a deep breath, willing herself to walk steadily. The last thing she needed tonight would be to break her ankle. The elevator was torturously slow, and she used the time to take slow, even breaths to calm her speeding heart.

When the doors opened, she saw him, standing just outside the glass lobby doors. He was looking up off the street, and as she walked toward him, he turned. His eyes roamed her body, and as soon as she came out, he caught up her hand to kiss it.

"Mon abeille," he murmured against her skin, "you take my breath away."

They drove deeper downtown to a tall hotel, and found themselves alone in the elevator going to the top floor. Claire reached out, timidly took Sebastien's hand. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

The room they stepped out into was unlike anything Claire had ever seen. The elevator they were in stood back-to-back with the service elevator, and two semi-circular bars surrounded them. Two rings of two- and four-seater tables ran around the edge of the room. The walls - what could be seen of them between the enormous windows - were painted a warm peach color. The lights were low, and the rose color of the dying sunset warmed the room.

They were led to a table with an ocean view, and ordered drinks. They chatted over cocktails - a Manhattan for Sebastien, a raspberry lemon drop for Claire - and lobster. Talked about the season they had just finished, the one that was to come, their summer session, music, the books they had each been reading - Fleming's Casino Royale for Sebastien, and Claire a book on medieval art.

After dinner, Sebastien ordered port, and sat swirling it idly in its glass. He laid his other hand affectionately on Claire's thigh. Surreptitiously, she slid her dress upward underneath his fingers, until they were lying directly on the lacy top of her stocking and the naked skin of her thigh. Sebastien raised his eyebrows at her over his glass, running his fingers along the stocking top. Claire's demure smile encouraged him, and he slid his fingers slowly up, up, until they brushed her bare pussy lips. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she took in the surprised look in Sebastien's face.

He asked for the check.

Moments later, Claire was slammed into the back of the service elevator by Sebastien, his mouth coming down onto hers in a crushing kiss. His hand was under her dress, rubbing her soft skin and making her so wet already.

"Mmm aren't you a naughty girl?" he said, kissing a line down her neck.

"Ahh, ah, Maestro, a lady doesn't kiss on the first date."

"Good thing that isn't what this is," he replied, capturing her mouth again, his tongue tangling with hers. He drew back to bite her lip gently. She had her fingers on the button of his pants, when his hand stilled her. "Not here, mon abeille."

She whimpered in frustration, sliding her hands over the front of him, thrilling at the feel of his hardness. She cupped her hands further down, squeezing softly. The elevator doors slid open, startling Claire. She looked past Sebastien, and was relieved to see that no one was there. He led her into the little hallway, and turned the corner at the end of it.

"Where are we?" she whispered. He didn't answer, opening the door they found instead. The chill breeze swept in and raised goosebumps on her skin. "How did you know where the roof access was?" she asked, baffled.

He smiled secretively at her, pulling her onto the roof with him. She had been on the roof of relatively few city buildings - actually, none. It had strange protrusions, vents, wires. She didn't know what any of it really did. They walked around until there were a few protrusions between them and the door. Around one more vent pillar, there was an astonishing panoramic view of the ocean and much of the city. The sun had gone down, and the light was fading quickly, but an enormous moon was rising, casting pale light over the water.

"I was going to bring you up here anyway," Sebastien said, turning to her, "but now I have two reasons to do it rather than one." He touched her cheek to get her attention, and bent to kiss her. As he pulled away, he watched with pleasure as her head tipped up and back, amazed to see the array of stars overhead. He gently pushed her back into the pillar behind her, smiling as she shivered to feel the cold metal through her dress. "This is one of the tallest buildings in the city, mon abeille, and I am going to fuck you on top of it."

A shudder ran through her body. Then she yelped, feeling her now-naked ass bumping against the pillar as Sebastien slid her dress up to expose her to the cold night air. His hands were on her, caressing, pinching her hardened nipples. Then she felt his cock rubbing up against her wet pussy, pressing into her. She let out a long, low moan, and then felt Sebastien's hand clap over her mouth. She struggled against him, but he shook his head firmly.

Then she heard it. Voices.

"Where did you say we were supposed to put this thing?"

"I don't know, somewhere up over there I think. I'll know the spot when I see it."

Claire felt Sebastien's cock get even harder inside of her and he started pumping it in and out of her, slowly at first. The voices were getting closer. Her eyes widened, and she made to pull her skirt down over her garter belt. Sebastien hissed softly, "leave it alone!" He removed his hand from her mouth, warning her to be quiet.

She tried not to make any noise, but when he started rubbing her clit softly, it was pretty hard. She sucked in soft breaths and blew them out softly. He held one thigh up as he started fucking her harder.

All she could hear was the soft rustle of cloth as her pussy was pounded, her racing heartbeat, those steps getting closer every second. She chanced a glance to the side, but saw nothing. Sebastien's fingers were pushing her closer to the edge, but was too keyed up, too anxious they would be caught.

