1 comments/ 9202 views/ 3 favorites The Soprano Ch. 01 By: barabajagal001 Note: Before diving into this, please note there's no actual sex in this chapter (sooo if you're after that, you should wait until chapter 2). This is the beginning of the sequel to The Maestro, and it's more or less a recap of The Maestro from Sebastien's perspective, just to fill in some background and set the scene for the sequel. Many thanks for all the comments and constructive feedback I've received. It's been a real pleasure to share my work with you all! ----- Music trickled through the corridors of the symphony hall one foggy Saturday morning as musicians rehearsed Beethoven's 7th Symphony in the auditorium. The orchestra ranged around the stage, groups of musicians in little semi-circles playing together. It was typical for a Saturday morning, except that their conductor was nowhere in sight. Normally he would have been seated in the front row -- if he was not conducting -- making copious notes in his score. But today he was absent from the auditorium. He was in his office, down a long, empty hallway from the auditorium, reclining on his green sofa with a woman in his arms. His woman. More than just his woman -- his soprano, the soloist he had hired over a year ago to accompany his orchestra. Since then, they'd become so much more than simply colleagues. He gazed down at her, soft and lovely and fast asleep, and just couldn't believe how much he loved her. Certainly it wasn't something he'd anticipated when he'd first met her so many months ago. Oh, she'd made an impression on him, of course. The audition tape she'd sent in was so pure and lovely that he had chosen her as one of the finalists, even though her résumé made it clear that she could hardly have been out of college. Without as much professional experience as the other applications, he had been expecting someone flighty and immature. Not so. Actually, his first impression was of a serious young lady -- serious, and seriously nervous. She had arrived early for her audition and had curled up in one corner of the auditorium to read. Only he'd noticed that she never seemed to turn a page. He didn't know where her mind was, but it was certainly not on her book. He had found himself smiling, quite charmed even before he had made her acquaintance. "Good afternoon," Sebastien said, startling Claire away from her thoughts. She put her book down and then stood up to greet him. "Good afternoon, Maestro," she replied, her voice soft and tremulous. "I am your one o'clock audition." "So I see. Are you ready?" "Yes, sir." He turned, leading her down the hallway to a small practice room and opening the door for her. She breezed past him and he noticed that she smelled sweet. Like strawberries, and roses, and...gummy bears? Shaking it off, he followed her into the room and sat at the piano bench. He watched her set down her things and smooth her hair down nervously. "Are you adequately warmed up? I would like to play a few basic exercises to get a sense of your range," he said. "Fine. I'm ready," she replied. He played softly, leading her through exercise after exercise. How pleased he was to find that her voice was as clear, as sweet, as it had been in her audition tape. It certainly had not been a mistake to bring her here to audition in person. And to find that she was every bit as lovely as her voice, what a charming surprise. As he played through a final trilling exercise, a vision came unbidden to his mind. It was of the lovely young Claire, who he was bending over the piano and having his very vigorous way with. Her auburn waves were tangled in his hands, her sweet little voice gasping out in helpless moans. "Oh, Maestro," she was saying. "Um...Maestro?" Sebastien blinked, his vision disappearing and Claire -- fully dressed and with a very anxious look on her face -- appearing before him. "Very good," he finally said. "What selections did you prepare?" "Well, I thought I would...um, I've got three pieces. One from the Verdi Requiem, one from the Brahms, and, um, something from The Magic Flute." She produced some sheet music and handed it over to him. He glanced at them, impressed by the range and gravitas the pieces showed. Her singing proved to be just as lovely and mature as was required by the pieces she had chosen, and he knew he would not soon forget her. As it turned out, he would not be able to forget her at all. During the two-week period in which the auditions were taking place, there was rarely an hour in which he did not see her in the symphony hall. The orchestra was still rehearsing as usual, of course, and the young soprano was most often found in the auditorium with a notebook balanced on her knees. When Sebastien appeared to direct the orchestra between auditions, he saw Claire scribbling away furiously, watching him very intently. It was actually unnerving. He hadn't been sure the others would like her as well as he did, but she continued to surprise him. He watched as she plucked up the courage to introduce herself to most of the musicians, and they seemed to get on well with her. She aced her interview with the hiring committee, and in her final audition she was a veritable star onstage. Of course, some of them were reticent to hire someone as inexperienced as she, but in the end they supported their conductor's decision to take a chance on her. ----- If Sebastien thought about it honestly, he would say that there was nothing inevitable about their relationship. Certainly he could admit that he had always found his Claire somewhat intriguing -- well, he had hired her after all. And of course he found her attractive -- who wouldn't? -- but he had been able to mostly ignore those feelings...until his friend got involved. Everything had changed in an instant. "What is this?" came an incredulous whisper from somewhere to his right as he stepped off the stage. He turned and saw his handsome blond friend René push off the wall he'd been leaning against. "I cannot believe you have already begun to play with your new acquisition and have not even told your oldest friend," he teased in rapid French. "What are you going on about?" Sebastien asked absently. "She is a pretty little thing, isn't she? I am hurt that you are keeping secrets," René replied with mock indignation. Sebastien blinked, clearing his thoughts so that he finally understood his friend. "Surely you are not thinking that Claire and I...that is ludicrous and insulting and you know better." "Hmmm," René said doubtfully (thought it was true, he did know better). "You may believe so, but I think our young soprano might think differently." "What are you going on about?" Sebastien asked irritably. "Have you seen the way she looks at you?" "In case you have not noticed, mon frère, as I am the conductor, it is her job to look at me." "Perhaps, perhaps. But she is by far the most responsive of all your musicians. Can you not tell? I think it is more than just her job. She cannot keep her eyes off you." Sebastien grunted noncommittally. "You are being ridiculous." "I am not," René said, giving Sebastien a meaningful look. "There are other attractive men in the orchestra, to say nothing of yours truly, and I admit I have tried to catch her attention once or twice. She only has eyes for you, mon ami," he said, touching Sebastien's shoulder gently. "You should not be putting such thoughts in my head! She is attractive, and that is temptation enough. But I remind myself, such relationships are never advisable -- even if they are desired by the other part, which this assuredly is not." René only shrugged, and Sebastien shook his head as he walked back up toward the stage. He noticed Claire sitting quietly in her chair, apparently studying her music. But her eyes didn't appear to be tracking over the music. Instead, she seemed to be watching him. René's words echoed in his head: "She cannot keep her eyes off you." Ludicrous. It was. Definitely. Still...well, he would just prove his old friend wrong. He lifted a hand, gratified to hear the music burst into life before him. He conducted them firmly -- now louder, now softer, now louder again. Then he cut them off without explanation. He cued them again, somewhat disconcerted to note the way Claire's eyes followed his every move. He cut them off, cued them up. Off, on, off, on, until his musicians were looking at him strangely. Just as René had observed, Claire was assiduously keeping to his tempo, his dynamics, his everything. Sebastien cast a brief glance over his shoulder, and then went back to conducting as usual. But for once he was having trouble keeping his mind on the music. So he dismissed everyone early, to their considerable surprise. He ran his fingers through his hair, noting Claire's lingering glance as she went backstage. He gathered his music, turning with some irritation when he heard footsteps behind him. René was smirking knowingly at him. "You see what I mean. She must be totally infatuated." "You are insane," Sebastien grumbled. "And you, my friend, are an idiot." ----- Oh yes, Sebastien thought as he gazed down at Claire, he had made the right decision and it had all been worth it. He had proven it to himself, to the world, on opening night last year. Opening night. Sebastien hadn't been nervous on opening night since his very first piano recital at six years old. He had always felt that with enough practice, there was nothing to be worried about. Generally he went into performances calmly and confidently, but tonight there was something more. Not nerves, but anticipation. They had performed the entire program more than once in rehearsals, but it would be different somehow on opening night. In their fancy clothes, under the spotlight, with the audience filling the auditorium, he would finally get to see the results of their hard work. Especially her. His soprano. Tonight, she would stand before him, raising her voice as he commanded. It would be glorious. And it was. Claire performed even more beautifully than he had anticipated, and for reasons he didn't fully understand it fairly lit a fire in his heart. Their eyes locked more than once during the concert, and he had to force himself to tear his eyes away from her. As the last lingering notes of the violins died away, he gave her one last smoldering look before turning to take his bows. From the way her chest heaved as she caught her breath, he imagined her heart must have been pounding. For the first time in a very long time, he felt his own skip a beat. How could this be? He had been so right. They were a success, she was a success, and he'd won the right to be thrilled. Yet on opening night, long after the celebrations had stopped, his exaltations had been pushed aside by more pensive thoughts. He had been conductor of this symphony for nearly a decade. He had directed dozens of successful shows, personally assisted in the raising of millions of dollars in support of the symphony, and he should have been very happy. Most days he was. But every now and again, on a night like this one, which had been such a triumph, he gave in a bit to his melancholy, admitting that as much as it was a cliché, it was also true: he was not as young as he once had been, and sometimes he wished he had someone to share such events with. Sure, he had René -- a friend (and occasional bedmate) good enough to stave off many a lonely night. But they would never really be lovers, and some nights he longed for a companion so intensely that it almost hurt. Tonight had been one of those nights. René had been as wonderfully enthusiastic as he could have hoped for, but he sent his friend home early. It was all over for one night, and he wanted to play. So he sat at the piano in the empty auditorium and began half a dozen pieces, stopping each after only a few bars. He knew what he wanted to play, what he always wanted to play at moments like this. It had to be Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, the very first piece of music he remembered hearing; actually, it was the music of his very first memory. He'd been four, perhaps, and it had been a cold winter night long ago. Something had woken him from a sound sleep, and he had edged out into the hallway, away from the room where his brothers slept. He had made his way down toward the dim, flickering lights of the candles no doubt burning to their nubs on the dining room table. At the end of the hallway, the door stood open. The chill breeze blew in and the powdery snow was falling outside. He could only see a few feet past the door, and then the light from indoors no longer penetrated the deep, dark night. He had rubbed his eyes, still bleary from sleep and dreams. That's when he'd heard it: the music coming from nearby. Around the corner, his grandmother sat at the piano, on which several rapidly melting candles sat throwing a dim circle of creamy light into the room. His grandfather -- the happy, clever man who had lived only another six years before succumbing to cancer -- sat beside his wife, beaming at her. Just at the edge of the light were his parents, looking young, carefree, and very much in love. His mother's belly was rounded softly; she'd been about four months pregnant with Sebastien's younger sister, Justine. In retrospect, he supposed that Moonlight Sonata had been sort of a strange song to dance to, but he supposed they were in such a mood that they would have danced to a funeral dirge. He never remembered what the occasion was. Perhaps the turn of the new year. He had watched them for a long moment before his mother spotted him, and he had been afraid he would get in trouble for being out of bed. Instead, she'd lifted him joyfully, exclaiming over her youngest son and dancing around with him before setting him on his grandfather's lap. Being the baby of a large family, he almost never had time alone with his parents and he had soaked up every second. When his grandmother's playing stopped, he had cried out, "again!" before anyone could send him to bed. So once more it was, until young Sebastien was nodding off and was whisked away to bed in his grandfather's arms. Moonlight Sonata. It was the first complete piece he had learned on piano, the first he had committed to memory at age nine, a song he played on lonely, melancholy nights. It complemented his mood and reminded him of that warm, happy night long ago. He missed his family. So on opening night, he'd closed his eyes and played the first movement. He knew it so well; he didn't even need to think about it. For several long moments, he was back in his grandparents' farmhouse, twirling and safe in his parents' arms. He came to the end of the first movement; did he have the heart to go on? Then he'd heard the sigh, the unmistakable exhalation of another human being. He'd supposed it was someone on the cleaning staff, or perhaps a member of the orchestra. When no one answered, but it was plain that they were trying to escape unnoticed, he grew angry. They had caught him in an intensely private moment, even if they had not seen the visions in his head. He'd moved quickly backstage and surmised who it was even before he'd yanked her around to see her face. Of course. Claire. It was only appropriate that the women who had plagued his fantasies of late should interrupt him in the middle of the only fantasy that did not involve her. That night, he knew it was only a matter of time before their bodies would meet, giving way to the passion they both secretly harbored. ----- How their bodies had met was, he mused, a long and uncertain story of its own. A story of his dark desires escaping from the deepest recesses of his mind. Desires that Claire had not resisted. Desires that, to his immense surprise, she seemed to enjoy -- even to crave. Sebastien lived for conducting. He had always loved music, but somehow playing piano or clarinet was never enough, perhaps because he knew he had no virtuosic talent in either. He wanted to find his own calling, and eventually he did. Conducting was more than just standing around waving a baton, regardless of how he joked. The orchestra could have just used a programmable metronome in that case. No, the role of the conductor allowed him to infuse the pieces he performed with his own artistic interpretation. He loved knowing that even the most famous and familiar pieces would be heard as if for the first time at his symphony. But it wasn't just that. It was the power. It excited him to know that his musicians put their faith in him and that they would stop and start at his will. Quite exceeding his expectations in this regard was his soprano, Claire. When he hired her, he had known she was a bit of a spitfire, opinionated and bright. But she showed little sign of opposition in the first few months they rehearsed together. He couldn't be sure whether she was shy, afraid to disagree with him, or merely appreciative of his musical judgment. In any case, he had certainly come to expect -- even rely on -- her total obedience. Which was why it was so infuriating when he had been suddenly confronted with her first error, arriving late to rehearsal. She had been immediately and sweetly contrite, but the damage had been done. There was a crack in her utterly perfect veneer, and he was afraid that the glimpses he got of what might lie beneath showed something even more tantalizing. Then René had opened his big mouth, and had fairly forced Sebastien to see Claire in the way he had been trying to suppress. The way she hung on his every word and action was disconcerting at first, but before long it was merely exciting. Sitting in his office after rehearsal, he sometimes let his mind wander to the other things he might be able to make her do. Well, he was a man, after all, and it had been a long time for him. The years he had spend cultivating his career with the symphony had left him precious little time for socializing and he could admit it was getting a little tiresome. Besides, René was right. She was a pretty little thing. He had taken to studying her when she wasn't looking, trying to memorize each detail for one of his increasingly dark fantasies. Thick auburn waves tumbled down around her shoulders, framing a sweet face that he imagined hadn't changed much since adolescence. Sea-green eyes and pink lips -- often pursed or bitten in concentration. Her body was gently curved, slim, and she was light and graceful on her feet -- a dancer, perhaps. There was something indefinably birdlike about her, which was appropriate, as he'd always considered himself distinctly catlike. More and more, he was feeling a bit like a predator stalking its prey. He was beginning to suspect he wasn't the only one who thought so. Claire was beginning to look at him with new eyes. He could tell. Whenever he got too close to her, she took a step back. If their arms accidentally brushed, she flinched away, a soft blush rising to her cheeks. When she sang for him in rehearsals, the tension between them grew to almost unbearable levels. If, God forbid, they were alone together, Sebastien had to use all of his self-control to master the impulse to take her into his arms. It was very unlike him, cool and calm as he always was. In his long memory, no other woman had aroused such passions in him. That was why, he supposed, his temper had risen to a boiling point the second time Claire arrived late. The tardiness would have been annoying enough, but the clothes she wore -- and didn't wear -- made it all positively infuriating. Displaying her body like that was begging for his comment. Immediately, he was seized with desire -- not to ravish her, though that came a moment later, but to punish her. The thought surprised him; he'd never thought of such a thing before, but now it seemed powerfully arousing to him. The idea of her helpless before him, bound and awaiting his every desire. He wanted to hurt her, and to pleasure her. He clenched his fists, hoping to stave off the physical manifestation of his arousal, and was mostly successful...until rehearsal ended. The Soprano Ch. 01 ----- How guilty he had felt after that first time, tying her up and belting her. Even if she had gotten pleasure from it, how perverse and immoral a thing had he done? He had broken down and told René, who seemed disturbingly unperturbed. In fact, he had egged on Sebastien, convincing him to see if Claire would go further. So he had provoked her into admitting she wanted it to happen again. After that, he'd felt guilt, too, but it was tinged with satisfaction. Still he hadn't known what to do. Starting a relationship with his new soprano had to be out of the question, and yet...yet. That last concert, he had known. He had seen it in her eyes -- not acquiescence, but desire. She wanted it as much as he. That first time, it had been...simply incredible. That was the only word he could use. The spark that had been between them on stage had grown until it was something greater than either of them. It spread and threatened to incinerate them. Yet when they gave in, rather than quenching it, it simply grew hotter. ----- After that first time, Sebastien was afraid that he had gone quite crazy. He had become quite distracted thinking of ways to torture and tease Claire. He had...introduced her to René, and it had gone very well. But then, there was...him. Todd. Claire's "boyfriend." Oh, sure, he had known about the boy's existence before he had gotten intimate with Claire. But once he'd had her, it suddenly seemed unfathomable, unallowable, that she be with anyone else. René had tried to restrain him. As he -- and Claire -- regularly pointed out, Sebastien did not own her, could not control her. He had no claim to her unless he wanted to demand exclusivity. And when he finally did, he supposed he had gone about it quite the wrong way. Even then, he had certainly not expected for her to refuse. He should have. She was strong-willed, stubborn, spiteful. But he knew how much she wanted him. How much more surprised he was, then, when she began to challenge him openly in rehearsals and performances. Surprised and furious. And then to have her track down his apartment -- well, track down was perhaps the wrong phrase (damn René) -- and yell at him. Then become vulnerable and sweet, and he had no choice but to confess that he cared. ----- A swift knock on the door tore him from his thoughts. "Maestro, have you seen Claire? We're ready to rehearse the whole thing and she said she wanted to hear it." Sebastien looked down. She was so exhausted. He would let her sleep a little longer. He covered her ear gently with his cupped palm and called out an answer over her head. "No, I have not. I believe she may have gone out for a bit. Perhaps you should all take your lunch break, and she may hear it when she returns." "Okay!" Footsteps faded away and Claire stirred. "Mmm, Sebastien, love you," she murmured sleepily. He stroked her hair and her breathing soon deepened again in sleep. Then there was the most amazing part of all. This woman loved him, and he loved her too. He hadn't thought it was love for a long time, wasn't sure he wanted it to be. But at some point, he could no longer avoid what was inevitable. He could even pinpoint the exact moment he knew. It was two o'clock on a Sunday afternoon in May. Sebastien was lounging in the guest room of his sister Sarah's house, staring moodily out the window at the rain drizzling down into the small garden out back. He hadn't wanted to admit it, but he knew he would miss her. Claire. He had come to Pairs that weekend to celebrate his sister's birthday, but found that she had decided to use the occasion to introduce him to as many of her friends as possible. Already that weekend, he had been subjected to a dinner party and two luncheons. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate Sarah's intentions, but...well, actually he wasn't sure that he did. Sure, the introductions may all have been innocent, but he had an idea that she was trying to draw out of him the truth she suspected: that he was dating someone, and keeping it a secret. Well, it turned out that he just wasn't interested in any of the girls he met that weekend. Not even just that he wasn't interested, actually. Frankly, he could hardly recall them, even though he had just met them. Like the women at lunch today. What were their names? Kate. And Zara. Or something. They'd been nice, of course, and even pretty, perhaps. But not special. Not...not Claire. Claire, who had captured his attention before she had opened her mouth to speak. And that's when he'd realized. It wasn't just the sex, wasn't just the easy affection between them. It was love. ----- When he at last brought Claire to Paris with him, he supposed he was hoping that it would inspire the same feelings in her that he already knew to be inside himself. But it wasn't to be. By the end of the trip, he thought he saw the light in her eyes when she looked at him. But when they returned him, he had begun to doubt what he thought he saw. She was pulling away from him, more and more every day. She broke down into tears at the slightest provocation. She snapped at him. She melted into him when they made love, and then she ran away. On the night he visited her apartment for the first time, he believed that her preoccupation with his former girlfriends had perhaps been the only problem. But it only got worse after that night. After she stormed out of rehearsal and didn't return, he began to fear the worst. She didn't contact him, and he had almost given up hope that she cared at all. But at last he had gotten the truth out of her, and the truth was glorious. She loved him. ----- Sebastien blinked his eyes to clear the visions of the past he had been seeing. At once, he noticed that Claire was awake and watching him. "What?" she asked sleepily. "Just thinking, mon abeille. I believe the orchestra is ready for you." "Mmm, okay," she said, rising from the couch and running her fingers through her hair. She gave him a peck on the cheek and then headed for the door. "Coming, Maestro?" The Soprano Ch. 02 Bzzt. Bzzt. A faint vibration awoke Claire, and she blinked sleepily in the early morning light. She had a moment to wonder why on Earth she'd set her cell phone alarm so early, and then she rolled onto her back and suddenly remembered. The soft ropes Sebastien had used to tie her hands to the headboard the night before were still there. That would make her plan a lot easier to carry through. This morning, she would not be the one tied. It was a special day, and she had a surprise for Sebastien. She hoped he would like it, but if not it would pay off anyway. It always did. Working quickly, she looped the rope around one of his wrists and then the other, gently repositioning his arms above his head. He stirred restlessly for a moment and she thought he might wake, but he stilled again. When she finished her last knot, she sat back to admire her handiwork. There he was, her dark and dangerous man fast asleep in just his underwear, tied to the bed. She had to admit seeing him tied up like that was incredibly sexy. How much sexier would it be when he was awake and furious? She couldn't wait to find out. Claire wormed her hands into the waistband of his shorts, sliding them off and tossing them aside. She took a moment to admire his cock, lying soft against his thigh. She ran her fingertip over the velvety soft skin and he stirred slightly. It was now or never. She leaned over, sucking his cock into her mouth. With it softer, smaller, she could get it entirely into her mouth much more easily. She sucked on it like a piece of hard candy, running her tongue up and down its length. Then it pulsed once thickly in her mouth, and she felt him begin to harden. Sebastien sighed out softly above her head and she flicked her eyes up to see if he was really waking up. But his cock was thickening so deliciously in her mouth, she turned her attention back to it. When it had completely hardened, she gripped it firmly in her fist. She pulled up until only the head of his cock was in her mouth, and flicked her tongue over the tip rapidly. Sebastien's hips jerked and tension filled his body. "Claire," he said firmly. She looked up at him. He was glaring at her now, and she was struck by how sexy he was. The muscles in his stomach rippled as she stroked him. Then giving him an impish smile, she slid her tongue down to his balls. She licked them gently, sucking them into her mouth one at a time. Then even farther down she went, until her tongue had passed over the smooth patch of skin to the rougher, ridged skin below it. He squirmed a little as if to get away from her probing tongue, but she was persistent. "Ahhh..." he groaned softly as she stroked his cock a bit faster. She licked him a bit longer and then withdrew, nipping him gently on one buttock. Making eye contact with him, she slowly slid one finger into her mouth, slicking it up. She slid it against him where her tongue had been. "Claire," he said, more softly now, "this is your last chance. If you do not untie me immediately, you will regret it." "Have you ever...?" she asked, ignoring his request and pressing her fingertip against him. He was stonily silent, and at first she thought he would not reply. Then he sighed shortly in frustration. "No." "Mmm. Then...I will be your first," she said, not quite able to hide her smile. He said nothing, merely stared at her silently as she slid her finger inside him. She took him back into her mouth, cupping his balls with her free hand. His head fell back and he sighed again. She wiggled her finger gently, marveling at the smoothness she felt inside him. He grew firmer in her mouth, and she knew before it happened that he would not warn her. He would simply fill her mouth with his thick, warm come and let her deal with it. He did not warn her, but he couldn't quite conceal his soft grunt of pleasure. She hummed in approval as she swallowed him down. Chancing another look at him, she saw him watching her through slitted eyelids. Pulling away from him, she slid off the bed and watched his facial expressions change as she went into the bathroom to clean up. She took the time to brush her teeth and brush out her hair, but thought taking a shower might push it too far. She picked up a short, silky black robe, and wrapped it around herself. When she returned to the bedroom, Sebastien was still there, evidently having made no attempt to loosen his bonds. He glared murderously at her when she entered the room. Her heart thudded quickly in her chest as she leaned over to loosen the knot on one wrist. Before it had fully unfurled, she was backing away. She didn't really have a plan; she just wanted to get away before he untied himself. He must have worked much more quickly than she'd expected, because she was still standing in the entryway when he snuck up behind her and whipped her around to face him. She expected him to be furious, but instead he was actually smiling as he brought her in for a kiss. She was giggling as he pulled her down to the floor, devouring her mouth. He slid his fingers into her robe, squeezing her breasts firmly. He ran his fingertips over the hard points of her nipples, and pinched them until she twisted away from him, crying out. "You know," he murmured, his lips against her cheek, "I cannot let this go without punishing you." "I would expect nothing less, Maestro." Sebastien untied her robe, pulling it away from her body with the same glee a child unwraps a present. He buried his face between her breasts, sliding them against his cheeks and kissing her chest. Running his tongue up over one breast, he circled her nipple before biting down on it gently. Claire felt little sparks of pleasure run through her and whimpered softly. He flicked his tongue rapidly over the nipple he'd captured between his teeth, then switched to her other breast to do the same there. His hands slid down to her sex, dipping his fingers into her and feeling how wet she was. "Mmm but perhaps that could wait until later," he said, pulling her up roughly and turning her over. She felt his hard cock bumping up against her hip and he dug his nails into her waist, making her cry out. "Yes, indeed, later." He thrust his cock firmly into her, and she shivered in pleasure. Claire was still in the entryway, her palms and knees rasping against the carpet as Sebastien pounded into her from behind, when she heard a sharp knock at the door. "Come back later; we are busy," Sebastien said. "So I can hear," came the dry reply. "Started without me, have you?" "Come in, the door's open," called Claire. Sebastien gave her a sudden whack on her behind and she moaned, laughing softly. The door opened, framing a tall man with sun-kissed hair in the doorway. He closed the door behind him, lips twitching in amusement as he took in the scene before him: his best friend and his best friend's lover. Claire reached for him and he came closer, kneeling down in front of her. He cradled her face in his hands, kissing her deeply. Her fingers fumbled with the button on his jeans as their tongues tangled together. She got the button done one-handed, but couldn't manage the zipper. "Help me out here," she said. Sebastien slowed a bit behind her, probably hoping to draw things out now that René had joined them. René undid his zipper and pushed his jeans down, kicking them off his legs and then pulling off his shirt as well. He knelt again before Claire, his hard cock bumping up against her shoulder suggestively. She slicked up his cock with her tongue, raking her teeth very gently down his hard length. Then she brought her head up, teasing his cock with her fingertips and feeling it pulse in her hand. When her tongue snaked down between his buttocks, he moaned appreciatively. "Mon ami, you have been teaching her some new tricks." "I did not teach her this one," Sebastien grunted in response. René chuckled in a low tone. "No, I suppose you did not. But she tried it out on you first, I gather." "You have no idea." Claire brought her head up, glaring at each of them in turn as she said, "Both of you shut up." This earned her another smack from Sebastien, but René said nothing, groaning softly instead when she resumed her tongue's work on him. He shifted his hips subtly, pushing his cock through her fingers. "I want to be inside you," he said softly above her head. She pulled away from him, wiggling her fingers suggestively. "How about if I...put something inside you?" She slid her finger inside him slowly, and he closed his eyes in pleasure. Then she sucked him into her mouth and he moaned softly. "New tricks, indeed." Claire ran her tongue over him, tasting him and enjoying the feel of him in her mouth. She felt Sebastien pushing into her faster, shivering as he bumped her with each thrust. She moaned around René's cock, feeling the pleasure building inside her. Sebastien ran one of his hands up over Claire's ribs to her breast, which he kneaded firmly. His other hand dipped down between her legs, sliding through her wet folds in little circles. Her hips jumped, but his hand held her against him firmly as he pounded into her. She felt herself tensing up, and then she was coming, gripping René's thigh firmly as she whimpered around him. Sebastien sighed softly behind her and slowed down slightly before thrusting once more emptying himself into her. He stroked her back and sides gently as she continued to suck René's cock down her throat. She fingered him slowly, pressing into him and making him cry out as he filled her mouth with his warm come. When they'd all finally untangled themselves, Claire pulled Sebastien to her and kissed him sweetly. "Happy birthday, Maestro." ----- The sun was up and the sky a clear blue by the time the breakfast dishes were stacked in the sink. Sebastien had showered and dressed, and stopped to give Claire a kiss on the cheek before grabbing his overcoat. She and René were still lounging on the sofa, she dressed again in her robe. "Mon abeille, I must be off. I cannot skip rehearsal today, unfortunately. But I will see you tonight?" "Of course, Maestro. We have plans...remember?" "How could I remember? I do not know what they are," he teased. He breezed out the door and Claire immediately turned to René. "Okay, now we can talk about tonight. You remember what I told you I had planned?" "Yes, but...you must be joking." "I am not joking!" She stuck out her lower lip, offended. "But cherie, you told me yourself you cannot cook. What would you make?" "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I don't know." "What about a salad?" he suggested with a grin. "You're so mean," she grumbled. "Oh very well, I apologize. You are set on doing this?" "Yes. Very." "All right, then. Here is my suggestion: roast a chicken. It is very simple, and you can just roast it over some potatoes to make a meal out of it. If you want to try something a bit trickier, make soup to start. I believe squash is in season, and it makes a delicious soup." "What about dessert?" "Buy it, of course. Something simple. Or...be it," he added with a roguish smile. "Okay..." she said, sounding unsure. "Would you like me to --" "I want to do it myself." "Of course, and you will," he said, "but there is no shame in getting help. I can stay and make sure everything goes well." "You'd do that for me?" "It is no trouble, and I will be gone before Sebastien returns." "You are the best!" she said, giving him a peck on the cheek. ----- He was late. The clock was ticking too loudly on the wall and Sebastien looked irritably into his cup of tea. Of course, he would be late. Sebastien was at a café at eleven o'clock in the morning to meet an acquaintance. It was someone he'd known long ago who was now on the board of directors for one of the country's largest symphonies. He had guessed why his old acquaintance wanted to meet with him, but he supposed he should listen anyway. At last, a man entered the café carrying a briefcase and looking anxious. He was of average height with jet-black hair, dressed in a stuffy tweed suit. He spotted Sebastien straightaway and made his way over to the table. "Maestro, I'm glad you could see me." "Leonard, it has been a long time." "Too long. I'd like to get straight to the point. Ken is retiring and we're on the search for a new conductor. Your name came up. A lot of us really respect the work you've done here." "So you are asking me to throw my hat into the ring, is that it?" "Well, yes. I thought you'd be pleased." Pleased. Why shouldn't he be pleased? A personal visit from someone from the hiring committee's preferences, the chance to work for a larger symphony with a larger budget in what was arguably a nice location. "I am not displeased. It would be a magnificent opportunity." "Indeed it would. Though...perhaps this isn't a good time for you? You would no doubt wish to break in your new soprano before handing her off to someone else, hmm?" Break her in. If only he knew, Sebastien thought with a thin smile. Then a thought occurred to him. Surely the rumors had not gone so far. Was it possible Leonard was taunting him, hoping to discover the truth? "Claire can handle herself. She is a professional." "I'm sure she is. Quite attractive, too, isn't she?" "Anyone who thinks that factored into my decision to hire her must not think very much of my judgment," he replied, fixing Leonard with a firm stare. The other man, evidently seeing he would not get anywhere with this line of conversation, nodded. "Of course," he murmured. "Well, the board is meeting with some prospective candidates next month, sort of an informal mixer. Will I see you there?" Sebastien sighed inwardly. It was a good opportunity. Perhaps, given the state of things, the best opportunity he would have in the entire next decade. But of course, he did have Claire to consider. There could be no question of bringing her along professionally -- not at first, anyway. So it would mean a separation; he could never ask her to resign her position. It would be a delicate situation if he were to be offered the position. He looked at the smug expression on Leonard's face, watched as it fell away when he answered. "Of course." ----- Steam fogged the mirror in Sebastien's bathroom, and Claire wiped it away to look at herself critically. Her hair was wet and slicked back from her face, leaving it bare. She squeezed the moisture out of it into a towel and then ran her fingers through it, teasing out the curls. She looked down at her naked body, poked herself in the tummy, and smiled. She could just stay naked, she thought. Sebastien would like that. But then she wouldn't be able to wear her new dress. Or her new...underthings. She turned toward the door, where her clothes were hanging, and pulled a silky slip of fabric off one hanger. It was a silk and lace romper, with creamy lace cups giving way to light blue silk that skimmed over her tummy and ended in little shorts just below her ass, trimmed with more lace. She slicked on red lipstick, piled her damp hair on top of her head, and made cute faces at herself in the mirror. Very vintage. Perfect to go under her new dress. First, she pulled on her crinoline; it wasn't one made of the typical scratchy tulle, but rather very soft chiffon, light blue to match her lingerie. Then the dress: black pinstriped silk with an empire waist and straps that pushed her breasts up and together. It came to her knees, letting her crinoline peek out from underneath, and it made her feel incredibly sexy. She added a necklace of seed pearls that rested just above her collarbone and made sure her hair was pinned up firmly. She twirled around, pleased to see her skirt swishing around her legs. Then she looked down at her toes, painted red to match her lips. Perhaps she'd just stay barefoot. Sebastien would love it. ----- "Claire, are you still here?" Sebastien called out as he entered the apartment. He honestly wasn't sure if he was hoping that she was still there or not. The meeting that morning had made him uneasy, and he'd been unable to think of much else all day. Surely he should tell Claire about the invitation, his intention to apply for the position. But...well, it was only an exploratory mixer, wasn't it? There was no need to worry her -- and she would worry, there was no doubt about it. "Mmhmm, in here," she replied from the direction of the kitchen. "It smells good. Have you been cooking?" he asked teasingly as he tossed his overcoat onto the sofa. He headed toward the back of his apartment, stopping in his tracks when he saw his little dining room. All his other thoughts evaporated. Claire had drawn the curtains and lit candles, filling the room with a soft glow. Then he saw her, in her black dress and pearls, barefoot and looking very alluring. He felt his heart speeding up and dragged his eyes back up to her face as she answered the question he'd nearly forgotten he'd asked. "As a matter of fact, I did." Claire was really enjoying the surprised silence. "I hope you're hungry." She motioned to the table, where two wide, shallow bowls were sitting. Sebastien swallowed and moved forward to take her into his arms. "Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are, mon abeille?" he asked softly. "You might have mentioned it once or twice." "I might be hungrier for something other than food," he said, kissing down her neck to her collarbone and on down to the tops of her breasts. "Ahh, ahh..." She pulled away from him, smiling coquettishly. "Those are for dessert," she said seriously. He slid his hands up to cup her breasts and kissed along the other side of her neck. "Have you never eaten dessert before dinner?" he murmured in her ear. "No, and neither will you. You can wait a half hour." She felt her heart skip a beat when he groaned softly in disappointment, biting down gently on her earlobe. Had he ever been this eager to get her into bed? She wasn't sure he had. A blush rose to her cheeks as she pushed him away again. "Please. Dinner is getting cold." Sebastien looked as though he wanted to argue with her some more, but instead he pulled out one of the chairs for her. She sat and waited for him to sit across from her. He looked down into the bowl, studying the orange soup. "Mon abeille, I can hardly believe it. You really did...make this yourself?" "Yes, and you don't have to look so nervous about it. It won't kill you," she said a bit irritably. "Well you can hardly blame me for being a bit apprehensive," he teased, dipping his spoon into the bowl and raising it to his mouth. Claire tried not to stare at him, but it was difficult. She had tried it before serving, of course, but she wanted him to like it. She ran her spoon around the edge of her own bowl, scooping up a little of the soup. She had made it under René's direction, a silky smooth mixture of butternut squash, garlic, and sage. She had even managed to make buttery, garlicky fried bread cubes to top the soup with. Sebastien tasted it, and smiled at her. "It is very good." "Really?" "Really. Go on, you can stop being so nervous," he said with an amused look. She frowned at him, but started to eat. When they were done, she picked up both bowls and headed into the kitchen to put them in the sink. Sebastien followed her, resting his hands on her waist and nuzzling the back of her neck. "Well, aren't you just in a mood tonight?" "I am impressed, mon abeille, and flattered that you went to so much trouble for me." "Yes, well, there is just one little problem," she said, turning and taking the carving knife from the magnetic strip on the wall. "I don't actually know how to carve a chicken." ----- The dinner dishes were forgotten on the table, the candles blown out and smoking lightly into the air as Sebastien slammed Claire up against the bookshelf in the hallway, ravishing her mouth with his own. His hands roamed her body, but she pushed them away every time he tried to slide them up underneath her skirt. They kissed until they were out of breath, and then Claire broke away to head upstairs. The Soprano Ch. 02 She didn't get very far. Sebastien grasped her around the waist again, kissing her deeply and pushing her down onto the arm of the sofa. She toppled backward with Sebastien on top of her, pressing every inch of their bodies together very intimately as he kissed her neck. Claire shivered with pleasure, holding him tightly to her for a moment before remembering her plans. She slid out from underneath him, and had made it up the stairs before he caught up to her again. He spun her around and backed her up against the wall, capturing her mouth again. He pressed his hips into hers and she shuddered as she felt him, thick and hard against her. He cupped her breasts and she moaned into his mouth. "Please..." she managed to say. "In the bedroom." "I think I have waited long enough. I want to fuck you right here, up against the wall where I can hear your sweet voice crying out in my ear." She blushed, but shook her head. "I have something for you." "I have something for you, too," he murmured, and Claire laughed in surprise. This was so unlike him. She managed to squirm away and get into his bedroom, where she snatched up the object she'd left on his bed. When he came into the room, she held it out to him: a brand-new paddle. It was a thin, flexible leather paddle reminiscent of private-school punishments, and it was supposed to hurt -- really, really hurt. Maybe it would have been more appropriate if she'd been wearing a schoolgirl uniform, but it was a vintage style and that was good enough for her. "Don't forget you said you'd punish me," she reminded him. He took the paddle, but though she saw the glint in his eyes when he ran his hand over it, he set it back down onto the bed. Then he pulled her in close again, kissing her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders. "Mmm, I have other plans tonight." Claire placed her hands on his shoulders, pushing back slightly took look him in the eyes. "No, Maestro. You have to punish me. You promised! I won't agree to anything else until you've done that first," she said sweetly. Sebastien's eyes narrowed, and Claire knew she'd made his night a little more complicated. He should punish her, both for earlier and for her resistance now, but if he did he would be giving in to what she was demanding. That would never do. So what would he do? He grabbed her upper arms firmly, turning her around and backing her into the wall firmly. Then, he ran his hands down to her wrists and pressed them back into the wall with even more force, indicating without saying so that she should not move them. He trailed his fingers down her neck, to her chest, until he was cupping her breasts again, finding her hard nipples through the silky fabric and pinching them while she tried not to squirm. His lips found her ear, murmuring darkly into it. "I will punish you, do not doubt it. But do not forget who is in command here. You will not like what happens if you do." Claire shivered a little, loving the way she'd pushed Sebastien toward the side of him that had attracted her to him. She felt herself getting wet and was nearly as eager as Sebastien to feel him inside her. He slid his hands around to her back and pulled her zipper down in a long, slow line. The straps slipped down over her shoulders, and he gently tugged her dress down until it pooled at her feet. His eyes devoured her as she stood there, flat against the wall in her romper and crinoline. He stood there for a long moment, just watching her, as if he was committing her image to memory. She was beginning to feel self-conscious, when he ran his fingertips lightly over the hem of her crinoline and then underneath it to pet her inner thigh just above the knee. He ran them up until he found her wetness, then teased her gently for a moment. Withdrawing his fingers, he licked them clean as he watched her watch him. She looked down in embarrassment then, and he only smiled in return. He pulled down her crinoline carefully and took in what she was wearing underneath. Bending over, he nibbled gently on her breasts through the soft lacy cups of her lingerie. Claire whimpered, feeling her nipples harden in his mouth. He slid the lace cups down, exposing her breasts to him. His hands ran over them, squeezing them gently before he took each nipple into his mouth. He bit down gently, licked them until they were almost painfully hard. Down, down he drew her romper until she was naked and trembling before him. He shifted her dress and crinoline aside gently. When he looked up at her with fire in his eyes, she understood he'd been gentle only to avoid tearing her pretty clothes. He pulled off his own shirt and unzipped his pants, then leaned over, planting his palms on either side of her. "Now. I think I have been patient enough. I will have you, and I will have you now," he said firmly. Claire looked up, feeling herself melt under his intense gaze. She waited for him to ravish there as she stood, and felt her heart start to beat wildly as he moved forward to take her into his arms. But instead of taking her against the wall, he lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the bed. He slid his pants off, climbing onto the bed with her and kissing her softly. He lifted her arms above her head, anchoring them there with one of his hands as he slid inside her just as slowly as he could. It was such a dramatic change from how she'd thought it would go, and she had to admit she found the switch as arousing as anything. Sebastien peppered her face with kisses, nuzzled her neck, fondled her breasts as he thrust into her deeply. She whimpered and moaned, feeling overloaded with sensations. Claire watched Sebastien as he moved in her, saw the immense control on his face as he resisted...what? Well, she knew what she wanted. Could she make him give it to her? "Sebastien," she murmured against his lips as he came in for another kiss. He froze for a moment, meeting her eyes curiously. "Why don't you take what you really want?" she whispered in his ear before biting down on his earlobe and pulling on it gently. He sighed out softly, closing his eyes and burying his face into the space between her neck and shoulder. "What I really want, dearest, is you. I love you." It was the first time he'd said it since, well, the first time they'd said it. Claire felt warm all the way down to her toes, and she turned her head to the side to look into his eyes again. "I love you, too." She felt his cock swell within her and he released her arms, letting her run her fingertips up and down his sides. Their lips met again, softly, fiercely. He bumped his hips against hers and she thrilled to the feel of his cock sliding in and out of her. Every moment she expected him to speed up, pound into her harder, but he kept up the deliciously slow, steady pace. It felt amazing with every inch of their naked skin sliding together, their legs and tongues tangling. Still the orgasm took her by surprise, and then she was writhing beneath him and moaning into his mouth as she tightened around