Symphony In Rapture

(Introductory music for an opera, ballet or oratorio)

Michelle paused in her evening walk, admiring the old McMurtry home. The new owners had done quite a bit in the few weeks they’d been there to restore its stately beauty. Simply having the grounds cleared, weeded and trimmed had revived vestiges of the residence’s former elegance—the beauty of a profusion of yellow climbing roses was now visible, and huge blush-colored hibiscus blooms glowed in the early sunset.

Michelle smiled and continued on. Grander and larger than the other homes in this small historic district, the lady McMurtry certainly deserved to shine. Happily, the new owners appeared to agree. As she rounded the corner and began walking along the building’s north side—the side nearest the street—the clear notes of a piano drifted from an open window. Michelle quickened her pace and stopped just outside the window, peering between the bars of the wrought iron fence into a room beyond the sash.

A man sat at the piano, playing a composition Michelle did not recognize. The music tugged at her heart, an intricate medley—both sad and joyful, bright and somber. Michelle closed her eyes and let the sounds engulf her, feeling a bittersweet nostalgia wash through her.

Nicholas looked up from his playing to see a woman standing on the sidewalk outside his window—hands wrapped around the fence’s wrought-iron bars, head tilted slightly, eyes closed. The sight moved him deeply. Why, he wasn’t sure. When he was conducting, or playing an especially emotional piece of music, he often glimpsed people in the audience, similarly engrossed. But this was different. Nick felt an immediate connection to her. She wasn’t simply enjoying a pleasant-sounding string of notes. The music had touched her soul. Nick had become particularly adept at reading people, and could see this in the woman’s face—in the slight upturn to her lips and the narrow furrow between her lush eyebrows. As the setting sun burnished her dark curls with golden highlights, Nick found himself tempted to go out and invite her in, stirred by yearnings he hadn’t experienced in a long time; an immediate chemical attraction. That in itself was unusual for him. But there was more. He was curious about her and that surprised him, for it had been ages since anything or anyone had piqued his curiosity.

Abruptly the music stopped. Michelle opened her eyes, only to find herself staring into the sharp, blue scrutiny of the player. Heat rising in her cheeks, Michelle let go of the fence and stepped back, trying to look away but unable to tear her eyes from his intense gaze.

“Don’t go,” the man said. He smiled. “Come around to the door. I haven’t had a chance to meet any of the neighbors yet.”

Michelle considered. Across the street, Mr. Jennings mowed his yard, the missus supervising from her swing on the verandah. A few houses down, Jason Matthews laughed, his dog chasing him while he pushed his skateboard along the sidewalk. There were plenty of people out and about. Granted, the guy was a stranger, but there could be no harm in standing in his front yard in broad daylight, introducing themselves. She nodded. He turned away, and she retraced her steps to where the wrought-iron gate stood open in front of the house, then crunched her way up the gravel drive to the front door.

The stranger was waiting for her on the porch, dark tan contrasting handsomely with his flaxen hair, beige slacks, and white shirt. He held out a hand. “I’m Nicholas Duquaine, but my friends call me Nick.”

Michelle’s heart skipped a beat. “Nick Duquaine?” she echoed. “The conductor? You composedHearts of Atlantis Bleeding , right? It’s one of my favorite symphonies.”

Nick smiled, but seemed uncomfortable with the recognition. “Yes, and thank you.” He glanced pointedly at his outstretched hand.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Michelle. Michelle Wright. Welcome to the neighborhood!” Embarrassed, Michelle felt heat rising in her cheeks again as she reached out, but even more disconcerting was the flood of warmth that invaded her loins.

Their hands met, and a wall of desire blew through Nick like a storm front. He maintained the electrifying contact as she tried to draw away.

“Are you a musician?” he asked.

“Yes, I am. How did you know?” An erotic tingle raced along her arm and danced over her ribs at the continuing touch, settling in her crotch as a buzzing need.

Nick smiled. “Just a feeling.” He shifted slightly as his penis stirred restlessly.

Acutely aware of Nick’s warm palm against hers, Michelle said. “I play the guitar, mostly. I’m a singer in a local band. You probably haven’t been here long enough to hear of us, but it’s calledSomething Wild . We’re actually fairly successful, on the club scene—” She realized she was babbling and took a deep breath.

