The Conductor and the Muse

by Veronika Myse

  It smells like a library and old paper with an undertone of masculinity.

  A tall man is crossing the room, weaving between the piles. I look at him and feel my heart skip. He’s young, only in his mid-thirties and he is dressed as eclectic as his home. He has a pair of brown corduroy pants, flip flops, a red button down shirt, a tweed gray jacket and a brown tie. His eyes are the color of robin egg, his hair the color of straw and his smile is spreading farther across his lips the closer he comes to me.

  I feel light headed and look at the carpet, apologizing for interrupting him. He speaks and his accent is smooth. I am captivated. I extend my hand for the introduction and watch his hand, his fingers long and thick, wrap around mine encircling it completely. I thank him for accepting me but I cannot look him in the eyes any longer, my blood is surging through my veins at a veracious pace. I lower my gaze to his hand, holding mine so softly.

  Suddenly, he releases my hand and it falls limply to my side. The absence of his warmth causes a shiver to course through my entire body. I feel my breasts contract and immediately cross my arms to hide the prominent points. He clears his throat and tells me that he doesn’t find someone with my talent under him very often. My mind immediately races and I picture myself literally underneath him, writhing in his arms.

  My face warms at the audacity of my imagination. I am completely caught off guard by my thoughts. His eyebrows purse together and he is leading me to a seating area adjacent to the large desk. I sit and nervously rub my sweating hands on my legs. He asks me what I want to take from him when the year is over. Again, images flash in my mind overpowering the filter that has always been in place between my thoughts and vocal expression. My mouth is dry and I feel the residual liquid in my body pool elsewhere.

  He wants me to play for him after dinner and I am delighted by his soft, almost seductive tone. Surely I am just imagining things.

  I stand quickly and tell him that I will see him at dinner. He remains seated and I am afraid that I have offended him with my off handed comment. I walk quickly back to the cottage, not looking back. I am afraid that if I do, he may be watching me from the large windows. I am mortified.

  Back in the confines of my new home, I begin setting out my clothing for the evening. I place my shoes near the overstuffed chair and glance out the window facing the meadow. The front door to the main house opens and the Conductor steps out wearing a pair of shorts, a white t shirt, and running shoes. He looks so strong, so defined. I watch carefully as not to get caught as he begins to run down the cobblestone toward the lake that I saw when we drove through the gate.

  His calf muscles flex and I am breathless. He disappears within a second and I am left staring at the beautiful grounds. They have no comparison to the man that built it.

  _________

  I don’t want to be late for dinner, but I don’t want to seem too early either. I pace, back and forth, in the sitting room for five minutes before deciding to walk out the front door. The cobblestone is difficult to maneuver in my shoes, as I chose the path leading me around the Koi pond. I know that a disaster would surely occur should I try to walk across the lawn in my high heels.

  Ms. Tanes opens the door before I have a chance to knock and directs me to the kitchen. The Conductor is reaching for a wine glass as I walk in. He abruptly turns and offers me a glass. My hands are shaking and my mind is once again racing. Never have I felt such an attraction to any other human being in my life. It is almost as though he is the north to my south, the up to my down. I don’t know how to control these feelings or my thoughts. He leads me to the dining room where a large table is set with the most beautiful setting. There are candles in the center that flicker as we walk by. He pulls the chair and waits for me to sit before seating himself directly across from me. He licks his lips and I watch his tongue, I feel so sensual and avert my eyes. I am freezing and boiling at the same time. I can feel my body reacting and I cross my arms once again to hide my puckering peaks.

  His eyes widen and he quickly looks away asking if I am cold. He walks around the table and drapes his jacket across my shoulder just as our salad arrives. His jacket smells of leather and musk. I take a large gulp of my wine while suppressing my thoughts to no avail. Butterflies have filled my stomach as I mix the salad on my plate.