him. He grasped her hips firmly in his hands and gave two more quick thrusts, spilling his come into her. She felt his heart beating rapidly against her, listened to him blow out the breath he'd been holding. He looked down at her tenderly, stroking the hair that had fallen from where it had been pinned. Foolishly, Claire began to believe that was all there was going to be for the night. Her body was already slipping into lethargy in the warmth and comfort of Sebastien's arms. But all too soon, he was pulling back from her and sliding on his pants -- so he definitely meant business. She wondered what he was up to, already having forgotten the new toy she'd gotten him. When he picked it up and tested it against his own palm, wincing a little at the impact, she swallowed nervously. "I will be in my office when you are ready," he said with a little smile, walking out of the room and tapping the strap against his palm. ----- Although she had already showered that day, Claire simply couldn't resist taking a quick, hot bath before going to his office to get her punishment. Partly, she was seeking the relaxation of the warm embrace of the water. But also, it heightened her anticipation. An hour later, she padded down the hallway completely naked and pushed open the door to Sebastien's office. He had lit a fire in the fireplace and was reclining on his leather sofa reading. He set the book down and beckoned to her, running his hands over her skin, soft and scented with lavender bath oil. "Now, mon abeille, do you recall why I am punishing you?" Her lips twitched slightly as she answered, "For tying you up, and...um, and violating you." "You find this entertaining?" "Only because you liked it, Maestro," she replied with a little sass. He didn't look as amused as she felt. He frowned at her and she really had to fight to keep from smiling. "I was going to give you only a half dozen strokes, but now I am afraid I must give you a full dozen. Hopefully you will find it less amusing after that." "Yes, Maestro." He patted his lap and she climbed onto the couch, bending over his lap and giving her ass a cute little wiggle in anticipation. She felt him sliding his palm over her buttocks, and she was hoping he would give her a few swats to warm her up. Instead, she felt a thick line of searing pain cross her buttocks as he brought the strap down onto her. She squealed and writhed, but he held his arm across her lower back and prevented her from rising off his lap. "Stings, doesn't it?" he murmured. She nodded miserably, tears springing to her eyes as he gave her a further two smacks, one right on the heels of the other. With each impact, the heat built until she was sniffling, tears running constantly from her eyes and pooling on the leather below her. The heat blasting from the fireplace behind her wasn't helping matters any, but it was the fire growing between her legs that was truly ferocious. She felt the wetness dripping out from between her legs and onto Sebastien's lap, and she wondered if he could feel it, too. He had finally reached a dozen strokes and laid the paddle aside, trailing his hand between her legs. But of course he had felt it. How silly of her to question it. He patted and stroked her buttocks almost absent-mindedly while she struggled to control her tears. She wasn't sure if she was more aroused or more in pain. "It hurts," she moaned softly. "I know," he replied in a soothing voice. "Come, I shall find something for the pain." She curled up on her side in his lap, and he slid his arms underneath her to lift her as he stood. He carried her back into the bedroom and set her down onto the bed. She rubbed her thighs together briefly before he parted her legs, crawling between them and running his eyes up her body. Her stomach twisted in pleasure when she saw the look in his eyes, and then her head was thrown back, eyes squeezing shut as he began licking up her wetness. In bare moments she had indeed nearly forgotten about the pain, as sharply focused as she was on the pleasure rapidly growing in her center. She grasped the sheets tightly between her fingers as her hips flexed to meet his tongue. Then it hit her and she moaned out softly as she came, running her fingers through his hair. He teased her a few moments longer with the tip of his tongue, and then stretched out beside her, his palm resting on her stomach. She blinked vaguely at the ceiling, feeling exhaustion begin to cloud over her. Reaching out with her right arm, she grasped for something on the bedside table and dropped it onto his chest. "Here. Hope you're free on Friday night." She turned and watched Sebastien, who looked down and smiled when he saw what she'd dropped on him. Tickets to the opera. "And, um, I hope you had a good birthday." "Thank you, mon abeille. I can honestly say it was the best one I have had in a long time." ----- Sebastien tapped his baton on his music stand, getting the attention of his orchestra and the soloists that had come for rehearsal that afternoon. It was for a concert that Claire was perhaps unreasonably excited about, one that she had suggested to Sebastien the previous year half-seriously and he took an interest in. She supposed the seed for the idea had been implanted in her brain for years, and it had first made itself known to Sebastien through her audition choices. Two of the arias she'd chosen were from requiems, which might perhaps have been a bit unusual. She had been advised to choose brighter, sweeter pieces that would show off her young, girlish voice. It's not that she didn't like arias with light themes. It was more that they wouldn't fit who she was. When she heard a requiem for the first time, it captured her imagination more than anything she'd heard before. And when she'd heard another, and another, it was the same. So early last year, before she had gotten in too deeply with Sebastien, she had mentioned offhandedly how amazing a concert made up of arias and instrumental requiem pieces would be. He had given her a sidelong glance, answering her before he could stifle his curiosity. "It is interesting how fascinated with death you are, mon abeille," he had said. "I think of it more as an interest in the human condition," she had replied, tossing her head. Still, he'd seemed quite attracted to this aspect of her. When he had decided on the final schedule for the year, he had casually mentioned that he had taken her suggestion, and she had been beside herself. She really couldn't wait to hear the whole thing come together, and the part she was perhaps most excited about was the one-to-a-part Maurice Duruflé Requiem. It is normally sung by a choir, but for this performance she would be joined by alto, tenor, bass, and baritone soloists. It had been interesting being in rehearsals now that she and Sebastien were arguably in a relationship that was just...normal. There wasn't the same tension there had been before, but Claire was almost surprised to find that the excitement hadn't gone out of it. For one thing, she remembered that the thing she had initially been drawn to was the way that he conducted, and of course she still found it alluring. But there was also a new excitement in it all. She was there on stage making music with the man she loved, and she had the most tantalizing anticipation of getting to touch him afterward. Of course, there was still the element of control. Sebastien was very definitely in charge here and it still gave her a thrill to follow his lead, to submit to his direction even though they were both aware she didn't have to. She was generally much better behaved on stage these days, though. She rarely defied him simply for the sake of doing so. But when she had a legitimate concern, she no longer shied away from saying something, either. So rehearsals were more harmonious, but no less thrilling. In rehearsal today, however, as in any rehearsal in which there were multiple choral parts of complex orchestration, Claire could not count on Sebastien's undivided attention. She wasn't upset about it -- I mean, how needy would that be, right? She sang her part when called upon, and sketched a little in her book when others were doing their parts. Mostly she thought about the night to come -- it was finally Friday and she was going to the opera with Sebastien. Actually, it would be her first time going to an opera at all and she was pretty excited about it. The room had fallen silent around her, and she looked up to see several dozen pairs of eyes looking in her direction. She glanced up to Sebastien, saw him glaring exasperatedly at her, and realized that they had been waiting for her. Sebastien was watching her, probably wondering whether she had been ignoring him on purpose. Sadly no. After rehearsal, Claire headed back to her dressing room, wondering if she had time to go for a run before changing into her evening clothes. But when she got there, all thoughts of exercise went out the window. Sebastien was already there, tapping his foot rhythmically on the carpeted floor. He glanced at her when she entered, and the look he gave her made her suddenly nervous. "What are, um, what are you doing in here?" she asked. "Mon abeille, would you like to tell me where your mind was during rehearsal?" "Nooo, not really." Sebastien stepped over to her, reaching around her to close the door and tipping her chin up to look her in the eyes. "But you will tell me." "Oh," she said, huffing out an embarrassed breath, "I was just thinking about tonight. I'm excited, that's all." He ran one finger down her cheek and asked in a low voice, "How excited are you?" "I just don't know if I can contain myself," she replied, eyes bright. "I am afraid you will have to try," he said, unbuttoning her shirt. "The others are still in the building." ----- The room felt like it was spinning. Claire was flat on her back, blinking up at the lights around her dressing room mirror. An arm was curled possessively over her hips, and the man it was attached to was kissing her shoulder softly. She was still twitching when she tried -- and failed -- to sit up. "What time is it?" she groaned. "Nearly seven-thirty." "Ohhh my gosh, how did it get so late?" She stood up, tottering a bit dizzily in her heels. "We have to go." She looked down, saw Sebastien grinning up at her. What was he looking at? Oh. Right. She was naked. In heels. Classy. "Shut up and help me get dressed," she grumbled. ----- "Are you hungry?" "Famished!" In their haste to get to the opera house, they had skipped dinner. The excitement of the show had kept Claire from feeling hungry but now that they were out in the cold night air, her stomach was growling. "I know just the thing." Sebastien pulled out his cell phone and dialed. "Yes, Tom, I am just calling to say that we will get ourselves home tonight. Yes, yes. Fine. Good night." He grabbed Claire's hand and led her down the block, toward a staircase she had never noticed before. "Where are we going?" "Have you never been on the metro?" "I, um, didn't actually know there was one here," she muttered. He smiled and shook his head, leading her down the stairs and onto the platform just as a train was rumbling up. He pulled her onto it and she saw that it was nearly empty this time of night. Even so, Sebastien did not sit in any of the orange plastic seats, choosing to lean casually against one of the metal poles instead. Standing there, he looked surprisingly at ease. "How do you do that?" she asked him. "Do what?" "Look right at home no matter where you are." "If you act like you belong, you will begin to believe it," he answered. Claire wondered at that; she still didn't feel comfortable in some of the fancy places he took her. She leaned against him, looking out the window at the unbroken dark of the underground tunnel. The lights in the train periodically flickered on and off, shutting off completely when the train suddenly burst out into the bright, moonlit night. It crested a hill, and in the distance Claire could see foamy waves crashing over the beach. The train slowed to a stop, and then Sebastien was tugging her out into the street. Down the block and around the corner they went, and Claire realized they were deep in a residential neighborhood. A dozen tightly packed, brightly painted cottages made up each long block. Most had dark windows at this late hour, but a few held golden lights behind their curtains. She glanced up at Sebastien, who was totally unperturbed, obviously clear about where he was going. He headed toward the last building on the block, one that was apparently not a residence. It had a small backlit sign with foreign characters of some kind printed above the door. Chinese, perhaps, or Vietnamese. She couldn't be sure. Sebastien pushed the door open, letting out a cloud of steam fragrant with fish sauce and frying oil. Definitely Vietnamese. The Soprano Ch. 02 Inside, a dim orange glow lit the dozen or so tables crowded together in the tiny room. Pots and pans clanged together in the kitchen, and a teenaged waiter was bringing out large bowls and platters of steaming food to tables of old men and college students. Sebastien took her hand and led her to the only empty table, on the far left wall. She looked at the laminated menu, the glossy photographs. "I didn't know you ate Vietnamese food," she said in surprise. "There is a lot you do not know about me. You cannot think I only eat at expensive restaurants." "I never thought about it. It's just always where you seem to take me." "That is what I do when I am trying to impress a lady," he teased. "Oh, I see. You're done impressing me, is that it?" He looked into her eyes steadily as he replied, "Never." At that moment the waiter appeared, but a few words from Sebastien sent him off again. Before they could start talking again he had returned, bringing two small frosted glasses of amber liquid. Claire picked up the one closest to her, sipped tentatively. Beer. She watched as Sebastien leaned back comfortably, taking a swig from his glass. After a year -- more -- of knowing him, she'd foolishly thought she knew all there was to know about him. But then, she reflected, it's not like he knew everything about her, either. He didn't know the more embarrassing things, the unsexy things, the unladylike things. He probably would eventually, but she didn't see any reason to let him in on it now. She shook her head, clearing them of her thoughts, and noticed Sebastien was looking at her. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?" "I have said nothing." "Mmmkay, well, what should we talk about?" Before Sebastien could answer the waiter appeared again, waiting wordlessly for their order. Feeling flustered and indecisive, Claire waved toward Sebastien. He ordered smoothly, and the waiter dashed off toward the kitchen again. Claire blew out a little sigh. She felt...strange. Sebastien reached over and took her hand. "Mon abeille, why are you so anxious?" "I...anxious? I don't know. I guess because I don't know what to talk about, and I...I don't know. We should have a lot to talk about." She picked up her glass, drained it. Her head started to buzz a little and she tried to shake it off, but it didn't help. Sebastien smiled patiently and pulled his chair over toward her side of the table, until his chair bumped against hers. He slid his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her tightly to him. "Claire, listen to me a moment. How long did it take before we began really talking to each other over the dinner table, or anywhere else?" "I don't know, a few months?" "We have been dating -- really dating -- for less than a year. We have the whole world, and everything in it, to talk about. My parents have been married forty years. I assure you they have eaten plenty a meal in companionable silence, but they are still as much in love today as they were when they met. Perhaps even more. Besides," he said in a low voice, shifting aside to give the waiter room to set down a platter stacked high with small banana-leaf-wrapped packages, "you should know as well as I that we communicate plenty without using words." He leaned in to brush his lips across her cheek and over her earlobe. She shivered, turning her face away. He was right; she knew he was right. Her parents were still married, too, and they never seemed to run out of things to say to each other. If it was meant to be -- and eeek, what was she doing thinking about the future right now anyway?! She looked curiously at the table, where she saw Sebastien picking up one of the packages and unwrapping it. As he peeled the banana leaves away from it, she saw that it was a sticky rice cake. She loved sticky rice! Sometimes she'd get a bowl of phở and couldn't resist ordering sticky rice on the side. In fact, there was a little Vietnamese place down the street from the symphony hall, and once in a while Claire ducked in there just to order a sticky rice cake. She'd eat it on the way back to the symphony hall or, if she was in a real hurry, she'd tuck it into her pocket to keep it warm. Then she'd sit in an empty corner of the auditorium, peel back the banana leaves to release the steam, and take tiny, sticky bites of the rice cake. At once she realized -- Sebastien must have noticed. How could it be that she paid him so much attention at the symphony hall, and yet never noticed when he was watching her? She suddenly smiled at him, and his face lit up in return. He broke a small piece of the rice cake off and held it out to her. She leaned in and ate it out of his hand, running her tongue over his fingertips. His smile faded a little, his eyes glittering with a dark look. She knew that look. Another glass of beer appeared in front of her, and then another. Before she knew it she was feeling lighter than air, tingling from the alcohol and the romance of feeding each other sticky rice cakes filled with spiced pork and bean paste. When at last Sebastien set down his glass and leaned in to give her a kiss, she felt the heat bloom over her body. All of a sudden, she wanted to get out of there. Like now. Claire nudged Sebastien with her knee, and he took the hint. He laid several bills on the table and whisked her out of the restaurant and into the street. It was even quieter than it had been when they arrived, and the streams of fog were scudding overhead. Claire shivered, and Sebastien drew her close with his free arm. With his other hand, he tapped something out on his phone. He pulled her in against the building and kissed her for a long moment. When he finally pulled back and she opened her eyes again, she saw a cab waiting at the curb. She looked questioningly at Sebastien, and he held up his phone. Clever. She slid into the cab, wondering where Sebastien was planning to take her. Then, on an impulse, she leaned up to the driver and gave him her own address. She went to sit back down and found Sebastien's lap where she had been sitting. He held her tightly against him, and she turned to kiss him softly. "No sex in the cab," she whispered. "Please, mon abeille, what kind of man do you think I am?" "I don't think you want me to answer that." "Oh, I think I do. But perhaps not here. Any particular reason you are taking us to your flat?" "Well...it's closer." "Impatient?" "Very." ----- Claire bounced on the balls of her feet as the elevator in her building took them to her floor. The buzz was beginning to wear off from the beer she'd had, but the periodic caresses from Sebastien on her back and sides were keeping her amped up. As soon as she'd unlocked the door she was tugging him inside by the lapels of his jacket. She had turned to head off down the hallway to her bedroom when she felt his hand encircle her wrist and tug her back to him. "Claire. As amused as I am by your enthusiasm and your attempts to take charge of things lately, I believe you may be forgetting which one of us is in control here." He stepped close to her, looking down at her seriously. She stepped back away from him, suddenly feeling both meeker and more aroused than before. Sometimes she actually forgot how much she loved it when he was like this. "Yes, Maestro, of course. I'm sorry." "That is a start. Perhaps you should show me how sorry you are," he said suggestively. At first she wasn't quite sure what to do. She knew what he liked, but she couldn't very well tie herself up, could she? Of course, he was a man. What do men like? "Well," she began slowly, "if you'd like to take a seat and make yourself comfortable, I should go change out of this dress. Can I make you a drink?" Sebastien opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say. He regarded her thoughtfully, and finally said, "Brandy would be nice, if you have it." "Yes, Maestro, of course." She went into the kitchen and poured him a drink, bringing it to the living room where he had taken a seat in one of her armchairs. "I'll be back in a minute," she said, finally heading toward her bedroom. She unzipped her dress and shimmied out of it, tossing it onto her dresser. Her lingerie drawer had expanded into an entire chest of lingerie drawers, and she knew just what she wanted tonight. She slipped off her heels and into the lemon-yellow babydoll nightgown -- a satin and lace top with layers of chiffon below the empire waist. Claire dashed out of her bedroom and into the bathroom before Sebastien could catch a glimpse of her in the hallway. Looking in the mirror, she noticed that the makeup she wore just didn't go with her nightie. She scrubbed her face clean and thought she looked so young, almost innocent. If it wasn't for what she knew about herself... She went back into the living room and saw Sebastien, his head tilted back slightly and his eyes closed. She frowned; she hadn't taken that long to get ready. It had been a long day, though. She sat on his lap, cuddling up to him and pressing soft kisses into his skin. He shifted in the chair, opening his eyes and looking at her -- her lace-covered breasts and her long, bare legs. "You can look as innocent as you please, but you are not fooling me," he murmured. "Now what are you up to?" "Nothing," she pouted. "I just want to...make you feel good." She shifted in his lap, pressing her ass directly between her legs and throwing her head backward onto his shoulder. She saw him looking down at her breasts again and she wiggled her shoulders to make them move. He reached down to squeeze them gently and she felt him starting to harden beneath her. It sent a chill through her and she pressed her ass back into him. Claire slid onto the floor between Sebastien's legs and looked up at him as she unzipped his pants. She slid her hand in and found his cock, already so hard, so hot. It twitched and pulsed in her hand and she moved her mouth slowly down the length of it. She teased the tip of it with her tongue and felt Sebastien's fingers sliding through her hair. He tugged on it gently and she sped up, loving the feel of him between her lips. She twisted her tongue around him, sucking firmly as he groaned softly above her. All too soon, though, he was pulling her off of him. She stood, pulling her nightgown up to show him what she wasn't wearing underneath. He tugged her over to him, grasping her hips tightly and digging his fingers into her buttocks almost painfully. She straddled his lap, sinking down onto him and closing her eyes in pleasure. While she rode him, Sebastien's hands roamed her body, sliding over her bare skin beneath her nightgown. She leaned into him. Without warning, he gave her a firm smack on the ass, quickly followed by another...and another...and another. She whimpered, feeling the pleasure building in her so fast, faster than she thought possible. Sebastien slid one hand between them, teasing her and running his fingers over her rapidly. "Come on, mon abeille, come for me," he whispered into her ear. "I want to feel you come." Claire blushed, pressing her forehead down into his shoulder. She felt it building and she moved faster, feeling him slamming into her over and over. His fingers were driving her up and over, and she dug her fingernails into his upper arms, crying out as she came. Sebastien picked her up then, tumbling them both to the floor and fucking her harder than she could have done. The sound of their sex filled the room along with Sebastien's heavy breathing in her ear. He grabbed her hips, picking them up and driving into her with even more intensity when at last he came, spilling his come into her. Silence descended on them as their breathing slowed down. Claire wondered if she might have rug burn on her backside where her nightie had ridden up. "We can just sleep here, right?" she asked him. "I think not. We will go to bed. As soon as I can walk again." "I'll be asleep before that happens," she murmured, nuzzling his shoulder. "Then I shall just leave you here, I suppose." "That's mean," she said, but she was smiling. The Soprano Ch. 03 Thursday morning the mail came late, not until nearly six when Claire was heading out the door to meet with Sebastien. There were a couple of bills, a postcard from Portugal (where one of her childhood friends was vacationing), and a card in a lilac envelope. It wasn't just any card, either. It was an invitation to a wedding, sort of a last-minute thing put together by some friends at home who hadn't been planning to get married but suddenly found it had become important to them. Everyone would say the bride was pregnant, though Claire was pretty sure she wasn't. There wasn't any shame in it anyway, but there would always be whispers. This invitation put Claire in a bit of a bind. Ordinarily it would be the kind of event a girl in a relationship would want to bring her boyfriend to. Of course, in some significant ways, they were not in an ordinary situation. Well, Sebastien would understand, she thought. And he did. And in fact it seemed to Claire that he felt a little relieved to have her gone for that weekend. He had a lot of work to do, he said. He wouldn't have much time to spend with her anyway, and he agreed the wedding wouldn't be the right occasion to introduce him to her parents. Only perhaps, if she found a moment, she could at least let them know she was dating him? He had sounded a trifle irritated, and she understood. It's just that she had grown really fond of her special secret. Their relationship, his very existence as her lover, was a secret she cherished. But she knew the time would come that she would have to tell her parents...and everyone else. She just hadn't expected it to be so soon. Sebastien seemed very distracted as he kissed her goodbye, though he promised to call her. Her parents picked her up at the airport back at home, happy as anything to see her after such a long time. They were definitely her parents, she reflected. She had her mother's eyes and love of food, and her father's eyes and aptitude for singing. They drew her into a long hug and then showed her to the car. "Baby, I wish you'd come in last night. Aren't you tired from the flight?" "Mom, it was cheaper to fly in this morning. And I'm not tired. The flight was only an hour long. I just have to change and I'll be ready for the wedding." "If you say so." "Hon, let her alone. She's a big girl," said her father, giving her a wink in the rearview mirror. "Thanks, Dad. What's new with you guys?" "Not a lot. The Andersons finally got a divorce and that, plus one new prenuptial agreement, paid for our vacation to Mexico." "Uh, well, good, I guess," she said, amused by her father's cavalier attitude toward the legal situations that paid the bills. At one time he'd been a firebrand, a young public defender out there doing his civic duty. Then he'd met her mother, a sweet pre-med student aiming to become a pediatrician, and his thoughts turned more to family things. They moved together to a smaller, gentler town, where he set up his own private practice and she got hired at an established doctor's cohort. He was still doing a civic duty, but one that could be more amusing and, even more importantly, less dangerous. And yes, Frank and Jill became beloved pillars of the community. No less so when a few of their siblings relocated to the wonderful town her parents so loved, bringing their adorable children and their marketable skills. Okay, so it wasn't like her family had founded the town or turned it around from certain bankruptcy or anything. But it was a smaller town, and genuinely nice people were always welcomed with open arms. In fact, everyone was so happy, Claire might never have been born. Her parents were satisfied with their life, their time with their nieces and nephews and occasional dinners at the homes of their clients. But then Jill's sister Dena had gotten pregnant again and though it hadn't been planned, Jill blamed her sympathetic hormones when she found out that she was going to have a baby, too. And then Claire came, and her parents wondered why they had waited so long to have her. She had been the light of their lives. Still was, maybe. "Baby, are you sure you're okay? You're awfully quiet," said her mother, looking at her in concern in the mirror. "I'm fine, Mom. Just thinking about how nice it'll be to see everyone. It's been too long since I came home." "Yes it has. Everyone has been asking after you." Shortly, they arrived at the church and Claire ducked into the bathroom to change into her dress. She hadn't wanted anything too fancy for a casual afternoon wedding, so she'd brought a grey cotton dress with butter yellow detailing. Sebastien had bought it for her on a whim when they passed it hanging in a shop window. With her hair twisted loosely up and a little yellow flower pinned in, she thought she looked pretty cute. On impulse, she pulled out her phone, snapped a picture of herself, and sent it to Sebastien. He hadn't seen her in the dress yet, and she knew he would love it on her. By the time Claire made it back out into the church, others were arriving. She located her parents and went to sit with them. "That's a lovely dress, baby. Where did you get it?" "It was a gift," she said without thinking. "Oh? From whom?" She didn't want to lie, but right that minute didn't seem the appropriate time for the truth, either. Luckily, she was saved from having to answer when the music started. She turned, along with everyone else, to see the doors open and her friend Annie float through the doorway with her fiancé Rob. Annie was beautiful; really, they both were in their pressed, fancy clothes. Neither had gone strictly traditional. Annie was actually wearing pants. She hadn't worn a skirt in twenty years, and she wasn't starting again now. She was in a dove grey pantsuit and Rob wore a navy suit with tie to match. They looked so happy, so in love. Claire felt her heart skip a beat, her thoughts turning to Sebastien. It would have been nice to have him here by her side. But no matter. She would see him soon enough, and in the meantime she wouldn't have to bore him with introductions to half the town. The ceremony was short and sweet, and pretty soon everyone had moved outside, where the reception was taking place in the unseasonably warm weather. Claire sat at a table with her parents; her cousins Heather, Mark, and Elliott; and some of her childhood friends. Susan and Leah were alone, but Megan had brought her husband Carey. Conversation was pretty much what she expected: news from around town, how her new job was, how she liked the city, how she was faring living alone. Then the question she'd been dreading came. "So...how do you like your boss? Quite a looker, isn't he?" asked Leah. "Yes, well, he is, um, very attractive, yes." Her friends, her cousins, her parents were all looking at her expectantly. "And, of course, very talented, very good at what he does." She felt her cheeks beginning to pink. Should she tell? They were sure to notice her awkwardness. Then she was saved from having to answer again. "Hey, beautiful. Long time, no see." Claire looked up to see one of her very best friends from high school, Alex. They had dated briefly back then, but decided they just weren't ready for anything serious. They'd never tried it again, though Claire was pretty sure he'd wanted to. "Want to dance?" he asked. "Sure," she said, grateful to get up and away from the prying eyes of her tablemates. Of course, it was probably just her imagination. Still. They danced around under the light of the fading sunset. Little lights were beginning to come on around the courtyard and a string quarter was playing soft, easy tunes to dance to. "It's been a long time, Alex." "Too long," he replied, and she thought he seemed very serious. "Claire, I've been thinking. Do you remember when we were fifteen, we made that pact that if we were both unmarried by thirty, we'd marry each other?" Warning bells began clanging in her head, but it was already too late. "Sure, but we're not thirty yet." "No. But by the time we're ready to marry, we might be. We could start dating again, and in a few years..." "Listen, you know how much I care for you, Alex. But I can't. There's...someone else." "Oh. Is it serious?" "Yes. Very." "Am I going to be dancing at your wedding soon?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light. Claire opened her mouth to answer before realizing that she didn't know what to say. It wasn't really true that she hadn't thought about it, but she tried not to dwell on the topic. Sebastien had never brought it up, and neither had she. "We haven't really discussed marriage yet." "Well, how serious can it be, then?" "It's hard to explain. I've never been happier with anyone else. He's just...very special." "That good in bed, huh?" Claire frowned up at Alex before giving in and laughing. "You have no idea!" They wandered back to the table together after doing a few more turns around the dance floor. Claire thought her secret would be safe with Alex...until she was forcibly reminded that she hadn't asked him to keep it a secret at all. "So," he said, addressing the table, "why hadn't I heard about this Mr. Wonderful that Claire's dating?" The silence was so immediate, so painfully obvious, that he spun to face her and demanded, "They don't know? You haven't told them!" Well, the cat was certainly out of the bag now, and it wasn't going back in without a fight. "Shit," she said with feeling. "No, I haven't told anyone yet. It was kind of a secret." "Why didn't you say anything?" This from her mother, trying very hard not to look offended. "Because...because...it just sort of happened, and I never found the right time to tell you, and because...well, because of who he is," she finished lamely. "And who is he?" prompted Alex. Claire blew out her breath in a sigh. Her parents weren't going to like this at all, she just knew it. "He's...kind of my boss." "Kind of...your boss?" her mother echoed. "Our conductor." "Oh! I see." The others were more or less quiet, perhaps not sure what to say, so Claire barreled on into the silence. "It's not what it sounds like. Neither of us meant for it to happen and we don't let it interfere with our work." Anymore, she added silently. "Actually, the orchestra doesn't even know about it. He's really very professional and he would never let it get in the way of his symphony's success." "Dear," her father said, interrupting her as she began to ramble, "you don't have to defend yourself to us. You're not doing anything illegal, and I assume he's not married. Just relax." She smiled at him gratefully, saw now that the others were nodding along. "I just like to know that you're happy, baby," said her mother finally. "And you are?" "I am." "Good. Then when do we get to meet him?" Urgh. ----- It was after eleven when Claire was finally able to escape to bed. Not that she was actually intending to go to bed right away. She was just tired of getting the third degree about Sebastien and she wanted some time to herself. Climbing the stairs to her old bedroom, she heard her parents still chatting in the kitchen and she felt almost like a teenager again. Then she remembered that she was going to bed early, slipping into a sexy nightgown, and pretending to be asleep while she called her boyfriend – it was just like old times! She danced up the rest of the stairs, positively giddy. Maybe she'd even talk dirty to him; then it would be exactly like high school again. Her parents' bedroom was downstairs. They hadn't known then, and they wouldn't know now. The last door on the right went to her bedroom, and she found it pretty much unchanged from the day she'd moved out over a year ago. Of course, she hadn't taken all of her things – she'd left most of her furniture and bought all new things for her new apartment. Well, new things and new-to-her vintage pieces, too. The brass bed was still in the corner, underneath the window, and it was covered in bubblegum pink linens. Not exactly her style anymore, but it would do. She pulled her short, lacy nightgown out of her suitcase and slipped it on over her bare skin. Leaving her clothes on the floor by the door, she grabbed her phone and her book and headed to bed. She didn't have long to wait before her phone rang. "Hello?" "Good evening, mon abeille," Sebastien said. His voice was soft, and it sounded so sexy to her. "Maestro, I was just thinking about you," she replied suggestively. He didn't take the bait. "How was the wedding?" "Good, nice. I, um, I told my parents about us." "How did they take it?" "Pretty well, I think. They want to meet you." "I imagine they do. Are you going to bed soon? It is getting late." "Oh, I'm already in bed," she teased. "I wish you were here with me." "Do you now?" he asked, sounding amused. "I do. I've been, um, reading that book I told you about. It's...it's amazing. It's crazy, but it's amazing." She looked down at the book she was holding. It was a classic, over fifty years old and still as revolutionary and amazing today. It was a story, a (perhaps not so ironically) French story of a woman who voluntarily submits to sexual slavery. Claire had been slightly disturbed while reading it, but also found that so much about it turned her on. "Oh? What is so amazing about it?" "I dunno," she replied, suddenly feeling shy. "Tell me." His voice had gone so much lower suddenly; it sent a chill down her spine. "Just...just the way that she has to do whatever they tell her, even if...even if..." "If..." he prompted softly. "Even if...you know, people are watching. Strangers. It's crazy." "You have been watched." "It's different. It's...they're in the same room with her and they're so close to her and...mmm." "Claire, I want you to touch yourself. Right now, for me." Claire blushed, although she was alone in the room and she had intended to do exactly that at some point. She slid one hand up her inner thigh and found herself already so wet. "Are you?" "Yes, Maestro." Her fingers circled around, over and over, and she sighed softly into the phone. "So you would like to perform, mon abeille, is that what you are telling me?" "No, no, that's not...I don't think I could...no." She said no, but the tightening low in her body said yes. A low moan slipped out of her mouth, and she heard Sebastien's answering sigh. "You lie," he hissed softly. "Claire, do you want to come?" She was growing so warm, bringing herself just to the edge of pleasure and backing away. Of course she would have preferred he was there with her, but she'd been pleasuring herself for years before he came along. "Yes, Maestro, I do." "Then think of it, Claire. You tied up and helpless. Me whipping you. And others, countless others, watching, waiting to touch you, perhaps even to whip you." She was thinking of it, and it sent her over the edge. A choked moan escaped her lips as her hips jerked beneath her fingertips. Sebastien was laughing softly, and then he bade her good night and hung up on her. ----- Sebastien sighed inwardly as he straightened his tie. He was beginning to feel like coming here was a big mistake. He already missed her; how much worse would it be if he took this job? And how could he justify the fact that he hadn't even told her he was coming here? She would be so upset if she knew. But...it was only exploratory, wasn't it? If, after meeting with the hiring committee, he decided the job wouldn't suit him, he would simply come home and never mention it. That would be all right, wouldn't it? He shook his head and left the hotel room, heading down toward the lounge where the mixer was being held. It was one of those small, fancy rooms usually called the Fireplace Room or the Library. There was, in fact, a fireplace, as well as a number of overstuffed sofas and armchairs. In the corner, a bartender in a snappy uniform was mixing cocktails. There were about twenty others in the room milling about; he supposed he must be about fifteen minutes late, and the others had arrived on time. He recognized a few of the other conductors – Atlanta, Baltimore, Portland – and someone else. Someone he never expected to see again. And she saw him right away. "Sebastien!" she called as she approached him. "I was hoping you'd be here." "Julia, hello," he replied, exchanging kisses on the cheek. "I had no idea you would be here." "Oh, hadn't you heard?" she asked breezily. "I'm on the board of directors – not the hiring committee, unfortunately, but I suppose that's probably for the best, given..." She trailed off, but he knew what she was talking about. He hadn't seen her for almost ten years, but he still remembered the year they had spent together as students – and lovers – in New York City. She hadn't changed much, he thought. Still naturally slender with deep brown eyes and shiny, black hair that fell to her waist. Tonight she was dressed in a pink, floral-print silk gown with matching heels. Ten years older, and yet he thought she had never been more lovely. Julia Lin was the daughter of Korean immigrants – very wealthy Korean immigrants who could afford to do anything and everything for their beloved only daughter, including sending her to a private school to study the harp. Sebastien had met her during his studies at the same school, and had been immediately attracted to her. They'd dated and had a lot of fun – not to mention a lot of sex, the kind of sex young, energetic people who think they're in love have. But they hadn't been in love, not really. Sebastien's willingness to apply for jobs outside the area and Julia's disinterest in moving with him told them both that. So he'd moved away, and she'd taken a position with the symphony for several years before becoming an independent harpist – and an operations manager at a philanthropic organization – or so he found out as she chattered to him about what she'd been up to since they'd last seen each other. "Listen," she said, laying a hand familiarly on his arm – too familiarly, he thought, for this person he barely knew anymore – "I'm not seeing anyone at the moment. How would you like to blow this party and go to dinner?" Guilt grew in the pit of his stomach. Bad enough he was here, how much of a betrayal would it be to go out with an ex-girlfriend? Especially one who was very definitely asking him out on a date. He felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. Withdrawing it, he saw that Claire had texted him. Miss you, it said. He started to tap out a reply when he saw a handy opportunity to escape. "I'm sorry, Julia, could you excuse me? I'm afraid there's a small issue I must deal with." "Sure, of course," she said. He walked out of the room and into the hallway, feeling very much like packing his things and catching an earlier flight home. He even contemplated taking a plane and surprising Claire in her hometown, but what would be the point? She was heading home tomorrow, and he would see her then. He wasn't sure if he really missed her so much or if the guilt was just eating away at him. He should tell her. Sebastien finished his reply: Miss you, too. He sent it, feeling like it just wasn't enough. Leaning his head back against the wall, he heard – and tried to ignore – the sound of footsteps coming toward him. "Maestro, very pleased to see you here tonight. I see you've made the acquaintance of Ms. Lin. Charming young woman. A capable and interesting recent addition to the board." Sebastien sighed softly before replying, "She was the one who brought up my name, wasn't she, Leonard?" "She did, yes." There was a long pause before he spoke again. "Is everything all right?" "What could be wrong?" Leonard eyed him suspiciously, and said, "Why don't I introduce you to the hiring committee?" Sebastien nodded, and allowed Leonard to pull him back inside the room. Julia looked up from the conversation she was having with another candidate, but she didn't approach him again until people had begun to return to their hotel rooms. She didn't say a word, just gave him a little smirk, a wink, and her business card. The Soprano Ch. 03 He pocketed it, but he knew he wouldn't call. ----- Claire watched the ground fall away outside the airplane window. Higher and higher she rose into the air, and she wondered if she could see her house. Then the airplane banked, and her town was out of sight, obscured by the plane's wing. She should really go home more often. Once a year just wasn't enough. She did miss her parents, even though she talked to them about once a week. When she was in college, she'd tried to come home every month if she could. Her stomach jittered as her mind turned to thoughts of home. Home wasn't really here anymore, was it? Home was in a new city, a new apartment. Sebastien. In just a few short hours she would be with him again. Okay, so, they'd only been apart for a couple of days. It wasn't that big of a deal. Of course...it still felt like a pretty big deal every time she saw him. As soon as she was off the plane, she headed for the bathroom to freshen up a bit. She splashed water on her face and ran her fingers through her hair. The skirt of her black knit dress swirled around her knees. Still cute, she thought. Claire wheeled her overnight bag outside and looked around for Sebastien's town car. She spotted it right away; Sebastien was leaning casually against it, his eyes already on her. He didn't look very happy to see her, she noticed. Her heart began hammering in her chest and she suddenly felt very nervous. She approached him slowly and Tom appeared from nowhere, taking her bag and putting it away in the trunk. "Good evening, Maestro," she said softly. "Claire," he responded in a low voice. Oh, he sounded very displeased indeed. A shiver ran through her. Was he playing, or was he really mad? "Is, um, is something the matter?" "You tell me." Uh-oh. Had she done something? What could he possibly be irritated about? "I-I-I don't know, Maestro. I just got home." "On your knees, Claire," he said softly, in a commanding voice. She looked about, suddenly panicking a little. People were milling about everywhere. "What the hell are you talking about?" Sebastien's eyes narrowed and he stepped right up to her, his body touching hers in a long, hot line. "This is exactly what I am talking about. Your disobedient attitude, your constant questioning of my orders, your attempts to be in control. You have lost your mind, my dear girl, if you think I will let this go without correction." Claire swallowed hard, her mind racing. What on earth was he talking about? I mean, sure, there had been the morning of his birthday...and the evening of his birthday...and the decision to direct the cab driver to her apartment after the opera...and possibly half a dozen not-quite-submissive decisions she'd made since then. Oh, he was right. She'd been a bad, bad girl. She looked around again; no one was paying the slightest bit of attention to them. Before she could lose her nerve, she dropped to her knees right there on the sidewalk. She kept her head down, though; she wasn't quite brave enough to look at him. She had to pretend she was looking for something on the ground, and she hoped it was enough to show him that she understood. Sure, she'd had a lot of fun with some of the things she'd done, but she really didn't want to change the whole dynamic of their relationship. It was sexy and exciting and wonderful. All at once, she found that tears were welling up in her eyes. She hadn't ruined everything, had she? The first droplets had just fallen onto Sebastien's shiny shoe when he knelt down and took her into his arms. "Maestro, I-I-I'm so s-sorry," she stammered, trying not to sob. "Y-you're right, I haven't b-b-been keeping up my end of the agreement. Please, I hope you'll forgive me." Sebastien drew her up until they were both standing and she wrapped her arms around him tightly, clinging to him for a moment. He stroked her hair, then wiped the tears from her eyes and kissed her gently. "Mon abeille, I do forgive you. But of course you know an apology cannot be enough," he said firmly, opening the car door. A prickle ran up her spine as she finally slid into the back seat. "But Maestro, what are you going to do to me?" "An excellent question," he replied, a thin smile crossing his face. ----- In the back seat of Sebastien's town car Claire was sitting very quietly, blinded behind a familiar piece of black silk. She felt him sitting there next to her, the warmth of his body telling her she was not alone, but he ignored her as completely as if she were not there at all. He chatted briefly with Tom, and then she heard him tapping away on his phone. It was somewhat upsetting, honestly. Here she was, newly home from a weekend away, and it was like he wasn't even interested in how she'd been or being together the way she had expected. She thought about it, tried to discern whether it was turning her on the way it had done before when he ignored her. But she didn't feel very turned on. She just felt like...felt like...like she wanted to cry. Turning away toward the window she took a deep breath to try and keep from crying. The effort of suppressing her sobs sent a shudder running through her body. That's when she finally felt it: Sebastien shifted in the seat beside her, slid his arm around her shoulders, and brought his lips to hers in a gentle touch. She brought her hands up to his chest, clutching his shirt between her fingers and kissing him back. He covered her fingers with his, gently loosening her grip and pulling away from her. He squeezed her shoulders gently, and she imagined he was looking at her very intently. "Do you trust me?" "Of course I do." Claire was amazed at how quickly the answer came to her. "But..." "Claire," he said firmly, "tonight there can be no 'but.' Tonight you will do as I say, and you will not question me." "But...why?" She heard him sigh softly beside her, probably because she'd asked at all. "Mon abeille, you are an amazing, beautiful woman. You bring me so much pleasure," he said in a low voice, trailing a finger down her cheek and making her shiver. "I want – I need – to show you off." "Sh-show-show me off?" she repeated, swallowing nervously. "The most fitting punishment, I think, for a girl constantly trying to top her Master," he said dryly. "If you disobey me tonight, the consequences will be serious. But if you behave yourself, you will be rewarded. Rewarded very well." He slid his hand between her legs, teasing her as he kissed her deeply. Her mind was racing; what was he thinking? Was he putting their relationship on a kind of public display? She'd never really thought about it before, because they kept focusing on keeping it from people. Being able to be who they really were in front of people who, presumably, would understand and appreciate this side of them? The idea bloomed in her mind until she felt the first, faint prickles of excitement. Of course she might hate it...but she also might love it. "Okay," she finally said. "But may I ask for one thing?" "You may ask." "Please...will you leave the blindfold on?" "All night?" Claire thought about it for a long moment. Even if it turned out she loved it, wouldn't she lose her nerve if she saw someone watching? "Until we're alone." "Very well." The car began slowing to a stop and Claire wondered where they could be. Sebastien slid out of the car, and then the door beside her opened. Gentle hands guided her out of the car and into the street. It was very quiet, and she had no clues as to where they were. Sebastien bent down to kiss her softly before giving her final instructions. "Two more things before we go in, mon abeille. If you must speak, you will refer to me as Master. I will trust you not to embarrass me by questioning me, but if you fail I will be forced to tape your mouth shut." Her heart was thudding thickly in her chest, but she nodded. "Good girl. I know you will make me proud." She felt funny then, a strange pleasure creeping up in her and warring with the part of her that wanted to be insulted. What, was this some sort of competition? Where were they going? How had he set this up? It was all so strange and unexpected. Sebastien led her onto the sidewalk. She felt a gust of warm