Chapter 15: Candlelight Concerto

"You have been invited to a private recital at 8101 East Bixley, Room 401. The recital starts promptly at 8:00 p.m tonight. A tuxedo is waiting for you at Black Tie Outfitters on 4th Street."

The note was in his briefcase when he opened it at the office. It was written in gold ink, but he recognized her handwriting. A quick check of his calendar revealed no appointments after 3, so he promptly blocked out from 4 on as personal business and sat back in his chair, thinking and wondering what she had in mind. Is she finally going to let me hear her play? In all the time he'd known her, she'd never played for just him. He'd heard her play with some of her students, and as part of a group, but never as a soloist. This was one thing she had said she could never share with him. The enormity of that step floored him.

The day dragged on and he caught himself thinking during his meetings. He tried to call her at lunch, but she wasn't there. He received her email shortly after lunch. All it said was that she loved him and hoped he enjoyed the recital.

He left his office at five and drove home after stopping at the florist to buy a single white rose, her favorite. The house was empty. He scanned the mail on the desk as he set his briefcase down. Nothing important. He fixed himself a sandwich and ate it quickly.

After a quick shower, he gathered the rose and headed for Black Tie Outfitters. The short blonde saleslady fit the tuxedo to him. She brushed up against him numerous times as she pulled and fussed with the pants and vest. Her low cut blouse showed lots of cleavage as she worked around his waist. He couldn't help but start to get aroused.

After some quick alterations, the tuxedo was pronounced ready and he started to hand her his visa card. "Its already taken care of, sir," she replied sweetly and handed him a bag with his clothes. He thanked her and strode back out to his car.

He drove out Bixley heading east, wondering what was at 8101. He crossed 80th Street and he realized where it was. The big sign on the south side of the street said, "Bixley University". She was in one of the small recital rooms in the Carver Hall, the music department's building. He smiled. They had both graduated from Bixley and she was still teaching there part time.

He parked in the visitors lot and carried his rose to Carver Hall. The main door was still open. He checked his watch. He had five minutes to find room 401. There was a sign on the wall with an arrow pointing down for rooms 300-500.

He followed the signs until he found room 401. He paused outside the door and straightened his tuxedo. He knocked on the door and then opened it.

His breath caught as he beheld the scene before him. Two huge candelabras with a dozen candles each softly lit a small part of the room. A grand piano sat in the center between the two candelabras. One chair sat in the center of the room, just inside the candlelit area.

He turned and closed the door, and locked it and strode confidently to the chair. He picked the program up off the seat and sat down, placing the single rose in his lap.

He opened the program and read, smiling.

"A Private Recital by Stephanie Davis.
1. Moonlight Sonata -- Beethoven
2. Fur Elise -- Beethoven
3. Your Song -- John/Taupin"

He looked up when he heard her shoes clicking on the tile floor as she approached from the darkness to his right. She was absolutely gorgeous. Her long dark hair was pile up on her head with a silver tiara encircling it. Two ringlets spilled down one next to each ear. Her lips were dark cherry red.

His gaze followed her slow movement toward the piano. She wore a long, seafoam green formal gown that trailed lightly on the floor as she walked. The top of her gown bared her soft shoulders and the slight dip in the front hinted at her cleavage. Her arms were covered from above her elbow to her fingertips by long white gloves. When she reached the piano, she turned and looked at him. He applauded as she curtsied and pulled her gown up to seat herself.

He fell silent as she pulled herself up to the piano and took a deep breath. He felt himself grow more excited as she breathed.

He closed his eyes as she began to play and felt the passion in her music. The soft soaring music reminded him of her soft skin that he longed to caress. He imagined them dancing closely to the music. Her soft hand in his, the feel of her back on his hand, the gentle brushing of her thigh on his, her soft breath in his ear.

The first number ended and he applauded. She stood and curtsied again, bowing slightly. The top of her gown opened a bit and he could see the soft valley between her breasts. He fell silent again as she began to play the familiar melody of "Fur Elise". He smiled as the tune reminded him of Snoopy the cartoon dog dancing on her piano.

Soon that song ended and he applauded. She curtsied again, showing him the tops of her breasts again. He fell silent as she walked toward him. Slowly she removed first one glove and then the other, dropping each over his lap. He started to say something, but she put her finger over her lips and turned her back toward him. When she reached the piano bench, she reached behind herself and eased the zipper of her gown down slowly. Gradually her bare back appeared between the two halves of the gown. The zipper stopped just at the top of the cleft of her buttocks. She turned her head around toward him and winked and then pulled first one arm and then the other out of the gown. The gown dropped to the floor with an audible swish.