  His voice disconcerts me. He is afraid that the food is unacceptable. His tone is clipped and I know that I have insulted him. I take another swig of wine and a few large mouthfuls of vegetables before Ms. Tanes removed the nearly empty plate.

  She returns all too soon with yet another plate, a larger plate, filled with the most delectable spread I have seen in such a long time. My mouth waters and I begin cutting the chicken. Divine

  I set the knife down and place a piece of chicken in my mouth. It is juicy, hot and so good. Just as I am beginning to get lost in the tastes of rosemary and thyme the Conductor asks if I like the cottage. I swallow so fast that I fear I may choke.

  The wine has hit my filter, completely disabling it as I reply that I love the bed.

  The bed, of all things, the bed.

  I pull my hand to cover my mouth then try to explain my way out of the comment. He says nothing more and we eat the rest of our meal in silence. I look up a few times and he smiles. Not a friendly smile, but an obligated, uncomfortable spread of muscles.

  My stomach is churning from nerves, wine, and something else that I haven’t ever experienced as Ms. Tanes delivers a small bowl of ice cream. I have never liked chocolate and I am thankful to see that strawberry and vanilla are also present. The cold feels so good on my mouth. It is dry and my lips feel swollen as though I have been stung by a bee. I know he is watching me as I try to keep from making a complete fool of myself. Finally, the meal is over.

  The Conductor stands and removes his jacket from my shoulders. I feel his hand brush softly against my bare flesh and I am ignited once again. My heart pounds and my knees feel weak as I stand and walk with him toward another room.

  I take a few deep breaths and gawk as we enter a spacious sitting room.

  There is a majestic piano on a platform, lights all around it. It shimmers and sparkles on its own. The Conductor positions himself in a chair where the light barely reaches. I prefer this setting tonight, it is less intrusive and I feel alone as I step onto the platform.

  The pedals are gold, not brass and they gleam. I bend and remove my shoes setting them aside. The bench is soft, plush, and I position myself while correcting my posture. I run my fingers softly across the white keys. I had planned on playing a familiar song, but the need to create something new takes over my hands.

  I feel the blood coursing through my veins and I begin to play a confused melody of dramatic notes. The song echoes the need burning deep inside of me. As I play, I imagine his eyes, his lips, and the way he held my hand and brushed his hand across my shoulder. He is the most intriguing person I have ever encountered and I feel, blissful.

  “Good morning Conductor,” I say walking into the sitting room of the main house. He looks up from his paper and nods his head. Oh no, he does not seem to be in a very good mood at all.

  “Good morning Miss Winter. Sleep well?” His tone is clipped as he takes a sip of his coffee.

  “Yes, well, thank you,” I want to walk away and return to the cottage. I can feel my face warm as Ms. Tanes asks if I prefer coffee or tea.

  “May I have a glass of orange juice instead?” She nods her head and exits the area. I look over at the Conductor and he is peering over paper. He looks amused and I can only assume he is laughing at me internally.

  I don’t take offense anymore, I have learned through the years of private schooling and limited activities that I am different than most women. I don’t give off the same sensual vibes. Instead, I am awkward in my own flesh and portray that gracelessness in everything I do. I blush at anything, and embarrass myself continuously. Ugh, like last night at dinner with the bed comment.

  Boys don’t find me attractiv
e, and men think of me as a little sister type or friend. I look up again at the Conductor, engrossed in a story, and I stare at his features. He is masculine but not in a rough and rugged way. I notice faint wrinkles near the corner of his eyes as he concentrates and the way his tongue darts from his mouth and leaves a sheen on his full lips. He is absolutely perfect. I feel my heart rate spike again, it is too warm and I am breathing erratically once more.

  Ms. Tanes returns with my orange juice and I take a large swallow before feeling a little better, a little more normal. Breakfast is placed on the table and I help myself to some scrambled eggs and an English muffin. The Conductor sits, quietly. I am uncomfortable and eat rapidly.