air, and then she was being ushered inside. Soft thumping music was coming from somewhere, and she was definitely feeling nervous. Sebastien's soft, rhythmic strokes on her back calmed her a bit. He nudged her ahead of him around several corners and down a long corridor, finally halting her after a few moments. She felt him kneeling down to remove her shoes, and then rough carpet beneath her bare feet. He was removing the rest of her clothes now, skimming down the surface of her skin with the pads of his fingers. He raised goose bumps everywhere he touched. Then she felt a strange new sensation – Sebastien was buckling something around her neck; something cold and a little rough. When he moved to her wrists, fastening something on each, she understood. A matching collar. Kinky. He tugged her blindfold down just far enough that she could see his brown eyes looking steadily into hers. He looked serious, but she could sense the excitement in him. "Are you ready?" he asked her in a low voice. She lowered her eyes demurely and answered, "Yes, Master." She saw the corners of his eyes crinkle up as he smiled, and then he refastened the blindfold even more tightly than before. "Remember what to do if you have had enough," he said, drawing her wrists together behind her back and clipping them together. "Now, let us go downstairs and have some fun." He led her very carefully down the stairs, going slowly so that she could feel for each step before moving forward. Eventually they stopped, but she had no sense whatsoever of the room they were in. The music hadn't gotten any louder, but she could still hear it. It was warm, but not hot. There seemed to be other people in the room, but Claire couldn't be sure because they weren't talking. There was only a soft murmuring sound. Sebastien unclipped her wrists. "On your knees," he said firmly. Claire dropped down, feeling the carpet scratching lightly against her knees. She sat back on her ankles, palms flat on her thighs to keep herself upright. For a long moment Sebastien said nothing further, and Claire was left to wait silently, and to think. She was nervous, maybe, but was there a reason to be? She could stop things at any time or, if it wasn't enough, she could always defy him and know there would be more later. Strangely, though, defying him wasn't something that sounded interesting tonight. She actually wanted to prove – to herself, to him, to everyone – that she could obey him. Whatever he asked tonight, she wanted to do it. "Come," he commanded, sounding as though he might be across the room. She hesitated, just starting to push herself up to standing when he spoke again. "On your knees." She dropped back down then, feeling the short fibers of the carpet underneath her hands and her breasts pointing down toward the floor. It was very exposed as she imagined every eye on her, watching to see what she would do. She crawled forward, rolling her hips from side to side as she crossed the room on her hands and knees. At last her hand bumped against the smooth toe of a shoe, which Claire knew must be Sebastien's. She sat back on her ankles and waited. After a minute of stillness, she felt Sebastien's hand gently on the back of her head. "Good. Now bend over, forehead to the floor." She did, feeling her hips rise into the air as she dropped her forehead down against the carpet. Sebastien nudged her knees apart with his shoe, and then she waited again. A gentle tapping came then. In the thrumming silence, each tiny slap felt magnified, until her skin was buzzing with sensation. She had felt this before a few times – the lighter, gentler slapping sensations of his riding crop. It was a thin, flexible rod with a flat leather flap about the size of a silver dollar. She supposed, given the sort of stuff she'd read about, she should be lucky he wasn't fitting her with a horsehair tail and parading her around the room. He tapped her firmer, faster, all over her buttocks and between her legs. She trembled, feeling the wetness growing, just beginning to slide down her inner thighs. When she started moving her hips up to meet the strokes of his crop, he switched out for something a bit more painful. The Stinger. It was her favorite, and no matter how many times he used it on her, it still lit up her whole body with electric pleasure. With the first stroke, she cried out softly and Sebastien commanded her to be silent. Again and again the leather tendrils flickered over her tender flesh, stinging her with their delicious bite. He moved away from her buttocks, striking more softly up her back and then harder again down the backs of her thighs. She bit the inside of her lips to keep from making noises as he returned to her buttocks ever more fiercely. She was tingling ferociously all over when he finally stopped. Then it was the paddle, and she was fighting to keep her hands from sliding forward on the thin carpet. It hurt. She was very aware of the growing aches on her backside, her slick center. If she wasn't sore the next day it would be a damned miracle. When again she lost the battle to keep silent, Sebastien set aside the paddle, kneeling to run his hands over her reddened skin. Was he done? She wanted – no, she needed – so much more. "Up," he ordered, and she moved to sit back on her ankles. Her knees were starting to ache, and she hoped she would get some relief soon. "Up, up, up," he said, smacking her lightly with the riding crop. She scrambled to her feet, feeling herself wobbling slightly. She felt the swirling energy of him stalking around her, perhaps inspecting her. She struggled to keep her head up, facing firmly forward. "Arms behind you." Claire hastened to comply, folding her arms behind her and grasping her wrists. Working quickly, he fed rope through her wrist restraints, looping it around her torso, between and underneath her breasts. He tightened the rope, drawing her wrists farther up toward her shoulder blades, making her shoulders ache with the new tension. "Come," he said again, pulling the rope through the ring on her collar and tugging on it gently like a leash. She followed him, feeling the moisture on her inner thighs as she walked. He stopped, taking her shoulders and turning her, backing her into a sturdy wooden structure. He pushed her legs apart by nudging her ankles, leaning her back to be balanced as he tied the rope tightly to the structure, around her legs, around her torso. She pulled lightly against the ropes, finding she was completely, totally bound. Panic rose in her throat, but arousal bloomed in her and blew the panic clear away. The tapping returned in a t-shaped formation as Sebastien used the riding crop lightly on her breasts, her belly, down to her trimmed mound and inner thighs. The slaps that came to her nipples particularly stung, and soon they grew hard, aching. It seemed the entire flesh of her breasts had drawn up and forward, so stiff and sensitive. Sebastien had stopped momentarily, and then she felt a firm pinching sensation on one nipple and then the other as he applied some kind of gentle clamps to them. Claire writhed with the new sensations, as well as she could in her bonds, and no less when Sebastien picked up the riding crop again, striking her more firmly. The tingling on her backside was finally starting to fade when it began along her front. Then something new. She felt the harsh, stinging strikes of the Stinger, but the riding crop did not let up. The Stinger roamed her body, lighting up her skin. But the riding crop kept up a firm rhythm between her legs, occasionally coming up to give a slap to her nipples with its now-damp leather. At once the pleasure began mounting in her, the tension growing so exquisitely that she just wanted it to wash over her and carry her away. But then a small thought worried at her: did she need his permission? He hadn't commanded her to ask permission to come, but he seemed to get so much pleasure from making her wait. She tried to speak, had to clear her throat before she could. "Master?" she asked in a slightly scratchy voice. "Yes?" Sebastien asked quietly in return. The smacking didn't let up and she struggled to speak. "May I...may I come, Master? Please?" He didn't answer her for a moment, and Claire knew he must have been savoring the knowledge that she was on the edge of orgasm. She whimpered helplessly from the pain in her breasts and the pleasure between her legs. "What a good girl you are to ask," he murmured, clearly amused. "Yes, you may come. Whenever you like, adoree." He had hardly finished speaking when her body began to tremble all over with the release of tension as she came, fists clenching and toes curling. One wave of pleasure rushed over her, then another, and she heard herself crying out, louder than she'd intended. When she finally came down, she noticed that he'd stopped striking her. Sebastien pulled the clamps off of her nipples and untied her then, pulling her arms away from her back and rubbing them gently. Unfortunately it hadn't happened quickly enough. A stinging, prickling sensation spread down her arms and her body jerked. Sebastien quickly lifted her and placed her on a bench or table of some kind, rubbing his hands down her arms to abate the sensation, but it didn't really help. Then a soft buzzing sounded, and almost before she realized what was happening her body was jolting with the impact of another orgasm as he applied a vibrator to her. Tears slipped out, soaking the blindfold as she felt the intense sensations. Then nothing. The vibrations stopped; the pins and needles in her arms stopped. There was nothing she could hear, no shadows moving behind her blindfold; she could not even smell Sebastien's sweet cologne. She only knew that she was alive, awake, lying on her back with her legs falling on either side of a bench as she relearned how to breathe. Eventually, she started to get uneasy. "Master?" she asked quietly. A hand crept over her belly then, but before she could even feel nervous her cheek was being softly kissed by a man who smelled like Sebastien. "Yes, mon abeille, I am here." he breathed into her ear. He stroked her belly with his fingertips and she felt her arousal curled up deep within her, quieter now. "Are you ready for more?" "Yes, Master. Whatever you want," she heard herself say. She knew then she had gone somewhere else entirely. Her body and mind were pliant, waiting for Sebastien's next move. She loved him, she trusted him, and perhaps stranger than that, she was having fun. Sebastien helped her to stand, refastening the ropes around her torso but leaving her arms free. She heard what sounded like chains rattling nearby, but she didn't really care. Rope was looped around her upper arms and shoulders, and her wrists were lifted as she was tied to something above her. She felt more rope – and something that felt like straps – tied around her upper thighs and the backs of her knees. Then one leg at a time was lifted and tied above her head. So she swung free, her arms and legs suspended in mid-air, and she suddenly felt very exposed. Someone slid in between her legs, running their heads over her naked skin and all that rope. "Are you in pain at all?" Sebastien asked very quietly. There was certainly some pressure – under her shoulders and knees especially – but no pain. Even the pressure lessened as Sebastien held her hips up, supporting some of her weight. "No, Master. No pain. Just very...aware." He leaned into her, kissing her softly, and she felt the fabric of his clothes against her inner thighs and breasts. She also felt his cock, hot and very hard, pressing against her. Without warning he slid it inside her, swallowing her surprised moan in another kiss. In the position she was in, he felt huge inside her and so deep it was almost painful. But he moved slowly, gently, letting her get used to him. The Soprano Ch. 03 She sighed softly, relaxing into him, and then she felt something that had her going tense all over again. Another pair of hands, sliding up her back and around to cup her breasts carefully. Hands that went down to give her buttocks a gentle squeeze as another hard cock nudged between them. She squeaked in surprise and Sebastien leaned in, pressing his lips to her ear. "Trust me," he whispered. She did. She really did, but being fucked in the ass by a strange man had not been part of her expectations for tonight. Not even close. The man behind her moaned so softly as he slid his cock into her, running his hands over her bound limbs. Her breathing quickened, becoming more shallow as she fought not to panic, but to trust instead. Then he spoke. "Inouï," he breathed out over her head. At once the tension drained from her body and she found herself smiling. Of course it was René. Who else? "I told you to keep your mouth shut," Sebastien muttered. "How could I? She is amazing." "I know." Claire's heart melted, but she found herself responding a bit sarcastically, "You don't have to talk about me like I'm not here." "Remember where you are," Sebastien answered in warning. "Yes, Master." Claire leaned her head back, resting it on René's shoulder. She wondered what it looked like, she tied up and suspended between two men pumping their cocks in and out of her. She wondered how long she had been down there, and whether René had been down there the entire time. Then Sebastien ran his tongue up the sole of her foot, her stomach jerking in pleasure and startling her out of her thoughts. The feel of them sliding in and out of her was driving her crazy. Then Sebastien's fingers became very busy between her legs and she cried out. He was pushing her up so fast and she came breathlessly, tightening against them as they drove into her. Her head exploded and then she was floating, lightheaded, made of sensations – nerves, lungs, heartbeats, fireworks behind her closed eyelids. She heard music, and it was several long moments until she realized that she, herself, was humming a tune she couldn't quite place. She was still dimly aware of them moving inside her, faster and faster. But she felt so far away, even though she was so close. She tore herself back to them, back to Sebastien leaning in so close, nuzzling between her breasts as he came. Then René, too, biting gently down her neck as he pumped his come inside her. They held her for a long moment for working together to take her down. They unknotted the ropes, sliding them away from her. Then she was being lifted bodily and carried upstairs and out. She lost track of reality again, floating inside her head, in the arms of a man. It had to be so, because at some point she knew she was outside, and she didn't even care that she was naked. She must have fallen asleep in the car, because the shock of cool air on her bare skin woke her. The blindfold had finally been removed and Claire saw that they were Sebastien's parking garage. He was walking in front of her, and she knew René must be the one carrying her. All the way up and into Sebastien's bedroom he carried her, and then knelt on the bed as he laid her gently down. René turned to slide off the bed, but Claire caught his wrist as he did. "No, stay. Please," she murmured. He looked over her at Sebastien, who had already disrobed and gotten into bed. Then he looked back at Claire and nodded once. He stripped down to his underwear and slipped between the sheets beside her. She rolled onto her side, draping her arm across Sebastien's chest and tugging René's arm around her waist. Feeling them on either side of her, their warm, soft skin touching hers, she felt perfectly content. Just before she slipped into sleep, she wondered what her reward would be for behaving so well. ----- Claire awoke late, after the sun had already risen high in the sky, finding her limbs still tangled with those of the two men sleeping with her. She tried to shift her position and found that her shoulders ached with a vengeance, and muscles were sore in places she didn't expect: the backs of her thighs, her forearms, her lower abdomen. She groaned softly, feeling Sebastien moving beside her. Turning with a little difficulty onto her side, she found herself face-to-face with the handsome man himself. "Good morning, mon abeille." "Morning, Maestro." "How are you feeling? Any pain?" "A little." At his raised eyebrow she added, "Okay, a lot. More than usual." "I suspected as much. I suppose I got a little carried away," he said, running his hand down the center of her body. "Not...well...not too carried away." "Oh? Was it everything you imagined?" "More. A lot more," she said with a laugh. "Well, I will say that you exceeded my wildest expectations. I expect that you have some questions..." Boy, did she! Where had they been? How many other people had been in the room? Had any other people been there? Had they touched her? Were they going to do it again? "...but for the moment I think I will not answer them. Someday, maybe. For now, I think the only thing we should talk about is your reward. Oh yes," he went on, seeing her smile, "there is no doubt, you were magnificent. Perfectly obedient and you deserve your reward. I am sure you are wondering what it will be." "Mmm, no, not really," she lied, not quite succeeding at hiding the spark in her eyes. "Well in that case, perhaps I shall not give it to you." "Oh, please?" She made puppy dog eyes at him and leaned over for a kiss. "You two are making me sick," said a grumpy voice from the other side of her. "Good morning to you, too," Claire replied, turning to him. "It certainly is," he said, pressing his cock into her hip. "Insatiable, aren't you?" "No more than you two." "Can't argue with that." "Well," said Sebastien as he rolled out of bed, "if you would rather banter with René than find out about your reward..." "No, no, ow!" she cried, turning back too quickly. Sebastien's lips quirked up in a little smile and he shook his head. He sat back down, running his fingertips over the kinked muscles in her neck and smiling as she nearly purred in pleasure beside him. "Mon abeille, I am having a masseuse come up to take care of you today, as well as someone to do all those other things ladies do," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "You're...having them come here?" she said, considerably surprised that he was letting strangers into his apartment. "Well. That way I can be here when you are done...soft, and warm, and naked," he said suggestively. She snorted softly and he added, "You will want to thank me." "Pervert," she mumbled. He may have been a pervert, but he was a pervert who knew what he was talking about. Claire had just had the most amazing four hours of her life. The masseuse had come first, getting out all of the kinks in her muscles and rubbing away most of the soreness of the night before. Then two more technicians came. She was scrubbed down with hot salt, bathed in hot water, and slicked up with something warm that smelled of orange and vanilla. Her nails were done, her hair was deep conditioned and given a trim, and her feet given a final massage. They had wrapped her in a clean sheet and left her on the bed in the guest room, where Sebastien had found her and carried her to his bedroom. He'd left the sheet on her, but couldn't seem to keep his hands off her. She was so soft, and so adorable when she slept. At last she woke again, pleasantly relaxed and finding that the sun was already sinking in the sky. She blinked slowly, turning to see Sebastien beside her engrossed in a book and absentmindedly stroking her back with one hand. She sat up and, in one fluid motion, took his book and tossed it aside, sliding onto his lap and kissing him softly. "Feeling better, mon abeille?" he murmured against her lips. "Oh, yes. I don't know how I can thank you enough, Maestro." "I have a few ideas." He rolled her onto her back, sliding his hand gently between her legs. He petted and stroked her softly, and she felt herself starting to get wet. "Kiss me," she whispered, and he obliged, pressing his lips to her neck, her cheeks, and finally her lips. His tongue slid into her mouth, running along her lips and making her sigh out in pleasure. His other hand was gripping a handful of her hair and tugging very gently. Claire moaned into his mouth as he slid two slim fingers deep inside of her. Sebastien fingered her while running his thumb slickly over her. Warmth spread over her so quickly, and she knew sweet pleasure was not far off. Unsurprisingly, he pulled away from her before she could come. He held his fingers to her lips and she ran her tongue over them, licking up her tangy juices. Then he leaned in, kissing her deeply and tasting her. She lifted her hands to unbutton his shirt while he pulled his pants off, and finally he was as naked as she and rolling on top of her. He slid into her smoothly with a little sigh. She wrapped her legs around him, caressing him with her newly softened skin. In response, he ran his hands up and down her sides, making her shiver as he pumped into her. Then he rose up slightly, moving one hand between them to touch her again. It felt amazing, and she whimpered out a warning. "Maestro, I'm coming. Yes, please, don't stop!" she cried, hips pushing up against him as she came. Her nails dug slightly into his back and he arched into them, grasping her hips and fucking her faster until he tumbled over the edge with her. They were still for a moment, and then Sebastien rolled onto his back. "Are you hungry, Claire? We could go out to get dinner, if you like." "Honestly, I don't think I even want to leave the apartment tonight. I just feel so good," she sighed contentedly. She stifled a yawn, then stepped off the bed, testing first to be sure her legs would hold her weight. She snatched up Sebastien's shirt from the floor and buttoned it across her chest, breathing in his scent. "Is it all right if I stay another night?" "Always." The Soprano Ch. 04 Note: This is another plot-heavy, sex-light chapter - though not no sex, of course :) Next chapter will see more of the good stuff (and more of the subplot!) Thanks once more for all the support and kind comments I've received on the story. I'm glad people are still interested in seeing what happens to these two! Sometimes I even surprise myself - the last scene in this chapter didn't at all go the way I'd originally planned. ----- November came to the city and the weather had never been more beautiful. The sky was a clear, beautiful blue after the morning fog had burned off (and before the evening fog crept in). It hardly rained, and the air had the crisp, spicy scent of decaying leaves so elusive on the West Coast. One such beautiful day, Claire was practically skipping on her way to the symphony hall. They were rehearsing for another monumentally exciting concert. Evidently, Sebastien had liked her suggestion for deathly music so much that he had constructed this season’s concerts roughly around this idea. More specifically, the fall portion of the season would revolved around death, and the winter/spring half would primarily be music of rebirth and celebration. Perhaps it wasn’t a wholly original idea, but it provided a counterpoint to the previous season’s focus on love and operatic themes. Thus the orchestra had performed Hans Werner Henze’s instrumental Requiem, Camille Saint-Saëns’ Danse Macabre, Franz Schubert’s String Quartet No. 14, and Franz Liszt’s Totentanz, among other pieces. Sebastien was making an effort to survey music written for and about death at as many points in musical history as he could. The concerts had been striking, and very well received. In contrast to the previous concert featuring Duruflé’s gorgeous symphonic arrangement of the Requiem Mass, this concert would be markedly sharper, darker. They would lead with Dmitri Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 14, a group of poetic settings on the theme of death. Unusual for a musical treatment of this theme is the lack of hope or promise of an afterlife. Shostakovich’s intention was to impress upon his listeners the beauty of life, the emptiness of death, and the tragedy of human violence. The instrumentation is sparse, unsettling. Sebastien chose to follow that work with Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 4. Its first three movements are a bit pensive and atonal compared to many earlier works, but unfolds into a sweeter, more hopeful fourth movement – a child’s vision of Heaven. Sebastien knew that including the Mahler lessened the impact somewhat of the Shostakovich, but he also knew his audience. Although largely less religious than any previous generation, Americans still love a happy ending. Thinking of death as a dispassionate end as a corpse rotting in the ground or ashes scattered in the wind would no doubt leave his concertgoers uneasy. Something better left for intermission, he reasoned. Besides, he knew his soprano. Claire was, as he correctly guessed, overjoyed to have the soft, sweet final movement of the concert to leave the last impression on their audience. He was, of course, not the only one with an ego, and he liked to occasionally throw her a bone. And the fact that her excitement from rehearsals bled over into energetic, amazing sex was just a bonus. They were rehearsing the Mahler today, more or less in order, so Claire seated herself in the auditorium. She chose a seat with a good view of Sebastien and had her sketchbook balanced on her knee, scratchy-nibbed pen in hand. Now that Sebastien knew she drew him, she didn’t bother to hide it from him…though she kept the sketches themselves hidden. The orchestra was playing through the second movement – skeletal Death playing the fiddle – when the unthinkable happened. Claire’s phone beeped with the high-pitched urgency of her text message alert. Sebastien turned to give her a fierce glare, and she snatched up her phone. The message was from her mother. In rehearsal. Call you at break, she typed in and sent. Before she could find the volume control, however, her phone began to ring. She stood, making even more noise than her phone in her haste to leave the auditorium. Once in the hallway, she answered. “Mom, I said I would call you!” “Sorry, baby, I didn’t get your message. I wanted to talk to you about Thanksgiving.” Sigh. Why now? It would be Claire’s first family-type holiday since she’d begun dating Sebastien, and there had been a little awkwardness about it. He had suggested it might be a good time to meet her parents, but she wasn’t so sure. Usually, Thanksgiving – like Christmas – was a time when her entire family got together. She just wasn’t ready for him to meet the whole crew. She wanted it to be more low-key. But then her father said maybe they should come to the city to meet Claire and with everyone else on board, why could she say? “Baby, are you still there?” “Yeah, Mom. I’m sorry, what did you want to talk about?” “Thanksgiving. Are we coming up to your apartment, or did you want to go out?” “I hadn’t really thought about it. I guess it would be the most comfortable to do it at my apartment, except there’s not much room there.” She heard a soft snort. “Do you even have table service for four?” asked a derisive voice softly behind her. She whirled around, to see Sebastien leaning against the wall behind her. He looked annoyed, and also…kind of amused. How did he do that? “What are you doing out here?” she hissed, covering the mouthpiece with her hand. “Helping you plan our holiday, evidently,” he said, his frown deepening. “Which we are not having at your apartment, where there are no dishes to cook with.” “Are you making fun of me?” “We shall have them come to my apartment,” he said smoothly, ignoring her question. “I have a dining room and hardly use it. It will do fine. It is meant for family. Now, break is almost over and you should put your phone away.” Having dropped that bombshell, he sauntered back down the hallway. Family. Did he consider her family? “Mom, I’ll get you the address,” she said into the phone absently, and then hung up. She wandered back into the auditorium, giving Sebastien a strange look and feeling disconcerted when he merely smiled back at her. Shaking her head, she noticed one of the musicians looking curiously into her sketchbook, which she had left open on the seat as she’d hurried to answer the phone. She strode over and closed the book with a snap, relieved to notice as she did so that her sketch had been only bare bones. Oh, she recognized it immediately as one of Sebastien’s conducting positions – slightly hunched, leaning forward as if to draw the very notes from each instrument – but she doubted anyone else would guess at what the sketch would eventually be. Even nosy musicians who looked at sketchbooks that didn’t belong to them. “Everyone in your places, please. I trust we can continue our rehearsal without any further interruptions,” Sebastien said, throwing a pointed glance in Claire’s direction. She shrank back under it, but couldn’t keep from wondering if there was some way to continue annoying him without being too much of a distraction. Well. There was one way. On impulse, she grabbed up her phone and tapped away for a moment before turning it off completely. She smiled sweetly up at Sebastien, who narrowed his eyes before turning back to the orchestra and cuing them for the third movement. They had gotten into the swing of things before a muffled melody interrupted them. Eyes swiveled toward the sound, and the amusement in the orchestra was evident when it was Sebastien pulling his own phone out of his pocket and silencing it. Claire watched him, saw his shoulders tense with the effort it took to refrain from turning around. She did so love to push his buttons. He probably hadn’t turned his phone off, though, and how annoying was it going to be for him to continue receiving vibrations from text message alerts on delay throughout the afternoon? She hid her smile by dropping her head down and focusing on her sketching. ----- The final notes of the orchestra were just dying away when Claire packed her things up, hoping to be gone before Sebastien was ready to talk to her. The last hour had been entertaining, what with the periodic irritation crossing his face each time his phone vibrated in his pocket. He had apparently been unwilling to give her the satisfaction of seeing him actually turn it off, so he had endured the frequent buzzing with only an occasional glare in her direction. She had just escaped onto the sidewalk, thinking she was free for the evening, when she realized her own phone was still off. Turning it on, she found that she had just received a message: I did not dismiss you. We need to discuss this afternoon’s rehearsal. Biting her lower lip, she considered her options. She could go back in now, but…it would be much more fun to string him along. She answered: Sorry, already gone. Rehearsal went great, didn’t you think? The bus drove up and she hopped onto it, feeling her phone buzz again. The new message read: That is not the word I would use. We have your punishment to discuss. By this time, she was already blocks away. Was it a good excuse? Maybe not. But she waited for the bus to get across the city, and then she typed out: Gonna have to catch me first. ;) Where would she go? His place, her place, what did it matter? He’d take her where he pleased. So it was to the ocean she went, after entirely too long a time away. Today it was uniformly grey at the coast, with thin clouds overhead that broke occasionally to let spears of sunlight dance on the grey-green waves. No fog to speak of – yet – and there was a cool, salty breeze blowing. For all that, though, the water was surprisingly warm after the initial shock of cold, and she eagerly shed her shoes to wade ankle-deep in the surf. She walked a long distance from where the bus had dropped her off, until she was all the way at the northern end of the beach. She climbed over the rocks to her private beach where she found a tender spot of sunlight to warm the sand. After a few moments’ hesitation, she stripped all the way to her skin and swam into the foaming waves. Surely no one would see her here, though they could if they climbed over the same rocks she had. It’s just that no one ever did, really. She swam out and around one of the rocks nearby, flipping and turning in the water like a seal. The water was refreshing, and staying immersed was warmer than exposing her skin to the sea air, so she swam for a long time. Eventually she grew tired, and when she popped her head above water to look toward the shore, she was dismayed to see that all of her belongings had gone missing! She hadn’t noticed anyone on the beach while she was swimming, but she admitted that she hadn’t paid much attention. Claire looked around anxiously as she swam back toward the beach, and eventually her feet found the sand beneath them. The closer she got, the more she could see into the dry, sandy hollow behind one of the boulders on shore, and at one point she thought she could see a shadow behind one. Except that this was no shadow – it was Sebastien. She strode onto the sand, feeling vaguely uncomfortable to be so exposed. Sebastien kept his eyes on her, roving over her dripping limbs, her wet hair, her hard nipples. “Well, mon abeille,” he began as soon as she was in earshot, “have I caught you?” She looked over at him, still seeing no trace of her clothes. “I guess you have. What are you going to do with me now that you have?” “What an amusing question. I am going to punish you, of course. Although I suppose I should find a way to shackle you first. What kind of catcher would I be if I allowed my prey to simply run away as soon as she was caught?” “Very funny. I’m not going to run off.” “You say that now. But for insurance, I should find a way to keep you near me. Refuse to return your clothes, for instance. Or I could physically bind you to me.” “Couldn’t we just hold hands?” she asked in a pained voice. She wasn’t ashamed to be seen with him or anything, it’s just that she didn’t see why she needed to announce their sexual games to everyone else, and she told him so. He was silent for a long moment, thinking, and then he tossed her clothes to her in a heap. “Such a charmingly innocent idea. But if it makes you that uncomfortable, we shall wait for the privacy of my apartment before we get down to business.” Claire looked at him suspiciously. He wasn’t usually this inclined to give in to her desire to be spared embarrassment, so what was the deal? “Does it really not bother you to walk around with me naked, or tied up, or on a leash?” He didn’t answer, merely gestured to her clothes with a bit of impatience. She dressed, glad that the wind had done its job to dry off her skin. Then, in the spirit of gratitude, she offered him her hand. He gripped it firmly in his, offered her a small smile, and they clambered over the rocks and up the sandy beach together. ----- The sky was rapidly growing dark outside, and Claire’s chest tightened with anticipation as she followed Sebastien up the stairs into his bedroom. “Sit,” he commanded, yanking the curtains over the windows. She lowered herself timidly onto his bed, folding her hands primly in her lap. He turned to look at her, frowned slightly, and shook his head. “Strip. Then sit.” Claire stood, pulled off her clothes and tossed them aside, then sat back down. Again, Sebastien frowned at her. “I did not ask you to make a mess. Fold your clothing and then sit.” Huffing a little in frustration, Claire followed his directions and sat once more on the edge of his bed. He turned to the little closet with all their…toys…and pulled out several lengths of soft-looking rope. Then he returned to the bed, looking very dangerous all of a sudden. Claire shivered, wondering what he was about to do. “Do not be afraid, mon abeille,” he said, so softly she almost didn’t hear him, as he ran his fingertip down her body. “I will not hurt you…very much. Feet up.” Claire pulled her feet up onto the edge of the bed, letting her wrists dangle down between her legs. She watched him curiously as he ran the rope around and around her ankle, knotting it securely in a wide cuff. He then pulled one of her wrists down to the ankle and repeated it, the rope circling around both wrist and ankle until they were tied together. Shifting aside, he did the same with her other wrist and ankle, until both wrists were immobilized. Lifting them lifted her ankles, and she inadvertently unbalanced herself, falling backward onto the bed and exposing herself to him. He laughed softly at her predicament before saying, “That made my job a bit easier. Now then,” he said, pushing her body toward the center of the large bed, “can you get out of those bindings?” He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. “Go ahead. Try.” Claire blinked, too surprised to say anything for the moment. She tugged tentatively on her bindings, and found that they held fast. Looking up at him wide-eyed, she shook her head briefly. “Oh come now, you did not really try. Try harder.” Odd. Was he planning on really putting her bonds to the test by punishing her hard enough to have her straining against them with all her strength? The very thought made her grow warm with arousal, and she knew she was blushing. She pulled harder at her bonds, and when his eyes grew darker she really threw herself into it, her muscles flexing, her hips shifting from side to side, her tummy rippling with the effort. A slow, sly smile spread over Sebastien’s face as he watched her, and all at once Claire wondered if he was getting turned on by this. It was a little embarrassing, but it turned her on all the same. When she finally felt herself getting out of breath, she had a light sheen of sweat all over her body and she stopped struggling. As she did, she knew for sure that she was really, truly stuck and her breathing quickened. She was going to pass out. Sebastien moved quickly to lie beside her, holding her arms and sliding his palms up and down them slowly. “Shh, shh, breathe deeply, mon abeille. I am right here. Be calm.” He stroked her hair gently and she tried to take slower, deeper breaths. “Do you need me to untie you?” Claire licked her lips, breathing in slowly through her nose and letting it out. Finally, she shook her head. He gave her a long, searching look, and then nodded once. He slid his hand from her arm down between her legs, teasing her gently until she was arching her hips toward him. “Claire, you naughty girl, you are so wet,” he said softly in her ear. She blushed brightly; he never said such things to her. “Do you want my fingers inside you?” “Y-yes, Maestro,” she stammered. He rewarded her immediately, pushing two fingers into her and rubbing his thumb over her teasingly. It felt amazing, and she couldn’t believe how much. She whimpered, pulling slightly against her bonds again. “Oh, G-G-God, yes,” she said, shuddering all over. “Are you going to come already, Claire?” “Mmhmm…mmhmm…can I?” she managed, legs beginning to tremble with the effort of holding back. She tried moving her hips side to side, but found that she was so tightly tied that she could hardly move at all. “Yes, yes, come. Come now!” he commanded, and she let out a strangled cry as she tightened around his fingers. Spots floated across her vision as the pleasure slammed into her, and then she sighed. Sebastien’s free hand caressed her breasts and ran in tight circles over her belly. “Tell me, do you want me to fuck you now?” “Yes, Maestro. I want you to fuck me, please, I want your cock in me right now,” she whimpered, watching him rise and strip off his clothes. He folded them neatly and set them aside, and with every slow movement he made she wanted him even more. When he turned to her, she saw his cock, hard and jutting out from his body. Sebastien knelt between her open legs, rubbing his cock around her entrance and sliding just the tip in and out of her teasingly. “I love how wet you get for me,” he said, dragging his nails down the center of her body and making her writhe as the sparks of pain grew. “Your body drives me crazy, so tight even though I have had you so many times.” Claire rocked her hips up against him, trying to slide own onto him to, but it was useless. She moaned softly in frustration. “Beg for it,” Sebastien said softly. “Please, may I have your cock, Maestro? I want it so badly, please, I’ll do anything.” “Anything…” he mused. “Yes, yes, anything, only please let me have it.” He slid it into her then, feeling her hot and slick around him. Claire squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out everything but the feel of him deep inside her, touching her everywhere. He was fucking her, though slowly as if he were trying to draw it out. A soft buzzing sound got her attention and she opened her eyes to slits, watching Sebastien as he applied it to her. The pleasure hit her like a ton of bricks and she felt it crashing over her. Tremors were running through her as another orgasm built, and she knew she couldn’t stop it even if she tried. She came, much harder than before, and lights went off behind her eyelids, but Sebastien didn’t let up. He held the vibrator against her as firmly as ever, knowing her bonds would keep her in place, unable to save herself. She shook all over, feeling waves of pleasure building and cresting in her over and over. Tears dripped from the corners of her eyes and she wondered briefly how Sebastien was managing to keep control over himself. But then she noticed a wild look was coming into his eyes and he was pumping into her faster and harder. His free hand held one of her thighs firmly, using it as leverage to slam into her ever more deeply. The Soprano Ch. 04 At last his back bowed and he cried out as he emptied himself into her. He turned the vibrator off, pushing it carelessly onto the floor. His chest was heaving with his breaths and he was blinking a bit too quickly, as if he almost could not remember or believe what had just occurred. Claire was still twitching inside and out and the kinks in her muscles were becoming quite painful. “Maestro,” she whispered. “Could you please untie me now?” He stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment. “Sebastien,” she said, a bit louder. He blinked then, reaching automatically for the knots and undid them with trembling fingers. She felt empty inside, as if she’d been washed clean by an enormous wave. Did she look as shell-shocked as he did? Stretching out her limbs was actually not quite as painful as she had feared, and she’d cracked every joint she thought was possible before going limp. Just as she did so, Sebastien drew very close to her, burying his face in the crook of her neck and cradling her to him. “Mon abeille, I believe you are any man’s dream come true,” he murmured. ----- “Are you ready to have your parents visit?” Sebastien asked, still idly scanning the newspaper. “Not really. They decided to make a vacation out of it and stay the entire week. Which would be fine, except that I already told them they should stay with me. They told me they could still get a hotel, but it being a holiday and all, well, I can handle it for a week.” “Nonsense. Let them have your apartment. You can stay with me.” “With…with you?” “Yes, and I do not understand your confusion. You stay overnight often enough and we did share a flat for three weeks in Paris.” “That was different.” “Hardly. Come, just think of it as an experiment…or practice.” “For what?” “Living together. Surely the idea has occurred to you,” he replied, finally looking up at her. It had, she supposed. But he was just so damned private, she assumed he enjoyed his private space. Thinking about it, though, perhaps it was she who was the one pushing away from the idea. It all just seemed too soon! They hardly knew each other. Yet with each passing month that was, of course, less the truth. “It has occurred, of course. I just didn’t think…I don’t know. There doesn’t seem to be room for me here,” she protested. “Mon abeille, if we made the decision to live together, I assure you that I would find the room. Besides, it would not have to be here. I could always sell this apartment and purchase a house elsewhere. Perhaps one to the north, among the trees. Or across the city, near the ocean. Would you like that?” he asked, his voice sounding soft and serious. She should have been thrilled, but she was sort of panicking. Had he been putting serious thought into moving in with her? Even buying a house with her? That was crazy! She wasn’t ready for any of this. She looked up at him, trying to think of a response, and saw the humor sparkling in his eyes. He was just fucking with her! “Jerk,” she muttered. He only laughed. ----- Thursday finally came, and Claire was pacing Sebastien’s apartment. She’d arrived the night before and found that he had cleared out a little room in his closet and chest of drawers for her things, which made her at once more and less comfortable. She had gone ahead and unpacked into them, though, after which Sebastien had seduced her – like it was so damn difficult or something – into having slow, passionate sex in an attempt to get her to relax. Which it did, and she was able to sleep. But of course now it was Thursday, and her anxiety and constant pacing had driven Sebastien positively up the wall while he attempted to do some work, and then to begin cooking. So he had taken her back upstairs and tied her up to his oversized wooden easel – much more tightly this time than he had in the past – and then he had actually placed a vibrator on low between her legs, fastening it to her with more rope. “You need some distraction,” he’d said, kissing her softly and abandoning her there. She had squirmed and whimpered all to no avail. The vibrator simply hadn’t been enough to drive her over the edge, but it had been more than enough to drive her crazy. He’d left her that way for two hours before he stopped the vibrator and fed her lunch, but then he’d tied it right back on for a further two hours. She’d been stiff and a little sore when he finally returned, but still anxious to have him fuck her brains out – which he did. After that he’d wrapped his arms around her and held her close, murmuring to her that if she didn’t take a nap, she would drive him crazy. So she slept for a short time. Finally, evening came. Her parents were supposed to arrive to her apartment around four o’clock, and then Sebastien was sending Tom over to pick them up in his town car at six o’clock. Well it was six now, and Claire was back to pacing. “Stop being so nervous,” Sebastien said, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. “It is only dinner.” “Dinner…yeah,” she responded vaguely. “Mon abeille, I believe you were less nervous the first time we made love!” “Made love?” she snorted. That’s not exactly what she would have called it. “Well sure, but then I knew what was about to happen,” she joked. “And you know what is going to happen tonight,” he went on, ignoring her sad attempt at humor. “Your parents will arrive. René will be here, we will all share a meal, and then they will go away so that I can resume seducing their daughter.” “Hey!” she squealed. “I was feeling okay right up until that last part. Why did you have to go and throw that in there? I don’t want to be thinking about sex all through dinner with my parents!” “Just think of it as a reward for being your sweet, charming self.” “Sure, yeah, charming.” “You are. Haven’t you noticed how well people respond to you? I believe no one could help themselves from liking you.” “No…that’s true for you, maybe, but not me.” “Not so. Few people know me well enough to like me. You let yourself show, just enough, to intrigue and delight. As for me, I am charismatic. People are taken in, not by me, but by who they think I am. And, if I am so lucky, some people – the right people – also fear me.” “I don’t think they’re afraid of you. They respect you.” “Perhaps so.” A knock on the door startled Claire, but before she could really react, it opened. René was out in the hall, looking adorable in a knit sweater and corduroy pants, and he was ushering in a slightly befuddled-looking pair of people – her parents. “Come see what I found wandering about the lobby. We have already introduced ourselves,” he said cheerily. Claire was momentarily paralyzed at their sudden arrival, but Sebastien stepped forward and spoke smoothly into the silence. “Welcome to my home, Mr. and Mrs. –” “Doctor, actually,” Claire interrupted in a murmur – her mother, the pediatrician. “Frank and Jill,” corrected her mother with a smile. “Yes, well, Mom and Dad, I’d like you to meet Sebastien, my, ah,” she paused, clearing her throat before finishing, “my boyfriend.” Wow, that word still sounded pretty strange. But no one else seemed to notice her awkwardness. “You have a lovely apartment, Maestro,” said Jill, and Claire was surprised and pleased that she’d remembered to use his title. “Thank you very much. You have a lovely daughter. Shall we sit? Dinner is nearly ready.” He gestured toward the dining room, which Claire had done the work of setting with Sebastien’s paper-thin china plates and imported linen napkins. She had also wanted to make the soup, but her imprisonment in the bedroom had meant that Sebastien had made everything himself. Not that this was a problem, not at all. Sebastien was, after all, an amazing cook. For dinner, he had prepared the squash soup René had taught her, along with roasting a pair of ducks, frying potatoes in the rendered fat, and preparing an orange-butter sauce that went with everything. Claire’s parents had brought along a pumpkin meringue tart for dessert, René was whipping up some kind of apple cider cocktail, and all Claire had to do was sit and look pretty – well, and help guide the conversation. The pretty she could do, as she’d dressed in slim black pants and a charcoal grey turtleneck sweater. Sebastien was in grey from top to toe, though he was as barefoot as she. When they had all sat down at the table with their soup and their cocktails, she nudged the top of his foot with her toes. Damned if her mind wasn’t already on sex a little bit; it was his cute bare feet. The conversation was the hard part. Claire struggled for conversation topics, since Sebastien didn’t know anyone from her hometown. Although the way her father told a story, it didn’t much matter if you were acquainted with someone – you certainly felt like you knew them enough once you’d heard the story. Then there was symphony business they could discuss, but her parents would have been left out of that conversation. So they were somewhat left with stories from Claire’s childhood, which she was none too thrilled with. “So,” her mother said at last into the lull between topics, “how did you two start dating?” Eek. That was not something Claire wanted to talk about. How would she begin? Well, one day I pissed off the Maestro by coming to rehearsal late and not wearing underwear, so he spanked my ass with his belt and made me come, and after that I couldn’t think of anything but fucking him so we finally had to do it, right there on the piano on stage. And then we played kinky sex games for months until we realized we had feelings for each other. Oh, sure. That would go over really well. She hoped very much that Sebastien would answer, and he did not disappoint. “It is a funny story, is it not, Claire?” She flicked her eyes over to him without saying anything, and his lips twitched in humor. “Well, perhaps not. As you can imagine, our relationship was strictly professional from the beginning. I am very serious about my work and I normally do not allow such things as personal matters to interfere. And at first I saw Claire as merely a colleague. “I am afraid it is all due to my friend René here, who attended a rehearsal early last season and remarked to me about what a beauty Claire is. Not only that, but that he had tried to get her attention and it had not worked. She, too, is very serious about her work, and she hardly gave anyone the time of day. So at once I was looking at her with new eyes and I realized that René was right, of course. I could not remember the last time I had seen a girl so beautiful. Before I knew it, whenever I was not thinking about music, I was thinking of Claire. “So I resolved to ask her on a date, even though it was entirely against my own policies, and would you believe that she turned me down? ‘Of course not; it would be unprofessional,’ she says, and I knew it was true, but I could not be deterred. At last I asked her to dinner – not on a date, you see, but to discuss professional matters – and she consented to this. And then at the end of the night, I admit I stole a kiss. Like so,” he said, leaning over to her and brushing his lips over hers, making her heart speed up despite herself. What is he on about? she wondered. This was all complete bullshit – about his pursuit of her and her turning him down. Yet she could see her parents were charmed, and she herself was becoming seduced by his storytelling – she could almost