Surprised at his intense attraction, but enjoying it immensely, Nick suddenly realized that the woman was also highly aroused. The pulse in her neck jumped rapidly. Her silk blouse tented slightly in the area of her erect nipples. Nick’s thighs tightened as a smoldering fire kindled below his belt. “Come in for a minute.”

Nick’s grip on her hand was gentle but insistent. Flustered, Michelle tore her gaze from his and looked out toward the street. “I really should be getting—”

“I promise not to bite.” Nick reached out with his other hand and captured her free hand in his, forcing her to meet his gaze once again. He flashed a dazzling smile.

The need invading Michelle’s body shocked her. She had not dated in several years. As a matter of fact, she had given up on relationships entirely, especially since Angela’s death. It had not been a difficult choice. She hadn’t been even remotely attracted to anyone in a long time. But Nick’s advances were rapidly awakening an appetite Michelle wasn’t sure she wanted to reacquire.For God’s sake, she told herself,He can’t possibly know. He isn’t asking you out on a date. He’s just a new neighbor, being friendly. Still, she felt as though she was diving into an ocean without a life jacket as she bit her lip, then nodded slightly. Nick backed through the doorway, pulling her in after him, then nudged it shut with his foot and led her down a long hallway to the left. Through an open door, Michelle glimpsed a piano, and a moment later they were standing in the music room.

A Steinway dominated the corner of the room nearest the open window. A divan graced the opposite wall and a couple of overstuffed chairs and a side table were arranged near a marble-faced fireplace. A mahogany cabinet filled the space near the door. Shelves covered the last wall, and on those shelves were a variety of gleaming musical instruments and well-worn cases. It was a room any musician would love.

“What do you think?” Michelle turned to find Nick watching her with an intense expression.

“It’s beautiful,” she answered. Her stomach fluttered like a schoolgirl’s.You’re being ridiculous, she thought. To hide how awkward she felt in his presence, she walked over and pretended to study the assortment of flutes, penny whistles, and recorders on one shelf, her footsteps echoing loudly on the stone floor. “Do you play all of these instruments?”

“At one time or another,” Nick replied. He sat at the piano. “Would you like me to finish that piece?”

“Oh, yes!” Michelle sat on the edge of one of the chairs as Nick began playing the composition that had captured her attention on the street. Michelle closed her eyes and floated away with the music.

Nick studied her as he played. She was probably about thirty-five. Her long, dark lashes grazed cheeks pinkened by a natural blush—she wore very little makeup. Nick liked that. He allowed his gaze to travel over Michelle’s body, admiring her smooth skin, the generous cleavage, the little pooch to her belly just visible beneath the sleek line of a silky black skirt. Her shapely legs were bare, and she wore dress flats rather than heels. A prickling sensation invaded Nick’s groin, a rushing pulse stiffening his cock as he watched her. He pictured himself rubbing its firmness over the curve of that belly, pressing its rigid length into the soft flesh, with nothing between them.

When the last note had faded, Michelle reluctantly opened her eyes. Nick was staring at her with a hungry expression that both aroused and frightened her.Get a grip, Michelle thought.He’s just another guy. An unexpected trickle of moisture seeped from her crotch, dampening her panties, and her nipples began to tingle. “I-Is that something new?” she stammered.

The wolfish look on Nick’s face disappeared, replaced with careful indifference. “Yes.” He sat quietly on the piano bench, watching her for a moment, then stood abruptly. “I have a guitar. Would you like to play for me?” he asked.

“I couldn’t,” Michelle demurred.

“Why not?”

Michelle shrugged. “I’m not in your league. I write pop-rock, mostly upbeat stuff. It’s nothing special. I’d be embarrassed to play for you.”

Nick frowned. “That’s too bad. If your music ever embarrasses you, then perhaps you’re not playing the right music.” He approached the chair she was sitting in, halting a couple of paces away.

“Well,” Michelle didn’t know how to respond to that. She stood. “I guess I had better be going.”

“Not yet.”

Startled, Michelle stared at her host. “What?”

