by Kris Bryant
I’m eating a salad. What did you have for dinner?
I smiled when her name popped up on my phone.
I ate fattening, cheesy Italian food. And bread. Yum.
Jealous. I did put a lot of salad dressing on these greens. And lots of cheese. I think at this point, it’s no longer healthy.
I wanted to call her. I missed her voice. When she was tired, her voice got lower and raspier. I refrained, though. The only good thing to come from my relationship with Carrie from college was that she taught me everything not to do in a relationship.
Clio would so be your best friend right now. I gave him a noodle but he couldn’t have cared less.
I should have felt bad that I was using Clio to keep the conversation going, but he was a safe topic that didn’t have me saying awkward things to her. And I was close to being needy. Wednesday was forty-eight hours away. I could do it. I did it for years. Except this time, I didn’t want to hide. I didn’t want the world to forget about me. Correction. I didn’t want Hope to forget about me.
I’m glad I’m not allergic to him.
That’s because I sanitize my entire place before you come over.
Do you really? That makes me sad.
I wrote, You know I would do anything to make you feel comfortable, but then I deleted it because that was creepy. I tried again. You know I just want you to feel comfortable. Texting was the better form of communication for me because it gave me time to think. My track record with Hope and stupid things I’d said wasn’t the greatest. As a matter of fact, some of the things I said still made me cringe. Maybe I did need to hang out at Bleachers because the gang there would help me socialize without even knowing it. Josh knew I was quiet, he just didn’t know why.
You are the sweetest person. Hope always knew what to say. How did I get so lucky?
Where are you now?
I’m on the L headed home. I grabbed a salad from across the street. I plan on taking a hot bath and going to bed early. Mondays always exhaust me.
I really wanted to say something cutesy or even slightly sexual, but I had no idea how to be flirtatious without sounding creepy.
Relax, rest, and think of me. There. That wasn’t bad. I stared at the phone a few minutes before I realized she wasn’t going to text back. She probably reached her stop and was on her way home. I put down the phone and started researching my own company and B&T and where they stood on charitable contributions. Even if Hope didn’t want my money, she would probably be okay taking it from Corporate America.
Chapter Twenty
“How are you with water?” It was the Wednesday after another fantastically sexual weekend with Hope. I called her because I wanted to actually get out of the condo and maybe do something for her like spend the weekend at Lake Geneva. I found a really nice hotel on the water that offered fun boating activities and had a very romantic package for couples. It was cheesy, but Hope was the kind of woman who appreciated the effort.
“I love showers and baths. Can you be a little more specific?”
“I wanted to take you away for the weekend. And I just remembered I don’t have a license, so you might have to drive.” I was such an idiot for not thinking ahead.
Hope playfully laughed at me. “I can rent a car and we can go wherever you want, but we’d have to leave either late Friday night or early Saturday. I just scheduled a seven o’clock session.”
I tried not to let it bother me, especially since it was a music therapy session. I had quickly figured out she said “session” for a therapy patient and “lesson” for a student. Hope dropped everything when she worked with patients and I didn’t blame her one bit. My two-minute session with Kylie was so exhilarating, and her response had melted me.
“That’s fine. I just want to get you out and away from my condo. I feel like I’m keeping you there for selfish reasons and you deserve so much more,” I said.
“You’re kidding, right? Lily, I love spending time with you and making love and laughing and sleeping and eating and being around you. You are my girlfriend. We are a new couple. Getting to know one another the way we have is my dream come true.”
I felt the smile on my face grow. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to get bored with me or us or not have a good time because of my anxiety issues.”
“How about this? I pack a bag, head to your place Friday night, and we don’t go outside until Sunday late morning when I have to wake you up and beg you to take me to brunch. I’ll bring over movies, you get groceries to hold us over until then, and we’ll spend the entire time in bed or on the couch.”
I took a deep breath and held it. It was the perfect plan. My heart filled my entire body with happiness and threatened to burst outside of my body. I exhaled slowly to give myself time to settle.
“I think that is a great idea.” See? Mature.
“Please breathe. I still need you.”
I exhaled the second breath I held. I didn’t realize she could hear me and felt foolish. “See? You make me do weird things.”
“You were weird when I first met you. Weird and wonderful. That’s why I lo—like you so much.”
She was still talking, but the only thing I could hear was my own thick heartbeat resonating in my head. She’d almost said “love.” I heard it. I stood up and paced. I had to play it cool, though.
“Are you still there?” Hope asked.
“Oh, yes. I’m here. Sorry. My mind wandered.” Yes, it wandered right to your heart and poked around, hoping you would say the word to me. There was no way I could tell her that I loved her. It was too soon. This wasn’t a romance novel. This was real life, and what worked on the page didn’t work for me.
“Is that okay?”
I sat down and tapped my foot. “Of course that’s okay. Will you bring your saxophone and play for me, too? I miss hearing you play.”
“I’m sad you aren’t working around here. I miss your ear and your advice. You should come here and give me a lesson.”
