The Pianist

The storm raged outside. Clouds as black as a moonless night and as angry as a Greek god who is casting it's fury to the humble people below. Yet inside the club the sound of music could be heard. Not from a singer, but from the gentle sounds of the piano. Deep and melodic to reflect the mood and as the smoke induced room the crowd cheered and the haze lifted.

As the pianist rose from the bench, he casually looked around the room for any sign of the woman who had only recently appeared in his dreams but could have thought she was real. Dazzling blue eyes, red hair, and a stunning smile; that could light up New York City. As he walked off the stage and over towards the bar, he would occasionally meet people and just talk with them. However, his mind was elsewhere and half missed questions when someone would ask him something particular. Upon reaching the bar, he would turn and lean against it and order water with lemon. And as if in a dream there she was, this unknown woman, this woman he had seen so many times before, yet never knew her name.

His dark brown eyes scanned her slowly, as if trying to draw her in his own mind. The way she walked, the way her hips swayed. Her full lips; like cherries; no doubt sweet to taste. Her eyes, Oh god those eyes, Like a mirror to her soul and as turbulent as the deepest ocean currents. She was approaching, and he could only smile.

"Hello there. So glad you could make it this evening despite the weather." Came a deep voice. The man continued to look upon this beauty who stood next to him. Calm and cool.

"Um, do I know you? And thank you... I guess." The woman spoke. Her voice was heavenly and sang like angels.

He would bow ever so softly, and then nod his head towards the bartender after telling him he only had five more minutes till his next showing. And turning would make his way once more through the smoke filled room towards the stage where sat a baby grand piano. Climbing back up on stage, he would sit down at the bench and stare over the eighty-eight keys. Placing his hands on them, he began to shut his eyes and would begin playing once more. He would simply zone out, unaware of what was happening around him, yet he knew he could bewitch the crowd. However he did only wish to bewitch the woman he just met. Gliding slowly over the keys his fingers began to touch the keys in a way that made them sing. Like the body of a woman; each note played was another high in pleasuring her.

From the lowest G in minor to the highest C, all represented her. From her stiffened nipples, to the valley nestled in between her legs. He touched her. He made her moan in pleasure, yet he would refuse to bring her to full tuition just yet. As if tormenting her, he would open eyes and stop touching her. Looking around the room he would watch the faces of the crowd. He could see the woman sitting there at the bar, and turning back he would simply pull his fingers off the keyboard and pull the cigarette from the piano cover and place it to his lips. Lighting it, he would inhale sharply before exhaling slowly. The silence in the room could be broken with a pin drop.

Once more, his fingers would lay atop the white and black white keys. And without missing a single note would begin to tickle her again. With cigarette hanging from in between his lips, he would once more shut eyes and grin ever so slightly. He knew in his mind he was tangling a web; sticky and trapping. He would in time feast upon their praise, and hopefully spin a web so thick that the woman of his dreams, the woman who was in the same club as him. Would follow him home like a lost puppy starving for attention.

This stopping and starting would continue for another hour, though the song was not really that long, he drew it out. Much like orgasm denial, He would reach the highs of the before stopping abruptly. He like all aspects of his life wanted to hear the piano beg for a final release, just as he enjoyed the sounds of a woman begging for final release. Only when he was finished toying with her would he allow it. And it came in a massive crescendo; like a tidal wave of sound that swept over the audience. Powerful; Intense; Satisfying. With the remains of the cigarette hanging from his lips, he would once more open his eyes and step back from the bench. His hands closing the cover of the keys as if tucking the woman in, he would whisper against it "Good girl."

After all, the piano that sat for so long, so idly in the corner of the club was his baby, his love, and now he would have to focus his attention between her and the woman of his dreams. However unlike her, this woman would get to experience much more than simple fingers and tickling of keys. After giving a low bow again, he would exit stage left, and make his way once more through the crowd. However he only had eyes for the woman who had surprisingly not left.

Making his way over to her, he would play it cool and simply grab a napkin and a pen. Writing his number upon it, he would turn to face her. One of his hands, coming up to brush gently across her soft cheek, Before dropping the napkin into her hand.

"Call me should you choose to do so. You may find that the piano is not the only thing I know how to play well." And after whispering hotly into her ear, he would lean back and toss her a wink followed up by a wicked smile.

He watched her expression for a moment, before turning to leave her in stunned silence. This man, who was nameless, knew he had this woman right where he wanted her. He knew she would call, whether it be after leaving the club or tomorrow. He knew she would be curious to see what else he could do.