believe it herself. “Well, you can imagine how it went from there. She was still rather reluctant, but I eventually persuaded her to date me in earnest. Would you like to hear how I knew I was falling in love?” he asked softly, more to her than to her parents. They seemed plenty interested to know and Claire eventually gave one slow nod. She had never asked him and he had never offered to tell her. They were all falling under his spell – even René had his chin propped up on his hand, listening. “It was in May, and I had gone to my sister’s home in Paris. She was introducing me to all of her single friends, perhaps trying to set me up with them, though she must have known already it was futile. As I sat there one afternoon, I realized that although I had just been introduced to a couple of admittedly charming and pretty girls, I had already quite forgotten their names. I realized that my mind had been so occupied with thoughts of lovely Claire back home that I had simply not been paying attention to anything else. And that is when I knew. I must be in love. There was no other explanation for it.” Sebastien paused for a moment, looking at her fondly, and it was all she could do to keep her hands fisted at her sides instead of pulling him to her and… “I wanted to tell her as soon as I returned home but, well, you may have noticed your daughter is bit hard-headed.” Nodding laughter from Claire’s parents. “She wanted nothing to do with love, or so she had convinced herself. Too young, too soon, the wrong man. Well, no matter. I hoped that she would come around to my way of viewing things, and eventually she did.” So. He had loved her for three long, painful months before she had finally confessed her feelings to him. Oh, he hadn’t said they were painful, but she read the emotion shadowed in his eyes. Remembered his despair, his torment at the thought that she might not love him back. She wanted to take it all back, make the pain go away. But there really wasn’t much she could do in front of her parents. Just then, though, he smiled. He touched the back of his hand to her cheek and she knew he understood. “Who’s ready for dinner?” she asked. “Are you coming back with us, baby, or coming a little later?” Jill asked, as Frank shook his head and rolled his eyes behind her. “Actually, Mom, didn’t I tell you I was staying here while you guys are in the city? There’s, um, there’s a guest room here and I just thought you would be more comfortable if you had my place to yourselves, and…” She broke off when Sebastien placed his hand gently on her shoulder. Yes, she was about to start babbling. “Frank and Jill, thank you for coming to dinner tonight. I hope you had a lovely time and that I will see you again before you go home. There should be a taxi waiting for you downstairs to take you back to Claire’s apartment.” He shook their hands and gave them his most charming smile before they finally left. At last, Claire turned to go back into the apartment, noticing that René and Sebastien were looking at her with obvious amusement. “What?” she asked testily. “Nervous as a virgin,” observed René. “Surely your parents do not care if you share a bed with a man.” “They do know you are not a virgin, yes?” asked Sebastien, his lips twitching. “Of course they know,” she snapped, heading upstairs to escape them. “Be pretty hard for them not to know,” she went on in a mutter, “since they pretty much walked in on it happening.” “This sounds like a story I want to hear,” said René with a grin as he followed her. “But with a drink in hand, don’t you agree?” Claire frowned, but the drink did sound pretty good. She detoured into Sebastien’s office and flounced down on the floor in front of the fireplace. René poured the brandy while Sebastien lit the fire, and they all lounged on the floor, silently watching the flames flicker. Eventually René nudged her with his knee and she rolled her eyes. “Fine. It was the summer after my sixteenth birthday. My parents had taken me camping up at the lake. Being at the age where I wasn’t exactly excited to be with them all the time, they let me have plenty of time on my own. I pretty much spent most of it at the lake, swimming and reading. Then one day I met this amazingly hot guy on my way there. Apparently he’d come to the lake with a bunch of his cousins and their campsite was near ours. So, okay, in retrospect this is kind of creepy, but one day he followed me out to my spot by the lake to hit on me. But what can I say? I was barely sixteen and here was this really cute guy interested in me. Well, anyway, you can probably guess what happened yourselves.” “Oh, no. So many possibilities,” said Sebastien. “Do go on.” Claire glared at him. “Well, I kept going to the lake, only I’d meet him at our campsite and we’d go together, and we’d usually spend all day making out. One day we started making out before we even left for the lake and he suggested we go into my tent instead of to the lake. Naturally…well…one thing led to another and we…well…we had sex, okay? And not ten minutes after we finished,” she said, blushing a little at the memory, “my parents came back to the campsite unexpectedly. It was absolutely mortifying. Even if we hadn’t been doing that, my parents would have thought we were. So yeah, my mom flipped out and practically chased the guy out of our campsite. But my dad? He couldn’t stop laughing. He thought it was hilarious. I’m surprised he didn’t tell that story tonight,” she grumbled. “That is really not so bad,” said René. “At least your whole family was not notified at your birthday dinner that you had finally become a man. Oh yes,” he added as Claire looked at him in surprise. “It was my seventeenth birthday, and it was the younger sister of my mother’s very best friend. Much younger, only twenty-two. She decided it would be appropriate to explain that she’d given me my birthday present the previous night. Not only that, but how wonderful I was at it, as if my family wanted to hear it. He cringed at the memory. “Of course, that was not quite my first experience, but they did not know that,” he added, throwing a look at Sebastien. “All right, so I am the precocious one in our group, I see. I was fourteen. So was she. Two virgins we were, fumbling in my grandparents’ barn until we had figured out where it all went. Then of course when I returned to Paris, I had to show my dearest friend what I had learned.” He smiled fondly at René, who returned the look before turning back to Claire. “Have you ever been with another girl, cherie?” he asked, the tone of his voice clearly indicating he thought he knew the answer already. “Sure,” she replied breezily, enjoying the startled looks they fixed on her then. “A couple of times with the same girl.” “Well…?” “Well, what? There’s not much to tell,” she teased. “I could make you tell,” Sebastien warned. “Oh yeah?” She set down her brandy glass. A challenge. Sebastien leaned forward and what he did next shocked the hell out of her – he ran his fingers over her ribs and under her arms, tickling her. She let out a high-pitched squeal of laughter, feeling the ticklish tremors running through her. “Okay, okay, stop!” she cried. “I’ll tell you.” Sebastien drew her into the space between his legs, changing his tickling to caressing. “It was a friend of mine from high school – Susan. We were, you know, just hanging out when it happened the first time. She just asked me, like, did I know what it was like to kiss someone, and I did, but she didn’t, and she asked if I’d show her. So…I did.” “What was it like?” Sebastien asked, sliding his hand beneath the waistband of her pants and into her suddenly damp panties. “Um, well, it was…nice. Her lips and her tongue were really soft and she definitely was a more gentle kisser than the boys I’d kissed before her. And we both liked it so much, we just…we wanted to kiss each other all over. So we took off all our clothes and were laying on my bed kissing and touching each other. And, um, so I just got curious, what would it be like to go down on a girl. I’d done it with my boyfriend, but girls are, you know, different.” “Did you like it?” He slid two fingers inside her and she gasped, feeling his palm pressing up against her. “I like this,” she murmured. He pulled his fingers out, pinching her firmly between his index and middle finger. “Ouch!” she cried. “Okay, all right. Yes, okay?” She blushed, not wanting to meet the eyes of René as they bored into her. “Yes, it was really…sexy. All soft and wet and she…she tasted really good.” The Soprano Ch. 04 “Did she now?” Sebastien murmured. He had resumed petting her now, sliding his fingers slickly over her. “Like you?” “I, um…similar, I guess. But different. Sweeter.” “I find that hard to believe,” he said, withdrawing his fingers from her and licking them slowly, enjoying the way it made her blush even more furiously. He leaned over offering his fingers to René, who sucked them into his mouth. Then René leaned farther into him, kissing him and twisting their tongues together. Claire’s stomach jerked at the vision of the two men kissing, tasting her in each other’s mouths while Sebastien resumed fingering her. “So you did it more than once?” René asked after their lips had parted. “Mmhmm, yeah. We went to the same college and it might have happened a couple more times.” “You would do it again…?” Sebastien murmured into her ear. “Was-was that an, um, a question or an order?” she asked breathlessly. “What do you want it to be?” “I…want to stop talking about this and…” “What?” “Get fucked,” she whispered. He laughed delightedly, pulling her down for a kiss. ----- At last the Season of Death, as Claire had affectionately taken to calling it, was coming to a close. Their last concert had been somewhat spectacular and different, but they were returning a bit to more comfortable and familiar territory with their final concert of the year. It was going to be a bit unusual, in that they were having two intermissions, with a short musical interlude between them. They were leading off with the stormy and well-known Mozart’s Requiem, perhaps the composition of his most fraught with mystery and intrigue given the uncertainty and deathly circumstances surrounding its composition. After the first intermission, they would present Richard Strauss’s Four Last Songs, German poems set to music. Admittedly, Sebastien had chosen them to show off Claire’s voice, but his real gift to her was in the piece he chose to close out their concert: the Brahms Requiem. He had walked in on her months ago singing along to it, and she had admitted it was one of her favorite pieces of music. She had sung it in a choral setting once, long ago. Perhaps the gorgeous, soaring voice of the soprano soloist had somehow influenced her decision to become a soloist herself. She hadn’t remembered thinking about it that way, but it made sense. The choir Sebastien had chosen to participate in the concert had sung both pieces before, many times, so he was confident they would be able to perform well even though rehearsals had been minimal. In the weeks after Thanksgiving, rehearsals had been frequent and intense. Claire could admit to some amusement – as well as arousal – watching him keep the choir in line. If their attention was not perfectly where it should be, he snapped at them just as he had done with her. At the dress rehearsal, Sebastien had been particularly unyielding. The choir had tripped over one or two especially difficult passages, and he had tangled with the choir’s usual conductor over how and when he should cue them. Everyone was feeling the sense of urgency that comes with knowing that there was nothing more they could do. The performance would be the next day, and there was little more that could be improved. He had been a little shorter with the group than usual during the first half of rehearsal, stalking off to his office at the break to cool off. Claire had snuck off a little early, mostly for the pleasure of surprising him as he swept in the door. Dropping his stack of music absently on the table beside the door, he gripped her waist and pushed her firmly back into the wall. The back of her head knocked into the wall gently, and she noted Sebastien’s eyes glinted with some indescribable emotions. “Mon abeille, what are you doing in here? You do realize we are hardly alone…” “Well, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, but you’re being a little mean out there, you know,” she said, breathless from the closeness and the intensity of his gaze. “Somehow I get the idea this is not a complaint,” he said, leaning in very close, his lips just a breath away from hers. She nearly moaned in anticipation. Just then, softly scraping footsteps announced the approach of someone outside his door. They pushed away from each other hurriedly, Claire clasping her hands behind her back and looking expectantly at the door as it opened. It was Aaron, the choir conductor, and he looked surprised to see her there. “Um, hello. I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said. Claire felt a blush creeping over her face, but she simply gave him a little smile as Sebastien answered. “No, what can I do for you?” Aaron looked momentarily startled that Sebastien seemed to have no intention of dismissing Claire, but after a short paused he spoke again. “I was just thinking we should go over that one passage again…” “Aaron,” Sebastien said, coming over to clap the other man on the shoulder, “relax. I think we have come to a good compromise, and when we reconvene we shall have them try it again and be sure. Go take your break. I promise it shall all come out well.” “All right,” Aaron said slowly, giving Claire a last lingering look before he left. Sebastien shut the door softly behind him and locked it. Then he whirled on her again, and she backed away from him until she bumped into the sofa. Her knees buckled beneath her and she sat abruptly. Sebastien pushed her onto her back and climbed onto the sofa with her, lowering his hips down onto hers. “You are not nearly as careful as you should be, Claire.” “I believe it was both of us he walked in on, Maestro,” she countered. “Hmm,” he grunted. “Seems as if someone is hoping for a whipping tonight.” “More like a belting. Watching you out there telling everyone what to do, mmm…but not now. I think it’s already been fifteen minutes.” “Indeed so,” Sebastien sighed a bit regretfully. “Go ahead and I shall follow you in a moment.” The rest of rehearsal went no more easily in terms of wrangling the choir, although Sebastien and Aaron were considerably more congenial, having worked out their little issues. When it was over Claire lingered, watching groups of people chat, noticing those women who seemed particularly eager to get as much time to look at Sebastien as possible. Of course, she obviously understood that impulse, and she knew how lucky she was to get to work with him all the time, much less have all the rest of what they had. At last everyone had filtered out and Sebastien approached her in the empty auditorium, bag in hand. “I will see you tomorrow, then,” he said softly, coming to stand beside her. At first she said nothing, merely leaning forward and resting her cheek against his hip. Then she slid off the seat, dropping to her knees, and pressed her face into the front of him. She tipped her head up to look at him, and saw that he was looking down at her inexpressively. “Maestro, if it’s okay, I’d like to come with you tonight.” It would be something a bit unusual. For whatever reason, she rarely spent the night before a performance. It’s not so much that they were superstitious, exactly, just that each seemed to prefer the comfort of their own private routines to prepare for concerts. “Very well,” he said, taking hold of her hands and helping her to stand. They left together, and Claire’s heart began pounding heavily in her chest. She felt so nervous all of a sudden, and she didn’t know why. By now she’d been to Sebastien’s apartment a number of times and sometimes they didn’t even have sex. Perhaps it was because after so many months it was the first time she’d asked to come – the first time it’d been unplanned by her to get a reaction, anyway. The ride home was very quiet, neither of them knowing quite what to say on the eve of a performance when they usually would not speak to each other. Once they had arrived, Claire wondered momentarily if she should simply go into the guest bedroom to avoid bothering him, but what purpose would that really serve? Anyway, she hadn’t even finished the thought before Sebastien had taken her hand, whisking her upstairs. He guided her into his bedroom, toward the little sofa he’d brought up to face the wide windows so she could watch the city when she was there. He really did have an amazing view, and it was just as good after dark when the lights twinkled as far as the eye could see. “Would you like some tea?” “Please, yes,” she murmured, feeling herself start to sweat a little as he turned to walk away. Really, what was the matter with her? This was her boyfriend. She loved him, and it was normal to want to spend time with him. She shook it off and went to his closet, intending to put on her usual pajamas for impromptu nights over – Sebastien’s underwear. But when she opened the closet doors, she saw a few silky things hanging at one end and inspected them. Nightgowns. Sweet, sexy, flirtatious, and her size. Perhaps for nights like this. She pulled one out – a short one in deep plum silk with lace trim – and changed into it, remembering to fold her other clothes neatly and pile them on the floor. Sebastien returned with their tea, setting it on a little table in front of the sofa. When he turned, he was surprised to see her and his eyes drank in the sight hungrily. He bent down to kiss her and she found herself returning it passionately, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless. He unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off and tossing it over the back of the sofa while Claire ran her hands over his chest and stomach, resting them on the waistband of his pants. “May I?” she asked softly. When he nodded, she undid his pants and slid them partway down along with his shorts. He was already hardening, and she surprised him when she ran her tongue lightly over him before taking him completely into her mouth. He sighed softly, threading his fingers through her hair but not taking control of things for once. Claire loved it, loved the way he was so soft and so hard at the same time, the way she could tease him with her tongue or her speed, just however she wanted it. When she touched her teeth to him, so lightly, and dragged them upward, his fingers knotted tightly in her hair and he pulled her off of him. His mouth crashed down on hers and he rolled on top of her on the sofa, kicking his pants off completely. The nightgown slid up above her waist as they writhed together, and she felt his cock pressing into her inner thigh insistently. She expected every moment to feel him pushing up inside her, but he resisted, focusing on plundering her mouth. At last he drew back, breathing heavily and licking his lips. “What…what do you want?” he managed to ask her. “I…Maestro, I…I just want you.” It was all she could think of to say, but it brought out the most tender expression on his face. He slid the nightgown up over her head, flinging it away somewhere, and cupped her breasts gently. As he kissed her again, much more gently this time, she could feel him entering her and she shivered. He wrapped his arms around her and sat up, pulling her with him so that she knelt on his lap. “Mon abeille,” he murmured into her ear, “you shall always have me.” “Always?” she repeated in a low voice, feeling simultaneously pleased and terrified. “As long as you wish it,” he whispered. She rested her head on his shoulder for a long time, nestling her nose in the crook of his neck and breathing in his scent as she rode him. The Soprano Ch. 05 Engines roared to life and the world began sliding slowly backward. Claire gripped the armrests and stared mutely out the window. She loved to watch the ground drop away as the plane took off, even though it also made her nervous. Sebastien was a calming presence at her side, flicking through some magazine or other. As the plane straightened, he pushed the armrest up between them and drew her against his chest. He handed her a pair of headphones and she slipped them on, hearing the soft opening strains of Fauré's Requiem. It was the "Lullaby of Death," and it soothed her. "Sleep now," he murmured against her hair, and she obeyed. They were going to Paris for the Christmas holiday, although Sebastien had asked if she would be willing to stay at his family's country farmhouse in the days leading up to Christmas. Although his grandparents would no longer be there, his family hoped to keep up the tradition anyway. Claire was apprehensive about being in such close quarters with his entire family – all fifteen of them. What did people do in the country all together? What would the sleeping arrangements be? What was she supposed to do about presents? She needn't have worried. Presents in the extended Boulet family were restricted to children – though teenagers and young adults sometimes received small trinkets as well – and coming from America, it was extremely easy to pick up a variety of little sweets and toys that would thrill the young ones. As for what they would do, well, the more pertinent question would have been, when would they have time alone? Meals tended to be a lengthy affair with too many friendly cooks in the kitchen and lots of cheery conversation around the heavy wooden dining table. During daylight hours they would go on walks through cleared areas in the nearby woods or sled down the snowy hills or ice skate on the frozen lake in the village. Then at night, after the children were in bed, the rest of them would gather in the great room around a merrily crackling fireplace and chat. Or they might take turns on the piano, singing jaunty tunes or soulful ballads. Eventually one couple or other would begin giving significant looks to each other, and around ten or eleven o'clock they would all wander back to their quarters and go to sleep, ready to be up with the sun the following day. And what quarters they were! The Boulet family farmhouse was located about three hours driving distance from Paris, outside a sweet little town that was still more village than city. Its butter-yellow paint flaked charmingly, revealing the large grey stones it had been built with. The double front doors opened into a wood-paneled mudroom with a sweet little parlor just beyond. From there, the hallway split the ground floor asymmetrically – three bedrooms on one side with a bathroom between the front two, and the great room, kitchen, and dining room on the other side. At the far end of the hallway was the door to the backyard. Above the ground floor were two more floors, each of which held four bedrooms and two bathrooms. When Sebastien was young, the two upper floors were generally populated by farmhands and distant family members. His grandparents' bedroom was the largest on the ground floor, and his siblings generally shared bedrooms when they visited. The interior of the house was very pretty, simply furnished in medium-hued woods with exposed beams, some wood-paneled walls, and the rest papered or tiled with subtle patterns and soothing colors. Sebastien maintained that the interior had been redone, many times, but that his grandmother had preferred remodeling with the same materials over and over, so that the farmhouse when she died was similar to how it had been when she remembered visiting it as a child. Claire had found this admission – and the farmhouse generally – charming. On this visit, Sebastien had asked to stay in his own favorite childhood room – on the ground floor, right beside the parlor. All of his siblings chose rooms upstairs, while his parents stayed in his grandparents' old room, leaving one ground floor room between them empty. All in the name of privacy, Claire supposed. Not that it mattered. With a house full of people, neither of them were exactly feeling in the mood to get up to anything lascivious. Claire spent every night curled tightly around her lover in this strange place, and was astonished each morning to realize that this man, who had seemed so cold and distant, could be capable – even desire – such closeness. Finally Christmas Eve came, and there was a bit of awkwardness as Claire realized that they were going to spend the evening in church. The only problem with spending religious holidays with your new boyfriend and his family, she thought ruefully, was that you had to have these kinds of conversations so much sooner than you might want to. It wasn't that she had a problem with it – she hadn't been raised in a religious household, but as a classically trained singer she of course had to sing all kinds of religious materials. She didn't connect with them in the same way a believer might, but they were powerful in their own way to her. Sebastien explained that none of his family were particularly religious either, but Midnight Mass in town was a long-standing tradition that they all loved. So after a long day in which Sebastien's mother, older sister, and occasionally some of the others, were ensconced in the kitchen making preparations for the evening meal, they ate a light meal and bundled up in warm coats and snow boots for the walk into town. It didn't take long; in twenty minutes they were within sight of the little churchyard, the doors to the sanctuary open and welcoming with their soft yellow light. Claire couldn't remember the last time she'd been to a church service, and she'd certainly never been to one given in French. She let the words wash over her, cuddled up in the crook of Sebastien's arm. The choir was small, but the acoustics in the little church made it seem like a much greater group of people. Some songs she recognized the familiar Christmastime melodies of, and others were new – some Latin, some French. It was truly beautiful. The service ended just after midnight and Claire was close to yawning. All of the children were asleep or nearly so, and each of them was in the arms of a parent. They walked back in the cold, clear night, Claire marveling at the stars overhead. She and Sebastien hung back a little from the rest of the group, holding hands. "It is a lovely night," he murmured. "Yes, it is. Part of me wishes we could go straight to our bedroom when we return," she said wistfully, nuzzling his shoulder with her nose. "So do I, but then we would miss dinner, and we do not want to miss that. Especially since our absence would make a very ripe topic of conversation for my family." "True. But still...to drag you behind one of these trees here. Well," she added with a blush as he looked down at her with a raised eyebrow, "to be dragged, would be more like it." Back at the farmhouse, all the children had been tucked into their warm beds upstairs and the adults had set the table with the midnight meal. Claire thought she had never seen so much food in one place before. There were platters of raw oysters, shelled lobster meat, escargot in garlicky butter, roasted pheasant and quail, dishes of vegetables steamed and dressed, warm loaves of crusty bread, and a tureen of some savory soup. In the kitchen awaited a crisp green salad, chunks of cheeses, dried fruits, honey, and a buche de noel. Claire indulged herself – they all did – and it was a sated and happy group that wandered off to their beds that night. She was so tired that she almost needed him to undress her, and she snuggled up to him in the bed – so much narrower than his back home – and fell asleep immediately. Something awoke Claire, though she couldn't be sure what it was. She rolled over, reaching for Sebastien in the dark, but he wasn't there. Turning back toward the edge of the bed, she peeked at the clock. Three o'clock in the morning. She'd been asleep for just a couple of hours, and where was he? Dimly, she heard strains of piano music and she frowned. What was he doing out there playing piano at this time of night? Sliding out of bed, she shivered. She wore only a long, black chiffon nightgown. It was a bit sheer, but in this dark no one would see anything, even if they were awake. In bare feet, she crept to the doorway, peeking down the hallway and seeing the soft light from the dining room. She tiptoed down the hall, listening as the music grew stronger. He was playing Beethoven again. In the dining room, Sebastien sat at the old upright piano playing as softly as he could manage. The only light came from a little wall sconce above the piano, but he didn't really need it. There was no sheet music on the piano and he played from memory. Claire approached the piano bench silently, running her hand lightly down his back to announce her presence. He stiffened in surprise, but relaxed when she slid onto the bench beside him. When he came to the end of the piece he sat for a long moment with his hands poised above the keys, and then began something else. Claire recognized it right away as one of the four-hand waltzes composed by Brahms that Sebastien had been teaching her as a bit of fun. She placed her hands over the higher keys and began tapping out the melodies she remembered. It was light, bright, dancelike. So different from the mood he'd begun in. At the end of the piece he turned to her, kissing her lightly. He stood, swept her off the bench and into his arms and carried her back into the bedroom they were sharing. Onto the little bed they tumbled, drawing the down comforter over them and kissing until their mouths were sore and their eyelids were drooping once more. Then, Sebastien curled up behind Claire, holding her close to his body and nuzzling her neck until they'd both fallen asleep. ----- Christmas Day dawned brighter than any other day that week, with a charming fresh coat of snow outside. When Claire and Sebastien finally awoke, breakfast had been cooked and was waiting in the dining room. They had left their own presents for each other back at the flat in Paris to be opened when they returned, and they spent the late morning and early afternoon watching the kids play. Dinner started early that evening, significantly simpler than the night before. There were leftover roasted meats, baked up in a bubbling cream sauce beneath puff pastry, and an assortment of vegetable dishes. Conversation had revolved largely around the return to work for all of them after the blissful vacation, whose birthdays were coming up, what news there was from friends of the family. "Ah, our anniversary is coming up soon," Sarah said, shooting a significant glance at Sebastien, who rolled his eyes. Uh-oh. Claire knew what this was going to be about. His older sister had been getting on his case for ages about getting married, and she wasn't exactly excited about being in the room for the next round of teasing. "How long have you been married?" Claire asked politely. "Nearly ten years, and they have been the most glorious of my life, I think. Do you know that Jean and I dated only six months before our equally brief engagement?" "And it will be six years for me and Ángel," Gerard piped up. The grin on his face made Claire wonder if the little teasing she thought had been just between Sarah and Sebastien was in fact some colossal family joke. Or argument, she added in her head as Sebastien tensed. "Indeed, brother," added Raoul, "and four for my Lizbet and I." "Yes, yes, you are all very happy, and I am very happy for you. Please drop it," Sebastien said, "as this is not a discussion I care to have again." "Oh no, do explain it to us again, mon chou," Sarah chimed in again, clearly entertained. "We have not known each other long enough to discuss such things, and as we work together it would be very...delicate," he said carefully. He was right on both counts, thought Claire. Though what they were doing now was plenty delicate enough as far as working together was concerned, and she suspected his family thought the same thing. "Please," he reiterated. "Now is not the time." At that moment, Justine came back into the room; she had excused herself just after the discussion had begun and her eyes were still sparkling with the humor of the topic. She sat back down and fixed Claire with a pseudo-serious look. "Tell us, Claire, when will you make an honest man out of my brother?" Although the question had been addressed to her, she knew its real target – as did everyone else. Sebastien slammed his knife down onto the table with a sharp bang as he spoke angrily. "Please, as we have discussed innumerable times before, we are not getting married!" In the sudden silence, Claire went very still beside him. She noticed that he had frozen, too, perhaps already regretting his outburst, but the damage had been done. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment, the sharp ache in her chest compounded by the knowledge that the entire table was watching her, waiting for her response. She wanted to run, but it wouldn't help. "Well," she said lightly, "not with that attitude, we're not." The tension lifted fractionally. Justine and Annette exchanged amused glances and Claire laughed a little, softly, so she didn't cry. Sebastien made a twitching move toward her leg with his left hand, but looking up at him she fixed him with such an intense stare that he retreated. The dinner conversation returned to other, less charged, topics and Claire was able to participate, giving everyone the impression that it had just been a little bump in her day. But to her, it certainly felt as if everything had changed. ----- Christmas night, Claire excused herself from the great room. She needed a few moments alone but, she reflected as she started down the hallway toward the bedroom, perhaps not in the room where she and Sebastien had spent such warm, lovely nights. Turning on her heel, she slunk down the hallway and slipped out the back door, moving quickly away from the house. Her lungs constricted in the cold, and she made for the barn. It might be a little warmer in there, she reasoned. She figured that she had about ten minutes before Sebastien would think to come looking for her, but she had barely made it to the shadow of the barn before she felt his fingertips grazing her elbow. "Don't touch me," she snapped venomously, whirling on Sebastien and surprising him with her anger. His eyes filled with some unreadable emotion: regret, maybe, fear, anger. "Mon abeille," he began. "Don't call me that, either. I am so furious, I don't even want to see you right now." "What did you want me to do, turn and propose to you at the dinner table?" he asked, getting angry himself. Of course not, she thought immediately, although the thought inexplicably filled her with a jolt of pleasure. Not at the table, not with an audience, maybe not at all. The thoughts hurt and confused her. Did she want to marry him? Well, who knew? It wasn't the conversation she'd expected or wanted to have with herself that evening. "Of course not, you...you...you idiot!" she finished, feeling triumphant and guilty at the hurt look on his face. "They were just having some fun at your expense. You could have ignored them, you know!" "You do not understand" he cried, throwing up his hands in frustration. "Every time I call, every time I see them, they have to bring it up. I believe they want me to marry you even more than I do." "You...do...?" she whispered, not sure if she felt more pleased or more terrified by the idea. "I cannot simply marry you because my family wants me to," he protested, ignoring her whispered question. Oh. He doesn't want to. "Are you an adult or not?" she snapped irritably. "Why do you even care what they think?" "I do not care what they think! I care what you think!" he yelled, startling her into silence. "Well? Since you have so many opinions..." "I...I don't want to talk about it right now," she said softly, turning away from him. "I thought you would not," he said bitterly behind her. "What do you want from me?" she cried, turning to him again. "I wasn't expecting to have to deal with this." "Well. I do not want to be something you must put up with," he said coldly. "I never saw myself as the type to marry, and I do not see that changing any time soon." "Fine," she said, spitting out the word with more finality than she had intended. "I want to go home," she added softly after a moment. "Very well," he replied, frowning. "I shall inform my family of our departure." "You don't have to come," she muttered, unsure if she was pleased when Sebastien took a step back, looking wounded. "I am not leaving you to find your way to our flat and make arrangements on your own." "Why? Don't even trust me to do that?" "Of course I trust you," he said very quietly. "Do you think I want to stay here with these assholes after my girlfriend has left me?" Her eyes widened; she had never heard him swear like that before. There was a trace of humor in his voice, but couldn't bring herself to respond in kind. "Embarrassed?" "Yes." "Now you know how I feel." "I know very well how you felt from the moment I let those inexcusably cruel words out of my mouth." If this was his attempt to make up, she wasn't giving him the pleasure. Anger still curled hot and ready in her belly. "You would rather be with me than them right now?" Sebastien turned and walked back up to the house without a word. Claire followed and they packed their things in silence. Truthfully, she didn't know what to say. What could she say? When they were finished, they said their rather awkward goodbyes to the family. They had obviously figured out that some argument had happened. Justine was nearly in tears, thinking she had ruined everything. Perhaps she had; Claire simply wasn't sure anymore. Back in their rented car, they had barely gotten out of the little town before Claire came to an astonishing realization: she wasn't angry. Yes, Sebastien had said something thoughtless, but it hadn't been intentionally hurtful. It had really come up too suddenly; neither of them was ready to deal with this topic of conversation. So what was she feeling? A sudden, strong twinge between her thighs told her. Oh. She was aroused. Perhaps it was that they were so close, trapped in the little steel box for three hours, after they had not made love in several days. Apparently the argument, unpleasant as it had been, had really riled her up. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Was it hot? "What?" Sebastien asked. "I...um, nothing." Why was she being so shy? Did it have to be so hard to say, 'Maestro, I want you'? Apparently, yes. She licked her lip nervously, chewing on it absentmindedly as she glanced at him. "Stop that. You are distracting me." "Stop what?" she asked, genuinely curious. Could he feel it, too? Surely she wasn't making any obvious signs that she was aroused. "You know what," he replied, his voice sounding strained. She looked down. Her chest was heaving with shallow, too-fast breaths and she was squeezing her legs together to abate the tingling sensations, but he couldn't possibly see that. "I don't know," she whispered, reaching out to brush her fingertips over his thigh as he drove. His skin felt hot through the fabric, which she noticed was pulled rather tightly over him. God, was he hard already? Her fingertips strayed closer, but he caught them up in one hand, squeezing down so hard that it hurt. She whimpered, the sparks of pain sending tremors of pleasure running through her. He groaned in response, flicked his eyes up to the rearview mirror and then suddenly jerked the car onto a tiny dirt road. He drove until the trees had swallowed them up, Claire's fingers still clutched in his, and then pulled into a little clearing, the car rumbling in protest. The Soprano Ch. 05 Claire turned to look at him, astonished, seeing his eyes burning into hers. Then he was gone, stalking around to her side of the car. He yanked the door open, pulled her out, and pushed her up against the car, devouring her mouth greedily. She moaned helplessly into his mouth, feeling his hardness against her hip and waves of obliterating arousal crashing over her. The searing heat of his kiss staved off some of the chill, but soon she was shivering in his arms. Pulling open the back door, he pushed her down onto the back seat. He followed, closing the door behind him and stretching over her. She reached for him, drawing him down to her and kissing him passionately. She heard his surprised moan as she did so; she so rarely made moves on him like this. Deciding to surprise him further, she undid his pants, reaching in to stroke his cock as she slid her skit up. He was harder than she'd ever felt him and she shuddered in pleasure as she ran her hand over him, squeezing gently. She slid her panties to the side and arched her hips up, engulfing him in her wetness. "Sebastien, please. I want you so badly." Too aroused to complain about what she called him, he plunged deeply into her, making her cry out. His hands were everywhere – in her hair, on her breasts, and finally on her hips, holding her down as he fucked her with long, hard strokes. The sensations built so quickly and all too soon she was exploding around him. For once, his cherished control was being held by too thin a thread and her pulsating around him drove him over the edge, whispering her name sweetly in her ear. Claire wormed her fingertips beneath his sweater to glide over Sebastien's chest. Her heartbeat was finally slowing and Sebastien was wrapping his arms around her again, holding her close. "Maestro, I'm just wondering –" "Do you really want to talk about this right now?" he asked seriously. "Maybe not, but I think just this one question is important. Did you mean what you said about not seeing yourself as the marrying type?" Sebastien was silent for a long moment, and Claire realized that she wasn't sure what she was hoping his answer would be. Truth was, she had never put much thought into marriage. It was just something she always assumed she would want. Could she live without it, if that's what he needed? Yes, maybe so. She'd have to think about it, but first she would need to know. "If you would like my honest answer...it is that I do not know. It was never one of my life's goals, particularly, and I never dated anyone that changed my mind." Claire felt that he was leaving something unsaid, but she merely nodded. "While we are on the topic, is it something that is important to you?" "Yes." It popped out of her mouth before she had a chance to think about what her answer would be. Sebastien looked as surprised as she knew she did, and she shrugged as best she could still pinned beneath him. "I guess it is. But...not right now. Right now I'd like to go back to our flat...so you can punish me." "Punish you?" he asked, shocked. "What ever for?" "For blowing things out of proportion, I guess." "Mon abeille," he said, frowning down at her, "I think you were more than entitled to be upset with me for my outburst." "Sebastien," she cooed, fluttering her eyelashes and watching as he narrowed his eyes at her, "do you want to punish me, or not?" ----- At just ten minutes after one o'clock in the morning, Sebastien pulled their rented car smoothly into an underground parking garage near their building. Neither of them spoke as they moved quickly down the quiet side streets and up to their flat. They dropped the baggage inside the door and Sebastien grasped Claire's wrist, tugging it up and behind her back. She gasped, feeling a tremor run through her as she was pulled against the long line of his body. "Go into the bedroom. Undress. Kneel on the bed and wait for me." "Yes, Maestro," she answered softly, then turned and headed for the bedroom. She didn't even stop to turn on the light, just pulled her clothes off and knelt on the edge of the bed as she had done before. Her feet were tucked up underneath and her knees spread wide. To please him, she clasped her hands together behind her back, pushing her breasts forward slightly. The space between her shoulders started to ache almost immediately, and she lowered her hands until it eased. In the parlor, she heard some faint scuffling sounds and something wooden being slid back. He was going to play. Of course he was. What would it be tonight? Rachmaninoff, dark and brooding. She wasn't sure which pieces they were, but she recognized the style, all right. He played about fifteen minutes, during which her inner thighs grew achy and tired, and the anticipation of his return made her sex grow warm and heavy between her legs. Just as she was beginning to think she would have to risk his anger to get him into the bedroom, the music abruptly stopped. For one moment, he was framed in the doorway. Then, he turned off the lights and everything was deadly dark. She could barely hear him moving, but his hands found her nipples in the dark, rolling them firmly between his fingertips as she cried out. Sensation sparked in them as he pulled them away from her body and she struggled to stay upright. Sebastien let go suddenly, returning with a blindfold that he fastened around her eyes. Through it, she could perceive the bedroom lights being turned on but she saw nothing. "Grab hold of your ankles and do not let go," he ordered. She reached back, grasping her ankles. No sooner had she done this than she felt the leather tendrils of the Stinger, her favorite flogger, trailing over her breasts. The ticklish sensation raised goose bumps on her skin before he pulled it away and then there was a sharp, stinging pain as he struck her with it. He repeated it over and over – tickle, swish, thwack! – until Claire was writhing, panting, moaning with pleasure. "Maestro, please..." "Shut your mouth," he said firmly. "Turn over." She scrambled out of her position, scarcely noting the way her muscles complained as she turned onto her stomach in the dark. Sebastien slipped her leather cuffs onto her wrists and then tied them together, hooking them to the bed. Then she felt nothing for several long minutes. She wanted to speak, but held her tongue. It was so quiet that she heard the swishing noise the Stinger made before it cracked across her buttocks. Sebastien held nothing back and soon the skin all over her backside was tingling ferociously. She tugged against her bindings, moaning softly. The Stinger clattered onto the floor and she felt Sebastien kneeling on the bed beside her head. He wound his fingers in her hair, tugging firmly until it was nearly painful. "Open," he said, and when her lips parted he thrust his cock into her waiting mouth. She felt him, soft skin like velvet-covered steel, and ran her tongue over him. He tasted good, the salt of his skin melting on her tongue. His thrusting grew more urgent and she could hardly keep up with him. Of course, without the use of her hands there wasn't anything she could do anyway. Still, he was moving faster than her brain could process, occasionally bumping against the soft flesh of her throat. At last, she felt a shudder run through him and he withdrew from her mouth. Sliding onto the bed with her, he drew her up and onto his lap, tucking his head between her tied arms so that her forearms rested on his shoulders. Without warning he plunged into her and she gasped, feeling him so deep inside her. Her body was on fire, and the heat of his cheek against hers did nothing to cool her down. Her hips bumped against his with each thrust, and shivers of pleasure ran through her. When she came – and she would, soon – it was going to be big. She could feel it. Sebastien's hands ran down to back to cup her buttocks, pulling her in close to him. He wrapped one arm around her lower back until she was pinned up against him, unable to move except for the bare flexing of her hips to keep time with his strokes. "Oh, Maestro," she murmured into his ear, feeling herself at the tipping point. Apparently Sebastien felt it as well because he tightened his hold on her, pushing his hips more firmly into hers until she cried out. "Yes, Claire...my Claire, come for me," he whispered sweetly, and she felt herself coming apart at the seams. In the absence of movement, her muscles tensed and released rhythmically with her as she fell hard, tightening around him and making him hiss out a breath. With a few short thrusts he was following her down, emptying himself into her with a low groan. "Well, mon abeille, do you feel adequately punished?" he asked, smiling against her cheek as he reached behind them to untie her wrists. "Mmm," she responded, draping her arms around Sebastien and resting her head on his shoulder. He removed her blindfold, tossing it carelessly off the bed somewhere and cuddled her in close to him. "Is that a yes?" he asked again, with some amusement. "Mmm." It was the best she could do. She was suddenly so tired. When Sebastien started to move, she whined softly in protest, and he clucked his tongue at her disapprovingly. "I am only going to lie down," he murmured, and shifted them both until they were horizontal. She was asleep before he pulled the covers up over them. ----- The crush of people dissipated quickly as Sebastien made his way through the airport. He'd brought all of his luggage on the plane and was glad to escape the baggage carousel, but then any semblance of a good mood he had disappeared as soon as he made it outside. The hiring committee had sent him a car just as they had promised, and they had also, apparently, sent a surprise: Julia was leaning up against the car watching for him. At that moment, he truly considered turning around and going back into the airport to buy a ticket home. He felt badly enough keeping information from Claire, and having to spend time alone with his potentially-still-interested ex-girlfriend was not his idea of a good time. It wasn't that he would be tempted into anything; Julia was still quite pretty, of course, but he just wasn't interested in her anymore. Claire was, well...she was his everything. They'd had a few rocky moments – the argument at Christmas stuck out in his recent memory – but he couldn't remember being so happy before. So why was he even still applying for this job? At moments, he wasn't even sure he had a good reason anymore. He just couldn't reconcile giving up the best opportunity he might have in years. If he and Claire were meant to be, wouldn't they find a way to stay together? Then Julia spotted him, and he remembered where he was and what he was there to do. Interviews with the hiring committee and running through some rehearsals with the orchestra to see what it would be like working with them. "Michi!" she squealed, running over to take his arm and lead him to the car. He frowned down at her; he'd always hated that nickname. It was short for his middle name, "Michel," and she'd called him that for most of the time they'd dated. "Julia," he said softly, "call me Sebastien, please." "Aww, but I always called you Michi," she pouted. "And I always hated it," he reminded her. She pursed her lips, then said, "You're less fun than you used to be." "We have not seen each other in many years. You are being a bit too familiar, do you not think so?" Her easy smile disappeared as she dropped her hands away from his arm. "Fine. I just thought you might like to, you know, pick up where we left off." Sebastien looked down at her, very aware that he must have a baffled expression on his face. "That is not possible." "Yeah, I guess not. Maybe just a drink, then?" "I think that would be fine," he said, though he was not at all certain. The music was soft and jazzy in the hotel lounge and the lights darkened, unobtrusive. If it hadn't been in the hotel Sebastien was staying at, he might have thought Julia had chosen it deliberately. He slid into one of the burgundy leather booths, unreasonably pleased and relieved when Julia sat across from him rather than trying to bump up beside him. The waiter appeared almost immediately to take their drink orders. "Gin and tonic, please," Sebastien said. "Make it two." The waiter scuttled away and Julia examined her fingernails for a moment before she spoke. "You really do seem different than I remember." "It has been nearly ten years," he said, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. "Why should I be the same?" "It's just that you're so much quieter, so much more reserved." "Truly, I am not. I have always been this way. I believe you took it as a challenge and set out to change that fact. As I recall, you simply ignored my silent protestations until I acquiesced." Julia was quiet even longer this time, sliding her eyes away as if embarrassed. "Yes, well, that does sound like me," she admitted. "But come on, we did have fun, didn't we?" "We did, yes." "So why can't we have it again?" "I hope that you are not telling me that, after all this time, you are still stuck on me..." "I don't know. I guess I just sort of have always seen you as the one that got away," she replied, much more serious now. "I didn't realize how good I had it." "You have had relationship problems?" "Something like that," she said vaguely. The waiter returned with their drinks and she stirred hers absentmindedly with her straw, taking a few sips. "But anyway," she said cheerfully, "what's new with you? Tell me all about living on the other side of the country!" "It has been beyond my expectations. The city is beautiful, the orchestra performs admirably, the people are supportive, the weather –" "How is your new soloist working out?" she interrupted. Sebastien hesitated slightly before saying, "She is a lovely girl, and an excellent performer." "Mmhmm...we heard that she was very young." "Not...not so very young," he faltered. "And of course, quite talented and poised for her age." "Hmmm," she grinned at him. "I do not know what you are suggesting," he said, more stiffly than he intended since she was, of course, obviously quite right in her hinted speculations. Julia's eyes widened; the picture of innocence. "Besides, she is not..." he muttered, not sure how to finish his sentence. "Oh, but there is someone?" "There is...someone. Yes." "Well you could have just told me that in the first place and I would have left you alone." She rolled her eyes. