Rafael's Piano: a Love Story

Catherine left her office at the college a bit late in the day, at least late for her, and trudged across the darkening parking lot. On her way to her car, she noticed someone playing basketball on the nearby court. From a distance, she thought that he was familiar. She wasn't just sure.

She also didn't know if that made her feel better and safer or not. That caused a spate of thoughts to race across her mind. She realized that she'd been doing more and more of this kind of thinking lately.

They were thoughts like 'Maybe he's here to grab me!' or 'Maybe this is my chance and my ravisher is waiting for me.'

The thoughts were mental games that she allowed herself to play but she increasingly understood that they were games of desperation.

She was, at least she thought, a not unattractive 35 but there seemed to be no one who was on the make, or looking or sniffing around or any of those cute phrases that are used for guys who are interested and seeking.

She was aware of some of the married members of the faculty who did give her looks but she certainly wasn't heading in that direction.

"A home wrecker I'm not!" she'd frequently say to herself and turn those kinds of offers down flat.

She suspected, with some truth too, that her doing just that, turning those kinds of offers down had gotten her a kind of 'ice maiden' reputation that she didn't feel was justified at all.

Of herself, in those dark moments of personal truthfulness, and glasses of wine, normally late at night, and also normally to the music of Sinatra, she just said that she was simply 'underused'. That was her word.

She didn't feel that she was desperate. The only desperation that she knew was the desperation of there being no more chances for her. That thought crowded her alone times, when she would let it, entertain it, and it made her shiver.

So, here she was, walking to her car, fantasizing about being seized by whoever it was that was playing some basketball. It was a pleasant enough thought, that is, if you were Catherine Little and liked those kinds of thoughts.

This Friday night the world was in balance for her but the balance was precarious. She faced a weekend of nothing to do, and not many creative thoughts about how to do it.

This move to the college town away from friends and family was supposed to be 'good' for her, and here it was, she feared, pushing her toward 'old maidhood'. And her being so largely untried.

In the depths of these kinds of thoughts she even gave some consideration to trying 'girls' but never had the nerve to go to one of the local lesbian bars and 'strut her stuff.'

"Oh, Catherine," she chided herself, "You are all talk, that's all."

Then the fragile balance of her world collapsed in the form of a flat tire!

Catherine wailed out loud. It was the last straw in a pretty difficult week. Without very much of a preliminary, she found herself weeping; it was full out weeping, head in the hands weeping, end of the line weeping, 'why the hell has this happened to me,' weeping.'

It was only as she began to calm down from her weeping that she heard a voice from not too far away:

"Dr. Little, are you okay?" the voice asked in a lovely soft tone.

"Oh, Rafael," Catherine said, looking around and seeing that the one who had been playing basketball was a student of hers Rafael Regis.

He was a handsome boy, almost, she thought, pretty, from the Virgin Islands. His skin a lovely dark brown color and his teeth, when he smiled sparkly.

"Yes," she said in return, "I'm having this little fit here; it's been a hard week, and now, at the end of it, I have a flat tire and don't know anything about fixing flat tires."

She began to sob again.

"Now, Dr Little," he said, "It's not really as bad as all that."

"Don't you try to cajole me out of my weltschmerz, Rafael!" she said a little sharply.

"I'm certainly not trying to deprive you of your 'weltschmerz'," he said, "But I'm going to change your tire for you."

Catherine cried again; this act of kindness was almost too much for her, even though now she didn't know why she was crying.

In the middle of her weeping, she enfolded Rafael into her arms and wept on his shoulder. He didn't know what to do with this emotional professor, his philosophy professor. He kind of dangled his hands down at his side.

"Thank you, Rafael," she said, brushing the tears away, "I mean for fixing the tire and also letting me have my little crisis here."

"Crisis over?" he asked, smiling, and getting a kind of ragged smile in return.

"For now," she said, wiping her eyes and then continued:

"Oh! The tire fixing things. Yes, the trunk."

She opened the trunk and watched him as he fixed the tire and put the spare, a 'donut' on.

"This tire is not very good for driving on, and is only for emergencies," he said. "You should go and get the other fixed right away."

"Ohhhhhhhh!" she said, and he was afraid that she was going to begin again.

He held up his hand and said:

"I'll go with you and make sure that it is fixed and put on your car. You just do the driving, Dr. Little!"

"Would you really? Oh, Rafael," she said. "I appreciate that so much."

"My pleasure," he said, "Damsel in distress and all that."

"Damsel in crisis is more like it," she said, "And I'll work on that, I promise. At least no more of it, while we're together. Are you ready?"

"Yes, ready," he said, and they left.

She noticed just a bit of difficulty with the driving. They found a tire place and he took care of negotiating for getting the other tire fixed, it had a nail in it, and all. It went smoothly.

When the job was done, and they were in the car again, Catherine looked at Rafael and said:

"I appreciate the help, Rafael, especially when I was having my world ending crisis right in your face. Will you please let me take you to dinner? Please?"

He smiled at her:

"Lovely thought," he said.

"The least that I can do for your help," was her response.

"Can you wait for me to wash up a bit and change?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," she answered, "Then I'll need to do the same."

They went to his student housing building.

"Welcome to the stalag!" he said.

"It seems so horrible!" she answered.

"Yes, it is a little worse than it looks," he said with a laugh.

"Oh, dear!" she said to him.

"As you wait for me, please lock your doors," he said. "I don't trust all the neighbors here."

She said 'oh dear' again but followed his advice.

He was only gone about 15 minutes or so, and came back wearing clean shorts and a clean soft knit shirt.

"Spiffy!' she said, "Nice transformation."