I froze, not because it was a bad idea, but because it was a good one. Now was the time to come clean. I could go up there, listen to her play, give her advice, and maybe, just maybe, tell her about Jillian Crest.
“I’ll be there in an hour.” I disconnected the phone and stared at it in my hand, afraid she would call back, but she didn’t. I was committed. Fuck.
***
Even though I was stressed, being back at the Leading Note felt good. I could hear music coming from inside. I sat on the stairs outside and listened. There were a few musicians playing, probably getting ready for the concert next week. Chicago summers were brutal and I didn’t want a sunburn, so I reluctantly went inside. The second I saw Agnes, I groaned. I’d forgotten to swing by the bank and get the check. I would do that and bring it by Monday. I sent a quick text to my banker and asked him to hold it for me until then.
“You really did show up. What a nice surprise,” Hope said. She followed a few students down the stairs and told them she would see them tomorrow. When she turned to look at me, my knees wobbled. How was this wonderful woman mine? She leaned into me and kissed me softly after the kids left the building. “Hi, you.”
“Mmm. Hi.” I was ready to take her up to her office and fulfill any promise I made concerning why I stopped by. I sighed when she stepped away.
“I’m still on the clock. Come on. I want you to listen to something.”
Her moans, her wet center, her short breaths, all sounds I would love to hear right then. “What were you thinking of playing?”
“You tell me, okay?”
I nervously followed her into the room. My anxiety started gaining strength as I got closer to the piano. I sat in the second row.
“What are you doing all the way over there? Come sit next to me.” She pouted when I shook my head. “Why not?”
All of the reasons rushed up and sat in my throat, waiting for me to push them out, but I couldn’t. This was going to have to be done in baby steps. She already called me weird.
I didn’t want to slip any further down her list. “I can hear better when I’m not so close. Does that make sense?” It didn’t to me, but I hoped she thought it was just one of my quirks and shrugged it off.
“I’m nervous. I’ve only played this a few times. I’m still getting used to it.” She rubbed her hands on her jeans, then blew on her fingers. “Ready?”
When the notes to Chopin-Liszt’s “Meine Freuden” started, all of my repressed emotions about music rushed to the surface. They knocked down my walls and hovered between me and Hope. I clutched a book I found on the chair next to me and told myself to calm down. I was there to help and guide, not relive my past. This was my girlfriend who asked for my help. She didn’t know about my internal struggles about music. She only knew I was a great listener and had helped her before.
“Relax, relax, relax. Enjoy it,” I repeated until I actually started listening to the music. The tension in my shoulders dissipated and I closed my eyes and blew out the breath I’d been holding since Hope started playing. It was a very ambitious piece and she was doing a great job. She was warmed up nicely from her previous lessons, and it was nice to hear her interpretation of the music. I found that I didn’t want to correct her. Hope’s pauses were nice and fluid. Transitions were so important for the emotional responses, and if timed just right, you could bring an entire audience to tears. I discreetly brushed mine away. She was still learning and memorizing the piece, so some pauses were forgiven, but some were brilliantly timed. When she finished, the stillness in the room was deafening. When she finally made eye contact with me, I looked away. I was moved too much by it. I leaned my head back and looked up at the ceiling.
“That was very good, Hope.”
“Any pointers for me?”
I still couldn’t look at her. I closed my eyes and replayed it from memory. “Not really. I think once the piece is completely memorized, then you can work on breaks and timing, but you played it beautifully.” I was exhausted.
“I wish my fingers were longer. I would be able to reach the keys effortlessly. You are so lucky. You have long, strong fingers.”
I finally looked at her. The look she gave me made me think she wasn’t talking about playing an instrument, but about the last time we were together. I couldn’t wait until this weekend. I cleared my throat. “So, you like my hands?”
She played a few random chords, then stopped.
“I love your hands. The way you touch me, the way they feel on my body and inside me.”
I wanted to break eye contact, but I couldn’t. I was frozen, afraid to move. Afraid that if I blinked or breathed, this dream would vanish. It was one thing to whisper things to one another in the privacy of my bed, but out loud in public made it very real.
“Breathe, Lily.” She smiled at me when I took a deep breath. She began playing a song I’d never heard.
Classical music was a gradual buildup that pulled emotions from all different corners of your heart in a slow, methodical way, but what she was playing threw me right into the thick of everything painful and loving all at once. I was stunned when she started singing. I had no idea she could sing, and so beautifully, too. Hope continued to amaze me. The words were sad. The song was about the realization of a failed relationship, and paired with the haunting music, I wanted to curl up and weep at its beauty and sorrow.
“What song is that?” It hit me how much I was missing by shutting myself off from the world and music.
“It’s a song by Pink called ‘But We Lost It.’ A student wanted to learn it for the concert. It’s simple, but so interesting to play.” She played the beginning again, running over a few notes until she played it to her satisfaction.
“You sang it beautifully, too. How did I not know you sang? You continue to amaze me.”
The smile on her face was one of embarrassment and pride. “We still have so much to find out about one another,” she said.