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to use the ladies room." "Of course," he murmured, feeling uncomfortable and a little bit stupid. When she had gone, he blew out a breath and drained his drink. Of course he could have just told her. He was making a lot of trouble out of nothing, and if he didn't watch out, it was going to make even more trouble for him. His secret must not come out. Not here, not now. His phone buzzed, and he answered without looking at it. "Hello?" "Mon ami, how is everything? Did you make it okay?" "Oh, hello, René. Everything is fine so far. Julia came to pick me up at the airport and we are having a drink before I turn in for the night." The disapproval on the other end was so resounding that he could almost hear it. René, always the moralist, had already thought he was a bit of a jerk for lying to Claire, and he supposed that having a drink with an ex-girlfriend only compounded his offenses. "René?" "I do not know what you are thinking, but whatever it is, perhaps you should think again." "It is nothing," he said with a heavy sigh. "She knows I am dating someone and this is all in innocence, I swear it to you." "If you think it is innocent to lie to a sweet girl who loves you more than anything else..." "Please," he cut in exasperatedly, "not this again. I am well aware of your opinions regarding mon abeille but if you recall your meddling was not so well received last time that you should think of starting it up again. I will thank you to please leave us to our own business." "I do not like lying for you," René said curtly. "Then I shall stop telling you all my secrets." "Perhaps you should." "Mon frère, let's not fight, please. It is unpleasant." A brief silence. "Very well, I apologize. But you must understand, I only say what I feel because I care about you and I want to see you happy. I think you are making a mistake – perhaps several of them – but if you wish me to keep my peace, then that is what I will do." "It is, thank you." "Have you at least told Claire that you are on the ground again?" "Yes, of course," Sebastien said, a bit impatiently. "I shall call you again when I know more. Now I must say goodbye," he added, seeing Julia walk back into the room. He ended the call and dropped the phone back into his pocket. As Julia approached the table, he stood abruptly and inclined his head down toward her. "I should be getting to sleep. It has been a long and tiring day, I am afraid." "Of course," she murmured, looking a little disappointed. "Maybe we can see each other later this week? You still have my number, I hope." "Yes, perhaps so. Good night." He headed upstairs, feeling vaguely as if he had escaped. ----- Claire was in a strange mood. She wasn't sure what it was; perhaps it was the first day of full, unobscured sunshine that year so far. Or perhaps it was the late winter blossoms fragrant on the air. Whatever it was, it made Claire feel giddy and restless. She was prancing around Sebastien's apartment in her favorite new set of lingerie: old-fashioned, high-waisted shorts and a skimpy bra top, both in plum-colored silk trimmed with cream lace. She had just brushed out her auburn waves until they were shiny and soft, tumbling down over her shoulders. Probably she should go back home, but they had rehearsal that afternoon and Claire had to admit she was getting to be quite comfortable in Sebastien's apartment. Just knowing that he was nearby made her happy...and where was he now, anyway? His office, of course. He had spent so much time there lately, alone, admonishing her to leave him to his work. She had noticed how snippy and anxious he seemed to be these days, and she didn't like it, but he wouldn't talk to her about it. He was in there when she entered, sitting at his desk and making notes in one score while flipping through a stack of papers. "Good morning, Maestro! Isn't it just the most lovely morning?" He glanced up at her, startled, and the look on his face nearly made her burst out laughing. He looked at her as if he had never seen her before, and perhaps her enthusiasm was a little bit unusual, but she was just in such a cheery mood. "It is very nice, yes." He seemed a bit impatient to get back to work. "It's stuffy in here, though. Let's get the windows open!" "I don't think..." Claire flung open the windows, ignoring his protestations, thrilled to feel the gust of cool air blow into the room. Her nipples puckered in the sudden chill, but her momentary delight at capturing Sebastien's attention turned to dismay when the papers blew off his desk and scattered around the room. "Oops..." She bent to retrieve the papers, wiggling her ass in Sebastien's general direction. The window shut with a bang behind her and she jumped, startled. "Claire," he said firmly as she returned the stack to his desk, "please, if you would like to stay until rehearsal tonight you are free to do so. But you must not distract me while I work. Go downstairs." She pouted over at him, about the flounce out of the room when she changed her mind. Looking up at him defiantly, she crossed her arms over her chest. "No." "What do you mean, no?" His brow furrowed, but she grinned up at him cheekily. The Soprano Ch. 05 "You heard me." "You are asking for trouble." "What are you going to do about it?" Sebastien sighed, dropping back into his desk chair and flipping his score open again. "Nothing," he said quietly, turning back to his work. Claire went to stand next to him, her smile dropping away. She threw her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek in another unprecedented show of affection. "Mon abeille, really..." he protested. "Come on," she wheedled. "You know you want to." "What do I want to do?" "That...that thing...that you want to do." "Right now what I want to do is work, and I want you to go away so that I can concentrate." "I won't. And you can't make me." Sebastien's eyes fluttered shut, his lips pressed together in annoyance. "Oh, I cannot?" he growled. "No," she whispered triumphantly. He took one deep breath, then another, and finally took hold of her arms firmly. Moving them away from his neck, he pushed her back from him. "Suit yourself," he said blandly, picking up his pen. What the hell? Obviously Sebastien was getting a whole lot better at controlling himself, which didn't do her a whole hell of a lot of good. By now her body was buzzing with anticipation and, yes, arousal. "Damn it, Sebastien, all you do anymore is work!" she cried, sounding whiny and petulant and hating it. In a second, she saw his eyes flash with – what, guilt? – and then he was yanking her over his lap, bringing his palm down on her again and again. The stinging was immediate and warmth spread all over her body, lighting her up with pleasure so intense she wasn't sure she could stand it. She struggled reflexively, but his arm pressing down firmly on her back kept her in place while he spanked her. His hand stilled after ten strokes, sliding over her buttocks gently. She whimpered a little beneath this new soft touch, inhaling sharply in surprise when he whisked her shorts down. He untied her bra top and slid it out from under her; she writhed, feeling the silk rubbing against her hard nipples. When she was naked on his lap, he spanked her again. Ten more strokes, until she knew her buttocks would be bright pink, and Sebastien caressed her again. Then he pushed her up off his lap, grabbed up her bra top, and tied it firmly around her head, gagging her with the silk material. She took a shocked breath, relieved that she could, in fact, still breathe easily. Probably could talk, too, if she wanted to, but obviously he wanted her quiet. So quiet she would remain. "You are very trying sometimes, Claire," he said, still sounding irritated. He took her wrist and dragged her over to the corner of the room, then slid his belt off. Pulling her wrists behind her back, he looped the belt around them and then around the lamp in the corner before fastening it tightly. He looked at her, finally giving her a little smile as she glared back at him. Sliding his hand between her thighs, she felt sparks of electric pleasure as his palm bumped against her. She tried to push her hips back against him, feeling close to coming already as his fingers plumbed her tight wetness. "Ahh, ahh...no," he murmured, withdrawing his fingers. "I think not. Now, I do not know if you will be any less distracting all naked and aroused in the corner of my office, but at least you will be quiet. You will," he added warningly, "be quiet...?" Claire nodded vigorously. Apparently satisfied, Sebastien returned to his work. For thirty minutes Claire stood as patiently as possible, very aware of her arousal dampening her inner thighs. In the absence of other thoughts, she imagined over and over what Sebastien might do to her when he finally untied her. She squeezed her thighs together unconsciously as she watched him work, thinking how amazingly sexy he looked when he concentrated. She sighed wistfully watching his brow furrow, his fingers tunnel through his hair, his eyes narrow in absorption with his task. He must have heard her because he glanced at her suddenly, letting his eyes linger over her body. Seeing that she had captured his attention for the moment, Claire realized that her legs were getting a bit tired just standing there. So she slid down, very carefully, until her naked buttocks rested on the wood floor. Then, keeping eye contact with him, she spread her knees open, exposing herself to his view. He shook his head, amused. "Always trouble, aren't you?" he said, half to himself. "Well, it is fine by me if you sit as long as you are quiet." He turned back to his work, giving her occasional looks from the corner of his eye. At last, Claire was beginning to feel a little awkward with her legs akimbo, so she brought her knees back together until they bumped. That left her exposed still, but less so as she drew her heels up. She rested her cheek awkwardly on her knees, still watching him. He had become totally engrossed in his work again, and her heart twinged at the sight. Oh, she did love him. At last Sebastien set down his pen and stretched his arms up and back. He rubbed his hand across his forehead and Claire noticed for the first time that he seemed rather...well, tired. Maybe stressed. Both were pretty unusual for him, coming to think of it, and she wanted to know what was bothering him even more. Of course, she couldn't ask while gagged with her own bra, and he probably wouldn't tell her anyway. After all this time, he still valued his privacy. He came over and knelt beside her, loosening the belt and helping her to stand upright. Leading her over to the sofa, he motioned for her to sit back on it. When she had, he rubbed her shoulders absently, his mind elsewhere again. Claire leaned forward slightly, nuzzling into his shirt. She nudged it upward with her nose until she was able to slide her cheek along his stomach, feeling his soft hairs tickling her. His abdominal muscles tensed and rippled beneath her as he leaned down to kiss her tenderly. "I could remove this," he said, running his finger along the wet silk in her mouth, "but I admit I rather like it. Do you mind?" Claire blushed, shaking her head shyly. It was almost freeing – actually, not almost. It was freeing to not have to verbalize her desires, just as bondage freed her from having to decide how to move her body, just as being with Sebastien in general could free her from making choices. When in the rest of her life she had so many choices to make, being able to let go and relax into submitting to him, this man she loved and trusted, gave her so much peace. It was no wonder she provoked him into it whenever she could. He gently guided her hands up over her head and onto the back of the sofa, and she knew he wanted her to keep them there. Then he placed his hands on her ankles and spread them wide. "Oh, mon abeille, the things I want to do to you..." He dipped his head down between her legs, tracing his tongue up her inner thighs and licking up the moisture there. Slowly he moved up, up, to the juncture of her thighs where his tongue was so welcome. She tried to keep her hips still as he teased her, but it was so difficult when he made her feel so good. "I am going to make you come, Claire, on my tongue and my fingers." She blushed at his frank words, but he continued on. "And then I will fuck you until you scream, gag or no gag." She moaned softly when his fingers slid up inside her in one fluid motion, curling her toes under as he applied the flat of his tongue to her. He twisted his fingers inside her, rubbing against the most sensitive spots while he licked her rapidly. She was so aroused it took her under a minute to come, letting out a choked groan around her gag as her hips lifted. Sebastien withdrew his fingers from her, sliding them languidly across her lips before sucking them into his own mouth. His hands were shaking as he undid his shirt buttons. When he had dispatched his clothes, he gave his hard cock a stroke or two, which thrilled Claire to no end before he plunged into her. Pausing briefly, he untied her gag, tossing it over his shoulder as he leaned down to kiss her passionately. He nibbled her lower lip, licked along her tongue, and twisted his fingers in her hair until her body was alight with sensation. She was already so sensitive that her skin felt like it was on fire, and when Sebastien's mouth trailed down her neck she knew it wouldn't be long before she fulfilled his desire. His hands ran roughly up her body to cup her breasts, pulling gently on her nipples as her hips bucked beneath him. Then he bit down on the nape of her neck and she was undone. She cried out into the room as she exploded around him, underneath him, letting go of the sofa to hold him close to her. His thrusts sped up and drove her up higher and higher until he, too, was coming, squeezing his eyes shut and willing the moment to last. They were very still for a few seconds before Sebastien blew out a breath and maneuvered himself onto the couch beneath Claire. He pulled her down, her head resting on his chest, and rubbed the red marks on her cheeks with some embarrassment. "I did not intend to mark you this morning," he muttered. "It'll fade. Besides," she replied, "I like it when you mark me." She nuzzled his chest hair, smelling the faded scent of his cologne and beneath that, him. "Maybe you want to mark me somewhere else before we go to rehearsal today?" "Do you never get enough?" he asked with his eyebrows raised. "Nuh-uh, I don't think I do." ----- It wasn't until mid-February that the choral season begun again. Sebastien had chosen to push back the opener because of the ambitious program he had chosen – ambitious, that is, when rehearsals had to fit into the long winter break usually given the orchestra and local choirs. So insistent was he that this should be the season opener, both orchestra and choir had begun rehearsing for it even before their final concert in December. It was very unusual, but he was – as usual – quite persistent and very sure it would be a success. What better way, after all, to begin a series of concerts on the theme of life than to begin with Joseph Haydn's 1798 masterpiece oratorio The Creation? Choirmaster Aaron wasn't so sure the choir could handle it, and there had been a bit of good-natured grumbling from the orchestra, but Claire wasn't bothered by it. She always studied her music during summer and winter breaks anyway, so it wasn't anything different for her. Besides – and even more importantly – she was over the moon about performing the roles of the angel Gabriel and of Eve in the oratorio. Okay, so she was pretty much always excited about her parts considering how completely gorgeous they were. But even she could admit there was something special about the soprano aria in "No. 15," in which she sings about the creation of birds. And the choir parts, almost uniformly in major chords, just so joyous and beautiful – well, Claire agreed with Sebastien. Whatever the work required, it would be a smashing opening set. Tonight was the night, finally the night. Claire had purchased a new dress especially for the concert: a long, pale yellow chiffon dress with a sweetheart neckline and subtle crystalline beading just underneath the bust. It tickled the tops of her feet and made her feel just like an angel. She put an extra curl into her hair and piled it neatly on top of her head, tugging out stray tendrils to brush her cheeks and the back of her neck. Just a little makeup, and a glance in the mirror surprised her – she looked so young. Her age, actually, and very sweet. A knock on the door startled her and before she could ask who it was, the door opened. But no one came in. She turned and saw Sebastien in the doorway, his lips parted as he stared at her. A soft blush rose to her cheeks under his scrutiny and she gave him a little smile. "Please, stay just as you are," he said softly. "I want to remember the way you look right now forever." "Geez...take a picture, why don't you?" "An even better idea," he replied solemnly. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture, much to her surprise. "So, you like my dress then?" she asked, picking up the skirt and twirling in a circle. "Very much. But if I may ask, where are your shoes?" "Oh, well, um...I...I couldn't really find any that I liked with the dress and I just thought that, well...Eve was barefoot in the Garden of Eden..." "Eve," he said darkly, walking toward her slowly, "was also naked in the Garden of Eden." The door shut with a snap behind him and she shivered. He closed the distance between them in an instant, pressing her up against the wall and giving her ticklish nuzzles down her neck. "Mmm I might not mind performing naked, but I didn't think you would like it." "Indeed, I would find it very...tantalizing, but also very distracting. Incidentally, what are you wearing underneath your dress?" "Perhaps I'll let you find out at intermission," she said, scooting away from him and toward the door. "Right now, I think it's show time." Turning with a soft groan, he replied, "So it is. Well then, my angel, my Eve, lead on." "Oh, what the hell," she muttered, pulling her dress all the way up so that he could see that she wore absolutely nothing underneath the layers of chiffon. Dropping the dress back into place, she giggled at his look of absolute shock as she opened the door and flitted away toward the auditorium. Oh yes, it was going to be a fun night. The Soprano Ch. 06 Note: Another thank you for the everlasting patience of my readers. This is still not yet the last installment - it's been quite difficult with writer's block and my new job. But! Rehearsal has started up again, so.... On a different note, I am thinking of doing a revision of this story (all 7 chapters) and I would love to get some constructive feedback (via email) from people who liked the story. What would you have liked to see more of, or less of - that kind of thing. Thanks, and hope you enjoy! ----- A sudden breeze kicked up, blowing wet cherry blossoms and pale green leaves onto the sidewalk. Claire swept her hair out of her face and ducked into the little café nearby. Sebastien was waiting for her already and she went to join him. He stood, embracing her affectionately and taking her coat. "I took the liberty of ordering for us both; I hope that is all right." "Sure, you know what I like," she said, realizing her double entendre after she'd spoken. They traded secretive smiles as a waiter strode up with two glasses of white wine and a small plate of potato croquettes. "So...your guest conducting trip is coming up soon, I guess?" "Yes, next month," he said guardedly. "You're sure I can't come?" When he frowned she hurriedly added, "I know you said I couldn't because our relationship is still a secret, but...really, how is anyone here going to find out what we're doing over there?" "You would be surprised, mon abeille, how well word travels." "Okay, but I don't like it." "Why not?" "You know why not. I miss you like crazy when you're gone." It was amazing to both of them that only a year before she probably would rather have died than admit that she would miss him. What she wouldn't admit to him was that there was another reason that she was bothered. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she felt like he wasn't quite telling her the whole truth. Perhaps it was his evasive attitude when he mentioned his trips, or the fact that there was no record of his guest conducting on the other symphony's calendar. When she'd mentioned it, he had muttered something about private performances or lax calendaring or some such nonsense. It bothered her, but she really wanted to trust him. Well. She did trust him. ----- "You asked to see me, Maestro?" Claire stepped into Sebastien's office after rehearsal. It had gotten rather late, since rehearsal had run over and she'd had to wait until everyone else had left. "Mmm, indeed I did," he said shortly. "I will require your presence in my apartment tomorrow evening, promptly at five o'clock." Claire bristled at the commanding tone, but also felt herself growing warm with arousal. Being told what to do could be such a tantalizing form of foreplay. "What for?" "I am having René to dinner and I need you there to serve." "Hmmph. I don't think –" "I am not interested in your arguments. If you do not want to do me this favor, I will find someone else who can do the job. Either way, I will have a beautiful servant girl at our disposal for the evening." He slanted her a look and she pursed her lips in annoyance, understanding. "You could have at least warned me," she grumbled. "I am telling you now, and you do not even need to get ready before you come over. I have everything you will need at my flat." "Fine. What's the occasion, if I'm allowed to know?" "It is his birthday," he replied dismissively, as if she should have already known. "Why didn't you tell me? I haven't gotten him anything." "Do not worry, mon abeille," he said with a sly smile, "it has all been taken care of." ----- At ten to five, Claire was knocking at Sebastien's door. It swung open immediately and she was whisked inside and into his arms for a single smoldering kiss. He pulled back, smiling at her wide-eyed expression. "Thank you for doing this. René is very special to me and I have never felt adequately able to thank him for the friendship he has given me over the years, and especially since he has been here. What I have planned tonight...well, it has been somewhat of a fantasy for him, but you can imagine how difficult it would be to pull off. It is not something you simply ask of just any girl." "You could pay a girl to do it." "It is not the same as having a woman who loves you consent to submit to your will. I want to give René the same feeling that I have every day that I am with you." "But you said it's not the same as a...woman who loves you." She stopped short. "You think I love him." "And you do..." he said softly. "Not like I love you," she protested. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to feel uncomfortable about this or not. Sebastien was the one who kept involving René, after all, even if she was the one who had asked him to stay the night months ago after their evening out together. It didn't feel uncomfortable, though. It just felt like somehow it was supposed to be this way. Sebastien stroked her cheek gently and gave her a little smile. "No, but you do. Come, this is not really new information. Let us go get you ready for tonight." His smile grew wider and excitement flashed in his eyes as he turned to head upstairs. Claire followed, beginning to wonder if perhaps this was as much his fantasy as René's. He led her into the bathroom, where a hot, foamy bath had already been drawn. When she went to disrobe he placed his hands over hers, stilling them. Then he started unbuttoning her shirt. It was all part of the game. Sebastien looked her over when she was finally naked, probably weighing whether he had time to ravish her before she bathed. Apparently deciding against it, he held out his hand and helped her into the bathtub. It was pleasantly warm and smelled of vanilla and spices. Sebastien removed his shirt and leaned over the side of the tub, shampooing her hair gently. Claire shivered under the attention of his fingers, feeling goose bumps breaking out all over her skin. He slicked her hair up with thick, sweet-smelling conditioner, pinning it up on the back of her head while he washed her head to toe. Then he rinsed out her hair again in fresh warm water before helping her back out of the bathtub and drying her off with a fluffy towel. He braided her hair deftly and intricately, keeping it up against her scalp and out of the way. Finally, his eyes lit up as he grabbed a small glass bottle of amber liquid. He poured a pool of it into his palm, rubbed his hands together, and began sliding them over her skin. From the tops of her shoulders to the tops of her feet, he smoothed the thick, spicy oil until her skin was glistening and fragrant. The look in his eyes and the touch of his hands had definitely turned her on, so when he at last slid his fingers between her legs, her hips bucked forward as she moaned softly. Sebastien tapped the pads of his fingers against her rapidly and she leaned forward to grasp his shoulder for support. Her lower abdomen was tightening, she was getting closer, closer...then he stopped. "No!" she gasped. "Do you want to come, mon abeille?" he asked slyly. "Yes, yes please, Maestro, please." Sebastien trailed his fingertips down between her legs again and she whimpered. "No, I am afraid not. It is nearly six. Come, we need to dress you." Claire followed him back into the bedroom on shaky legs. She didn't see any clothes laid out for her, only a suit for him to wear. Sebastien was picking up a long, thin chain from the bed. Asking her to hold one end up behind her neck, he carefully wound it around her breasts, belly, and hips before running it up her back to fasten it. It was a pretty golden chain glittering with sparkling crystals. He clasped smaller chains around her wrists, clipped together by a chain about ten inches long, and then repeated this with her ankles and a slightly longer chain so that she could walk without too much difficulty. A slim chain collar went around her neck that nothing was attached to. Just for show, she supposed. Finally, Sebastien produced a small length of chain with clips at either end that he attached to her nipples – as gently as possible without sliding off. It pinched slightly, but wasn't too bad. Standing back, he surveyed his work. "There," he murmured. "Quite nice." "Nice?" she echoed softly, dropping her gaze down to the floor as she knew she should. "Sexy, alluring, and perfect, already with the right attitude. I know this will be an evening to remember. Undress me, please." "Undress...?" "Certainly, I must get dressed for this evening." Claire kept her eyes down and trailed her fingers down the center of his button-down shirt, already rolled up at the elbows from washing her. She unbuttoned the buttons one by one, slowly, her fingers trembling as she pushed the sleeves down his arms. She fumbled slightly with the zipper of his pants, but was at last able to slide them down his long legs with shaking hands. She couldn't understand why it was affecting her so much. He was naked, and she was essentially naked, and yet there was nothing exactly sexual about what they were doing. She was just undressing him. Still just the sight of him made the arousal blow through her like a warm breeze. On impulse she knelt down, kissing his soft cock and nuzzling the hollow in his hipbone. "Claire," he breathed, swallowing his words as she took him into her mouth. She ran her tongue up and down his rapidly thickening length and he let out a soft breath above her head. Sebastien slid his fingers down her hair, pulling her gently away from him with an obvious sigh of regret. "Dress me, please." Claire nodded, retrieving his clothes and dressing him piece by piece. She moved methodically, smoothing down each crease as she went. Really, she should do this more often. At last he was dressed in charcoal grey slacks and jacket with a deep burgundy shirt open at the neck. She went to draw her hands behind her back and found herself tugging at the chain between her wrists. Her hands dropped down in front of her and she threaded her fingers together, unsure of her next move. "Are you hungry?" Sebastien asked. "No, Maestro. I ate early tonight." "Good, good. Everything for our meal will be prepared and ready for you in the kitchen. You will be responsible for keeping our glasses filled and anything else we might need. Just like a good hostess, but silently, eyes down. Please refer to René as Sir, respectfully, if spoken to. Understand?" "Perfectly, Maestro." "Then we shall go downstairs and await our guest." He gestured for her to lead, and she preceded him downstairs, noticing for the first time a soft satin cushion near the front door. Without being asked she knelt on it – a bit awkwardly with her ankle chains – and bowed her head. Sebastien gave her hair an affectionate stroke and then disappeared toward the back of his flat, flicking on the stereo and checking that the table was set. Soft, exotic-sounding music floated from the speakers and Claire let her mind wander blankly. Before too long there was a knock at the door and Sebastien came back out to open it. Claire stayed on her knees, unsure of her responsibility but fairly certain that a show of quiet docility wouldn't be displeasing. Two pairs of shoes soon appeared in her field of vision, and she heard René speaking softly above her. "Mon ami, I think you have outdone yourself," he said breathlessly. "Indeed, I was just thinking that I should have her do this every time I host a dinner party." Both men laughed softly and Claire frowned inwardly. Though she knew he never really held dinner parties, it simultaneously annoyed and aroused her that he would even consider it. "Come, girl, take our guest's coat." Claire stood silently and tugged gently on René's jacket, pulling it off and going to hang it up in the closet. René and Sebastien headed for the little dining room in the back of his flat and she followed along, detouring into the kitchen to pick up bottles of wine and water to fill their glasses with. For an hour she stood in the corner of the dining room dressed only in her chains in front of the wide window. She filled their glasses and brought them plates of food and was otherwise completely ignored. Astonishingly, she found that she loved every minute of it. Her whole body was hot and primed for whatever might come next as she cleared away the last of the dishes. When she returned to the dining room, René beckoned to her and she approached timidly. "Sir?" "Sit on my lap." Before she could even answer, René had grasped her waist and pulled her smoothly onto his lap. He continued talking to Sebastien in French as he held his wine glass up to her lips and bade her drink. She sipped the cool, sweet liquid, her breath hitching as he tugged gently on the chain that connected her nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through her. This time, Sebastien refilled René's glass. René took a drink of wine and then turned to kiss Claire, sharing the liquid with her. Some droplets spilled out and dripped onto her breasts, beading up on her oiled skin and rolling down onto the carpet. He took another sip, and then another, passing each to her until the glass was empty and her head was starting to swim. Sebastien refilled the glass again and before long her head was buzzing. Claire shifted in his lap, suddenly feeling him against her, hard and ready. She let out a soft gasp, turning to him without thinking and looking him in the eyes. Before she dropped her eyes again she saw the dark excitement in his. He lifted her to her feet and without a word walked toward the guest bedroom, flicking his hand behind him to summon her. She glanced behind her at Sebastien, who nodded. What, he was leaving her to go in and be alone with René? That hadn't been part of the plan, had it? She hesitated and he came to stand beside her, bending his head down to her. "I shall be there in five minutes, no longer. Now go, and be a good girl," he said, emphasizing this with a gentle tug on her nipple chain. Claire turned obediently and followed after René, who was waiting for her. He beckoned to her and she stepped over to him, melting into the kiss he gave her. "Undress me," he whispered against her lips, and she shivered. For the second time in one night she was sliding clothes off a man, piece by piece, leaving him naked before her. But this time, she thought with hot cheeks, sex was definitely on the agenda, as evidenced by the hard cock bobbing gently at her eye level as she bent over to remove the last of his clothing. "Go on, cherie, onto the bed," he said, his voice soft and seductive. Claire crawled into the center of the bed, unnerved by the feral look in his eyes. He had always been the easygoing, relaxed one, and she wondered vaguely if he would be irritated when Sebastien at last returned. But she was distracted when René knelt in front of her and unclipped her wrist and ankle chains before pulling her legs apart. He dipped his head down to kiss her as he rubbed the head of his cock against her entrance, coating himself in her wetness. Thrusting his hips forward, he plunged deeply inside, making her cry out beneath him. "Alone with you...I never thought it to happen," he said softly. "I want to hear you call out my name." "René," she whispered out. "Louder," he said, sliding in and out of her and tugging on the chain that connected her nipples. He leaned down to nip along the top of her shoulder and she whimpered helplessly. Slipping his fingers between them, the sudden pressure on her made everything tighten inside her and she knew it would not be long before she came. René's eyes lit up and he began pounding into her powerfully. "When I make you come, I want you to be screaming my name," he murmured. After a few more thrusts, he suddenly pulled out and ducked down between her legs to lash against her with his tongue. She threw her head back in pleasure, but was jerked back down when he tugged against her chain again more cruelly. She understood; he wanted her to watch him between her legs. The sight of his blond waves and the intense look in his eyes threw her over the edge and she came, calling out his name. He scrambled up the bed and grasped her to roll her over on top of him. Just before he did, she caught a glimpse of Sebastien leaning against the doorjamb, watching with an inscrutable look on his face. The feeling of René's cock entering her again from below tore her attention back to him as sensations shivered over her skin. But then she felt movement on the bed behind her and it was Sebastien's fingers encircling her hips and touching her, vaulting up toward another orgasm. Almost before she could catch another breath she was twisting her hips against him, crying out wordlessly as he strummed his fingertips against her. René was gripping her upper thighs tightly, lifting her off him before he, too, succumbed to the rush of feeling. She knelt over his legs, trying to catch her breath as Sebastien began talking behind her. At first the words completely escaped her but soon she was able to focus on them, looking curiously at the objects he'd brought with him: some leather straps with an attached rubbery protrusion. When she recognized it, she blushed and shook her head. Oh, geez. But at the same time, she wondered why they had never tried it before. Sebastien threaded the leather straps around her, and she grinned despite her embarrassment at the firm silicone cock jutting from between her legs. "Now I understand why you didn't tell me about this ahead of time," she said to him. "Hmm?" he asked distractedly, still tightening the straps. "Because I would have wanted to practice on you." Sebastien looked up at this, frowning, and she knew she was right. Too bad, because it would have been fun. Wordlessly, he handed her a bottle of lubricant, and she knew what to do. She glanced at René, looking for all the world as if his wildest dream had just come true, and she guessed it was about to. She slicked up their new toy, using the excess to work one of her fingers inside him to prepare the way. His hips lifted reflexively and he sighed out softly. Finally, she gripped his hips and pulled herself close to him, watching the excitement mount on his face. Claire moved forward slowly, watching as the toy was buried inside René inch by inch. He moaned out blissfully below her, and it was a very odd sensation indeed to be the one doing the penetrating for a change. It was a sensation she found quite pleasing, though. She pulled her hips back out slowly and thrust in a bit harder, then repeated it, enjoying herself and the effect it had on René. She was able to keep up a fairly steady pace, but before long a slow ache began in her thighs. She just wasn't used to this kind of motion. Looking behind her at Sebastien, she shrugged one shoulder, silently asking for his advice. His lips twitched in amusement, but he leaned over as he began unbuttoning his shirt. "I can help you out with that," he said. "Mmkay, good," she said, not connecting the very obvious dots. When he was naked, Sebastien knelt behind her and thrust his cock into her without warning. She was so wet, but still very sensitive and gasped with the rush of feeling. He cradled her in his arms protectively as his hips bumped against hers, helping her to slide in and out of René, who was looking very pleased indeed at the new arrangement. He wrapped his long legs around them so that they were all connected somehow. Claire reached down with her still-slick hand and grasped René's cock, stroking it in time with Sebastien's thrusting. It had never felt so big in her hand, and it was hard as a steel rod. His hips bucked beneath her and Sebastien sped up behind her, gripping her hips almost painfully to drive her into René, who was cursing softly in French. She added a second hand, twisting them both around his cock and he let out a low moan as he came suddenly. The Soprano Ch. 06 When he blinked open his eyes, Claire lifted a hand to her mouth and delicately licked off his come. He grinned at the sight, gently extricating himself from the others and sitting up at the head of the bed. Sebastien was still inside her but had stopped moving. He just caressed her stomach, running his fingers over the chains crisscrossing her. She was about to say something, but he spoke first. "It seems very much as if our girl here has quite forgotten her place with her speaking and moving about freely." Claire turned to look indignantly at him – she'd thought the game was over. He looked back at her seriously. As her eyes widened, she felt his still-hard cock pulse within her and she squirmed. She turned to appeal to René silently for support, but the lazy smile on his face told her that he was more than happy to cooperate with whatever Sebastien had on his mind. "I think you are right, mon ami." Claire scowled at René and his smile grew wider. "What shall we do about it, do you think?" "You are, as they say, the boss." "So I am. Very well, I shall think of something. In the meantime..." He gestured toward René. "You did such a lovely job cleaning off your own hand, go ahead and finish the job." Claire hesitated. It would hardly be the first time, but being ordered to do it was something else entirely. "Do you have a problem?" he asked softly in her ear. She looked toward René, waiting for her answer patiently. "No, Maestro," she finally answered. "Then do as you are told," he said, sliding his fingers along the chain that connected her nipples and pulling downward gently as a warning. Claire bent over, running her tongue from René's knee up his inner thigh to his softened cock now lying prone on his leg. Her tongue flicked over him everywhere he was still damp and sticky, tasting the bitter tang of their combined juices on his skin. She spent a bit longer between his thighs than she needed to, which Sebastien was clearly aware of as he soon grasped her braided hair and jerked her back up to her knees. "That is enough of that," he said, pulling out of her suddenly and coming to stand in front of her. His implication was clear. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to put a kink in his plans by doing such a good job that she made him come in her mouth. He was being kind of a dick, after all. But of course, as soon as the thought came to her Sebastien saw it shadowed in her eyes. "Behave," he warned. Claire merely gave him a demure smile before closing her lips around his cock and sliding forward until it bumped against the back of her throat. He hissed out a breath above her head and grasped her hair for support. Though he tightened his grip until she could feel it in her scalp, he didn't immediately pull her away. So she kept on teasing him with her lips and tongue until one quick thrust brought him spilling into her mouth. She swallowed reflexively and then he drew her back so that she could see the smile on his face. "Good girl...oh, yes, I know what you are up to, but it will not work. I shall have to punish you twice as long now. When will you learn that in here, I am in charge? Two may play at our games, but I always win." Oh great, she'd brought out his arrogant jerk side. It was mildly infuriating to (almost) always lose, but then again she liked it that way. Usually. About the only way she could see right now to "win" would be to start crying, but that would be worry him, and even worse, it would be a lie. So she would just have to take her punishment. Sebastien slid his hand down from her hair to her neck and unclasped her chain, slowly winding it back around her body and setting it down on the bedside table. He reached down to remove the chain from her nipples, rubbing them with his fingertips and enjoying the way she squirmed. As he did, René grasped her wrists and pulled them gently behind her back. Sebastien opened the drawer of the bedside table and Claire saw lengths of neatly coiled rope. He took one rope and wrapped it around her wrists thickly, knotting it. He repeated the process with her elbows – lightly – and then turned to her, regarding her thoughtfully. "Are you claustrophobic?" "Not really." He nodded, and René helped her to lie down on her side with her knees tucked up into her chest. More rope was wound and knotted around her ankles, around her calves below the knee, around her thighs above the knee. Finally, a larger length of rope was used to tie her thighs up to her back so she couldn't stretch out her legs. It was knotted to her wrist cuffs, so she was truly bound and unable to move. Panic rose in her but she breathed deeply under the gently stroking hands of René, looking into Sebastien's eyes as he knelt beside her, watching her. When he was satisfied that she was all right he turned back to the drawer and pulled out a little bell, which he slid into one of her hands. "Can you ring it?" She twisted her wrist side to side and was rewarded by the sound of a little tinkling bell. "I promise you we will be able to hear this," he said, indicating a small wireless monitoring unit on the bedside table that he had switched on, "and we will come get you right away if you need it. All right?" "Okay." "Good girl." He gave her another brief smile and an impulsive kiss before finishing his work by blindfolding and gagging her with strips of fabric. "Come along, mon frère. We will leave her be while we determine how best to punish her." Claire felt the pressure on the bed lift, and then she was alone. ----- Day twelve of my captivity. Once more I heard scrabbling inside the walls, distant chattering in foreign languages outside, but I have seen no living being in this time. I have not eaten since I was captured and I am beginning to grow weaker... It had probably been about ten minutes, and Claire was already concocting a complex fantasy in her head to amuse herself. In reality, she hadn't heard a single sound – even her own breathing was too quiet. She had to master the urge to move, and she was beginning to get a bit sore. But she really didn't want to be left to ringing the bell. In the past, she had almost always been able to withstand anything Sebastien put her through and she didn't want to give in now. Twenty minutes in, the pain in her elbows was showing no signs of abating. Probably they had tied her a little tighter than they had meant to. Also the urge to stretch out her legs was getting unbearable. Plus she was bored. But she still didn't want to ring that damn bell. Her frustration got the better of her and she felt hot tears slipping out, soaking into her blindfold. Fuck, where were those guys? Thirty minutes. The pain in her elbows had gone away, and her mind had been occupied for ten minutes on the different punishments that might be coming her way. She had little else to think about, and with two men together they could probably get pretty creative. Not that it would matter to her, because even just some time with a flogger or paddle would be amazing at this point. She had stopped crying and now felt only the burgeoning arousal in her body. Forty minutes. Back to crying. Not very hard; how could she in those bindings? She didn't care about seeming weak. She didn't want to be alone anymore. Were they waiting just to see how long she could go without breaking? That would be cruel. Forty-five minutes. She rang the bell. ----- They were back with her in seconds, making her wonder if they had ever really gone. René was stroking her hair and cheek while Sebastien removed the gag and blindfold. The light had been lowered, and though she could barely see through the tears she already felt better just knowing they were there with her. "Shall I untie you, or do you need me to cut the ropes and get you out straight away?" Sebastien asked, leaning over to look at her with worried eyes. She had to try three times before she could speak. "Just untie me, please." He undid the knots on the ropes keeping her knees tucked up to her chest first, then gently straightened her legs out partway. He loosened the rope at her elbows, her wrists, and then those on her legs before going back and removing each completely. With René's help, he stretched out each of her limbs, rubbing her sore joints gently. The relief flooding through her prompted fresh quiet tears and Sebastien lay down beside her, concerned. Immediately she shifted to face him, burying her face in his chest and holding tightly to him, willing herself to calm down. René moved in behind her so that she was warmly cuddled between them as she breathed for a moment. "Mon abeille, have you had enough tonight?" "No. No, I'm all right. You still need to punish me." "That was not punishment enough?" René asked incredulously. "Mmm...it was sufficient, but it's not everything I wanted." "And what did you want?" asked Sebastien. "A good whipping." "And your wish shall be my command," answered Sebastien. He helped her to stand on shaky legs and allowed her to clutch his arm for support as they walked out of the bedroom. When they got to the stairs he lifted her unceremoniously over his shoulder and carried her up into his office...what used to be his office. The furniture, the books, all of it was gone. What remained was the fireplace, the whipping bench, a rack with some implements on it, the leather sofa, and what she recognized as a St. Andrews Cross. It was to this new addition that he carried her, setting her down before it. Picking up leather cuffs from the nearby rack, he and René buckled them onto her wrists and ankles, and then tied them to the wooden structure. Right away they each grabbed a device – Sebastien the Stinger, René a riding crop – and began slapping them against her. After nearly an hour of no contact at all, the impacts felt sharper than usual and she cried out, vainly trying to ward off the blows. In moments her skin was tingling ferociously and she could already feel how wet she was getting. Sebastien aimed one particularly harsh blow to her stomach and she winced. He handed the Stinger to René, who moved around behind the cross to whip her where her skin showed through the wooden planks. He would slide it teasingly over her hot skin and then draw back and bring it down on her firmly, the leather tendrils flickering unevenly on her. Meanwhile, Sebastien retrieved the clamp chain and attached it to her nipples once more, but firmly this time so it bit in more painfully. Then he showed her three rather shorter chains, each with a clamp at one end and a small golden ball at the other. These he put down between her legs, ignoring the strangled cry as he attached them to very sensitive areas. These created some intense pressure, but not too much to stand. She whimpered, blew out a breath, and kept her eyes down. Sebastien stalked back and forth in front of her, using a small flogger to whip her breasts. She moaned and writhed, making her breasts move and the chain pull against her nipples painfully. He moved the flogger down over her stomach, down until even the lightest flick of his wrist sent shooting shocks through her as he whipped her sex directly. "M-Maestro," she whimpered softly. "You are not to speak," he said shortly as he took up the riding crop and gave her vicious little smacks on her breasts. René kept up his punishing pace with the Stinger on her back, though it was beginning to feel more painful than pleasurable. Again and again Sebastien moved the riding crop around her skin, until she saw patches of red blooming on her. He aimed a smack between the legs and a sudden bolt of pleasure raced through her, reminding her of why she was there. Another smack, and then another, and suddenly the pleasure was feeling far too intense. The clamp was doing its job, and she felt very sure it was actually too much sensation to come. "Maestro..." "Shut your mouth." A trickle of sweat ran down her back and she shivered all over when she saw the intense look in his eyes. