by Nia Farrell
He had known that feeling, twice upon a time. Percussed by the throbbing bass of the heavy metal music, he remembered how Adriana’s hand would have itched to shut it off. Conversely, Henry would have opened two beers and joined him on the sofa. Eventually, Adriana had accepted that she was a bottom, not a submissive, and Henry had fallen for his latest photographer. Still, both relationships had ended amicably enough that he remained friends with his exes.
Josef focused on the nude female image in The Blue Hour before his gaze drifted to Adam and Eve. A magnificently nude Adam with perfectly muscled buttocks, embraced Eve with one arm, whilst she held an apple just beyond his grasp. Today, the image resonated deeply, whispering the nebulous promise of a potential future that had yet to manifest. The apple symbolized what had, thus far, remained out of reach. His perfect complement. He, she, or they were out there.
Somewhere.
Close enough that he could feel it.
But who? Where? When?
Patience, he reminded himself. Time would reveal all. Prescience was not his gift, but he sensed it would be soon.
Fetching a beer, Josef smiled and toasted the future.
Chapter Three
Madness descended. First the casting director, then the musicians, who arrived early to rehearse in the Versailles Room where they would be filming. The space would belong to them alone for two days, until the lighting and sound crews arrived.
Josef was one of the first of Replay’s staff to be interviewed. Cast in the role of Leopold Mozart, he was curious and eager to hear the pianist who would be portraying his famous son. With appointments cleared until after the filming was done, he accepted Sir Piers’s invitation to walk down with him and check on things.
As they approached the room, they could hear the familiar strains of Mozart’s “Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major” spilling through the opened door. Sublime. Simply sublime. He sighed to think that he would be able to experience such music over the next two-and-a-half weeks.
Young Mozart was seated at the piano, already in character, dressed for the part, complete with powdered wig. On the far side of the room, a small, wiry, older man was gesticulating and swearing in Italian-accented French to a younger black man who remained passive despite the diatribe that called his parentage into question.
Whatever it was, the mixed blood in his veins was evident in his handsome visage. Josef thought of Samael, and how beautiful the two of them would be together…except there was no playtime at Replay, not until filming was done.
Seeing Sir Piers, the black man politely excused himself and headed for them. He was an inch taller than Josef’s five feet ten inches, with closely cropped black hair and hazel eyes, framed with thick, curling lashes that Adriana would envy.
“Luc,” Sir Piers greeted him softly, unwilling to disrupt the performance. “Sir Josef, may I present Luc Vashon, young Mozart’s teacher and aide. Luc, Sir Josef—Dr. Brandt—is the resort psychiatrist who will portray Leopold Mozart when filming begins.
“A pleasure.” Smiling, Josef extended his hand in greeting.
Luc’s grip was firm enough, but his attention was less on their exchange and more on his brilliant student. The line between his knitted brows deepened with concern.
“Maestro Salieri objects to my request,” Luc told Sir Piers, frustration lacing his voice. Judging from the accent, Josef guessed him to be French Canadian.
“You shall have it, nonetheless,” Sir Piers assured him. “We are merely covering bases, whether or not it proves needed.”
Luc’s shoulders relaxed a bit. He rubbed the back of his neck, seeking unsuccessfully to ease the remaining tension until he turned back to his student and allowed himself to get lost in Mozart’s “Piano Sonata No. 12 in F Major.”
Josef watched with no little interest. He understood the power of music, and the ability of different forms of art to speak to the soul, but the transfiguration of Luc’s face was fascinating to behold. He went from worried assistant to proud teacher. Like Josef, Luc was an aficionado who appreciated the transcendental quality of the performance. But then, for a brief, telling moment, there was a look that went beyond teacher/student, beyond performer/aide, beyond the adoration of a fan.
It was the look of a man in love.
And then, pain. The torment of someone who has loved and lost, or never loved at all.
Luc must have felt him watching. He tore his gaze from his student and gave an apologetic shrug.
Sir Piers glanced between the two of them and excused himself. “I shall check on delivery,” he told Luc, “and will let you know if there are any delays.”