Boy, did we ever. “Can you play another contemporary song for me?” I remembered the stack of sheet music she had in her apartment and knew she could pull something from memory. She started another slow song that immediately pulled me in. The notes, her voice, and the message was also sad. When she was done, we both sat in melancholy silence. “That was beautiful. I meant can you play me something that’s fun and uplifting?”
She laughed. “The piano was meant for sadness. It’s the best way to sulk but not be childish about it. Of course, there is fun music, and catchy songs, but I reserve the right to be sad.”
I never saw the piano that way, but it made sense. I always thought the violin was the saddest instrument. “What about the other instruments? What do they tell you?”
“The harp is peaceful, never sad. The saxophone is sexy and smooth. The guitar is fun and can be sexy, too. Oh, and never underestimate the power of the trumpet. It’s everything and then some,” she said.
“So why isn’t that your preferred instrument? I’m going to have to hear you play that, too.” As a lover of jazz, I had to agree with her. The trumpet could pull out any emotion.
“I heard somebody play the piano when I was little and fell in love with it then. But I already told you that story.” She stood up and walked toward me. I scooted over for her, but she sat in front of me instead. She turned her body sideways and leaned over the back of the chair to take my hands. “Hi. It’s a nice surprise to see you here again.”
“I missed you.” I blurted that out. I tried to backpedal to calm my voice a bit. “I mean, I also missed this place. I can’t even begin to explain what the Leading Note does to me.”
She reached out and touched my cheek. “It’s okay to miss me. And you are always welcome here anytime you want. Now I want you to do something for me.” I lifted my eyebrow at her. She reached out and squeezed my hand. “Close your eyes.” I obeyed. She ran her finger across my lips, softly, as if kissing me. “Tell me what you hear.”
I paused and focused. “I hear one of the instructors teaching simple chords. I always hear the traffic. A moped just drove by. There’s a hum coming from the light over us. I also hear a metronome somewhere and it’s driving me a little bit crazy.”
Hope chuckled at that. “It’s probably next door. What else do you hear?”
“The creaking of your chair.” That was as far as I got before I felt Hope’s full lips softly press into mine. I reached up and pulled her closer to me. She was warm and pressed her body into my touch. I snaked my hands under her shirt to feel her skin. I was desperate for her again.
“Um, we should probably be careful.” She took a step back from me.
“Or we could go up to your office.” I wasn’t giving up. I didn’t come out here for sex, but she started it with that kiss. Every part of my body was tense and tingly. I needed release.
“Or we could go up to my office.” She left the room. It took me a few seconds to realize I was supposed to follow her.
When I walked out, I saw she had just reached her office door. She opened it and went in but didn’t close it behind her. I casually walked up the stairs even though my heart raced ahead of me. I walked into her office. She was leaning against her desk, her legs crossed at the ankles and her ass half sitting by her in-box tray.
“Lock the door.”
I obliged. “Where do you want me?” I pressed my back against the wall.
“Where do you want to be?”
I looked at the juncture of her thighs. I wanted to taste her, feel her tightness, lose myself in her wetness.
“Say it.” It was almost a command. So much was happening in that moment. She wanted me to be open with her, wanted to tell me it was okay to want her and to voice what I wanted.
“I want to be between your legs.” I gulped. Another big step.
Hope’s mouth curved in a wicked smile. “Why are you five feet away, then?” She had a good point.
I pushed the chair out of the way, closer to the door, and stood in front of her. She reached up to cup my face and kissed me. I leaned i
nto her and pushed everything on her desk back a foot. Things fell to the floor, but neither of us cared. I grabbed her beautiful ass and pushed her to fully sit on the edge of her desk. I slid between her now spread legs and pulled her against me. We both moaned at the intimate contact.
“Shh. You have to be quiet. We don’t want anyone to hear us,” I said.
“Nobody is here but a handful of employees, and they’re all downstairs.”
A door closed next to us and I stiffened in alarm. We waited until we heard footsteps retreat. “Liar,” I whispered against her mouth.
Her lips curved in a smile. She kissed me again. “Okay, I’ll be quiet.”
My hands worked over the buttons of her blouse, then freed her breasts from the black bra that held them tightly together. She hissed loudly when I sucked her nipple into my mouth. I wasn’t gentle.
“Shh. Quiet, love,” I said.
She gulped in several deep breaths and nodded. I continued my spur-of-the-moment seduction. I loved that she was letting me lead. I reached down to unbutton her pants. They were form fitting, and I had a struggle getting them down. She leaned back on her elbows to give me better access. I was able to get her pants and panties down to mid-thigh before I gave up. I had to be inside her. I slid my fingers up and down her warm slit until I found what I wanted. I held her head close to me and plunged two fingers deep inside her. To keep from crying out, she bit down on the soft flesh between my neck and my shoulder. Her passion fueled me to fuck her harder. She leaned back again and desperately tried kicking off her shoes and pants. It wasn’t working. I stopped my thrusts long enough to peel her out of her clothes until she was on the desk, naked from the waist down, breasts bared. It was the one of the most beautiful sights I’d ever seen.