  I ask to be excused because I feel like I am being punished like a child. I hate meals in silence unless it is a meal alone. This feeling I have to please him, to see him smile at me is unbearable. There is more to it than that, but I am not sure I want to explore those feelings right now. He excuses me and I walk back to the cottage.

  I curl up like a cat on the large chair in the sitting room and begin penning a letter to my Auntie. I have a few hours to myself before I must face the Conductor once again. My mind races as I try to make sense of my feelings toward this man. He is firm in tone, but to entrancing to touch. His eyes seem to look through my conscience and I am so afraid that I am falling further in lust for a man that I have admired for so long.

  I am sure he is used to the attention. He must know that he has this power to make me fall to his feet simply with a look. I picture myself, on my knees for him and conclude he would not need to ask. I would greatly enjoy pleasuring him.

  My stomach knots and my muscles clench deep inside me. I need to be cautious of my needs, my emotions. I cannot give him a reason to send me away. I want to study with him as I know he has so much to share with me.

  The Conductor

  I slam the alarm hard. I am not ready to awaken from my dreams because I know that they will never come to be. I step into the shower and once again, find myself in dire need of release.

  This is becoming a problem.

  I have been a recluse for over ten years. I had a lover but it was never anything more as she and I by no means had deep rooted emotional ties to one another. I had needs and she was willing to be discreet about satisfying them regularly.

  I can’t come with the thought of her in my head and I desperately try to think of Leena even though I know that my thoughts are wicked. I should not be fantasizing about a muse. Completely bound and unable to relieve the pressure I dress and make my way to the dining room. Breakfast will be served soon and I don’t wish to be late. I know this morning it will be difficult to look at her and not recall my vivid reveries from last night.

  ________

  I am trying to read, or at least appear to be reading the newspaper as she approaches the table. She offers a bright and cheerful greeting as she sits directly across from me. She is wearing a white button up blouse, blue jeans, and sandals that show her naked feet. My body reacts to her again as I notice the faint outline of lace underneath the white material.

  We exchange words, she has slept well. At least one of us did. She requests orange juice rather than a caffeinated beverage and I can’t help but smile. I recall the day when I couldn’t stand the bitter taste of coffee. Awe, the days of my youth, when I would have thrown caution to the wind and de-bloused her on my kitchen counter.

  My thoughts have gotten the better of me as I realize I have been ignoring her. She abruptly asks to be excused, stands, and makes a hasty departure. My stomach sinks as I stare at her plate of untouched eggs. After a short time, Ms. Tanes removed the soiled dishes and linens and I am left once again wallowing in my own self. I need to speak to her. I cannot continue to act in this matter. There is nothing I will be able to teach her if I am constantly in a state of arousal.

  I have never asked a muse to depart, but then again, I have never experienced the impatience of my emotions brought forward by such an amazing woman. I fold the paper and set it on the table. I know what I need to do.

  The Conductor and The Muse

  There is a loud knock at the door as she sits in agony trying to figure out her own feelings about the Conductor. Standing, she walks over and opens the heavy access. Her breath catches in her throat. It’s the Conductor.

  He walks around her and stands in the center of the room. She closes the door and makes her way across the loud floor.

  She stands, directly in front of him rather than sitting.

  “I can no longer accept you as my Muse, Miss Winter,” he states in a no nonsense tone.

  “Wh-.”

  “I am sorry, this is a first for me as well. Please know it is nothing you have done, it is simply that our chemistry is…”

  “Have I done something to displease you?” Her eyes begin to swell with tears. Her knees weakening, she sits down in front of him.

  “No, Leena. You have done nothing to displease me,” he says trying to come to terms with the trail of saline falling from her beautiful eyes.

  She stands and places her hand on the center of his chest. His mind reals to the dream he had last night.

  “Please, please tell me what I have done and I will correct it immediately,” she pleads again. Her heart surges with the desire to feel his skin against hers.