“Sorry,” Luc told Josef once they were alone. “I’m usually better at keeping my feelings for Aubrey to myself.”
“Aubrey does not know.” Josef guessed correctly.
“No,” Luc admitted. “It’s complicated. We met at Julliard, when Aubrey auditioned to be accepted as a student. I taught, mentored, and continued after graduation. Eventually we moved in together.”
“Normally, such a move would allow intimacy to develop.”
Luc grimaced. “Our circumstances are far from normal,” he confessed. “And I’m bi, but Aubrey thinks I’m gay.”
Josef stroked his chin, processing what he’d just heard. “You have never revealed your nature, despite living together? I should think that would be difficult.”
Luc gave him an odd look. “It’s not as hard as you think,” he said, “when Aubrey doesn’t see me. I keep my private life—and my kinks—separate. I never bring play partners home. Under extenuating circumstances, I’ve let a couple of boyfriends spend the night, but never a woman.”
Interesting.
Like himself, Luc was bi and in the lifestyle…but not a Dominant—which explained why Aubrey remained clueless. Luc was a teacher and an aide.
A switch.
Yes. Indeed.
A switch would let things pass that a true Dominant would never allow.
“But what of Aubrey?” Josef asked him. Being a Dominant, and a psychiatrist used to counseling others, he felt doubly compelled to help in whatever way he could, even if it was simply being a nonjudgmental listener. “Are either of you seeing someone now?”
“No. When this movie deal came up, I knew Aubrey would be perfect, and the role would require traveling. Good thing this place is air conditioned. Period garments are damnably hot, with all the layers we have to wear.”
And he wore his very, very well. Fitted period knee breeches clung to his runner’s thighs, while stockings hugged the muscled calves before disappearing into silver-buckled shoes. Lace spilled from the neck and cuffs of his chemise d’homme, worn beneath a sleeveless brocade waistcoat that matched the flecks of green in his soulful hazel eyes.
Any other time, Josef might have offered an invitation to tour the playrooms and see where things went from there. But no one else would have a chance with this beautiful man until he concretely defined his relationship with Aubrey, who remained blissfully ignorant of how he felt. Since Luc was hesitant or unable to reveal his feelings for Aubrey, perhaps another approach was in order. A third party, like himself, who could discreetly question Aubrey and learn if Luc stood a chance.
How very Cyrano de Bergerac.
Because neither Luc nor Aubrey was a patient, he could safely serve as Luc’s emissary, to the point of being a confidant and unofficial counselor to them both. Unlike Cyrano, he would do the initial foray on his own, as soon as the opportunity presented itself. There was time, although it was ticking. Two days of rehearsals, then set up, followed by two weeks of filming.
By the time filming was done, he would either have helped the two of them connect, or he would be helping Luc to move on.
Chapter Four
The rest of the musicians filtered in, taking their places and tuning their instruments, preparing to rehearse the period music to be used in the film.
Josef watched from a distance. And listened. The sublime notes flowing from
young Mozart’s fingertips were exquisite. Simply exquisite.
As was young Mozart.
It was easy enough for him to imagine how Luc and Aubrey would look together, the striking contrast of his dusky skin juxtaposed against Aubrey’s fair flesh. He had to wonder how old the diminutive Aubrey was. Luc was at least a foot taller, when they switched places at the piano for a bit. He played the sheet music that the maestro had given him, then yielded the piano bench back to Aubrey. While Luc was certainly gifted, whatever he performed beautifully, Aubrey perfected.
Young Mozart was truly a musical genius, one of those gifted musicians who could take a piece and deliver a flawless, transcendent performance.
He was still lost in the music when Sir Piers rejoined him.
“The second piano has arrived.” Replay’s owner spoke softly, hesitant to break the spell being woven, measure by measure. “Amazing, is it not, how she can hear a song and then play it? A saving grace, for someone who has lost most of her sight.”
What?