"Ah, here it is. Set 'er down right over here."

"Geez, finally," the other one grunted. "This shit is heavy."

Sebastien leaned down, his lips next to her ear. "Come," he commanded firmly, "now." He bit down on her ear, and, surprising herself, Claire felt ripples of pleasure pouring over her body. She couldn't stop the tiny squeak she let out.

"Did you hear something, dude?"

"Nah, let's get back inside. It's cold as fuck out here."

The steps were getting farther away now, to Claire's considerable relief. Her pussy was still clamping down, but Sebastien showed no signs of wanting to slow his fingers down.

"Stop, stop," Claire whined. "I can't be quiet much longer."

His eyes flashed in excitement. "I don't care. I want to make you scream," he said breathlessly.

He did.

She was shivering all over, Sebastien's cock sending little shockwaves through her with every thrust.

"Please," she moaned softly.

"Please what?" he asked, with some difficulty.

"Please don't come inside me."

"Why not?"

She rolled her eyes in embarrassment. "I'm not wearing panties," she said, like it would be self-explanatory. Sebastien laughed in delight, but withdrew from her. She dropped to her knees right away, flicking her eyes up to meet his as she sucked his cock into her waiting mouth. His hand gently rested on the back of her head as he watched her. She felt his cock growing thicker in her mouth suddenly, and then streams of his come were splashing onto her tongue. He was sighing contentedly above her, and she swallowed, running her tongue over her teeth.

He helped her stand, pulling the bottom of her dress over her ass again and brushing the gravel from the roof off of her knees. He kissed her deeply, apparently not caring that she still tasted of him.

When he pulled away, Claire rested her head against his chest, looking out at the bright lights of the city again.

"I know there is no music, mon abeille, but would you care to dance with me?" She looked up in surprise. "Well," he said, with perhaps a touch of embarrassment, "that was what I intended from the beginning, but I could not help myself."

She smiled. God, he could be cute sometimes. She let him wind his arms around her, as she slipped her hands under his jacket to rest on his back. He twirled her around, humming melodies just above her head.

-----

It was a day, just another one in what was becoming sort of a routine around Sebastien's house. After a Saturday night of debauchery, Claire and Sebastien spent a sunny Sunday morning together. He would make them breakfast, something simple, and bring it to her before she even had to get out of bed. Then they would brush the crumbs from the sheets, and he would go downstairs to play on the piano. Claire would detour into his bathroom, where he had the most exquisite shower, and meticulously wash her hair and scrub every inch of her body.

She would towel-dry her hair, leaving it damp and curling around her shoulders, and come downstairs to listen to Sebastien for awhile. Sometimes they would make love or, if Claire was too sore, they might rub cooling lotion into her skin, and then curl up on the sofa with books. They usually parted by lunchtime, sometimes going to the symphony hall together if they had a matinee performance.

Today, Claire had come downstairs wrapped in a towel, and Sebastien had risen from the piano to come meet her. Cheekily, she smiled as she dropped the towel, and Sebastien was leaning down to kiss her when they heard a sound from the direction of the front door.

Turning in surprise, they saw the front door wide open, and a tall, slender lady in the doorway with a shocked look on her face. Claire turned crimson, snatched up the towel and dashed upstairs. She struggled into the clothes she had left in Sebastien's bedroom, and listened to the increasingly loud voices in French drifting up from downstairs. She was too upset to try and understand what they were saying, but she guessed that Sebastien was telling his sister - for that's who the lady was - that she shouldn't have come over unannounced.

Probably his sister was expressing her triumph at having been right about him seeing someone, and berating him for denying it and lying to her. After a few minutes, the door slammed again, and all she could hear was angry French muttering by Sebastien.

So, this was an opportunity to introduce them at last, but Sebastien obviously didn't want that. She didn't want to be the cause of family strife. She wanted to leave.

She ran down the stairs again. Sebastien tried to take her arm, and she yanked it back away from him.

"I'm going," she said, and strode toward the door.

"Mon abeille, wait, Claire!" he called, but she was gone.

She half-expected him to follow after her, and her heart broke a little when he didn't arrive, even though she had to wait for the elevator. Tears welled up in her eyes. So perhaps he didn't care about her after all, if he wouldn't even introduce her. What was it he had said before? She was his plaything, and she was to be kept separate from his family. She'd thought she understood.

She crossed the lobby. The worst part was, there was no one she could talk to about it. No one who knew the situation... except the man she inexplicably ran directly into at the front door - René.

"Hello, cherie," he said breezily, frowning as he saw her expression. "I was just going up to see mon ami. What is the matter? Come, shall we go to my flat, and you can tell me what is troubling you?"

She sniffed and nodded, feeling so grateful to see someone who she could pour the story out to. She kept quiet while they walked, not wanting to be overheard by random passersby. But as soon as they were in his apartment, she turned to him and told him what had just happened.