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as he slapped at her painfully with the riding crop, now alternating between breasts, inner thighs, and sex. She was hot all over, so hot. "M-Maestro, please..." "Already had enough, have you? So soon? I thought you were stronger than that." He stopped for a moment, gesturing for René to do the same, and then ran his hands all over her burning skin. Prickling pleasure broke out and her body twisted, pulling against her restraints. Moisture coated her inner thighs and she wanted to do anything, fall to her knees and beg to be pleasured now. But she knew she shouldn't speak. "Give it to me," Sebastien murmured to René, reaching for the Stinger. He handed it over with a frown, watching as Sebastien unclipped the clamps on Claire, dropping all of the chains to the ground. Then he stood back, watching her writhe from the renewed sensation for a moment before slapping her hard with the Stinger. She cried out again, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes even as she felt pleasure growing sharply in her center. Her fingers curled tightly into fists as he slapped, slapped, and she grew closer, closer. One particularly loud cry had René reaching out to Sebastien. "Mon ami, I think–" "Claire, look at me!" Sebastien said suddenly, and her eyes snapped up to his. "Do you want me to stop?" "No, please no!" tumbled out of her mouth, though the intensity of the sensations and the look in his eyes scared her. He whipped her again and she whimpered. "Sebastien..." René protested. "René, leave us!" Sebastien said, nearly out of breath himself. With a reluctant nod, René slipped out into the hallway looking as if he was not sure if he should be more disturbed or aroused. The door clicked shut and the look Sebastien gave her made Claire's knees weak. He slapped her again between the legs, and again, and once more until he brought her screaming. "Sebastien!" she cried as her abdomen contracted painfully, the orgasm ripping through her and stealing her breath away. He dropped the Stinger and came to her, wiping her tears away as he kissed her deeply. "Untie me, please, I need you." His fingers fumbled with the leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles until finally Claire was free, nearly dropping to her knees because she couldn't stand. He dragged her down to the floor right there, unzipping his pants and thrusting into her before she was really ready. Looking up at him she could hardly believe he had very nearly lost control of himself and how arousing it was. "Mine, you are mine," he growled into her ear. "Will you come again?" "Yes, Maestro." "No, no...my name. I had forgotten how sweet it is to hear." Claire felt her heart beat faster, as if it was even possible, knew how close they were to utter abandonment. "Come on now, come for me, Claire. Come now!" "Sebastien, oh God...Sebastien!" she cried, holding him tightly to her as she fell, heart nearly bursting as she felt him spill into her, whispering her name. ----- Claire was suddenly glad of the fire crackling away as the sweat began to cool on her skin. Sebastien was lying on his back beside her, still mostly dressed, staring up at the ceiling and muttering unintelligibly in French. Everything ached a little bit. Some parts of her ached a lot. A knock on the door reminded her of their guest. "Are you both still alive in there?" René drawled with some amusement. Claire could only moan softly in response and Sebastien was still muttering to himself, so René opened the door cautiously and came in. He reclined on the floor beside Sebastien, listening to him and looking incredibly amused. Claire rolled over with some difficulty, twining one of her legs with Sebastien's. "What's he saying?" "To be honest, I am not sure." "That's French, isn't it?" "Only some of it, cherie. I think you have finally worn him out. But what about you? Are you ready for round two?" he asked, tapping her ass gently and grinning when she winced. "Hardly." But then she remembered herself. "Do you need–" "No, no. I am very happy already. This has been a most wonderful birthday. I must thank you for that. And Sebastien, of course. Eh, mon ami?" Sebastien was unresponsive, but had at least finally fallen silent. "Sebastien! At least zip up your pants." He shook his head. Claire smiled with amusement and zipped up Sebastien's pants for him. It was true; she had never seen him so affected before. "I should be getting home," said René, a bit regretfully. "Certainly not. It's very late and I think you should stay here." "I only live across the street." "But it's so cold outside...and it's so warm in here," Claire said firmly, reaching across Sebastien to take René's hand. "You may stay downstairs if you'd rather, but you know there's always room in Sebastien's bed. In fact," she continued, getting to her feet shakily, "I believe he may just sleep in here tonight." René patted Sebastien affectionately on the chest and stood up to follow Claire, who had only turned to walk away when she felt a hand encircle her ankle. Turning back with a smile, she saw Sebastien looking up at her. "Sebastien, you're back with us," she said, relishing the use of his name and the look of warmth it brought to his face. "How nice. Shall we go to bed?" "You are not getting into my bed covered in oil," he said lazily. "So shower first, and then bed." "I don't think I could stand that long, and neither could you." "With three of us, I think we can manage." He stood slowly with a shake of his head and headed down the hallway toward the bathroom. Into the steamy water they climbed, lazily soaping each other up until all of the spicy oil had slipped down the drain. Sebastien took the time to unbraid Claire's hair and give it another quick wash, just because he loved to do it. "How is it, mon abeille, that you always exceed my wildest expectations?" he murmured into her ear as he rinsed her hair out. "I just like to please you, that's all," she said with a blush. Clean and dry, Claire climbed into bed flanked by René and Sebastien. She turned on her side to face René and kissed him tenderly. "I'm really glad to have you here," she said a bit awkwardly. "I just, I'm happy that you're Sebastien's friend and it was really my pleasure to serve you tonight." When she hesitated, Sebastien ran his hand over her hip and nuzzled her from behind. "It is perfectly fine to say what you are feeling right now, mon abeille." René searched her face curiously and she looked down toward his chest, a little embarrassed. "I'm feeling...well...I...I love you, that's all." When René didn't respond, Sebastien nudged him with the back of his hand. "She means you, mon frère. She loves you...as do I." "Oh!" he said, in surprise. "Well...I love you both," he said, managing to look pleased and a little sad at the same time. Claire touched her lips to his again, hoping to frighten away whatever thoughts were eating at him, and found that he was kissing her back hungrily. She gave into it, melting into him while Sebastien stroked her back until René was just holding her tightly. Sebastien moved closer until his arms were around them both, and they all drifted off to sleep. ----- The lights glared over the stage, heating up the performers, but Claire didn't mind. She was seated at the front of the stage, eyes blissfully unfocused, letting the sounds of Mahler's "Resurrection" Symphony wash over her. It was an excellent choice for this early April concert, and it was following Rimsky-Korsakov's Russian Easter Festival Overture. Sebastien had made the difficult choice to have no real intermission at this concert, only two short breaks: one after the overture and one before the final half-hour-long movement of the Mahler. He had faith in his audience, of course, and knew that the lack of long interruptions would intensify the effect of the music. So Claire – as well as her alto counterpart Sophia – sat onstage for the duration of the concert, rather than coming out just for her part, which was in the latter half of the final movement. The Soprano Ch. 06 Not that Claire would complain. She enjoyed watching Sebastien in his element, as always, so it was worth the nearly two hours of seated inaction. That's why she'd chosen a comfortable dress, a floaty, peach-hued off-the-shoulder number with subtle layering in the skirt. Of course, it was still a relief to finally stand and sing her arias. After the concert they ducked into her dressing room together, kissing breathlessly, high on the energy of their performance. Sebastien's hands were sliding down over her backside when there came a sharp knock on the door. They both jumped, stepping away from each other quickly. "Come in," Claire called, and the woman who entered the room was not someone she knew. She was tall, thin, pretty, her jet-black hair up in a braided bun, wearing a sleek velvet pantsuit. "Can I help you?" "Well actually," the other woman said with a demure smile, "I was looking for the Maestro. Someone said he might be in here, and here he is." "Julia," Sebastien said, his eyes sparking with – well, Claire didn't know what, but whatever it was, it made her uneasy. Sebastien rested his hand unconsciously on her waist as he gestured to Julia. "Claire, I would like you to meet Julia," he said politely, though he wasn't at all sure he liked it. "Julia is my...well, we..." He hesitated slightly. "Don't be shy, Michi – ah, Maestro, sorry," she corrected, seeing him flinch. "We used to date." Claire's eyes widened slightly. That was definitely not what she was expecting to hear. She flicked her eyes up to Sebastien, who was watching for her reaction. What should her reaction be in this situation? She smiled politely, but wasn't quite sure what to say. Julia looked from one to the other, and then smiled with the telltale look of dawning comprehension. "Oh! Ohhh...I see what's going on here," she said. Sebastien cursed under his breath, walking over to the door and shutting it. "So you're his girlfriend. This explains so much!" Claire still didn't know what to say, so she just looked at Sebastien. How did this woman even know he was dating someone? "I should explain," Sebastien said, turning to Claire. "Julia is on the board of directors for the symphony I am guest conducting with, which I discovered when I went to go meet with them." Julia flicked her eyes toward Sebastien, but wisely held her tongue. "I see. Well, I'm pleased to meet you, Julia," Claire finally said, recovering her manners at last. "Oh, me too, me too!" Julia enthused. "Listen, why don't we go out for a drink, just us girls? Maybe after the Sunday evening performance?" "Um...okay. Why not?" Claire slanted a glance at Sebastien, his face carefully expressionless. He lifted a shoulder in return; Julia seemed not to notice. "Okay, great! I guess I'll meet you out front and we can go from here? I'll just take off now and leave you guys alone. Great performance, by the way!" Julia breezed out of Claire's dressing room, shutting the door behind her. Claire turned to Sebastien, finding his face a perfect mirror of the bafflement she felt. "Well. That was a little awkward," she muttered. "Yes, I apologize." "No, you don't have anything to be sorry about. Except, um...why didn't you mention you'd run into her when you came back from your trip?" Sebastien shrugged uncomfortably. "We dated a very long time ago, and we barely talked the last time I saw her. I had already forgotten about it by the time I was back home with you. I really am sorry," he said again, leaning down to brush his lips over hers. Someone knocked on the door and he pulled back, looking irritated. "Let us dispatch whoever this is, so we can go home and I can get you out of that dress," he said in a low voice. ----- They managed to control themselves in the car on the way back to Sebastien's apartment, but as they were waiting for the elevator Sebastien pushed Claire back into the wall and kissed her. "We are going to play a little game," he said as the elevator doors slid open and he tugged her inside. "I am going to do this..." He slipped his hands beneath her dress and into her panties. Claire looked around in surprise, but they were alone. "...and you will come before we reach our floor." "Or...?" she prompted, already feeling the warm tingling pleasure between her legs. "Or you do not come at all tonight." He plunged two of his fingers into her, rubbing his palm against her as he plundered her mouth once more with his. She moaned into his mouth, moving her hips forward against his hand, always aware that the doors could open at any moment to reveal a fellow resident. At last she felt the pleasure growing, her orgasm absolutely imminent. But just before she came, the elevator stopped with its infuriating little ding. Sebastien withdrew his hand and with it, her victory. "Hmmm..." he hummed, amused. "You're so mean." "You should know better than anyone just how mean I can be," he said darkly, walking off toward his apartment. Unfortunately, she did know. She followed him meekly. Inside, Sebastien waited just long enough for the door to shut behind them before he turned and swept her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. They undressed impatiently, Claire's mind already running the probabilities – could she come before Sebastien stopped her? More importantly, would whatever punishment he devised for her be worth the orgasm? The warm softness she felt all over told her yes. Sebastien turned to her with a sly smile and ducked down between her legs, his tongue sliding up and over her. Her toes curled tightly as she tried to hold back, at least to give the impression that she was trying. "Maestro, please, stop," she begged. "I am surprised that you have so little self-control," he replied smugly, giving her a short reprieve before going back to work on her. Having come so close twice in the past ten minutes, there was no way she would be able to stop it. When he slid his fingers inside her, her resolve shattered and before she could even ask him to stop she was coming, trembling all over. "Why, Claire, you disobeyed a direct order." "That's not fair," she complained, knowing as soon as the words left her mouth that it was a very dangerous thing to say. But Sebastien surprised her again that night, smiling at her with a little shake of his head as he rolled on top of her. "I suppose I cannot argue with you," he said, pushing inside her as she sighed softly beneath him. He kissed a line down her neck and she wrapped one of her legs around his, holding him close to her. "You're actually letting me win this?" "Win? I do not know about that." But as he moved in her, he regarded her thoughtfully and finally gave a little half-shrug. "What the hell. You win." Claire wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down to kiss her. He stroked her sides with his fingertips, eventually finding her hands and twining his fingers with hers before they were both pulled under by pleasure, and then by sleep. The Soprano Ch. 07 Note: Okay, I lied - this isn't the last chapter. It's ending up longer than I planned, so I split it into two parts in order to post something sooner. Hope you like it! ----- Violins sobbed in the background as Claire licked almond-scented syrup off her fingertips, contemplating a third of the tiny, flaky pastries Sebastien had made the day before. He had brought a tray of them, along with glasses of champagne, into the parlor while they read – Sebastien the newspaper and Claire her music. Eyebrows raised, she had asked him what the occasion was and he reminded her that just a year ago she had been to his apartment for the first time and their relationship had changed forever. It embarrassed her that she had virtually forgotten the date, and what a sweet and ultimately romantic man Sebastien was. Sighing softly to herself, she picked up another pastry and bit into it, savoring the orange-scented cream inside. Sebastien watched her out of the corner of his eye, probably enjoying her enjoyment. "You really shouldn't spoil me so much," she said when she'd finished. "A girl could get used to this sort of thing." "That would be a problem?" "Well...I guess, because eventually..." She trailed off with a shrug. Sebastien said nothing, waiting for her to finish her sentence. "Eventually, um, I'll have to go home," she said, cheeks burning as she knew it wasn't what she was really thinking. Sebastien was still silent, looking as if he was waiting for her to say what was actually on her mind. She bit her lip, then blurted out "Eventually it'll have to end." "Why will it?" Sebastien looked a bit wounded. "I don't know," Claire replied uncomfortably. "It does not have to end. It never has to end." Suddenly, her heart was in her throat. "Sebastien, are you asking–" "I am not asking anything," he said firmly. "I am merely saying that I see no reason to think about breaking things off. As I have told you, whatever I have is yours for as long as you wish it. Though as time goes on, I may not be so cavalier about letting you go..." Claire wished she hadn't opened her mouth, since she was more confused now than ever. If he didn't want to let her go, why had he said he wasn't interested in marriage? Marriage wasn't the only answer, she supposed, but she was beginning to feel as if they should at least talk about it. It had been on the tip of her tongue for days. Things were good between them. Not just good, really amazing. How could it stay that way forever? At some point, things had to go south. They always did...didn't they? On the other hand, it's not like "happily ever after" didn't happen. It's just that she felt so damn young. Could it even be possible for her to have found someone she could be with forever at this age? But then...hadn't her mother been around the same age when she'd met Claire's father? And Sebastien's parents, they'd met when they were only a year or two older than she. It just seemed that it was a different generation. Of course, time hadn't yet tested the marriages of others her own age, so what did she know? It just seemed so soon, to be thinking about him – them – forever. Yet there was a funny little ache in her heart, not unpleasant at all, that told her maybe it was exactly what she wanted. ----- Claire changed out of her concert dress and into casual clothes – dark denim leggings, a black blouse with a plunging neckline, and lime green pumps. She swung by Sebastien's office on her way out of the symphony hall – not that it was exactly on the way – and loved the way his eyes widened when he saw her. He yanked her into his office, shut the door, and pressed her up against the wall, kissing her deeply. His hand slipped into her shirt, caressing her breast before pulling away from her. "Have fun, mon abeille. Do not be...to terribly indiscreet, will you?" "Would I?" she asked, the very picture of innocence. "You might." The bar Claire had chosen was upscale and trendy, without too much thumping bass in the lounge area. The girls were each on their third cocktail and had moved much closer together in the round booth so they could hear each other better. Julia leaned over, wiggling her eyebrows conspiratorially. "So...how's the sex?" Claire blushed deeply and pressed one cool palm to her hot cheek. "Um, oh! Well, it's...it's..." She trailed off, unsure if she should say anything. Looking back up at Julia's eager face, she threw caution to the wind, confiding in her new friend. "It's fucking amazing, to be honest." "Ohhh my, it is, is it?" Julia giggled, and then sighed a bit wistfully. "Yes, he was always great in the sack." Claire expected to feel jealous, but aside from a little initial pang of awkwardness, she realized it didn't really bother her. "Hmm. What was he like back then?" "Well. Just, like, just like a regular guy, I guess. I mean, he was pretty shy at first, and even after I got to know him he rarely ever told me what he was feeling. And in bed, you know, he was just like...passionate, but in a quiet way. I got the feeling there might be other stuff in there, but I never found out what it was before we broke up." She sipped her drink thoughtfully. "What's the most amazing thing you've done with him?" "Oh, I don't know," Claire demurred softly. "Come on! I'll tell you mine," Julia said, bubbly again. "We had a threesome with my college roommate!" She nudged Claire with a giggle and stood unsteadily in her pin-thin pink heels. "I'm gonna go get another drink. You want one?" "Sure," Claire said vaguely, knowing she had probably had enough. Okay, this has officially gotten weird, she thought uncomfortably. Julia and Sebastien and another girl. In bed. Together. She slid out of the booth after Julia, mumbling something about making a phone call. She headed back toward the bathrooms where there was a quiet alcove away from the music of the club. She dialed Sebastien on her cell phone, and he picked up on the second ring. "Mon abeille, how is your evening going?" "Good, great. I'm still out with Julia." "How much have you told her?" he asked warily. "I'm hurt that you don't trust me," she pouted at him. "Besides, I'd worry more about what she told me, if I were you," Claire teased. "Such as what? Surely she doesn't know anything about me that you don't already know." Pleased warmth curled in her belly when she heard that. "Mmm, well, she knows the name of the girl you two had sex with..." There was silence on the other end of the phone as Sebastien processed this. "She mentioned that, did she?" "Mmhmm. She offered up the information in the hopes that I would reciprocate with some kink sex details of my own." "And did you?" "Of course not," Claire snorted. "Wouldn't want to scare her, would I? But, um, so...having another girl in bed, there's something we've never done." "Would you like to?" "Would you?" she countered. "On that topic, I will only say that we did not have sex with another girl. Julia, on the other hand..." "What does that mean, you didn't..." "Are you going to be long?" he asked. "No, I think one more drink is all we can handle. Why, do you miss me?" "Perhaps. I will come pick you up," he said, a little hesitantly. "Okay, that would be good," she replied warmly. "Very well, I shall be there soon. I will wait out front." "Thank you." Claire hung up and turned around to walk back to the booth where Julia was sitting, nursing another cocktail. There was something she needed to know. She sat down in the booth, picked up her drink, and drained it in two long swallows. She gave a little shudder, feeling her head swimming as the alcohol hit her. "So, tell me the truth. Did you visit hoping to get Sebastien into bed?" she asked abruptly. "Ooohh, you caught me. Yes," Julia answered with a little blush. "Even though you knew he was dating someone?" "I guess I was hoping it wasn't serious. Are you mad?" "No...I don't know. Should I be?" Claire shrugged one shoulder. "No, I guess I'm not. Besides, I don't tell Sebastien who he can or can't sleep with." "You don't?" "No. Sebastien is monogamous because he wants to be," she answered, reminding herself silently that monogamy wasn't exactly how she would describe their relationship. Close enough. "What about you?" Julia asked cheekily, evidently picking up on something odd in the way Claire had answered. "Sebastien tells you who you can and can't sleep with?" "Well...yes. He does." "That's weird." "You have no idea," Claire muttered. Her phone buzzed and she looked down at it. "Well, speak of the devil. Sebastien's here to pick me up." "I'll come out and say goodnight." ----- The night was warm when Sebastien pulled up outside the club. He texted Claire and then double-parked, flipping on his blinkers and getting out to lean against the car casually. It didn't take long before he saw her. He took a moment to appreciate her as she walked slowly toward him. Then he noticed that she wasn't alone. Julia had come out as well, attractive as ever in a short, hot pink dress. She gave him a grin when she saw him, and he nodded back at her. "How long are you staying in the city?" Claire was asking her. "Well, since the business I came here for has, um, sort of fallen through," Julia answered with a drunken giggle, "I'll probably just head back in the next day or two." "Kay. I'm gonna go home now," Claire said in a funny, sing-songy voice. Sebastien's eyebrows lifted fractionally. Exactly how drunk were they? "Gimme a kiss goodbye!" Julia held out her arms and Claire tottered into them, touching her lips to Julia's. Sebastien rolled his eyes – apparently they were already best friends – but was then treated to a sight that he could never have anticipated. His current girlfriend and his ex-girlfriend were kissing right in front of him. It brought back a memory in such sharp relief that he was momentarily astonished that he had ever forgotten. He was a much younger man in those days, a graduate student at one of the most prestigious music schools in the country. A recent transplant to the country, he didn't consider himself quite fluent in English and it was part of the reason he had been so reserved with others. Julia hadn't been at all put off by his attitude. She had flirted with him and finally asked him out. He had certainly been attracted to her, with the long, shiny black hair that always smelled of green apples and the light dusting of freckles across her nose. What could he do but go out with her? Six months after their first date he found himself reclining on Julia's pink plaid bedspread, watching her make out with her roommate. How had it happened? That part...was a little bit fuzzy, but the part that flashed into his mind just now was of Julia on her stomach, her pert ass moving side to side contentedly while her face was buried between the legs of her roommate Kate. She was pretty, a natural blonde with pleasantly rounded curves and much larger breasts than Julia, but the plain fact was that Sebastien hadn't been particularly attracted to her. He remembered that he had been intrigued by what was going on in front of him, but not moved to join in at all. What he had most wanted at that moment was for Kate to go away so that he could be alone with Julia. Since then he'd heart it was the ultimate fantasy of many men, but what could he say? It just wasn't his thing. So many other things were, he never really bothered himself about it. As he thought it, he looked back at Claire and Julia, and sighed softly. Others were beginning to notice them, and that was something none of them needed. "That is quite enough of that," he said mildly, startling the girls into separating. "Into the car with you." He opened the back door, and Julia slid in. He shut the door again with a snap, pulling Claire toward him and looking down at her intently. "Where am I driving to?" "I thought we would go back to my place." "All of us?" "All of us." She lifted her eyes up to him, waiting patiently for her answer. She was actually asking his permission, and that was more arousing than anything he could think of. "Is that what you really want?" "That's...I..." Claire forced herself not to answer him automatically, but to stop and think about it. She had been caught off guard by Julia's sudden kiss. Julia was attractive, of course, but somewhere deep down in her alcohol-fogged brain she was feeling uneasy. "It's what I think you want," she finally said. Sebastien frowned down at her. "When you want to know what I want, would it not be better to simply ask?" "It's just that Julia said that you and she–" "I know. May I be honest with you, mon abeille?" "Always." "I can think of a dozen other things I would rather do with you alone. Julia and I were together a long time ago, and some things are better left in the past. Do you not agree?" "Yes. Yes, okay, you're right." Sebastien turned to walk around to the driver's seat, but Claire interrupted him with a hand on his elbow. "Um, so...a dozen things?" His lips curled into a little smile as he turned back. Eyes darkening, he grasped her tightly and pulled her toward him. He let the moment draw out between them before dropping his head to press a searing kiss to her lips. His soft tongue flicked gently against her lower lip, reminding her instantly of his not inconsiderable ability at licking things still lower. When at last he pulled back, her knees were weak and her eyes were glazed. "Let us take her to her hotel, yes?" Claire nodded vaguely and Sebastien helped her into the car before getting in himself. They both turned to check the backseat and found that Julia had already dozed off. "She's staying at the Hyatt," said Claire. "By the way...do you know why she's in town?" "No." He started the engine and pulled away from the curb. "She was planning on seducing you?" "Is that so?" he asked, not sounding particularly interested. "Yeah. Um...so, you're not surprised?" "Not really. Why else, after all, would she be here, looking for me? Befriending you, as soon as she realized who you were?" "That's a pretty cynical way of looking at it, don't you think?" "Perhaps, but Julia always was very tenacious. Her persistence probably gets her more in life than even her musical talent." "So you think she'll keep trying?" "She is persistent, but not stupid. Most likely she will try to catch me alone, and when I explain – once more – that I am not interested in renewing our relationship, she will see how serious it is between us, and she will move on." "Hm. Well. She's probably going to need help up to her hotel room. Maybe I should just stay in the car, and you can take her up and talk to her." "If she wakes enough to see reason, I will. Then we shall be done with the whole thing." ----- Claire tried not to watch as Sebastien wound his arm around Julia's shoulders and walked her inside. She wasn't jealous, couldn't think of any particular reason that she should be bothered at all. It just seemed strange to see Sebastien touching his ex-girlfriend in such an intimate manner. She looked away down the street. It was after one in the morning, but the taxis in front of the hotels were still doing brisk business, whisking their wealthy clientele to the airport or some late-night meeting. Down the street, a man in a blue three-piece suit was walking a poodle, apparently oblivious to the late hour. Claire let her thoughts wander. Her buzz was starting to wear off, but her head was still swimming. She thought about rehearsal, about her mother nagging her to come visit, and finally settled on thinking about their last trip to France – just a long weekend, but it had been wonderful. At last she came back to the present, noticing the car was beginning to get a bit cold. It seemed as if it had been a rather long time since Sebastien had disappeared with Julia into the hotel. She craned her neck upward to look at the building. About five floors up, a light had come on – had it been on when they arrived? – and a couple was pressed against the window making out. Her stomach twinged, but she ignored it. She couldn't look away this time. The sudden sound of a door opening startled her and she turned to see Sebastien sliding into the car. He gave her an odd look. "Whatever were you looking at, mon abeille?" "Nothing. How did it go? "As expected. When we reached her room, she had woken up enough to try enticing me into bed, claiming you had no objections to me sleeping with other women." He paused to shake his head briefly. "I told her that I hardly thought you would appreciate it if I went to bed with her and left you in the car, and besides that I was not interested. What we have together – you and I – is quite serious, and I hope that she will respect that. She agreed, and that is all." "That's all?" "Julia is not the type to make a scene, fortunately. At least, she was not when I knew her, and she seems to have remained the same in that regard. But even if she were, I believe she would have been too tired. She may have fallen asleep before I left the room." "Do you think she'll remember the conversation in the morning?" Sebastien frowned at her, sighing impatiently. "Does it matter? She is not a danger to us; she is just a person who can safely be left in the past. Can we leave it there for tonight?" "Of course. You're right. I'm sorry." Claire was silent for a moment as Sebastien negotiated traffic until he had pulled onto a quieter street. "Now, um, about the other eleven things you said you wanted to do with me..." "Perhaps I am more interested in knowing what it is you would like to do." "What's the matter, can't make up your mind? Or maybe you've just run out of ideas. Too hard to shock me now, I suppose." Claire glanced at Sebastien from the corner of her eye, saw his lips firm in irritation. "Certainly not." "I don't know...Sure seems that way to me." "Are you trying to make me angry, mon abeille?" "Would I do that?" she asked him, turning to him with the same innocent expression she had earlier that night. "Without a doubt." "You're just being too sensitive," she said, noting with satisfaction the narrowing of his eyes. "I wonder whether René is still awake at this hour..." Sebastien pulled up to a stop at a red light and looked over at her, an inscrutable emotion passing over his face. For a moment, Claire wondered if she had overstepped bringing up the other man, but Sebastien looked at her thoughtfully. "It certainly would be easier to give you the punishment you deserve...why don't you give him a call on the way home?" "I...what? Really?" "Oh, yes. Call him and ask him to come over and help punish you." "But, Maestro..." "Do it," he said firmly. "And be polite." A little tingle ran through her as she pulled out her phone and called René. The phone rang a few times, and she was sure he wouldn't answer – it was quite late after all – but before his voicemail picked up, he did. His voice was soft and groggy, and she couldn't help imagine him with mussed hair and heated skin from sleep. She shifted in her seat. "Oui?" he asked. "René, it's Claire." "Ah, oui? Is something the matter?" he asked, sounding concerned. "No, um, nothing like that. It's just that I, um...I wanted to call and ask if you would...if you wanted to...I mean..." "Cherie, I do not mean to be impolite, but if you could possibly, as you say, spit it out." "Sorry, I'm sorry, it's just that it's, you know, Sebastien is making me call because he..." She flushed as she saw Sebastien eyeing her. He raised an eyebrow and she fumbled on, "Okay, okay. Would you, um, please...please come over to Sebastien's tonight?" The Soprano Ch. 07 "Tonight? It is very late..." "Well, it's just that, you know, he...he...he's going to punish me, and um...um...I'd like you to come punish me too, please." "Ahhh, that is what this is about," he said, suddenly sounding more alert. "In that case, mais oui, I will come over no matter the hour." "Okay, um, good. We are still in the car, but we'll be there soon." "Very good. I shall see you soon," he said, his deep voice rumbling down her spine. ----- In the room that used to be Sebastien's office, there was the whipping bench and a pile of ropes on the floor. The leather sofa had been pushed all the way against the far wall beneath the window, and the rest of the furniture had either been moved to other rooms or was clustered in the corner beneath a long dust cloth. Claire looked around for the night's implements, but saw none. It would be a surprise. Sebastien closed the door behind him and stood silently with René, apparently expecting that she knew what to do and that she would get along with it. Obligingly, she started stripping off her clothes and thought about how much different it was than when Sebastien did it. When he did it, a part of her could be convinced that he was really forcing her to his will, just like the first time they were together – well, sort of. It was dark and sexy and exciting, and he had done it most of the past year. But recently they had started appreciating the value of having Claire undress herself. When she did, it was with the crystalline awareness that she was willingly submitting herself to him, which aroused them both in apparently endless ways. She folded her last piece of clothing and set it neatly in a pile, as was now her habit – even in her own home. Glancing at Sebastien, she saw him nod toward the bench. He watched her steadily until she climbed obediently onto it and knelt there. Only then did the men move, each grabbing lengths of rope and tying them methodically around her limbs and torso, securing her firmly. She was utterly immobilized from her neck to her wrists and ankles, her already heated sex pressed against the bench below her. Behind her, there were soft sounds of movement. Then, she felt something smooth and hard running over her skin, up her back. It was a familiar sensation, but she couldn't quite place it. Without even a swish, its holder brought it down gently onto her left buttock, bringing an immediate throbbing sensation. It dissipated quickly enough, but Claire recognized with dread the implement even before Sebastien held it up for her to see. The cane. Made of a light, creaky, varnished wood, it had been behind one of the most painful and amazing experiences of her life. Sebastien had believed that he had adequately tested the cane to know what it was capable of, but as is sometimes the case, he was to find its capacity to cause damage even greater than he knew. He had been inordinately pleased with the cane's ability to actually mark Claire in red, raised lines. In his zeal, he had actually cracked it over her twice hard enough to draw blood – a fact neither of them had noticed until they'd both been exhausted by more than one seriously intense orgasm. When the bleeding was discovered, Sebastien had been upset with himself and very contrite. He'd pampered her for a week straight, and promised not to bring the cane back out for at least two months. It had been three, but Claire was still wary at the sight of it. Yet she didn't outright object. Sebastien took it as acquiescence – it had been two hours since her last drink and she was thinking clearly again – so he tied a strip of fabric between her lips so objecting became essentially impossible. "Mon ami, shall we warm her up a bit first?" asked René from behind her. "Oui. Bon," Sebastien replied, and Claire's skin heated in anticipation of a light flogging. "Commencer avec ses pieds." Her feet? No...no. She shook her head, but her protestations were too muffled to hear. She felt the tip of the cane rubbing against the upturned sole of her foot and whimpered as her foot tensed. It tickled. Evidently noticing this, René lightened his touch further, making her writhe slightly in her bonds. Then suddenly they were upon her, slim fingers angling to tickle her feet and along her ribs. Claire squealed behind the gag, her entire body flexing as she tried to escape the onslaught. She felt totally helpless, confused at her arousal, with pleasurable pressure building in her center. Before she could even process what was happening, she tensed all over as she came, immobilized against the bench. The tickling stopped immediately, much to her relief. "Did she just..." began René. "Mon abeille, did you come?" asked Sebastien. Claire nodded slowly, struggling to breathe as her heartbeat slowed a bit. "Again," said René in little more than a whisper. Claire shook her head vigorously. "Ah, you do not want to come again?" Sebastien's voice was smooth, and Claire knew it was a trick question. If she answered no, he might not let her come again all night. He ran his hand down her buttocks, positioning his fingers tantalizingly at her entrance. "Do you want to come again? Answer me." She hesitated for a long moment, and then nodded. Sebastien slid his fingers inside her as René resumed tickling her feet. The ropes bit into her skin tightly as they held her down. This time the orgasm was quick and a little painful in its intensity, and suddenly she didn't know how she was going to survive a caning as well. She was protesting as loudly as she could, and the tickling stopped again so that she could take a few moments to breathe. After all too brief a respite, she felt a gentle tapping on the soles of her feet. It didn't hurt, but she wasn't fooled. That would come soon enough. René drew back and this time a soft swish warned her of the pain that sang out as the cane came sharply back down on the ball of her left foot. She was unable to writhe or cry out in pain properly and could only absorb it. Again and again, until ten short strokes in all had been given alternatively to both feet, which ached. The cane travelled up her bound legs, biting in between the ropes until it reached her upturned buttocks. Each stroke brought a muffled cry from her as they were quite painful and she feared the damage being done to her. Of course it would be quite unlikely for anything to happen, especially with René at the cane, but it still heightened her anxiety. Then, too, the constant tense flexing was keeping her just on the brink of pleasure, which confused her overloaded brain. It was all too much. She wasn't sure whether to be more frustrated or relieved when the cane was set aside. What she did know was that her limbs were aching and she wondered how long she had been bound there. It seemed to have been a rather long time. "Mon abeille, can you stay bound a short while longer?" Sebastien asked, gently caressing her back. "I would like to have my way with you now, but wish to be certain you are not in too much pain. Are you all right?" Claire thought about it before answering. Truthfully it was getting a bit painful – and not in a good way – but she was eager to feel him inside her. She took as deep a breath as she could, and found the tension around her back sent a spike of pleasure through her. That decided it. She nodded. René came around to the front of the bench and knelt down to remove her gag and kiss her lips softly. Then he stood and, with a soft sigh of relief, unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down slightly. His hard cock sprang out and he bumped it playfully against her lips, which she opened to accommodate him. It was difficult to do a good job with her movement restricted as it was, but René didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed quite content fucking her mouth gently, his hand curled behind one ear to hold her head still. Behind her, Sebastien grabbed her buttocks and kneaded them firmly in his hands as he slid deep inside her. She whimpered softly around René's cock as the pleasure sparked with each thrust. It was strange and wonderful, the sensation of being totally at the mercy of two men. Claire relaxed into her bonds, feeling utterly at peace. Then she noticed René moving, though he kept sliding his cock between her lips at his lazy pace. He was slowly unknotting the ropes tying down her arms, until they were free up to her shoulder. Running his fingers firmly along the muscles in each arm, one at a time, he massaged her until her head was floating even more. He picked up one arm and pressed the palm against his lips, while she softly ran the other hand over his hip and buttocks. Sebastien had slowed behind her, giving her firm thrusts as he bent over her and kissed the skin that showed through the ropes. He, too, was deftly untying the ropes from her ankles up. Soon she was bound only from her chest to her hips and Sebastien was gently straightening her legs as he pushed inside her rhythmically. Then both men were working on the ropes remaining until she was finally, blissfully free. She moaned softly in pleasure as Sebastien withdrew from her and helped her to stand. She was only upright for a moment, however, as Sebastien took her place on the bench. He beckoned to her and she knelt over him, taking him inside of her once more. René came and slid his cock between her buttocks, pressing it into her as well. Claire shivered, taking advantage of her newfound freedom to flex her hips against them, making René groan with the sensation. He grasped her hips, grinding her into Sebastien as she gasped from the delicious friction. Sebastien, too, moved against her and only a moment later she was crying out above him as she came. René began pounding more powerfully into her, groaning sexily into her ear until his breath caught on a long sigh as he, too, came. He wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck as she rode Sebastien. She rocked back and forth on him, watching with pleasure as he threw his head back and gave in to the sensations, spilling into her. Although she'd already come, she couldn't resist sliding her fingers down over her wet skin and feeling the sharp tingles of pleasure crest in another orgasm. "So, mon ami," René said, a bit breathlessly, "what were we punishing her for?" "Who remembers?" Sebastien responded, running his hand up her spine and making her writhe above him. "What is important is that she has learned her lesson. Have you, mon abeille?" But Claire couldn't answer; she'd already drifted off. ----- "Are you almost ready for the party tonight?" Claire called from the bedroom, where she was braiding her hair tightly against her head. It wasn't perfect, but it would do. "Yes, but I do not see the point," came the dour reply. "It's fun, that's why. You've never dressed up before, like for Halloween?" "Halloween is for children," he sniffed. "Well, you know us Americans. Perpetual children, isn't that what everyone thinks? But seriously, don't you have costume parties in France?" Sebastien only grunted in response, coming to the doorway in his usual monochrome suit, sans tie. "You're not in costume?" "Certainly not. And what are you supposed to be?" he asked, looking critical at her outfit – just as monochrome and plain as his own. "Who," she corrected. "And anyway, you'll find out at the party. We'd better go or we'll be late." She slipped beneath his arm and headed out. The party was being held in the ballroom of the symphony hall, and almost everyone was already there by the time they arrived. René was waiting outside for them – also apparently not in costume, but in jeans and a t-shirt. "Look, cherie, I am an American!" he said gleefully. "At least someone is getting into the spirit of things," she said, giving Sebastien a significant look. He merely frowned down at her, and then at René. "Mon frère, really?" He shook his head and preceded them into the symphony hall. Music and chattering could be heard all the way down the hall. When they rounded the corner, they were confronted with the very entertaining sight of their musician colleagues dressed up as pirates, superheroes, and zombies. Sure, Halloween had been several months ago, but someone had suggested a costume party for their annual spring party, and people seemed enthusiastic about it. Some of the musicians were dancing, already a bit tipsy, to the music being piped through the speakers. "Heyyy, you're not in costume," said Holly as she drifted by. Sebastien arched an eyebrow at Claire, who shrugged. "That's what she thinks," she muttered, reaching into her bag and withdrawing Sebastien's baton. "What are you doing with that?" he asked. "You'll see." She scanned the room until she spotted the group of people she was looking for. She waved them over – two violinists, a cello, and a horn player – and smiled in greeting. "Good evening, Maestro!" Michael said, but he wasn't talking to Sebastien. Claire grinned at Sebastien's sudden look of consternation, but then turned a serious look at Michael. "Are you all ready?" "Yeah – I'll go cut the music and Jeff can introduce you." "Perfect." Michael walked away, and the other musicians drifted off toward the center of the room where a few chairs and a small podium had been set up. Claire started to follow, but Sebastien caught her elbow. "What is going on?" he asked suspiciously. "If you haven't figured it out for yourself, you'll find out in a minute," she replied impatiently. She caught René's eyes and winked before extracting herself from Sebastien's grip. The music faded away and Jeff was waving his hands for attention. "Everyone, please welcome Maestro to the stage!" Claire drew herself up to her full height and assumed her best cool expression; she'd been practicing it in the mirror for weeks. She strode up to the podium and flipped open the binder on it, tapping Sebastien's baton on the music stand until the musicians had taken their places in front of her. "We shall begin directly at movement four, please. Movement four," she said in her best French accent, raising peals of laughter around the room. She tapped out a beat and the musicians began to play, but it was quite obvious that they were playing badly on purpose. Claire did her best impression of Sebastien scolding them as she imitated his graceful, fluid conducting, snapping at them with every error they made. "This is atrocious. Have you even practiced? Very well, that is enough," she said sharply, cutting them off with a vicious motion. "You are all dismissed!" The other musicians behind her tittered; Sebastien had never been so harsh with them, had never needed to be, but they could imagine what he would be like if they were truly so unprepared. "Maestro, let us try again," Michael said, trying to conceal his amusement. Claire regarded him coolly, let out a short sigh, and raised the baton. "Very well. This time, at the beginning, please." The game was over now as the musicians played each note clearly and beautifully. Claire worked hard to stay in character, murmuring words of encouragement as she swished the baton back and forth. Each time she used a phrase that was particular to Sebastien, she heard a swell of laughter behind her, but mostly everyone just listened to the concerto. The cello throbbed enticingly under her direction, while the violins slipped serenely up and down the scales. They built to a crescendo and then faded away into nothing. Applause reached her ears after a moment and she breathed out in relief. Conducting had been a hell of a lot harder than she'd expected it to be. She had rehearsed once or twice with the quartet, but had done most of her practicing at home with a metronome to keep her beat steady. Compared with that, hurling commands and insults in a faux French accent had been the easy part. Luckily, she didn't have to do any more of either tonight. She'd had her fun and gotten a laugh, and now she could just relax and enjoy the party. She turned back to the crowd, her eyes finding Sebastien right away as he leaned up against the wall near the doorway. He was probably trying to decide whether to be amused or annoyed by her imitation. René was whispering something to him and was clearly quite entertained by the whole thing. Claire allowed herself to be drawn into conversation with others before eventually making her way over to Sebastien. "Well?" she asked, challenging him to rebuke her in public. "Such a rude little girl you are," he murmured. "You have to admit, mon ami, she imitates you quite well." "I shall admit no such thing," Sebastien responded a little huffily, making Claire and René exchange amused glances. "And you should watch your step, mon abeille," he said, leaning down and whispering sharply in her ear, "because making a fool of your Master in public is a very dangerous thing to do." He ran a finger down her neck and she swallowed as her pulse jumped beneath his touch. "I...I'm sorry, I didn't think it would bother you," she said, suddenly worried her joke had fallen flat. "Oh, it is far too late for sorry now," he said airily as he walked away from her. She frowned, turning to René. He hadn't said he was bothered, but... René shrugged and then slid an arm around her comfortingly. Whispers exploded behind her as she rested her head casually against his upper arm. "Wellll, don't you two look cozy!" said a voice behind them. Claire turned, unsurprised to see Holly again. She was still a bit wary of Holly after the disastrous conversation they'd had the previous year, but after all Holly was a very sweet girl and meant well. "Oh, we're not–" Claire started to say before Holly interrupted her. "Hey wait, aren't you the Maestro's friend?" she asked René. "Yes," he answered, a bit uncertainly. "Does he know you two are dating?" She giggled, taking a sip from her champagne flute, and Claire fought not to roll her eyes. "We aren't dating." "Uh-huh," Holly replied, clearly not convinced. She flounced away again and Claire watched after her, shaking her head. As she looked around the room, she saw Sebastien in conversation with some other musicians. He was shaking his head firmly and when he met her eyes, he glared daggers at her. Claire started to extricate herself from René's grasp, but he merely pulled her in tighter. "There is nothing wrong with what we are doing." "But people will think..." "A moment ago, mon ami touched you rather intimately here in public. I should think he would be glad to have the attention on someone else." "I don't know why people are so interested in who I'm dating anyway," Claire grumbled. "They like you, that is all. They want to know about your life." "I guess..." She tried to pull away again, to no avail. "You're going to get me into trouble," she hissed. "Cherie, I do not think you could possibly get into any more trouble than you are already in." Claire looked up again and across the room. Sebastien was alone again, leaning against the wall with a dark, thoughtful expression on his face. She shivered, feeling the warmth of René against her, and suddenly she wished she could cross the room and put her arms around the man she loved. She wished they could mingle with their colleagues without any secrets. Someday, maybe. She cuddled into the crook of René's arm. For now, this would have to do...but what price her momentary comfort? ----- "Where are we going?" Claire protested as Sebastien pulled her out of the symphony hall roughly by the elbow. "You embarrassed me tonight, Claire. I think it only fair that I punish you in the same manner." "You're going to imitate me?" she asked lightly. "Because I don't think–" "Shut up," he growled, pushing her up against the car. She looked around in surprise. This was far from a private place; in fact Sebastien had parked directly across the street from the musicians' entrance to the symphony hall. When the party broke up, as it no doubt would soon, their colleagues would be coming out that very door. The Soprano