  The Conductor, unable to deny her, reaches down and clasps her hand in his. She jerks, trying to press her hand tightly against his chest.

  “Conductor, I don’t want to leave,” and she presses her body against his keeping their hands in place on his chest. Her body trembles from the fear of being sent away and from the inviting warmth of his body against hers.

  She raises her face to him and stares into his eyes. He looks torn, and less determined. He slowly removes one tear from her cheek watching as her lips part.

  “Please,” she whispers and his resolve vanishes.

  He wraps her into his arms and lifts her from her feet, slowly making his way into her newly acquired bedroom in the guest house he would normally never set foot in.

  She could feel him tremble as he lowered her to the floor. His eyes blazing, his breathing labored. She stood, frozen in a moment she had only experienced in her mind.

  She wraps her arms around his neck and gently brushes his lips with hers. A shiver races through her body stopping, pooling deep within her. He responds with a gentle kiss, lingering on her lips.

  She opens her mouth to breathe and is taken by surprise by the taste of sugar and coffee. His tongue swirls around hers, dancing like a soft butterfly. Responding only by need, she deepens the kiss and her pulse quickens. Muscles retract in her abdomen and tingles begin to take the place of shivers.

  “Leena,” he moans. Pulling from her, he stares into her wild eyes. “Leena, have you, are you…”

  “I have not, I’ve never felt this way for anyone before,” her face flushes and her eyes revert to his feet.

  Placing his fingers under her chin, he cautiously raises her gaze.

  “I don’t want this to go too far, but you need to tell me, Leena.”

  Her eyes glaze, “I understand. It’s okay, I-I am sorry,” she sighs.

  “For what?” His brows purse together. “You think I don’t want you? Is that what it is?” She nods her head up and down.

  “Leena, there could be nothing further from the truth.” He rubs his temples and takes a step back. “From the moment you walked into my study yesterday afternoon, you have been the only thing I could think of.” He turns to the bed and places his hands on the duvet.

  “Please don’t make me leave. Please let me stay, please. Conductor, make love to me.”

  _________

  She takes a step forward and begins to unbutton her shirt. His hands engulf hers and he brings them to his lips. After applying a kiss to each one, he lowers them to her side. Taking the second button between his fingers he nimbly unfastens one after another, slowly revealing the white lace hidden underneath. After completi
ng the task, he reveled in her pure, exposed strip of flesh. Her excitement and embarrassment begins to show as the pale skin takes on a pink glow under his gaze.

  She runs her hand under his corded sweater, taking pleasure in his rapid breathing. He is strong and his muscles begin to twitch under her fingertips. She feels like a tourist, traveling the hidden path on his chest, exploring each valley and hill. His stomach tightens as he pulls his sweater over his head and tosses it in the corner. She places her palm over one of his nipples, feeling it contract just as the other hardens under her scrutiny.

  A smile stretches across her puffy lips. She had this power to turn him into a heavy breathing, loudly moaning lover. She felt strong, empowered, and extremely beautiful.

  He slips the shirt over her shoulders and moves her closer to the bed. He takes her mouth once more and begins to explore her body in the same manner that she explored his. Slowly he releases the button on her jeans and slides them down her shapely, pale legs inhaling her scent the whole way. She steps out, one foot at a time, holding his shoulder for balance. Lifting her by the waist, he gently places her onto the bed. She shifts her weight as he pulls the heavy bedding back. She slides under the sheet and he removes his shoes, socks and slacks then slips in beside her.

  His pulse emanates throughout his body and his length already hard as steel. He presses his erection against her, wrestling with the tiny clasps on her bra. Pulling each strap, he removes the white fabric and watches her pale pink nipples pucker.

  His hands are smooth against her skin. She arches her back to allow him better access to her bra and feels his powerful shaft press against her fevered nakedness. She has a desperate need to touch him, to feel the massive muscle, but the fear of the unknown holding her back. She moans as he gently massages her breast, arching her back and pressing the roundness into his palm.