René sat her down in his living room, crossing to the window and looking out for a long moment as she finished, and he thought. He sat next to her, resting his hand familiarly on her thigh.

"You must listen to me, cherie. Sebastien cares for you; surely you know this." Claire only shrugged restlessly. "Has he not told you?" René asked with raised eyebrows.

"That's not exactly what he said."

"What did he say, exactly?"

She felt her face grow warm as she remembered that night in the elevator, his crushing embrace, his soft, heartfelt words. "Je t'adore."

René touched her cheek gently. "You are crazy if you think that he does not care. And you care for him, too, do you not?"

Claire turned away, her eyes welling up with tears again. He turned her face back, leaned in closer to her, lips a hair's breadth from hers.

"What are you doing?" she breathed.

"Just a kiss, to comfort you."

"I don't think-"

"Sebastien would not mind," he said, moving to close the gap between them.

"That's where you are wrong, mon frère," came a voice behind them, darkly.

René turned with a half-smile. "Ah, mon ami, I should have known you would be along shortly. How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough." Claire looked up at him in trepidation, her heart hammering away. "Come here," he ordered. She moved to get up, but René's hand on her leg grew firmer, keeping her on the sofa. He shot off something in French to Sebastien, who glared at him, retorting angrily. The two argued for a few moments, and again Claire was left out. Was René saying something about love? No, ridiculous.

Finally, Sebastien huffed out a breath in frustration. "Mon abeille, René evidently thinks I am mistreating you. Is that what you think, too?"

She thought for a long moment. Over the past few months, they had developed an amazing, fulfilling relationship. The sex was incredible, and kept getting better. He was tender with her even when he was punishing her, and she finally felt that she was getting to know him a little bit. Sure, they had some arguments, but what relationship was without those? Their biggest problem was the secrecy they had imposed on everything. That and, perhaps, a reluctance to articulate their feelings, whatever they were. Looking back on it, she could see it so clearly. She did care for him. And, when she was honest with herself, she could see he cared for her, too.

She looked from René to Sebastien, both waiting for her answer.

"No, Maestro. You do everything but mistreat me." She wondered if the soft, warm feelings in her heart at that moment were showing on her face. Neither man gave any sign that it was.

"Then, come." His voice was softer, but still firm. Smiling at René, she touched her fingertips to his cheek and rose from the sofa, walking over to Sebastien. She looked up at him, eyelids fluttering as she shivered all over. He took her wrist, pressing his fingers firmly around it, but not hard enough to bruise, just enough to feel that he meant business. "Mon frère, I will see you tonight."

René gave a half-shrug, running his fingers through his hair. He seemed a little confused, but Claire was sure Sebastien would explain it to him later. Maybe.

Sebastien guided her into the hallway. As soon as the door had closed, he twisted her arm behind her back, a bit painfully. He jerked her against him and kissed her deeply. She felt so hot suddenly, as if her bones would melt. When he pulled her back, just as roughly, she saw no hint of smile on his face. He walked her all the way back to his own apartment without saying a word, keeping her wrist pressed into the small of her back.

As soon as they reached his apartment, he spun on his heel and snapped at her, "So, is this how it is going to be? Running to another man at the first sign of trouble? And mon frère, at that. I am not sure if that is more or less upsetting than if it had been someone else."

"What? No! I-I ran into him downstairs, and he asked what I was so upset about. I didn't want to discuss it in public, and he invited me up to his apartment. It's just that he, well, he knows about you and I..."

He looked dubiously at her, but she suspected it was really for effect. If he'd actually believed what he was accusing her of, he would have been way more pissed.

"I would have asked, but you ran out on me before I had a chance. What were you so upset about?"

Claire looked down at her feet uncomfortably. The tears were threatening to return and spill down her cheeks again. She forced herself to look up at him.

"Are you ashamed of me?"

Clearly, this was not what Sebastien had been expecting to hear. "Of course not, mon abeille," he said with a frown.

"Then why haven't you told your family about me?"

He sighed, rubbed his hands over his face. "Well, I do not know about you, but I have not chosen to discuss with my family every person I have ever had casual sex with. That is what we were having, perhaps, but no longer. To tell the truth, I have not had the words, even for myself, to say what we have together. What would I tell my family? Have you told your parents?"

"I, well, not really. I may have said I was seeing someone casually, so my mom would get off my case about worrying I was lonely."

"So you see neither of us have been completely honest. Not with our families, perhaps not even with each other."

"You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run off, but I was so embarrassed, I guess I wasn't thinking straight. Forgive me?"

"If you'll forgive me for forgetting to lock my front door," he said with a small smile, which Claire returned. "Ahhh, mon abeille, what am I to do with you?"

She bit her lip, looking at him from under her lashes, still damp with unshed tears. "You could... punish me."

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