Chapter 4: Adagio

After Bonnie left, I didn't feel much like playing or thinking, so I downed the rest of the six pack and collapsed on the loveseat in the corner of my practice room. It had been a very stressful and exhausting day and the alcohol didn't help. Sleep crept up on me quickly. As I drifted off, I remembered that I wanted to call Rebecca, but then I figured maybe that could wait.

I didn't dream; at least nothing I can remember. It was quiet in the practice room, and I slept soundly until I heard a man's voice. As I shook off the cobwebs I realized that I was hearing my answering machine. It was dark in the room and I fumbled for the phone, wondering why the caller didn't just leave a message.

I was a still a little fuzzy when I picked up the phone, but I recognized Rebecca's voice immediately. Even over the phone, she was perfect. She sounded tense, but a little thrill went through me as I listened to her. Her tone and the way she spoke was a combination of little girl and woman, and if her arguments hadn't done me in, the sound of her voice would have. I tried to dissuade her, but she was determined. Being twice her age and way more experienced gave me only a slight advantage in that I could recognize that she was going to have her way, and I knew that the easiest course was to just let her. She persisted, and I finally gave her my address and directions.

The minute I hung up the phone I started getting excited about seeing her again. I was acting like some dumb-ass high school kid and I knew it. I wanted to stop but I couldn't. The grownup in me was screaming all sorts of warnings, but that dumb-ass kid just kept turning up the volume on my hormone boom-box, drowning out everything except the song about her. It was a catchy song with a good beat, and I had to dance to it.

In an attempt to calm down before she arrived, I took a shower and changed out of the clothes I'd worn all day. The shower didn't seem to help, so I sat at my piano, idly plinking out stray bits of music and looking at my watch every two or three minutes. I thought about calling her cell number but decided to give her at least an hour to find me. Just as I was thinking that maybe I should call I heard a car coming up my road. I sat at my piano trying to look like a responsible, in-control adult. When she walked through my big roll-up door, she was silhouetted against a bright moonlit night, almost a perfect negative to the exit Bonnie had made against a dull afternoon sun.

I couldn't help but smile when I saw her, and she did the same. She was so beautiful, especially with such a happy look on her face. We stood there like fools grinning at each other through the glass until I finally motioned her over to the door in the side of the room and went to let her in. At first, I didn't know how I should behave, but she put an end to my confusion by wrapping her arms around my neck and giving me a very warm very intimate kiss.

"Hey, I thought we were just going to talk." I protested as I held her at arm's length.

"I said we could talk, but I don't think I said we couldn't kiss." She lied, and I knew it, but I was glad.

"Well, I have all my phone conversations on tape, and I'm going to check it just as soon as I get my breath." I joked.

She looked around, taking in the room. "Hey, is this your studio? This is so cool. I can't believe you live in a barn."

"Well, it's not actually a barn, it's a big, cheap building with a great view. You'll see when the sun comes up." I caught myself when I realized what I'd said. She looked like the cat who had just eaten the canary. Plainly, she had not missed the implication that she would be here in the morning. I was losing all the arguments I'd prepared, before we'd even begun to talk.

"On the inside, it's really like a house." I mumbled on, trying to salvage what last shred of maturity I had remaining. "There's a big workshop right behind this room, and a great kitchen, bedrooms, everything. There's even a deck off the kitchen and master-bedroom with a heated spa. It's great to sit out and have breakfast and watch the sun rise."

"Oh, I'll bet." She said with a little roll of her eyes as if now it were me trying to seduce her.

Then she giggled a little girlish giggle and came back into my arms. I held her close and breathed her in. She wore no perfume, and she needed none. Just the fresh, sweet scent of her was enough to make me dizzy.

"I want to see everything. Show me your shop, show me your kitchen. Especially, show me your bedroom." Her voice was husky.

"I don't think the bedroom would be a very good place to talk. We did agree we'd talk didn't we? Didn't you already get enough sex for one day?"

"Yes, we'll talk. I'm kidding about the bedroom. I couldn't do it again now anyway. I'm so sore that I probably won't walk right for a week."

I smiled a little guy smile. In a perverse way I was proud that she was sore. It was evidence of a satisfactory performance on my part.