Ch. 07 Her first thought was, no, he couldn't possibly mean to...but that was shattered by the realization that he had unzipped her pants. Even now his fingers were sliding into her panties and heaven help her but it felt so good. She glanced around nervously; it was late and few people were on these blocks so late. But the party... "Maestro, please, the orchestra..." "What about them?" "They might see." "Then you had better hurry up and give me what I want before they come out." "But, um, but they'll see you, too," she protested. "It is a risk I am willing to take," he replied mildly. "Besides, it is not I who will be flushed and smelling of my own sex if they come walking by." Claire's face reddened. Did he have to put it in such crude terms? Well, she supposed he must, since he was intent on embarrassing her. It was working, too. "What do you want?" she whispered, defeated. Sebastien leaned into her, brushing his lips over her ear before answering. "I want to make you come so hard that you cannot help crying out for mercy. And then I want to fuck you." Claire blew out a breath, knees weakening as she was suddenly aroused beyond belief. He was touching her in the most amazing way, his fingers slipping into her and around her most sensitive spots. It was actually almost too intense, this pleasure. She leaned her head back against the car, gazing upward to see a few stars in the deep, dark sky above. Sebastien grasped her hair firmly and forced her head back down to look at him as he glared at her. "You are lucky I am doing this instead of having you on your knees with my cock in your mouth." She swallowed nervously. Anything was possible. "But," he reflected, "that would have put me at quite a disadvantage, do you not agree?" His thumb was running the most exasperatingly intense circles around her as his other fingers plunged into her. She could feel herself beginning to contract deep inside and for a moment her overriding emotion was fear, and she wasn't sure why. She wouldn't implode, and nothing bad would happen to her; Sebastien wouldn't let it. His eyes were boring into hers intently, though they occasionally flicked over in the direction of the symphony hall. "Faster, mon abeille. Someone has already left." "I...I'm not sure I can," she said, beginning to panic as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Again he leaned in, and she realized he was doing it as much to shield her from view as anything else. "You can," he whispered encouragingly. He nuzzled the spot behind her ear and she tried to relax, thinking of her pleasure rather than their impending discovery. Besides, she trusted him. If anyone headed their way, he would have his hand out of her pants so fast she almost wouldn't realize what was happening until it was done. His teeth grazed her earlobe and she was undone, shuddering against the car as she came in his arms. He shifted to withdraw his hand from her pants, and only then did she notice his erection digging into her hip. In that moment, she only wanted him more. Just then, the symphony hall door opened and musicians streamed out, most in small groups, some holding up the one or two that had drunk a bit too much. Claire was too dazed to do anything but stare, so Sebastien opened the car door and helped her into the back seat before sliding in beside her. They looked at each other for a fraction of a second and then came together like ravening beasts, kissing so deeply that their teeth nearly clinked together. Claire pressed her knee against Sebastien's erection and he groaned – actually groaned – into her mouth. She pulled back to catch a breath. "Whoa," she said softly. Sebastien was pulling off his jacket and shirt, which she watched with interest. But then he started on hers. "Hey, what are you doing?" "I told you, I am going to fuck you." "Right here?" she cried. "Oh, yes." He had her naked in his lap, as never put up any serious resistance to being undressed. Unbuttoning his own pants, he motioned for her to climb into his lap. She did, finding the eye contact unnervingly intense as he lifted her hips and impaled her on his hard cock. She would swear his eyes actually unfocused as he gripped her firmly and gave her short, powerful thrusts. She may have been on top, but there was no mistaking who was in control here. Claire rocked her hips in time with his thrusting, and Sebastien moved his hands up to her breasts, holding them steady as he nipped her soft flesh, sucking on her nipples. She could already tell she would be bruised in the morning, but it felt wonderful. He stopped for a moment, lifting her and laying her back on the center console awash in the light from the street lamps. He knelt on the floorboards, looking at her until she was blushing again, feeling self-conscious. "Maestro, please, people can see us." "I don't give a fuck," he said firmly. "I need you now." Claire glanced up uneasily, but the windows had fogged up. No one would be able to see who they were, at least. Sebastien thrust into her and stole her breath. The way he was looking at her, so deeply into her soul, made her shiver. It was unreal. He stretched over her, pressing kisses into her neck. "I want you to come again, Claire, so I can go with you," he murmured. His words surprised her, as he almost never mentioned his own release. She felt him so hard inside her, felt the tension filling his entire body. His control was so thin. He was waiting for her. "Yes, yes, I want to," she breathed out. She kissed his cheek, but before she could say or do anything else, Sebastien had pulled out and knelt between her legs. His tongue slid up and over her and she nearly convulsed in pleasure. For a long moment he knelt there, until the tingling sensations became too much for her. "Please, Maestro," she begged, and he was back inside her in a flash. All pretense of punishment was long gone as he fucked her in long, powerful motions. The orgasm felt like it started in her fingers and toes and she hardly had time to gasp out a few words before she exploded. "Sebastien...don't stop, I want to feel you come." "Yes, I will, I am. God, I love you," he whispered against her lips, as he gave a final thrust and spilled into her. They were silent for a long moment as he gazed down at her, so tenderly she felt as if her heart might burst. She met his eyes and felt a jolt of shock – were there tears in his eyes? Sebastien gently pulled her up off the center console and held her closely to him, her ear directly over his heart. He kissed her hair and exhaled so softly it sounded like a sigh. At last, he nudged her gently off his lap and handed her clothes to her, piece by piece. He also dressed, and Claire got the inexplicable sensation that he was building back up the wall between them that she'd felt so acutely of late. When her heartbeat finally returned to normal, she sat beside him and rested her hand on his thigh. "Sebastien," she said, and he turned to her with no sign of the tears she'd thought she'd seen. "You want to tell me what that was really about?" "What do you mean, mon abeille?" he asked, running his fingertips down her arm. "I'm not stupid," she said, irritated. "Something's going on with you tonight, and I don't think it had anything to do with my little game." Sebastien's fingers stilled, and for a moment it looked very much like he wished he could be somewhere else. "Watching you tonight with René..." he said, so softly that she almost couldn't hear him. She opened her mouth to protest, but he turned to her with an expression so intense that she bit back her words. "I have no problem, none at all, with the relationship you share. I encourage it, and when we are together I sometimes think nothing could be better. But seeing you with him tonight, able to touch each other when I could not touch you, it made me crazy. I am sick to death of keeping secrets," he said, flinching a bit though she could not know why. "All I wanted," he went on, more gently again, "was to take you in my arms, draw you into a quiet corner, and...and...punish you. Or kiss you, I was not entirely sure which I wanted more at that moment." "Were you very angry with me?" "No," he answered, a bit reluctantly. "While there is no one around to hear, I will admit that even I was amused. But it would be nice to be able to put my arm around you – like so – in public without looking over my shoulder, do you not think so?" He slid his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. Her heart beat a little faster, but she was uneasy, and said nothing. The Soprano Ch. 08 Note: Again what has been proven is the infinite patience of my readers. Gratitude for your kind thoughts! ---------- It was late afternoon and Claire was sitting in the front row of the symphony hall, watching Sebastien put the orchestra through its paces with Stravinsky. Her sketchbook was balanced on her knee, but she hadn't drawn so much as one line. She was worried. It wasn't just his demeanor tonight -- he seemed to be in a pretty foul mood and was snapping at his musicians more than usual -- but also the way he had been for the past week or so. Ever since the night of the costume party, when Claire had felt a separation between them most acutely, she had been noticing it more and more. They spent time together, but it was as if Sebastien was distracted somehow. Claire had been trying to brush it off, but today watching him berate the string sections until the first cellist was nearly in tears, she decided that enough was enough. He would tell her what was going on, or she wasn't going to leave him alone. She so rarely pressed him on how he was feeling, she thought she should get a free pass just this once. "Again, again!" he cried. "Let us take it from three after B. Three after B, please, and the cellos need to play out. I cannot hear you over the horns." They began again, but had only gone a few bars before he was shaking his head and waving his arm for silence. Whipping around to face a rather startled Claire, he asked, "How does it sound to you? They still need to play out more, no?" She bit her lip. Truth be told, she hadn't been listening all that carefully and she suspected Sebastien was nitpicking. She heard the cellos, though it might have been that the balance wasn't exactly perfect. Still, looking up at the first cellist's distraught face, she knew it wasn't the time to encourage his perfectionist tendencies. "It sounds fine to me, Maestro," she said lightly, trying to tell him with her eyes that he should let it go. He twisted his face up in irritation and she shrugged. "Besides, you've only got them for another fifteen minutes and you should probably run through the last movement." He glared down at her, and she frowned back. "This is my orchestra and I will keep them here all night if I must in order for them to get it right." She knew she should let it go, but... "No, you won't. You can't, and you won't, so you should make use of the time you have." If she'd thought he was glaring before, it was nothing compared to the look he gave her now. She could see he wanted to argue, that he very much did not want to be bested in a contest of wills in front of the orchestra. At the same time she knew he was well aware that she was right, which left him unable to do anything but give in. They stared at each other for a long moment, and now Claire was getting annoyed. She'd have been willing to look away first, but she could hardly give him a nice, submissive look with the entire symphony watching. And they were, of course watching. Waiting. Sebastien finally composed his face into his usual non-expression, but his eyes stayed on hers as if he were trying to tell her something. She held his gaze for another moment before shrugging one shoulder and dropping her eyes back to her blank paper. Sebastien turned back around and, to the surprise of the musicians, flipped forward in his score. "Last movement, please. We will start from the top." When some of the musicians were slow in getting there, their glances still lingering on Claire, he made no more than a token protest. Claire was relieved, but watched him with concern. He had a defeated air about him now, never a good sign. And they both knew what the orchestra was thinking. The lamb had tamed the lion. Hah. If only they knew. Even Sebastien's conducting seemed subdued now, as if he were contrite, even regretful of his snappishness. He let a few minor errors go by entirely without comment. When the orchestra got off by a beat, Claire thought he wasn't going to do anything at first. Three bars later he dropped his arms, shook his head briefly, and waited for them to lumber to a halt before raising his arms again resignedly. "Once more, please, from four after letter F. Four after F." He conducted, but it seemed he was somewhere else, perhaps listening to music none of them could hear. At last feeling he would make no further progress with them that night, he dismissed them early. They shuffled out of the auditorium, looking a little confused, but Claire didn't move until they were all gone. Sebastien stood alone on stage looking a bit forlorn in the dim stage lights. He wandered off to the side of the stage, straightening a row of chairs absently as Claire mounted the steps. He didn't turn when she touched his arm. "Maestro, are you feeling all right?" "Of course." "It's just that you don't seem quite yourself today." "Everything is fine." "I think we both know that's not true. Why won't you talk to me?" "As I have already said, everything is fine!" he snapped, turning to face her so suddenly that she took a step back in surprise. "I don't understand why you're so upset." "Oh, really? Perhaps you recall arguing with me in front of all my musicians tonight," he said, stalking toward her menacingly. She moved back away from him until she suddenly met the wall behind her. "Th-that's not what I meant, and you know it," she stammered, trying to keep her voice steady. "Oh?" His voice was low and dangerous, and altogether too steady. "You've been acting strangely all afternoon. I want to know what the matter is." "There is nothing," he said in a soft, angry voice. "There is!" she insisted, just as angrily now. "I know you're hiding something from me, and I want to know what it is." Sebastien jerked back in surprise, a flash of something that might have been guilt crossing his face briefly. "If you keep harassing me about this, I swear I will --" "Will what?" she challenged, interrupting him. "I will make you very sorry," he replied, leaning over again and moving his face inches away from hers heatedly. Claire felt twin spikes of terror and arousal tear through her, and her heart sped up. Her chest was heaving with the emotions flooding through her, and it did not escape her notice when Sebastien's eyes strayed downward for a lingering moment before making heated eye contact with her again. Things were getting intense, quickly. Just then, they heard the scrape of soft-soled shoes on the stage. Turning as one from the humming energy between them, they saw a little slip of a girl -- one of the youngest in the orchestra, a flautist named Shelby. "Get out," growled Sebastien, and Claire had the curious experience of watching someone else turn red and quiver under his stare. "Ohhh," sighed the new arrival in obvious embarrassment, "but I, um, I left my, um..." She trailed off before finishing her thought under Sebastien's withering glare. "Get it, and then get out," he said bitingly. Shelby scurried over to her music stand and grabbed a little case from underneath it. She turned to leave, but before she walked away she cast a glance over her shoulder. Making wide-eyed eye contact with Claire, she inclined her head slightly. Claire could do nothing but swallow nervously and blink back at her. Apparently deciding there was nothing further she could do, Shelby turned frightened eyes back to Sebastien and then fled for the safety of backstage. When her clattering footsteps had died away, Claire and Sebastien turned back to each other. The tension had not dissipated; if anything, the brief interruption had increased it. Claire's stomach twisted and she could not quite suppress a shudder from the strain of his hot glare. She wasn't sure what Sebastien was going to do. He reached out to grip her upper arms tightly and press them into the wall behind her. She made a soft pained noise and he crushed her against the wall, digging his fingertips in and kissing her in a fierce, almost painful way. Claire tried in vain to move away from the wall, but he held her firmly, taking what he wanted from her. She whimpered into his mouth and he drew back to bite her lip. Her body was on fire, her blood heating with every passing second. "God, please!" she gasped. "What?" he demanded, before stealing her breath with another kiss. She could feel him, hard and hot, against her hip. Somehow, over the blood rushing through their ears, they heard footsteps again. Sebastien stilled immediately, pressing his face into the side of Claire's neck as if he could hide from whatever was about to enter the room. "They're probably not even here anymore, but you should have seen them. He had her up against the wall and they were just glaring at each other like you wouldn't believe when I came in." Shelby, sounding like she was trying to keep her voice down. "What do you think they were fighting about?" Holly. Great, thought Claire. "That's just it. I'm not sure they were fighting. I mean, they both looked pretty mad, but there was just something about it that seemed..." Their footsteps stopped as she considered her words. "Seemed what?" A third woman, probably Violet, Shelby's friend. She also played flute. "I don't know, different from when he looked at me. If they hadn't been glaring, I would have said it looked like he was...was, well, about to kiss her." "Kiss her?" echoed Holly incredulously, apparently forgetting all pretense of being quiet. The women started to laugh, but softly, as though they weren't sure it was really so ridiculous. "Look, he was either supremely pissed or he was thinking of doing something extremely dirty to her." Claire let out a kind of choked laugh as Sebastien shook his head grimly beside her. If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought he was actually embarrassed that his thoughts had shown so plainly on his face. Obviously, he had been both supremely pissed and thinking of extremely dirty things to do to her. "Did you hear that? Maybe they are still in there!" said Violet in a hushed tone. Claire looked meaningfully at Sebastien, who gave her a pained look as he ground his still-hard cock into her firmly. She rolled her eyes, but the footsteps had begun again. He frowned down at her and took a step back, still looking pretty annoyed. "And that," he said as the musicians entered the room, "is what will happen to you if you cannot refrain from criticizing me in rehearsal. When I want your opinion, I shall ask you for it, and otherwise I expect you to stay out of my job." The thing about it was, he probably meant it. A flood of renewed anger ran through Claire and she stepped away from the wall, annoyed. "Don't threaten me, Maestro. I will always tell you when I think you're making a big enough mistake to fuck up your rehearsal." Sebastien started, obviously surprised she was arguing rather than acting the part of a chastened employee. "I shall threaten as I please, because believe me when I say I will follow through if you cannot respect me." Neither of them remembered that he hadn't even threatened her with anything. "I respect you," she responded hotly. "It's you that doesn't respect me enough to tell me the truth." She flinched inwardly. She hadn't meant to say that in front of the others, who were exchanging confused glances now. Evidently they were not so afraid of their conductor that they wouldn't risk his wrath for a little workplace gossip. "I -- of course I respect you," he faltered. "More than...I...well...but there is a time and place for some conversations, and now...now..." He paused, looking a little lost. Then Violet sneezed. Sebastien turned, his irritation reminding him that they were supposed to be putting on a show, not discussing their relationship. It had gotten way too personal. "You again," he said, addressing Shelby. "Apparently I cannot even discipline my soprano without prying ears and eyes. Very well, Claire, we will continue this discussion in private. Come." "I don't have to just do everything you say," she protested, and he closed his eyes briefly. "You do, or you do not have to return to my symphony hall," he said coldly. That stung. Claire sensed they were way past playing, and her eyes immediately filled with tears. She was frozen, knowing there was nothing she could do. She wanted to go with pride and leave, but then what would his threat mean when she returned next rehearsal? Maybe she no longer cared. She wasn't his slave -- certainly not here, and he had no right to treat her like one, especially when she hadn't even done anything wrong. "Fine," she said, setting her jaw and stalking to the side of the stage to grab her bag and sketchbook. "I'll get my things," she said pointedly, letting Sebastien draw his own conclusions as to whether she meant the things she kept at his apartment. For a long moment she heard nothing but her own heartbeat. Sebastien looked at her, clearly upset. Neither of them knew what to say. Things had escalated so quickly. Their salvation came from an unlikely source. "I'm so sorry, Maestro, Claire," mumbled Shelby, clearly dying of embarrassment. "This is none of our business," muttered Violet in agreement. Holly could only stare, red-faced and speechless. They backed out of the room and wandered down the hallway, whispering furiously. Claire and Sebastien were alone again. Neither seemed sure what to say or do. Through a haze of unshed tears, Claire could see Sebastien was as upset as she. "Would you really leave?" he finally asked, his voice cracking slightly with tension. "I'm tired of this argument," she said softly. "If you can't talk to me, and you want to insist your word is law under this roof, if you really believe you can command me like that...yes, I'd leave." "Some things are better left unknown." "Not when they affect you like this, I can't believe that." "I need you to trust --" "No, I need you to trust me," she snapped. Sebastien shook his head in frustration. "It is not about trust." "But you said --" "Claire!" he said loudly, startling her into silence. "I do not want to have this conversation here. Others are about." "I don't care what you want anymore," she heard herself say, surprising them both. "Is that so?" he asked, firming his jaw in annoyance. "Yeah, that's so," she said, glaring up at him and trying to ignore the fact that she was still, inexplicably, turned on. She was baiting him and she knew it. From the look on his face, he knew it, too. He took a deep breath, trying to decide what to do. Finally he stalked away behind her, flinging aside the curtain and going backstage. Claire just looked after him, confused. After a second, he re-emerged and beckoned to her. Hesitantly she approached, until he reached out to grab her wrist and jerk her behind the curtain with him. It was backstage and technically connected with the rest of the symphony hall via a narrow hallway behind the stage, but no one went back there unless they needed to get one of the large instruments they stored in the alcove. It was darker the further Sebastien pulled her, and when he finally stopped, she could no longer see him clearly. "Mon abeille," he said softly, the endearment catching her off guard, "I repeat, I do respect you. You are an amazing and dedicated singer, passionate and caring in and out of bed, intelligent and adorable -- if impulsive and as quick to anger as I. You are the most incredible woman I have been with, and I mean that in every way you care to take it. "I wish...I wish very much to have complete honesty with you, if you could but trust me a while longer. I very much regret some of my words to you today, but I am hurt that you think I could mean all of those things. You know I command you only as much as is pleasing to us both." He paused for a moment to let her think about what he had said so far. She had misgivings, as he had nearly -- but not quite -- admitted he was in fact hiding something. But she did trust him, and more than that she was beginning to wonder if she really wanted to know. "Claire, I do not want you to leave. If you did, I truly do not know what I would do. You mean so much to me, and I thought we had something special enough to be worth any trouble." At this, Claire burst into tears, throwing her arms around him. "Maestro...Sebastien, I don't want to leave. Never, never want to," she sobbed into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her until her crying stopped. Stroking her hair, he made soothing noises over her head. He still felt tense, she thought. "I think we must...I need to say..." He stopped, frustrated, and then began again. "About correcting me in rehearsals..." Claire couldn't believe it. He was really going to bring this up? "Are you serious?" she protested, backing away from him abruptly. "You were completely out of control tonight." "I?" he asked incredulously. "It was you who was out of place." "It was not! You were making Celeste so upset, and she didn't deserve that at all. Especially not because you've got some private problem that you're letting spill all over rehearsal. You never let personal stuff get in the way of work." That must have cut too close to the truth as he saw it, because Sebastien drew himself up arrogantly and said, "How I conduct my orchestra is certainly no concern of yours." "Like Hell it's not!" she said, her vehemence startling him a bit. "I have to work here, too, and unlike you I care about the feelings of the musicians in the orchestra. You know, you might get a better sound out of them if you were nicer to them" "Oh?" he said icily, and Claire knew she had overstepped. "You think there is a deficiency in the way my orchestra performs?" "N-no, not exactly," she said uncertainly. "Then kindly mind your own fucking business." "I will not," she said, insulted. "I say you will," he replied, deadly calm. "Or what?" They were glaring at each other again in the barely lit alcove. Claire's heart was speeding up again. The back and forth was getting exhausting, but her adrenaline was going again. "Thank God," Sebastien muttered, confusing Claire until she found herself pinned between him and the covered piano behind her. The dusty smell of the space clouded her mind and she yielded to his intense kisses. She moaned softly as all the feelings she'd had pent up all afternoon exploded suddenly. Desire shivered across her skin. "Tu me rends fou. Vous m'avez enchanté et je ne sera jamais libre. Je ne veux jamas être libre, car c'est moi qui suis esclave par vous," he murmured into her hear. Claire only understood half of the words, but it was enough. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes even as his kisses enflamed her. He would take her here, where anyone could find them, and she would let him, like she always did. Like she always would. Emotion welled up in her and then words were tumbling incoherently out of her mouth. "Anything I have, everything I am, is yours to take. Tell me please I can always be here, at your service." Sebastien drew back for a moment in astonishment at her words, and then enfolded her tenderly into his arms. "Just when I was ready to ravage you, you say something sweet, darling, and I just want to make love to you." Claire looked up at him with a little smile and asked, "Should I make you mad again?" Sebastien smiled then, too, as much in relief as in amusement. "I would rather you did not," he said. "It's just that...of course I adore making love, but right now, I'd, um...I'd kind of rather...the other thing." "Would you now?" "Yes, sir." "As my lady commands," he said with an ironic smile before gripping her waist and pulling her into him, grinding himself against her. She wondered if they could possibly stop now if they wanted to. The Soprano Ch. 08 Sebastien had backed her into the wall of the alcove now and was nipping savagely at her neck when they suddenly became aware they weren't alone. The tinny sound of rock music piped through headphones was just discernible, which meant that whoever was there was either going deaf or had incredibly cheap headphones. Sebastien flicked up his eyes with such frustration that Claire thought he must have looked like a hungry vampire interrupted with his victim, the way his teeth were still sunk into her neck. He bit down harder and she whimpered. Sebastien actually growled low in his throat and grabbed her again, pulling her farther to the back where they could no longer be discovered by anyone skulking around the stage -- as unlikely as that was. "Of all days..." he was muttering in French. Claire tried to suppress a smile, but didn't quite succeed. "Think it is funny, do you?" he asked, seeing her in the dim light of the single window they passed. She looked at him with wide eyes and shook her head, but he just snarled in her direction. He stalked off into the far corner and pushed her into the wall, unzipping his pants and reaching for the hem of her skirt. Claire pulled away, giving her usual token protest. "Give me what I want without complaint or I shall drag you over to the window...or perhaps invite whoever is out on stage to watch." She knew it was an empty threat, but on the other hand...She turned back to him, flattening her back to the wall and looking up at him meekly. "Much better," he murmured, lifting her skirt and smiling with appreciation at the sight of her pink lace panties. These he gave a little pat, making her squirm, before yanking them down to the floor. He lifted her hips and thrust into her, drawing a soft cry from her lips before she could stop herself. She wrapped her legs around his waist as his hand clamped down firmly on her mouth. Leaning into her until their upper bodies were pressed together, he began pounding into her mercilessly. The eye contact was intense and incredible, though it made Claire suddenly shy. Her cheeks pinked as her body vaulted up to orgasm between Sebastien and the wall. Her feet flexed from the sensations and her body twitched as much as it could. Sebastien groaned at the feeling of her pulsating around him, and let himself go, spilling into her as he held his breath. They were both winded and weak-kneed when he let her down to the floor. Claire held out her hand for her panties, but Sebastien just smiled and stuck them in his pocket. "Come on, I need those!" she protested. "You can manage without them," he said. "I can not! You should understand." "I have no idea what you might mean." "Fine, then we're not doing this again," she grumbled. "Sex as a weapon, mon abeille? I had thought better of you than that." "Yeah, well, that goes double for you, withholding clothing from a woman in need." Sebastien smiled and handed them over. Claire smiled back, but it didn't reach her heart. Inside, she knew there was something very wrong, but she couldn't know what. ----- The restaurant was a bit darker than Claire had expected for so early in the evening, though the candles flickering away on the tables provided a bit of warmth. She sipped her champagne cocktail and waited. Before long she saw the handsome blonde moving through the crowd toward her, and he sat across from her with a glass of beer he'd brought from the bar. "I suppose you should be getting on to rehearsal soon," he said. "I have a little while," she replied with a shrug. "Sebastien called another closed rehearsal session before our rehearsal starts. I don't understand what's going on -- seems like almost everyone is there except for me. Do you know what's going on?" "Even if I did, you know I could not say." He shook his head, looking irritated. "I know, I'm sorry. It's just that...I guess I feel like he must be keeping something from me, and I'm not sure what to do about it. He's acting funny." "I do not know what to tell you." "I just thought maybe you'd give me a little hint." René frowned, wishing he could at least promise that Sebastien was keeping nothing from her that would hurt her. But the truth was very different, and in fact Sebastien had not even mentioned to him what the closed rehearsals were for. It would have irked him, but he had told Sebastien he was tired of keeping secrets. "Whatever are you going to do with yourself when he is away next week?" he asked, changing the subject. "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself." "I am sure that you can." Claire had no sooner left the café than her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and saw that it was Sebastien's younger sister Justine, with whom she had struck up a friendship over the past few months. "Justine, hello!" "Good day, Clarabelle. Tell me, when are you coming back for a visit?" "Our season ends next month, so hopefully soon." "Good, yes. You can come by yourself, no?" "Why would I do that?" "Basi is so serious! We should have some fun. Ah well, bring the old stick in the mud and he can come play uncle while Sarah comes out with us." "He's really good with the kids, isn't he?" "What is this I hear? Are you thinking of family things?" "Hardly. I'm too young to be starting a family." "Not so very young," Justine said thoughtfully. "But what about marriage? Surely you have thought about that." "Once or twice. It's only natural," Claire replied slowly. Friends or not, perhaps Justine didn't need to know just how often her thoughts strayed that way. "Of course. I think he's going to ask you." "What?! Did he say something to you?" "Certainly not! After all the teasing we give him, I believe we will be lucky to get invited to his wedding at all. I just have a feeling." "I don't know. Things seem pretty smooth as is. I don't know if either of us wants to, you know, rock the boat." "Claire, are you saying you would not marry my brother if he asked?" Justine didn't sound affronted, just curious. Claire was silent for a long moment, pausing to lean up against a tree trunk as she thought about it. "I...no, I'm not saying that," she said at last. "I think...no, I know. I would marry him if he asked." "Ah, I knew you would say so! I am telling you, he will definitely ask you before the end of the year. Sarah says so, too. We are sisters, so we know these things," she said with a laugh. "I really don't know. He hasn't even hinted..." He had been acting strangely, but Claire didn't want to mention it to Justine. No need to worry -- or excite -- her unnecessarily. "Of course not, Clarabelle. He always has held everything close to the chest. But believe me, we all agree he has not been this happy for a long time. We only tease him because we do not want him to let go of the good thing he has." "I'm not going anywhere. Even if he never asks me to marry him, Justine. I love him." "That is so sweet! Well, Clarabelle, please do give me a call when you decide to come. I will pick you up at the airport and I can give my darling brother a good tease on the way home!" ----- "I must go up and do some work before rehearsal," Sebastien said, glancing down at Claire, who was curled up on the parlor sofa. "Do you mind staying down here until I finish?" "Fine," she replied. "I should spend a little more time going over my score, anyway." Sebastien nodded, giving her a peck on the cheek, and headed upstairs. Claire watched him go, then settled down at the piano bench. She flipped through her score, playing short sequences on the piano and humming along. A soft ringing sound nearby interrupted her momentarily, but she tried to ignore it. It was Sebastien's phone, and she knew he wasn't going to answer it while he was upstairs working. After another few rings Claire gave up trying to ignore it, instead waiting for the answering machine to click on so whoever was calling could leave their message and then go away. She heard Sebastien's terse message, the beep of the machine, and then a brief silence before a man's voice begun speaking. "Maestro Boulet, this is Leonard calling to touch base about next week. As you know, it will give you a much better opportunity to see how you work with our orchestra than your brief visit earlier this year. Because each candidate will be here for such a short period of time, the schedule will be quite intensive. I will send a car to the airport for you, and a copy of the schedule should already be in your inbox. See you next week." The man's voice stopped, along with Claire's heart. She felt weak all over. Did this mean what it sounded like? Well, of course. What else could it mean? Sebastien was hoping to become the conductor of another symphony. It explained a lot. But...he'd never mentioned... A door shut upstairs and Sebastien's footsteps drew closer. He was wearing only black slacks, errant beads of water sliding down his pale chest as he towel-dried his hair. Apparently he had also showered while he was upstairs. Even upset as she was, her eyes slid over his exposed skin hungrily. Sebastien's brows furrowed as he drew nearer to her. "Mon abeille, is anything the matter?" Claire stood wordlessly, took a few steps over to his answering machine, and hit play. She didn't want to, but she couldn't help watching his face as he listened to the message. When it was over, he watched her with an anxious expression, paler than usual. "I would like to say it is not what it sounds like..." he began softly. "But it is," she interrupted. She felt numb. "I am afraid so." "Is this...is this about Julia?" Sebastien stepped forward to touch her reassuringly, but she pulled away from him. His face fell and he dropped his hand. "I swear it is not. I applied for the position at the suggestion of a colleague, and I did not find out that Julia was on the board until the exploratory gathering. She is not even on the hiring committee." "I believe you, although I don't know why I should. You lied to me. Why would you do that?" "I did not suppose I would be offered the position, was not even sure I would take it if it was offered to me. Better, I thought, not to worry you for no reason." "If what you're saying is true, it doesn't sound like there would have been much for me to worry about." She sounded eerily calm. "I...I suppose that is true. Are you terribly upset with me?" "I'm furious, and heartbroken...and I don't know how to trust you anymore. You're too good a liar. You must have been going on like this for weeks." She shook her head. "But you are still here..." She looked down. It was true. Every time they'd had a big problem in the past, she'd run away until she could deal with it. "I don't know...I guess I'm done running from you. I've done some stupid things before. Yelling, crying, running away, those things don't solve the problem. Maybe I just want to talk." "We have some time before we leave for rehearsal. Would you like to sit down and discuss it now?" He sounded very careful, as if the wrong word would shatter her into a million pieces. Maybe it would. "Sure. Okay." She sat slowly, and Sebastien sat opposite her. "Tell me why you applied for the position." "An old acquaintance asked to meet with me, and he mentioned that my name had come up as a possible fit for the upcoming vacancy. It is an excellent opportunity. Any conductor would agree." "Then why do you say you might not want it?" "I could not possibly bring you. I thought..." "You would, what, give it up because of that? If I wanted to give up this job and follow you, I would. Or we would learn how to be apart. I would never...could never ask you to sacrifice an opportunity like this for our relationship. Much as it would hurt, I think it hurts more that you think so little of me that you would have to lie to me like this." "I do not...that is not how I meant it. I think the world of you, and I enjoy so much what we do here, together. It would take a lot for me to give that up, and I believed, foolishly, that it would be easier to wait until I had been offered the position -- or not -- to tell you. I realized weeks ago that I should have told you, but by then...I can only hope that you will forgive me." "I don't know. I was wrong, I don't think I can deal with this right now. We...we have rehearsal. Let's go." ----- Things were breaking down. He couldn't quite understand how it had happened, though he was quite sure that it had been mostly his fault. No...all his fault. Claire had been so wonderful, and he knew she was so hurt by the sudden revelation of his secret. Well, he had always intended to tell her eventually. How could it have gotten away from him so terribly? Yes, he knew she was hurt. Sebastien felt that she had not forgiven him -- perhaps could not -- and he couldn't blame her. Still, he thought he might have felt better if she had screamed at him, cried stormily, slammed doors. The soft, quiet acceptance; the way she moved disconnectedly through space unnerved and saddened him. He could not help remembering how she had looked the afternoon she found out. She had been so pale, even trembling as she faced him in his apartment. He had faith that things would eventually go back to normal, but right now he was being so careful around her, it was hard to see it. Again he felt that she was, in some small ways, pulling away from him, and he was at a more profound loss than ever about what to do. Perhaps the time apart would do them good. He had finally finished packing his things for his audition trip, and Claire had agree to ride with him to the airport to say goodbye. The atmosphere was strained between them in the back seat of his car, but at last he spoke. "I suppose it will be nice to have a break while the orchestra rehearses for the instrumental set being performed when I return." "Oh, I guess I didn't tell you yet. Aaron asked me to perform with his choir this weekend, so I'll be rather busy with rehearsals myself." "I see." "That's all right, isn't it? My contract says--" "Of course, it is no problem." He shifted, looking uncomfortable. It was strange, but he was feeling sort of...sort of... "You're not...jealous, are you?" "It may seem odd to you," he said softly, "but I suppose I am, in a way. The thought of you singing for another man, well...watching you sing for me has become rather like...like..." "Like..." she prompted, but he shrugged uncomfortably and she blushed when she realized what he was thinking. "It's not like that with Aaron. I don't even call him Maestro." "Yes, well." He waved that away, obviously wishing to change the subject. "More than...those feelings...I wish I were able to come. To be able to see you perform when I am not also working, it would be nice." ----- Sebastien had hardly passed through security at the airport when he began to feel a strong sense of foreboding - about his trip or his relationship, he couldn't say. Making his way to the gate, he couldn't help but notice the throngs of people surrounding him. Harried parents running after their children, young college-types paired off and holding hands affectionately, and a strange woman with hair very similar to Claire's. She kept passing him, and he got more agitated each time he nearly mistook her for the woman he'd left behind. At last he sat with a disgruntled sigh in a lightly padded seat by the window, watching the technicians loading planes with luggage. A plane took off gracefully in the background just as another touched down on another runway. He checked his watch. His plane wouldn't take off for another half hour. He had time to make a phone call. Pulling out his phone, he tapped in the sequence of buttons that placed a call. The phone rang three times before there was an answer, and he spoke before the startled person on the other end could even take a breath. "Hello, it is I," he said briskly in French, to avoid being overheard. "Having second thoughts?" asked René in a mildly censorious tone. Sebastien frowned, though he knew René could not see him do it. "And third, and fourth, and so on. That is not why I am calling." "Well, I am, as they say, on the edge of my seat to hear what it is," came the dry reply. "It is about mon abeille. I wished to ask if you would...would see to her wellbeing while I am away. I am afraid she is far more upset than she is letting on, and I...I could not live with myself if..." He didn't know how to finish the sentence. "Certainly I will look in on her from time to time, but she is a grown woman and I do not think-" "Whatever she wants, if it is anything you can give her, I want you to give it to her. Even adults sometimes need more care than they realize, and I want you to be there to give it to her." "Sebastien," René began with a tired sigh, "are we getting to the point where you are giving me orders as well as Claire?" "René, please!" Sebastien snapped in frustration. "Do not do this to me today. I fear I have destroyed my life as it is and I do not have the time or energy to argue with you." "Then why do you not come home?" "It is too late for that now," he answered darkly. "I must resign myself to the mercy of the fates. Besides, if it is as I fear and Claire no longer loves me..." He paused to collect himself, even the thought being more painful than he'd anticipated. "If that be so, then I may as well take the position, should they offer it to me. I should not want to remain here after that." "I have known you my whole life, and still I do not understand your fatalistic attitudes." "Still I wish to be prepared." "You will never get away from it. It will follow you your whole life, and you know I speak the truth," René said, his mind reaching far, far into the past, to a boy and a girl, to a blooming love and a rushing river. He shook his head. "Be that as it may...Promise me you will take care of her." "Very well, I promise." "Anything she wants, you will give it to her." "Yes." "Anything," Sebastien repeated, more emphatically. René was silent for a long moment, processing the implications of what Sebastien was asking. "Mon ami, I do not think-" "Please, do this for me. Or if you will not do it for me, do it for her. She may not need just a friend this week. She needs to feel safe and desired in the arms of a man who loves her. As it cannot be me - could not, even if I were here - it must be you." When René did not answer, Sebastien went on, "I know it cannot be lack of desire..." "No," René finally said, reluctantly, "but it feels disloyal and I know it will feel so to her." "Then tell her I suggested it, if you like. Command her in my name, if you like. But I think it will not be so complicated as you imagine. When I am with her, it is like...like...birds bursting into song, or the feeling of a sun-warmed breeze on a spring day." His analogies sounded ludicrously sentimental, he knew, but it was the truth. "But the problem is that our relationship must always be so...political. We are always dancing around how we feel, what we mean to each other, the politics of our sex and our relationship to each other, and so rarely do we get the freedom to simply...simply be. Certainly I have involved you in our little games, but I believe with you she may have the freedom to just be a woman-" He broke off, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Sebastien," René cut in kindly, "I think you underestimate your relationship and your lover. But if it pleases you, perhaps you should make a greater effort to simply be with her. Surely your sex is not always full of your games from start to finish." "No, I suppose not," he replied, sounding unconvinced. "But still I think with me she misses the free and easy part of a relationship. With you, she may at least have that. I want her to have that, especially this week when she will be so untrusting of me. Promise me you will care for her." The Soprano Ch. 08 "I promise...if you will promise me something." "What?" "Promise you will think about what you are doing. I do not want you to torture yourself, and for now perhaps you should not even think about the effect on Claire. I want you to think about what you are doing to yourself and whether this is worth it. I hear what you are not saying aloud, even if you do not yet hear it yourself. Have a safe trip, and I expect to hear from you again when you have landed." Sebastien was still thinking about René's words when the line went dead in his ear. ----- The sound of the phone startled Claire out of her reverie. She had been taking a break from studying her music, wishing she was with Sebastien and simultaneously mourning the turn their relationship had taken. It had only been three days since he'd left, but they hadn't been easy. Sebastien had called the night before, but neither of them seemed to know what to say. She stretched her arm out of the nest of blankets she'd made around herself on the sofa and caught up the phone on the fourth ring. "Hello?" "Chérie, it is good to hear your voice. When Sebastien is not around, I never get to see you. How would you like to come out with me to dinner tonight?" "Oh, René, it's you. I don't know. I've just been so tired lately." "Have you eaten since he left?" he asked softly. "Of course," she replied defensively, before adding contritely, "a little." "I am coming over. Do not go anywhere; I will be there in ten minutes," he said, and hung up before she could protest. Not that she was going to go anywhere. She just didn't feel up to it. Everything was going wrong. One way or another she was going to lose the best thing that had ever happened to her. She sat back in her chair and watched a bird flitting about in the tree outside. It seemed happy. Why couldn't she be happy? Suddenly she realized it was very quiet in the room. Her laptop had been playing an internet radio station, but had shut itself down after she had ignored it for long enough. Absently she clicked a few buttons to get it started again, but instantly regretted it. The snare drum and the wistful flute solo told her it was Boléro, and it reminded her of Sebastien. It had been months ago now, after some concert or other -- she couldn't even recall which one anymore -- and Sebastien surprised the audience, and Claire, with a piece that hadn't been on the program. Boléro, a perennial audience favorite for its twisting melody and insistent rhythms, was part of the symphony's usual repertoire, so the musicians were generally familiar with it. Claire had known it was about more than that, though. Sebastien was trying to embarrass her by playing for her, in public, the song he had so thoroughly whipped her to in a sleazy hotel room the year before. The worst part was, it had worked. Her cheeks burned as she sat at the front of the stage, knowing no one in the audience could possibly understand the reason for her discomfort. Yet she saw Sebastien's sneaky smile, understood that he was getting some perverse pleasure from it. She had been pissed off, but couldn't deny the power of the memory or the fact that he had embarrassed her with it in public. She had put on a show of being mad at him, but it hadn't lasted. They had retired to his dressing room and had incredible, passionate sex. Those were the days before secrets had come between them. But then, she had to admit he had been lying to her not just for weeks but really for months. Months. It didn't seem possible. A sharp knock on the door brought her out of her thoughts again and she sighed. Whoever it was should just go away and let her suffer. She drew the blankets over her head and pretended to be asleep. Not that they could see her anyway, but it made her feel better. The knock came again. Then she remembered. René. Heaving an even bigger sigh, she got up from the sofa and wrapped the blanket around herself before shuffling to the door. She unlocked it, but didn't open it, and then went back to the couch without a word. Behind her was unintelligible French muttering, and then the sound of the door opening and closing again. She braced herself for the look she knew he would give her. René walked around in front of the sofa, looked down at her, and gave a sigh of his own. But she didn't see the expected pity. Instead, he looked rather annoyed. "I do not understand what is the matter with you. Sebastien is gone for three days and you turn into a complete mess." Claire's mouth opened in surprise and indignation. "You know, a French woman would never allow a man to destroy her life like this. She would simply go out and live her life, and the man, seeing what he has missed, would drop everything to come back to her." "Well, I'm not French. I'm an American woman and this is how we grieve our relationships. Don't you watch American movies? I'm not sleeping well, I've barely eaten, and I haven't showered or brushed my teeth today." René wrinkled his nose, but could not quite conceal the soft concern in his eyes. "Chérie, you are so pale. Why are you doing this to yourself? Mon