Josef was rocked by a number of realizations, first and foremost, that Aubrey was a female, and not the jockey-size young man he’d believed her to be. And when Luc said that Aubrey didn’t see him, he had meant it, literally and figuratively.
“You did not know.”
Josef turned to find Sir Piers studying him intently. He cleared his throat and shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “We have not met.”
Replay’s owner nodded sagely. “Vashon serves as her eyes. Savant that she is, once he plays for her, she can perform it. I arranged the second piano to expedite the process, should the maestro demand a piece with which she is unfamiliar, as he did just now.”
“How long has she been blind, do you know?”
“Yes,” Sir Piers said. “She began losing her sight around the age of twelve, if memory serves. She has some vision. Shapes and shadows. Colors, for now. One condition limits her to keyhole vision. Another obscures what is left. She has allergies—some of them severe—and cannot use a service dog. Vashon recognized her genius whilst she was at Julliard, and continued to mentor her once she graduated. He still teaches privately, but he arranges his schedule around hers. A first person portrayal of Mozart is quite unique and commands top dollar, performing at fundraising events and doing concerts at select venues. Although mostly, she does programs at schools, which pays next to nothing. But it is her passion, to introduce young people to classical music and inspire those with disabilities.”
“How remarkable.” No wonder Luc loved her.
“Yes. A remarkable pair. Ah, here comes the piano.”
The double doors opened wide, and a grand piano was wheeled inside, despite the maestro’s fluent swearing in five languages at the interruption.
“A Bösendorfer,” Sir Piers told him. The Austrian-made pianos were famous for their sound. “Perhaps she can be persuaded to give a private performance, hmm?”
Josef certainly hoped so. If she wove a spell with eighty-eight keys, what magic could she perform with ninety-seven?
The Bösendorfer was moved into place opposite Mozart’s piano, so that Luc sat on its bench, facing Aubrey. Such talent. Such beauty. Having heard some of their story, looking at the pair of them, he was even more determined to advance Luc’s cause.
“I have invited Luc and Aubrey to dinner tonight,” Sir Piers told him. “Eleanor wished to meet them, outside of all this. Tell me, are you free to join us?”
Josef managed to school his features and not reveal just how much he wanted to be there.
“Yes. Thank you.” Dinner with them would afford an opportunity to see them together, how they interacted, perhaps discern a tendresse that Aubrey had been silently harboring for Luc, the same way that he had kept his hidden from her.
“What time?” Josef asked.
“Seven.”
“Shall I bring anything? Wine?”
Sir Piers smiled. “Just yourself,” he said smoothly. “After dinner, depending upon how the conversation goes, I thought that I might offer them a tour of our playroom. Perhaps Vashon—or you—can serve as her guide. He should be familiar enough with the equipment. I would love to see him suspended, wouldn’t you?”
That lovely milk chocolate skin, adorned with rope and hung from the ceiling. Better yet, the pair of them, submitting to kinbaku, the erotic Japanese rope bondage that Sir Piers was famous for. Bound by rope, entwined, drawn ever closer together with no means to escape the eventual, inevitable joining….
Sir Piers’s smile widened.
Did the man miss nothing?
“Yes. Well. We shall see you at seven, then. Geoffrey is collecting our pianists at six forty-five. Of course, you may ride with them. Just let Geoffrey know, if you wish to do so.”
* * *
Luc and Aubrey were waiting in the lobby when he joined them. Luc had changed into a brown suit with a white button down shirt and tie. Aubrey wore a vibrant red sundress that hugged her small bust line and lithe frame. A layered skirt flared out to an asymmetrical hem that swept her upper calves. Her blonde hair was short and rather wild, as if she had channeled Beethoven’s mane into her own coiffure. It suited her perfectly.
Up close, she was clearly a very petite young woman of twenty-four years, not the miniature young man that he’d mistaken her to be. Her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses to protect them from the brightness that was painful to her. Following a further discussion with Sir Piers, Josef had returned to his office to research retinitis pigmentosa and Stargardt disease. While one condition required bright light to see, the second made it impossible, forcing her to live in twilight or suffer the consequences.