Since it was a beautiful moonlit night, I suggested we move to my deck. We could watch the stars, sip a little wine and try to make sense of the day. When I suggested wine, I could tell from the smug look in her eyes that she thought she had scored points of some kind. The drinking age in Texas is 21. To her way of thinking I had probably just given more evidence that I saw her as more than just an over-sexed teenager. How could I win any arguments with her when I kept putting my foot in my mouth every time I opened it?

It was after midnight as we sat holding hands on my deck swing. Her head rested gently on my shoulder, and she had cuddled up to me like we'd been doing this all our lives. How could she fit under my arm so comfortably? The sky was clear and bright and the moon was full and setting behind us. It was quiet. There were only the faint sounds of nature and the air was dry and cool. It was a perfect night.

We talked quietly about our lives, trading information, avidly consuming and memorizing little facts about each other. She'd had a passion for music since her first memory. She loved to play, but hated to perform. Her greatest satisfaction came from spontaneity. Technical details and the need for strict adherence to form just bored her. She preferred Baroque and Classical to Romantic and thought most modern "art" music was not worth the effort. She liked a lot of popular music, especially Country and Western. She disliked Rap. I agreed with most of her ideas about music, but I wasn't so sure about her dislike for perfection in the details or her taste for Country and Western.

As we talked, I realized how easy it was to be with her. It's not usually that way for me. She was a good listener as well as a great conversationalist. We talked for over an hour and I could have gone on all night. But finally she turned to me and asked the question that was uppermost on both our minds:

"Can I stay?"

The fact that she hadn't said "Can I stay tonight?" Didn't register with me.

"Sure, I guess that would be OK. It's late anyway. You can get a good night's sleep then drive home tomorrow."

"No. I mean can I stay with you until you get tired of me?" She clarified.

"What if I don't get tired of you?"

"Then you'll just have to keep me I guess."

"Rebecca, I really, really, really like you. You turn me on like no one ever before. You're smart and talented and beautiful, and just about every other thing I think I ever wanted in a woman, but, let's be real. This is all happening way too fast." I had already discarded my argument about being too old for her.

"But you really, really, really like me?" She persisted.

"Yes, I said so. I really, really, really like you."

"Do you think you might love me?"

I'd been down this road before and I knew it well. It was treacherous and littered with the wrecks of many a hasty decision.

"Rebecca, contrary to what you read online and in cheap novels, you can't love someone you've just met. Love takes time to grow. Right now we're in lust."

"I didn't say we were in love now, I just wanted to know if you thought that someday we could be?"

She might not like to dwell on the technical details of music, but she sure was pure woman when it came to the details of a relationship. I was experienced enough to know there was no way I could win this round, so I let it be.

"Yes. Maybe. Maybe someday."

"Good. Now, don't you think we should go to sleep?"

I was whipped and I knew it. We got her bag and violin from her car and I showed her to my bedroom. There was no doubt that we'd sleep together tonight and for a while to come. She'd gotten her way. The only question that remained was how long a while it would be.

I sleep in the nude. It's not a sexual thing. I sleep that way because it's more comfortable. The fact is that my barn is pretty expensive to air condition, so I don't keep it that cold. I'd cleaned up the wine and went around shutting off lights while Rebecca got ready for bed. When I came back into the bedroom she was under the covers waiting for me with a bright smile on her face. She protested when she saw me strip down to nothing.

"Hey, I thought we said no sex. You've abused me too much already."

"I think if anybody's done any abusing, it's you, busting in here like this and demanding to sleep with me. Maybe it's only fair that I get to molest your tender body."

She smiled again and used her little girl voice. "OK."

"No. I'm kidding. I know you're sore, and to tell the truth, so am I. I always sleep this way. It can get sort of warm in here."

"Oooh. I like it. Naked man in my bed!" She exclaimed as I climbed in.

Without further ado she pulled off the long T-shirt she'd been wearing. Now I had a naked woman in my bed. I liked it too. She cuddled next to me and gave me a chaste kiss. I turned out the light and put my left arm around her. Why did she end up on the side nearest my heart?

-- Contredance --