ami loves you more than anything. He would give up everything for you." "Then why is he there, and I'm here?" Neither of them knew the answer to that. "How will you be able to perform on Friday if you do not get control of yourself?" "I'll be fine. I always am." "I am not very good at this ordering around business, but if that is what it takes to get you back into the world, then so be it. Get up from that couch," he said. "No." "Is this how you treat Sebastien?" asked René exasperatedly. "Sometimes." "No wonder he wants to whip you all the time." Claire frowned at him. He leaned over and tried again in a lower voice. "You will get up, or I will force you to get up." Claire thought about trying him on that, but wasn't sure she should. Still, it was obvious he meant business, so she pushed aside the blanket and got off the couch. "Fine," she said with a pout. "Go take a shower." "Make me," she replied, before she even realized it. Rolling his eyes, he lifted her bodily over his shoulder and carried her into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and then set her down, looking meaningfully at her. "I'm not going to undress in front of you." "I have seen it before, you know." "Don't you trust me?" "Should I?" With a frown, Claire turned her back on him and disrobed. She dropped her clothes at her feet and stepped into the shower. The door didn't open, so she knew René was just standing there. It was weird, but she tried to ignore the fact that he was there and just take her damn shower. She washed her hair out -- twice -- and even brushed her teeth while her conditioner worked its magic. She couldn't believe he was treating her like a child -- or that she had been acting like one. Really, as he had asked her, what was her problem? She had been trying very hard not to think about Sebastien, although he was the only thing she apparently could think about. Sometimes it felt like she had already given up on the relationship. Oh, sure, she had said they would be able to work something out if he moved across the country to take this new job. But did she mean it? Long-distance relationships were hard enough when they started off in the right way, without lies and deception and hurt feelings. Besides, when he left René would no doubt go with him, and then who would she have? She didn't really have any friends in the city, although one of her high school friends was supposed to be moving up here this year and she'd gotten very friendly with some of the musicians. But still most of her social life was wrapped up in these two men, and soon she would have nothing. René hadn't heard anything in a long moment when he suddenly perceived what sounded like soft sobs under the pounding water of the shower. Peering around the edge of the shower curtain he saw Claire sitting on the floor, her knees drawn up tightly to her chest, crying her eyes out. Heart pierced with pity, he quietly slipped from the bathroom and dialed a number on his phone. "What do you want?" "It is about Claire." "What about her? Is she all right?" Sebastien asked, suddenly focusing his attention very intensely on the other end of the phone. "Of course she is not all right. I got her to take a shower, at least, but now she is curled up sobbing. I have never seen her like this. She is not eating, not sleeping." "I asked you to take care of her-" began Sebastien, his concern making him sound angrier than he was. "Do not blame me for this!" returned René hotly. "May I remind you she is an adult, and she said she was 'grieving like an American', so you will pardon me for being out of my element." "What would you like me to tell you?" "I just thought you would want to know." For the second time in a week, René hung up on Sebastien and then dropped his phone into his pocket. When he turned around, hardly knowing what he would do about Claire, he saw her in the bathroom doorway. She was clutching a towel around her, hair dripping onto her shoulders, eyes red-rimmed and looking very vulnerable. "Were you talking to Sebastien?" she asked in a small voice. "I was." "Did you tell him I was..." "Yes." "What did he say?" "I did not give him much of a chance to respond, chérie. But I know that his heart is breaking. In all my years of knowing him, I have never seen him as distraught - except perhaps when he thought you were going to leave." "It's his fault, you know." "I do know, and I have told him as much. But he is, as you know, a stubborn man. Once he has decided upon something, there is no turning back. So he will punish himself for leaving you, and torture himself with thoughts of you turning your back on him when he returns." "I wouldn't-" "Reality does not intrude upon a sorry man's thoughts, I am afraid. But look at you, shivering. Let us warm you up." He strode forward, sliding the towel out of her hands and moving it up to her hair. He squeezed the moisture out, heedless of her nakedness in that moment. Then he motioned for her to go into her bedroom, and he followed. He crawled onto the bed, pulling her blanket back and patting the bed beside him. Claire looked over at him, feeling a bit awkward, but got into bed beside him. He wrapped the blanket tightly around her and then pulled her into his lap. The chill finally faded away as she found herself enveloped in the heat of René's body. She was suddenly very conscious that she was naked in his lap. Naked and clean and feeling comfortable for the first time since she had found out Sebastien's secret. She turned, burying her face in the side of his neck and breathing in his scent. She had never noticed it before; he smelled clean and lightly floral, like freshly laundered cotton t-shirts and tea and roses. Claire slid her arms around him, hardly noticing when he stiffened slightly. "Thank you for coming over to see me," she said softly. "Sebastien asked me to care for you," he murmured, unable to forget his friend. "He did?" Claire asked, pulling back slightly in surprise. She wanted to be mad about that, but it touched her heart somehow. Sebastien did care about her. Not that she had ever doubted it really, but it was nice to hear. She studied René's face. He looked...nervous. His pulse was jumping in his throat and his tongue flicked over his lower lip. "He did." "What else did he ask you to do?" "Claire, I-" "What else?" she repeated. "Anything you asked." "Anything..." Claire leaned in again and pressed her lips gently against René's. It felt nice, his arms around her and the growing heat she felt as his hardening cock bumped in against her hip. But he drew back and ran his hand through his hair. "Claire," he said, as gently as he could manage, "Sebastien did not ask me to do this because he wishes it. He asked it of me to care for you, to give you what he feels he cannot." "What can't he give me?" René just sighed. "Is this really what you want to do?" Claire looked away. The truth was, she wasn't sure. She loved René, she was attracted to him, but... "I don't know," she finally said. "If you think it would hurt Sebastien..." "I do, but I do not think he realizes it." "I would never want that. But, um, what are you going to do about..." She pressed her hip more firmly against him, and René smiled and shook his head. "Chérie, please, I am a man, not a beast. Come, I shall take you to dinner." ----- The weather was gorgeous this time of year. Snowdrifts had largely melted away and the brisk winds brought with them the scents of spring. Mornings and evenings were still cold and dark, driving those in the city to coffee shops for heated sustenance. Sebastien remembered days like this from graduate school and thought he should have felt more at home. It was familiar, of course, but so much more alien now than it should have been. He was as busy as had been promised this week, his schedule packed with orchestral rehearsals and meetings with various important figures in the symphony world from soloists to board members. Hiring committee members were in and out over the week, but all of them would be present during the final performance he would give with the orchestra. Julia was present at these meetings once or twice, and she had been charming and friendly -- and nothing more, though she mentioned the possibility of having another girls' night out with Claire should she come to visit. Sebastien rehearsed with the orchestra in the auditorium, the vast empty space behind him making him almost uneasy. Of course, the musicians were consummate professionals, so getting them to follow his direction was simple. He did miss the camaraderie of the musicians in his own symphony, however. They tended to be a bit more relaxed, but also more interested -- no, more obviously passionate about the music they played. Everything was lovely; he was forced to admit that. Yet...yet it was not home. He supposed that was the way it always felt at the beginning of a new venture. Certainly when he had first arrived in America there had been a period of adjustment. Now, finally, it felt almost as much like home as Paris did -- even more so in some ways. But when he'd come for his graduate students, he'd had a definite point and purpose that drove him, a spirit that kept his cold heart warm. When he moved to helm his own symphony, again his sense of purpose kept him going. When he had begun to run out of steam and long for home and family again, Claire had come into his life and recharged him. Now he could honestly say he had everything he wanted. He was the conductor of a major city's symphony, for goodness' sake. He had built fulfilling professional relationships with musicians and donors alike. He was genuinely excited each season about creating a music program that would delight his patrons, and he enjoyed the people he worked with. So why, if he was so content, was he really applying for this job? If the additional money, renown, and whatever perks there were didn't ignite his passion for the profession any more than he already felt, what was the point? It pained him to admit that his major motivation might have been to keep from revealing his relationship with the woman he loved. And damned if that wasn't incredibly stupid -- he hadn't even needed to do it, really. Or maybe it was his ego. Maybe he wanted to prove to himself that he could still be that great. He could still contend with those older and more experienced, with the young upstarts. He was still good enough to get hired here. Each evening after rehearsals and meetings and luncheons, he went out on his own to explore the city he had once felt he knew so well. He traversed the funky angled corridors, discovering new places and rediscovering old haunts. Perhaps it was the city itself that had called to him. He could almost imagine himself living in this place again, head of one of the very largest and most prestigious symphonies in the country. Well. It was all just ego, after all. How unattractive. On Friday, Sebastien conducted Brahms' Third Symphony early in the morning, to the polite applause of the hiring committee. He had relaxed into it, though his mind was beginning to drift far away indeed. When it was over, he'd individually thanked and greeted each of the musicians and the hiring committee, surreptitiously checking his watch. If he caught an early flight and went straight from the airport, he could catch Claire's performance. It wouldn't fix things between them -- probably nothing could return to normal until a decision had been made -- but at least she might see that he cared. At least that. ----- Tom drove Sebastien directly from the airport to the church where Aaron's choir was performing -- a vast stone monolith on a square in the middle of the city. The doors were just closing for the performance when he slipped through and found a seat near the back. As he waited for things to begin, he realized how very rarely he allowed himself to be merely a spectator -- even more rarely for choral music than opera or ballet. Never a particular fan of Bach, he nonetheless was swept up in the majesty of one chorale and the simple beauty of another in the quartet of cantatas that Aaron had chosen. At intermission, he took pains to avoid Claire so that his presence wouldn't make her nervous. But he observed her from afar, noting with dismay that between cheerful interludes with singers and audience members there was an undeniable sadness about her. When the concert was finally over, he wandered into the courtyard along with the others, hoping to find Claire. He saw Aaron first, however, and went to congratulate him. "Maestro, hello!" Aaron said in surprise. "You almost never make it out to our concerts." "Perhaps if you did not schedule them in the middle of the last rehearsals of our symphonic season," he teased. "This time I was away on business and just made it back in time. It reminds me I must come more often." "I'm glad you did. So you enjoyed yourself? It's not what you're used to, I know." "Indeed no. Much larger ensembles all around. But I must say you created a very pleasing sound. It was quite good." "And what about Claire? She actually turned me down at first, thinking she'd be too busy at the end of the season. But last week our soloist came down with a bad cold, and Claire stepped in. She must have practiced all week long, and she was so perfect tonight. Definitely our angel this week. Quite a girl, isn't she?" "She certainly is," Sebastien murmured as he finally caught a glimpse of her. "And always an absolute joy to listen to. I am glad every day that I hired her." His voice was soft and charged with emotion, which clearly surprised Aaron. The undemonstrative conductor apparently had a tender heart. Claire emerged from a knot of people heading directly for Aaron, though the uncomplicated smiled on her face told Sebastien she hadn't noticed him just yet. She was beautiful as always in a dark blue gown he had never seen before. It was a good color on her, setting off the coppery undertones of the silky auburn hair she had pulled back into a braided bun. As she reached for Aaron's elbow to catch his attention, she turned slightly and flicked her eyes up to see whose conversation she would be interrupting. For a moment she was completely still, startled to see Sebastien there. A blush crept up her cheeks and she moved her hand from Aaron's elbow to hover just above Sebastien's forearm. She didn't touch him, almost afraid he would disappear if she did. "Maestro...you're here." "Yes, I..." He hesitated for a second, but decided to say what was on his mind. "I could not miss your performance." Claire's expression softened as she gazed up at him, like they were alone in the courtyard. "Oh, and mon abeille, you were magnificent." The Soprano Ch. 08 Sebastien touched her shoulder in a gentle caress as he learned down to kiss her cheek in greeting. But as his lips brushed her soft skin, he felt her trembling in his arms, smelled the sweet scent of her perfume. He could not control the impulse to let his lips trespass upon hers for a moment. When he pulled away, Claire looked as shocked as if he had just suggested something far more lascivious than a chaste kiss. Aaron was practicing his best blank expression. "Um...um..." Claire mumbled vaguely, her blush deepening. For a long moment, no one said anything. Then Aaron ventured bravely into the silence. "You two are...dating?" His voice was empty of judgment, but Claire looked down at her feet uncomfortably. "We are," Sebastien answered, placing his finger beneath Claire's chin and tipping her face up to look at him. "I love you, Claire, and perhaps it is time we began letting others know." "I don't think I'm ready yet," she said softly. "No one else knows?" Aaron asked in a gentle tone. "Aside from our families, no. I am afraid my musicians will never look at me quite the same way once they find out," Sebastien said ruefully. "You? What about me? It's such a stereotype. Innocent young girl moves to the city, falls in love with a mysterious, charming older man -- and her boss; it just couldn't get any worse!" "Now, it's not that bad at all," Aaron cut it, patting her shoulder soothingly and giving her a sympathetic smile. "The musicians are all wonderful people, and I'm sure they'll only be as happy for you as I am." He touched Sebastien's arm in the kind of familiar affectionate way that Sebastien allowed of so few people, and Claire realized they probably had worked together for years and knew each other quite well. "Ah, look, my wife is trying to get my attention. Good luck with whatever you decide." With that and a smile, Aaron disappeared into the now thinning crowd leaving Claire and Sebastien quite alone. "I think he is right, mon abeille. It may be uncomfortable at first, but it would be the best thing." "He might be right, but that doesn't mean I have to like it," Claire said, pouting a little in spite of herself. "It would mean not having to hide..." That was true, and persuasive, but it was just too much. Why did he have to keep springing the idea on her? "There is no need to decide tonight," he said softly. She nodded, but said nothing. "Claire...are you not pleased to see me?" he asked, sounding so uncertain of himself that Claire wasn't sure for a moment quite what to say. "No, I am. Of course I am. I was just surprised." "Did you perhaps have other plans tonight?" "I did..." "I see." "...but since they mostly consisted of sitting around my apartment feeling nervous about seeing you tomorrow, I guess they're shot anyway." She smiled a little at her pathetic joke, and was pleased to see him return it. "If you wouldn't mind waiting a minute, I'll go get changed." "Of course." He watched her head back into the church, and then walked lazily around the courtyard looking up at the stars. So she was nervous about his return, was she? Well, that made two of them. Only his nerves had just begun. He couldn't expect the night to just be business as usual between them after everything that had happened, but he hoped they wouldn't spend it deep in miserable conversation either. He certainly deserved it, no question about that, but it would be a sorry way to spend any evening, much less the first one they were together after a week apart. Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he looked back toward the church to see Claire emerging. He noticed that she'd taken her hair out of its braid and pulled back into a ponytail, the auburn waves flicking back and forth as she walked. It was a hairstyle she wore infrequently, and Sebastien found it oddly appealing. He was surprised also by her outfit, which was much more casual than her usual attire. He realized that he had only seen her in jeans a handful of times, and usually they were paired with heels and blouses. Tonight she wore what looked like an older pair, more faded, with a thin, form-fitting t-shirt and trendy sneakers. She hadn't washed off any of her makeup, and looked like any college student going on a casual date. Actually...he remembered a time, not so very long ago, when Claire had come to his apartment dressed almost exactly the same way. How angry she had been with him that day. It was as if the casual dress was supposed to be an insult -- he would take her that way or not at all. Well. He had taken her. Her clothes tonight reminded him forcefully of how young she really was, how innocent she'd been before they'd come together and peeled back those layers, one by one. She was apologizing for her attire even before he started walking toward her, mumbling something about how she hadn't expected to be seeing him. But her words cut off abruptly as he strode forward and took her into his arms. He pressed his palms into her back and kissed her deeply, swallowing the little sound of surprise she made. He kissed her as though he wasn't sure he would ever get another chance at it, gripping the fabric of her t-shirt so tightly Claire was afraid he might tear it. Then his grip loosened and he slid his hands down her back to her ass and squeezed it through her jeans. Claire was surprised; this was very un-Sebastien-like behavior for a public place. Though everyone had left at this point, they were still technically in a place where anyone driving by could see. All at once, Sebastien lifted her up and she had to wrap her legs around his waist to keep them both upright. Without once breaking contact between their lips, he walked her back toward the church until he had her pinned up against the wall. Claire shivered as he began kissing down her neck, feeling him pressed up against her so intimately. "Stop, Sebastien. This...this isn't what I want." That she'd used his name stilled his lips on her skin immediately, but he didn't lift his head. He didn't want to see the look in her eyes. "What do you want?" he asked, his lips brushing against her neck as he spoke. "Too much has come between us. I want things to go back to the way they used to be. Before the secrets and the lies...back when things were simpler. When I was afraid of you, and the fear and the attraction made my heart race every time I saw you. The times you first touched me, and I was terrified I wouldn't be what you wanted, or that you could just toss me aside, but the pleasure, it...it was like nothing I'd ever felt before, and it made everything worth it." Her breath caught in her throat and Sebastien stood still, so still, waiting for her to tell him what she needed. But she fell silent, just touched the tip of her nose gently to his ear. He shifted, setting her back down on the ground and looking at her once more. "Mon abeille. If the past few weeks have taught me anything, it is what a fool I was to think of keeping such a secret from you. How much I, too, miss the way we used to be together, how much I dearly hope that someday you can look at me without the shadow of suspicion in your eyes. I want you to know, Claire, that I love you, that you are precious to me, and that I want to give you everything that you desire and more. Can you tell me what that is tonight?" "I'm not sure. I want something...familiar. Something comfortable. Something that reminds us of who we are and why we're together." Sebastien nodded thoughtfully. "But, Maestro...this does't mean I've forgiven you." As she said it, she realized it wasn't totally true. She was still upset, but she knew he hadn't ever meant to hurt her. Sebastien's face was closed down, careful, but the flash of pain she'd seen was like a lance to her heart. "Of course," he said stiffly, "and I would not deserve it if you had." "Oh, Sebastien," she said, so softly, touching his cheek. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." "You have nothing to apologize for." Claire didn't know quite how to respond, so she just leaned into him, pressing her cheek into his chest. He wound his arms around her and sighed, so she heard his breath and the beating of his heart. Then Sebastien drew back, regarding her carefully. "You wish things to be simpler." "Yes." "You wish to be afraid of me." "Well...yes." "When, precisely, had you stopped being afraid of me?" he asked in a dark tone, making Claire's eyes widen in surprise. "It's...it's not exactly that I stopped, just that so many other things have gotten in the way." "I see." He wasn't entirely sure that he did, but he was thinking. She was right, of course. The business of falling in love alone had taken attention away from the simple pleasures of terrorizing and pleasing her, to say nothing of the complications of symphony politics. It wasn't likely to get better very quickly, but at least occasionally they should take a night to put that all aside and just be together. Tonight could be that night. "Come, I am taking you to my flat tonight." Claire followed him to the car and slid into the back seat beside him. She nodded a greeting to Tom, who returned the gesture as he started the car. A sense of excitement was growing in her as she realized she had no idea what was in store for her. It could be anything; Sebastien could and often did push her up to her very limits. She watched him from the corner of her eye, knowing he was slipping into the person who created so much pain and pleasure for her. But of course, she reminded herself, this person was so close to the skin for him. It wasn't a sexual persona he'd had to cultivate over the years. It was so much a part of who he was, and she knew that was part of the turn on. The car was so utterly quiet on the way back to his apartment that it was almost unnerving. Although she suspected it might break his train of thought, Claire shifted close and rested her head on his shoulder. To her surprise, he slid his arm around her, drawing her head in against his chest. The scent of his cologne overwhelmed her senses and she finally felt herself relaxing. At last Tom turned downward and parked the car in its usual spot in the underground garage. At a signal from Sebastien, he got out and then disappeared to wherever he usually went at times like this. Sebastien turned to Claire and did the last thing she was expecting at that moment: he kissed her. It was a soft, tender kiss, full of longing. The kiss said he missed her, he loved her, he was sorry. It was wistful and joyful and turned into an intense, hungry thing in a matter of seconds. When they parted, Sebastien's chest was rising and falling a bit too quickly. "You look altogether too appealing in jeans and a t-shirt, you know. It is almost too bad we have to take them off so soon. Ah, well. Please go ahead upstairs. I need to...collect myself. Wait in the bedroom." With a shy smile and a little nod, Claire headed into the building. Sebastien watched her hips move side to side as she walked, shifted his own as he felt himself harden even more, though he wasn't sure how that was possible. He leaned his head back on the seat. It seemed strange, but he was actually nervous. It wasn't as if they were going up there to do anything they hadn't done before, but...Somehow it seemed more significant. As if he was desperate to prove to Claire that they could block everything out and just be together. He sat for a few moments in silence before following Claire upstairs. Meanwhile, Claire let herself into Sebastien's apartment. She flipped on the heat and then headed upstairs. In his bedroom, she disrobed and her thoughts began to turn to him. What was he thinking right now? What would he do to her tonight? It would be nice to have a quiet night in. Folding her clothes, she felt a shiver run through her. It was still a bit chilly in the bedroom, but she was sure it would warm up soon. She wasted no time wondering how he would want to find her when he came up; she already knew. Naked and kneeling on the edge of his bed, waiting for him. Kneeling until her thighs ached, until she was wet and hot all over. She knelt, spreading her knees apart, and placed her hands palm-down on her thighs. Focusing her eyes on the floor, she waited. A few moments passed before the door opened. Claire glanced up to see Sebastien in the doorway, his shirt unbuttoned and his eyes raking over her hungrily. The time apart had been hard on them both. Their eyes met and Claire's cheeks pinked before she turned her gaze back to the floor. Sebastien shrugged out of his shirt and draped it over the nearby armchair, picking up a multi-tendriled object she knew so well. He brought it over to the bed and set it beside her. Sebastien stepped away from the bed and returned with a small box and a length of smooth, black rope. Claire shifted, unable to keep still from excitement. Inside the box was her matching set of wrist cuffs, ankle cuffs, and collar, all in a stunning ruby red. He fastened them on her methodically. Her pulse sped faster with each creak of the leather as the cuffs tightened. Then, Sebastien turned to the rope. Positioning her hands back on her ankles, he drew the rope around her body and through the rings on her cuffs and collar. Twice between her legs it went, sliding through her wetness and rubbing against her in the most tantalizing way. It sent sparks of pleasure through her with each tiny movement, and she hoped Sebastien would go easy on her. He stepped back, surveying his work. Claire's chest was pushed forward, her skin already taking on a soft blush as she fought not to pull on her bonds. "Look at me," he said softly, and she raised her eyes to see him holding a camera. "May I? I want to remember this forever." She couldn't speak, could only nod. Sebastien snapped a few shots, then put the camera down. He picked up the Stinger and trailed it down her body teasingly. "Forgive me if I cannot control myself perfectly tonight, mon abeille. Your body, your perfect obedience, you drive me mad." Before she could even think of a response, he drew back and brought the Stinger back down on her. It wasn't a hard strike, but her skin exploded in tingles and heat flew through her in a rush. Another slap nearly brought tears to her eyes as the tendrils curled painfully over her nipples. Then one on her soft stomach, followed by one between the legs. That last was always the most intense sensation, the one that made her jerk in surprise and pain. Only now when she moved, the ropes slid against her and made her cry out. The writhing pulled her collar tighter against her neck and she already knew she could not hold out for long. Sebastien repeated the cycle -- upper chest, breasts, stomach, between the legs -- adding in lighter, teasing motions to her inner thighs. After two more rounds, Claire was already panting and asking for a break. "So I am not the only one whose control is held by far too thin a thread..." Claire ran her tongue over her lower lip and gave a short nod. She still didn't trust herself to speak. Her body was straining to remain upright, making the ropes rub her most intimately. At that moment she knew she was too far gone. Even if he didn't hit her again, she would come, and soon. She whimpered softly and Sebastien studied her. He could see her struggle in the tension of her body, the wild look in her eyes. Without warning he fell to his knees, pressing his cool cheek against the heated skin of her inner thigh. He slid forward, gripping her waist to steady her as he drew his tongue over her in one long, slow motion. Claire flinched, trying to keep control by digging her fingernails into her ankles. But there was no way to defend against Sebastien. He bit down then, gently, running his tongue over her, and she cried out helplessly as she came. She shook all over, straining her bonds and tightening the collar around her neck. "Please, please Maestro, no more!" she gasped at last. Sebastien have her a last, lingering taste before pulling back, but she could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't done with her yet. Not nearly done. With shaking fingers he pulled at the knots that kept her tied up. After a moment of frustration he was able to pull out all of the rope. Claire knew he was impatient by the way he tossed it to the floor instead of coiling it neatly first. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her up to her feet, where she fell against his body with trembling knees. Sliding his hands up he unbound her hair and ran his fingers through it before claiming her mouth with his. Claire traced the waistband of his pants, letting her fingers ask what her mouth could not. She had learned her lesson. "Yes, take them off." Sebastien said, sounding a bit out of breath himself. Knowing how it affected him only inflamed her more. She unsnapped his pants and pushed them down his legs, brushing against his hard length with her hair on the way down. Sebastien actually groaned above her, but when she reached up to touch him he grasped her hand so tightly it hurt. "Do not touch me," he said sharply. Claire blushed, mumbling out an apology, but he just shook his head firmly. "No, it is just that...I cannot..." Claire understood then, her cheeks coloring even more deeply. Sebastien ducked his head to give her another kiss and then picked her up and dropped her onto the bed. He pushed her onto her stomach and then lifted her hips up to plunge in with a sigh. Picking up the forgotten Stinger he slapped her lightly with it over back and buttocks, making her whimper and writhe below him. He thrust into her harder. She knew her hips would show the bruises from her fingertips, but she didn't care. He was striking her harder again, and she could feel the warm, wet wave of pleasure growing deep inside. The sound of their bodies coming together filled the room alongside strangled moans and short, harsh breaths. Then his voice in her ear. "Come for me, my darling, my Claire. I need to feel you." He dropped the Stinger and slid his hand below her, dragging through the slickness he found there in rough circles. At once the explosion inside her head blocked out any sight, any sound, any sensation except the rhythmic pulsating and the feeling of him pumping his come into her. When it was over, she dropped her head to the pillow and sighed. Sebastien slid out of her and collapsed down beside her. He ran his hand up and down her back, unable to keep from touching her now that they were back together. There was so much they could have said, but neither of them wanted to spoil the silence. Sebastien rolled out of bed, somewhat reluctantly, and ducked into the bathroom to fill the tub with warm, soapy water. He returned to sweep Claire into his arms and then settled them both in the bathtub. His lips again found hers and they sunk into each other, shutting out the world. ----- It was getting on into late afternoon on a Thursday in early May, when the sun was shining brightly and the scent of blooming flowers was carried on into the symphony hall. Sebastien wasn't in as cheery a mood, however, as some of the musicians who tripped in that day. Their last performance set was coming up soon, and in his opinion they were nowhere near ready. Oh, the main pieces were all set -- Schumann's Symphony No. 1 and Stravinsky's Rite of Spring -- but those were ordinary symphonic repertoire. The piece they were going to rehearse today was assuredly...not. They had squeezed rehearsals in wherever they could for the past few weeks, but Sebastien had only given them their music a month ago and he could hardly expect miracles. The problem was that it really had to be perfect. Naturally he liked all of their music to be perfect, but this had to be...well, truly perfect. The Soprano Ch. 08 He paced anxiously while the musicians tuned up. Deep breaths were helping him to calm down, but not much. He stepped up on the podium and opened his score. After a few beats, the orchestra came in just as they were supposed to, and his nerves began to settle at last. They still weren't quite perfect, but it was the best he could have expected. A few more rehearsals and they would be ready. The notes slipped away before him and he closed his eyes, leaning his head back as he swished his baton. For the first time he felt a little stirring in his heart as the orchestra played on, and he dearly hoped it wasn't showing on his face. That just wouldn't do. At last, of course, it had to end and he opened his eyes again, nodding slowly. "That will do, thank you. It is coming along very nicely. Let us take a short break, please, and we will meet again at seven." He stepped off his podium and strode briskly toward the hallway, stopping in his tracks abruptly when he saw the figure leaning up against the wall, looking at him with an inscrutable expression. Sebastien frowned, feeling very anxious again. "You are early," he said, inclining his head and heading down the hallway away from prying ears. "I suppose I am," answered René softly, touching his friend's arm to stop him. The expression on his face made Sebastien want to squirm, a very unusual feeling for him. "Mon ami, this was the purpose behind your secret rehearsals?" Sebastien hesitated for a moment before heading off down the hallway again, eager to escape René's knowing look. "So what if it is?" he asked stiffly. "Perhaps you would not understand, because you do not know...have not seen..." "Sebastien, please, I know you better than you think. Believe me, I have expected...something like this, but still it is..." "You think it will not be received well?" Sebastien asked, suddenly worried. René's expression softened, and as they crossed the threshold of Sebastien's office he drew his friend into a gentle embrace. "It will be perfect." ----- When the house lights dimmed, Claire was in an odd mood. It wouldn't be the first concert she'd had no part in -- there were only so many orchestral pieces featuring soprano, after all -- but usually she sang in the concert that begun or ended a season. She had been a little put out, but really it would be worth it considering the pieces Sebastien had chosen. They were so beautiful and interesting, and she was really lucky to have a good seat. She had begged Sebastien to let her sit just offstage, where she couldn't be seen by the audience but would have a good view of him. Actually in retrospect he had been surprisingly easy to convince, but then he had known she would want to come to the concert. He probably just assumed she would want to sit in the audience, where she usually did for performances. But she missed him, missed watching him. The show was every bit as wonderful as she'd expected, if a bit on the short side. Sebastien strode off stage after the Stravinsky, appearing surprised to see Claire standing there waiting for him. They stood still for a moment, looking at each other, and then Sebastien whisked Claire behind one of the hanging curtains, wrapping them up in the dark cloth. He pressed a firm kiss to the lips of a very surprised Claire, his hands holding her firmly against him. "I love you," he said, then disappeared with a flick of his wrist that sent the curtain away from him to float back around Claire. She lifted a hand to her forehead, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy. Peering out from the curtain, she saw that she was alone and that Sebastien had gone back on stage for what she presumed would be the second round of applause. But as she went back to her seat, she saw that her chair had been moved. Glancing back to the stage, she saw Sebastien looking back toward her. He tipped his head subtly to the side and she saw the chair waiting for her on the stage itself, close to where she usually sat. He held up a finger and then turned back to the audience as he mounted his conducting platform again. "Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to thank you all for attending our final concert of the season. If you would all please stay in your seats for just a short time longer, we are premiering a special piece for just this one night only. I hope you enjoy it." Sebastien stepped off the platform and headed toward the grand piano, which had been installed at the far end of the stage. As the lighting dimmed at the front of the stage and brightened over the piano, Claire saw her opportunity and slipped on stage to take her seat. Whatever he was about to do, it would certainly sound better from up here rather than off stage. What was he up to, anyway? Truthfully he had begun to grow rather nervous again. As he seated himself at the piano, he tried to keep his mind on what he was about to do, tried not to think about long ago nights, faraway places. Sebastien glanced at the other end of the stage where Claire sat, looking curiously over at him. He wanted this so much to be perfect, for her, and at last he thought it might be. He began to play. Just like the original composition, the first few bars of this Moonlight Sonata were piano only. Then his real work would become apparent. He had finally completed an orchestral arrangement of this favorite work of his early in the year. This was what they had been secretly rehearsing for weeks, and it was finally ready for its debut. He hoped so much that she would love it, but more than that, that she would understand. It was all for her. The orchestra played sublimely. Every note was pitch-perfect, every silence thrummingly beautiful. When the final notes died away, he chanced a glance at Claire. She was looking at him very intensely, tears shimmering in her eyes. She understood. The audience seemed to take in a collective breath and then the applause began. They liked it, too, and he was proud, of course. But she... Claire was very quiet as they left the symphony hall. Sebastien was taking her for a late supper at the restaurant of a nice nearby hotel. Normally they would have separated after the performance and met up outside the building, but tonight it seemed that neither of them cared any longer. Of course, it probably would have risen no suspicion for two colleagues to go to dinner together, but they had always felt safe was better than sorry. Not tonight. Tonight Claire had flung herself into Sebastien's arms for a moment as soon as they made it offstage together, and he held her for just a few seconds longer than was probably appropriate for acquaintances. But then he had given her his hand and they had gone out the back entrance together, hoping to avoid conversation with anyone else. Of course, they hadn't spoken to each other since the performance was over, either. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, just full of the knowledge that something had certainly changed between them. Neither of them were quite sure what. They were seated in a quiet corner of the restaurant, under the flickering lights of candles in wall sconces throwing delicate shadows on the cream-colored walls. Claire ran her fingers in little circles on the ivory tablecloth, trying to focus on the menu instead of Sebastien, but it was difficult. He looked so handsome, and she knew he was waiting on her to say something. Anything. The trouble was, she had just been thrown for such a loop that she didn't know what to say yet. The arrival of the waitress saved her from having to come up with anything for the moment. She was a bright-eyed, bubbly young woman -- probably a bit too bubbly for the somewhat reserved atmosphere for the restaurant, but nice enough. She smiled down at Claire to take her order, but really turned up the brightness when she looked at Sebastien. Once they finished ordering, she disappeared, and Claire fixed Sebastien with a thoughtful look. "Are women always like that around you?" "Always like what?" "You know...perky and flirtatious." "I have never particularly thought about it. I suppose women in this country are, yes, though you certainly weren't." Claire waved that away. "It's your accent," she said seriously. "Well, that and the fact that you have money, I suppose. But it wouldn't matter if you didn't. Girls are always saying, you know, French men might not be much to look at, not compared to Italians. Italian men are gorgeous, but it's the French guy you want to take to bed." "Girls say that, do they?" "Believe me, they do." "Hmm...is that what you think?" "With you and René as my examples of French men? Well...I've never been to bed with an Italian, so I'll have to get back to you on that one." She finally gave him a little smile, which he returned. Then she turned pensive again. "They all think I'm lucky, you know. They think they want to be me." "Who?" "Women who see us together." "Why shouldn't they want to be you? Lovely voice, beautiful face..." "No, they want you. Well, they think they want you. If they knew what I let you do to me on a regular basis, they'd probably be less interested." "Oh?" "Yeah, most girls don't go for the sort of thing we do. They like soft, romantic stuff. They see a French guy, they think they've hit the damn jackpot." She tried to laugh, but her voice hitched a little as she did so. Sebastien frowned, picking up her hand. "I am afraid I have been lacking in the romance department," he murmured, bringing her wrist to his mouth and brushing his lips against it. "Sometimes I admit I get carried away and forget to simply take you into my arms and..." "You don't have to say it," Claire protested with a blush. "I apologize. I did not mean to embarrass you." "It's fine. You're right, though, I guess. I'm really a romantic at heart myself." She looked down, but suddenly knew what she wanted to say. "I want you to know that I loved the surprise performance tonight. It...it was your arrangement, wasn't it?" "How could you tell?" Sebastien asked in surprise. "The way you looked at me, so intently, like you were about to show me the most secret part of yourself. And the music, it was so passionate and yet so precise. Every note exactly in place, but because you wanted it to be there. It was one of the most lovely things I've ever heard." "Thank you." "No, no. Thank you. I'll never forget it, as long as I live." Looking across the table at her, Sebastien suddenly thought about the position he'd applied for, the call he'd made earlier in the day. He knew he'd made the right decision. ----- They were hand-in-hand, walking back toward Sebastien's car, when he turned to her suddenly. "I wonder, mon abeille, if you would come back into the symphony hall with me for a few moments. There is something I would like to do." "Want to look in on the party, do you?" Claire teased. "Heaven forbid," he replied dryly. "I have had quite enough of symphony parties for one season, I think." "Then what is it you want to do?" Sebastien didn't answer. As they slipped in through the side door, Claire let go of his hand out of habit and was surprised to feel him take it back. She glanced up at him. In the dark of the hallway, she thought he might have been smiling, but she couldn't be sure. It was quiet; only an echo of the party noise reached them as they walked. "I am remembering just now the very first time I saw you," Sebastien mused softly. "You were sitting there awaiting your audition, so nervous you could hardly read." "I can't believe you remember that. I was nervous." "You were. And so beautiful." He leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Maestro...you didn't bring me down here just to go down memory lane, did you?" "Perhaps." But he slid his arm around her shoulders and said nothing more as he guided her down the hallway. Around a corner and through the curtains they went, to the stage again. All of the chairs and music stands had been put away, though the piano was still in its spot to one side, and the lights were very low. Claire looked up at Sebastien and a tremor ran through her as she saw the look on his face -- dark, serious. Surely he wasn't having any impure ideas. Not here, not now with their colleagues socializing so nearby. But it seemed he indeed had no such ideas. Giving her shoulders a final squeeze, he sat down at the piano bench. He tapped out a quick little tune before segueing slowly into the beginning of one of their four-hand waltzes. Hearing her cue, Claire sat beside him, touching her fingers gently to the keys in a light echo to Sebastien's notes. As they neared the end of the song, he slowed a bit and finished on a rather wistful note. Claire glanced up at him, but he wouldn't meet her eyes now. When she laid her hand on his arm, he stood abruptly. "I think it is time we talked," he said, and Claire's heart fell. He didn't just want to talk...he wanted to talk. "Tonight?" she protested. "Yes, tonight," he answered, a bit impatiently. "It is past time we should have had this conversation, I think." Claire stood and walked over to him uncertainly. Sebastien turned suddenly, startling her. "You know how much I love you, mon abeille, do you not?" "Of course I do. Would you please just tell me what's going on?" "The symphony called." The words hung in the air. Of course that was it. What else would have him so agitated? "Oh," she said, very softly. There was nothing more to say. She looked down at her feet, understanding now why he hadn't wanted to look at her. "Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I called them." "I see," she said, although she didn't. Was he so eager? "Yes, I was anxious to speak with them, so I thought it would be best not to wait until they called." Claire's heart hurt suddenly. Had he accepted already? Was he here to pack up his things? It was so sudden, but she couldn't imagine what else he would be doing here. Her mind was racing and she was sure she would start to cry before he had even finished speaking. She was so upset that she almost didn't hear what he said next. "I..." He stopped to take a breath. "I told then I was withdrawing my name from their consideration, that I was no longer interested in the position. That I am content here, and I am thinking of getting married...if my love will have me." Claire blinked up at him with tear-filled eyes, not quite comprehending his words. "I...what?" she finally asked. "Mon abeille...I am trying to ask if you will marry me," he answered with a touch of amusement. "Ah, I nearly forgot. It would never do to ask empty-handed," he added, reaching into his jacket pocket and withdrawing something in his cupped hand. Unfurling his fingers, he revealed a ring sitting alone in his palm. It was beautiful, and looked to be fairly old. In a delicate, filigreed rose-gold band sat a ruby that glowed blood-red in the dim lights, flanked by seed pearls. "It was my grandmother's," he said quietly. Claire was still speechless. "Will you give me an answer?" he prompted. "I forgot the question," she stammered, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Claire," he said a little impatiently, "you can be so exasperating sometimes. Now tell me, will you be my wife?" For a long moment she looked up at him, uncertain. It had truly taken her by surprise. She hadn't been sure he would ask her at all -- regardless of his sisters' meddling words -- and certainly not so soon. Her mind was full of questions: Wasn't it too soon? Where would they live? Where would they marry? What would her parents say? It felt like too much, too soon, too fast. She looked up at him, his face a mixture of amusement, irritation, and tenderness, and sighed inwardly. Opening her mouth at last, she said the only thing she could say: "Yes." And it was done. One little word to change her whole life. "Yes?" Sebastien echoed, looking cautious now as if he had expected her to run, or ask for more time, or argue with him the way she had with herself. Suddenly Claire felt as if her heard might burst; she loved him that much. "Yes," she repeated, this time with a smile that he returned. Then he pulled her into his arms, kissing a line from her temple down her cheek slowly as he held her. When he reached her lips at last, a soft sighing sound came from behind them. Dreading what she was about to see, Claire turned back slowly to see the greater part of the orchestra clustered below the stage, watching. "Um...I thought you were all at the party," she said lamely. "We were," said Holly from the front of the stage, "but it's late, didn't you know? The party was breaking up and we heard talking, so we came to investigate." "How long have you all been there?" asked Sebastien, baffled that neither of them had noticed them all come in. "Only a couple of minutes." Claire looked around, terribly embarrassed. "I guess the secret's out." "It wasn't that much of a secret. After we saw you together after rehearsal a few weeks ago, some of us suspected there was something going on between you two." "Somehow that doesn't make me feel any better." ----- It was well after one in the morning by the time Claire and Sebastien returned to his apartment. The musicians had insisted on opening a few bottles of champagne in a sort of impromptu engagement party, but it wasn't long before their significant looks became noticeable and they were sent off home with well wishes. At last truly alone in the silence of deepest night, Sebastien picked Claire up and twirled her around his living room. He carried her up to his bedroom and they made love in the light of the full moon splashing down onto his bed. When it was over, Claire curled up beside him and pressed soft kisses into his neck until he could no longer keep his eyes open. She ran her hands through the curls of hair on his chest and let herself wonder for a moment if she really had made the right decision. She thought of how much her parents loved him, how excited his sisters would be when they heard the news. She thought of René...and she wondered. But there, that was a problem for another day. Tonight she was exactly where she belonged. She had everything she wanted, and perhaps it was time to stop questioning it and just live her life. But then...that's just who she was, wasn't it? "Mon abeille, kindly settle down for the night," came the rumbling, tired voice beside her. "You are thinking too loudly for me to sleep." "Hmph," she pouted. "Anything you want to discuss, we can do it in the morning. For now, let us just have this night." Sebastien rolled over onto his side and wrapped his arms around her. His lips found hers in the dark and she let herself melt into him. All right, yes. In the morning.