After listening to her music most of the day, watching Luc’s care of her—and for her, Josef remained confident that he could advance Luc’s cause.
Until he caught Luc looking at him and Aubrey with equal interest. It was as if he knew where Josef’s imagination had been this afternoon, thinking of Sir Pier’s dungeon and the untold possibilities, if one or both of them were willing to play.
Suddenly, the evening that had been promising was now rife with potential.
Chapter Five
They were greeted at the door by Sir Piers and his wife Eleanor, luminous with the glow of her first pregnancy. At nearly three months along, morning sickness was still an issue, but it had improved. She looked forward to enjoying the meal that her husband had prepared.
Sir Piers was clearly concerned about his submissive wife. While he would have preferred to have Eleanor’s work hours reduced, the demands of her job as a counselor had thus far made that impossible. The search was on, to find someone qualified and willing to help handle the case load at the community service center where she worked. Even then, she would likely continue to lead the Wednesday night meetings for sex addicts.
Luc was attentive to Aubrey’s needs, assisting her from the limousine, guiding her with one hand on the small of her back, and helping her get seated before taking his place beside her. Josef sat across from them, and watched the blue-eyed Aubrey successfully navigate the courses from soup to dessert, each one free of the cardamom, nutmeg, and eggplant that could trigger a severe allergic reaction. The small clutch purse where she’d put her sunglasses also held a preloaded injection, in case of an anaphylactic emergency.
Sir Piers had prepared filet mignon with grilled asparagus and herb roasted potatoes, foods that required virtually no trimming and minimal cutting to consume. Luc told Aubrey what was on her plate—steak at four o’clock, asparagus at eight, potatoes at noon. Aware of her abilities as well as her limitations, he offered nothing more but remained attentive, and ready to assist, should she need it.
The table conversation revolved around Aubrey—her family, schooling, her experiences at Julliard. She was delightful. Humble. Aware of her gifts, quietly acknowledging them but refusing to take credit for them.
While she governed her speech, her body language spoke volumes. It was clear to Josef that Aubrey adored Luc, as a
teacher, and was keenly aware of him as a man.
But how to get them to the next step—acknowledging their attraction to each other—remained elusive. Attempts to draw Aubrey out, to answer any questions she might have about the resort, its offerings, or the lifestyle were unsuccessful.
There would be no trip to the dungeon tonight.
A pity, but there was no help for it. Aubrey must be ready, willing, and able. Judging from the blush that pinked her smooth, fair cheeks, she was not yet there. Given enough time, Josef was certain that she could be persuaded to enter it, perhaps even experience some of the tamer forms of kink. She would be beautiful, bound, her body arching under the tease of a feather, the cold burn of ice, or the prick of a Wartenberg wheel. He could see her, hung on a St. Andrew’s cross, twisting under the strokes of a deerskin flogger.
Or layered with Luc, protecting her with his body, taking the lashes for her.
The thought was enough to make him half-hard.
Josef took another sip of wine and willed his body to behave. He needed to be able to walk out of here, get in the limo, and return to the resort with them, all patently neutral, asexual amiability. That was his intention. That was his plan. He followed it, to a point. When the time came to part ways and Luc asked him if he’d like to come up for a drink, he should have said no.
Because of the film’s budget and the number of available rooms on site, Aubrey and Luc were sharing a suite. Aubrey was using the bed. Luc planned to sleep on the massive davenport, built for sharing, with low, rounded arms that were the perfect height for bending a submissive over for a good, hard fuck. There was a St. Andrew’s cross in the corner, a spanking bench, and an armless chair to allow for lap dances, discipline, and more. The armoire that held the TV also contained an assortment of adult toys, certified clean and sterilized.
Josef wondered if Aubrey had discovered them.
Luc poured a glass of wine for Aubrey and opened two beers for the men. The three drinks turned to six, then eight. Feeling the effects, Josef knew he’d either need to spend the night in his office or have Geoffrey drive him home.