Nick could feel mutual attraction dancing between them like electrified air just before a lightning storm. “Come here,” he whispered hoarsely, somehow knowing that she would.

Dangerous,a voice in her head whispered.Not a good idea, it insisted. Nevertheless, Michelle found herself taking the two small steps necessary to stand before him. Nick reached out and ran his fingers through the tawny curls on either side of her face, then stroked the curve of her shoulders. He drew his hands along the bare skin of her upper arms. Goosebumps raised on her flesh as his thumbs grazed her breasts—near, but not touching, the straining nipples whose dark tips were just visible beneath the thin fabric of her shirt and bra. Michelle shivered, searching Nick’s eyes. No longer bright, sky-colored pools, they now resembled the deep, grey-blue of storm-tossed waters. Nick held her gaze.

A part of her was urging Michelle to stop this now, to leave. Another part was silently willing him to touch her taut peaks—and they tingled as she felt his thumbs against their tips, kneading gently. She held her breath as Nick brought his lips close to hers, hovering—the possibility of their touch a searing key that slipped beneath her defenses, unlocking the portal to a tidal wave of long-denied passion. Unable to believe what she was doing, yet driven by an overwhelming longing, Michelle closed her eyes and parted lips that hadn’t been kissed in five years. Nick’s flesh met hers, his agile tongue invading, probing; his plunging strokes stirring up deep reservoirs of physical need.

Nick felt slight tremors shuddering through Michelle’s body. He deepened his kiss, wrapping her in his arms. Tentatively at first, then more insistently, Michelle met his tongue’s advances with her own. Each darting exploration set tendrils of pure pleasure tugging at Nick’s groin like the strings on a marionette—his cock pulsing, expanding. He reached down and slid Michelle’s silky skirt up. She moaned and made as if to pull away. Nick lifted his mouth and whispered huskily, “Please, let me touch.”

Michelle couldn’t open her eyes—wouldn’topen her eyes and meet the gaze of this perfect stranger whose every wish she suddenly wanted to grant. She felt him waiting, and then his hand feathered along her thigh, until his fingers found the damp cotton between her legs. She shuddered, but leaned into him, burying her face in his chest. Firm, rotating pressure on her clit through the damp fabric escalated her need. Michelle moaned, parting her legs slightly.

Nick wanted so badly to bury his bulging cock inside her pussy, but knew instinctively that although she was responding amazingly to his touch, that would be going too far. He eased the crotch of her panties aside.

Michelle gasped as two of his fingers slid between her warm, wet lips, flexing inside her. The feel of another person’s strong, firm fingers inside her throbbing sex after so long drove her wild with desire. They slipped in and out, his rough thumb circling her clit. “Oh, God,” she gasped, digging her fingers into his shoulders.

“Come for me,” he urged.

Feeling like a strumpet, but too desperately aroused to deny herself, Michelle reached out with her left leg, seeking the chair she’d been sitting in. Her toes brushed against it, and she cocked her leg, resting her foot in the seat—offering unimpeded access to her crotch. “Yes,” Nick whispered. “That’s it.” Nick dipped his fingers in and out. “Come for me, baby.” Moaning, Michelle drove her hips forward, taking his fingers deeper. Nick responded by burying them inside her and holding them there, wiggling his fingertips.

Michelle gasped. His long, slender fingers played her pussy like the keys of a piano—his fingertips against her G-spot stimulating her to the brink of orgasm, then pulling her back—again and again. Her own warm juices trickled down her right thigh, a tickling progress that heightened the exquisite pleasure. She couldn’t remember ever being this wet, this horny. She tried to subdue a desperate sob, but failed. She felt Nick bury his face in her hair, chuckling softly. This time, when she felt herself teetering on the peak of fulfillment, she was rewarded. Twisting his hand as he plunged his fingers repeatedly into her, he pressed his free hand against her tailbone. The extra support immobilized her hips, and she found herself moaning over and over as he bored into her, deeper and deeper, his knuckles massaging the slick tissue surrounding her vaginal opening, while his fingers danced in her pussy. Finally, she came; bucking frantically as penetrating spears of pure delight lanced through her body until her knees gave way.