"The lady is so polite"! He remarked with a smile.

"Except when she's having a melt down!" was her response.

"What was that about?" he asked, and then quickly held up a hand and said:

"I apologize; that was rude of me to ask. I promise not to act dishonorably."

She smiled at him: "You're such a gentleman, Rafael."

"Despite where I live!" he said, smiling ruefully.

"Can't you move?" she asked.

"No place to move to!" was his answer. "Lots of people would like to move out of this housing but can't; just no place to go."

It caused a thought to stir in her but she pushed it off and left it for thinking later.

They got to her house, one of her indulgences, a large rural brick house with a finished basement and twice the room that she needed. She'd even spoiled herself with a master bath make over. Her bedroom and bath were truly luxurious.

"Please come in, Rafael," she said, "It will only take me a little bit to change and be ready."

She went upstairs to change, after telling him to look into the refrigerator and help himself to something to drink.

(It's probably rude of me no to at least describe our heroine, Catherine. She was a professor of philosophy at the school, or more exact an associate professor within the twinkling of an eye of tenure. She was 5'6" and weighed about 135 lbs, give or take. She was a workout person and used her workouts to keep her weight in check. She thought that she was fat, especially in the ass but the truth was that she was the perfect ideal of the renaissance painter. She was large and luscious, with significantly large tits and large, dark sensitive nipples. Her ass, too big, to her way of thinking, was round and almost perfect. She had, however, an uncanny knack of dressing in just such a fashion that all of these lovely qualities went un noticed un remarked on. But for the man who would manage to get her clothes off, she was a gift, purely a gift.)

Nor was she thinking about Rafael in those terms. She was so genuinely appreciative of his having really rescued her, both in terms of the tire and in terms of bringing her out of her spectacular funk, her 'poor pitiful me' party, that she was not only planning to take him to dinner but was actually thinking of offering to rent her basement, a full basement set up in apartment fashion with its own full bath and shower.

Then something happened to make the world, her world but the whole world simply go in a new direction.

Rafael sat down to Catherine's piano and began to play.

The piano was a gift left over from her mom, who'd been a piano player and teacher, and had the good fortune of acquiring a vintage steinway grand, which had its own room in Catherine's house.

Rafael was playing the piano now. From the first note, when he launched into what she thought was some Gershwin, Catherine stood stone still and just listened. She took a step toward the doorway to go down and listen to him play but realized that she hadn't even put her clean blouse on.

She laughed at herself but never stopped listening to his lovely, lovely music.

She was finally ready, wearing another of her vintage outfits: a line skirt and simple blouse with 'sensible' heels, and pantyhose. When she was ready and dressed, she hurried down and went to what she called the 'Music Room'.

He sat there and played the Gershwin, something from "Rhapsody in Blue" with his eyes closed. He played for a bit and, when he stopped she said, with a sharp intake of breath:

"Rafael,that was beautiful."

"Wonderful instrument!" he said, "It should be played."

"I'm not very good," she admitted, "But I loved hearing you play."

The thought then entered her mind to include in the basement apartment privileges, also a piano privilege.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready," she said.

"You look so nice!" he said next.

"I look frumpy," she said with a laugh, "I always do!"

"You don't contradict a gentleman's compliment!" he said softly.

She dropped a curtsey, and said, in return:

"You're right, sir! And I apologize."

"Accepted," he quipped back at her, "And you do look nice!"

"Thank you, sir!" she said. Then she went on:

"So, dinner, quiet? Student? What'll it be? My treat; my thanks!"

"That's very kind of you," he said, "Then you pick the place."

She picked a quiet Italian place that she favored. They got a booth in the back corner and sat comfortably and companionably.

"Since you witnessed my spectacular 'melt down'," she began with him, "I will tell you what it was about."

She spoke, as with a good friend, about her perceived loneliness and how it at times weighs upon her, and her facing an empty weekend. She didn't go into it deeper than that abut she sensed that he understood her.

He, for his part, then talked to her about his own sense of displacement, and being far from home, where he had only his grandparents left. He talked about the kind of housing in which he lived and how dreadful it was.

They spoke with each other in a very companionable way, as though they'd known each other for a long time, instead of the short time as teacher and student.

It was then that she decided to make her offer:

"Rafael, I was thinking; I have a full furnished basement, set up as an apartment. One bedroom with a full bath and kitchen. I'm wondering if you would be interested in having it?"

He stared at her almost open mouthed.

"What . . .what would it cost?" he asked softly.

"Oh, why don't we say that you can have the apartment for doing the outside grounds kind of work, fix it things, changing tires and the like?"

"I"m not paying much now but I can afford that much; I'll insist on at least paying that much!"

"Then I'll throw in all the practice and playing time on the piano that you can manage," she continued.

"Really? Dr. Little! Really?" he said, almost in disbelief.

"Really!" she said to him. "Can we work out a deal?"

"Deal! You've got it! Uh . . .when?" he said next, hesitatingly.

"As soon as you want," she said "But one drawback!'

"Yes?" he asked.

"The only entrance is through my kitchen. Both the front and back stairs to the apartment are in the house, the kitchen and the hallway."

"No problem," he grinned, "I'll be the best tenant in the world."

He laid his hand over hers and said:

"This is the nicest thing possible! I want to thank you for it."

His hand over hers stirred Catherine almost more than she cared to admit to herself. She got a fit of shivers.

He asked: "Are you okay?"

"Yes, just a draft, I think," she replied.

Then their food came and they ate. They talked for a while about his music, and her own teaching career. They exchanged in the process little confidences and Catherine went a little further into her angst thing, receiving some unexpected but very sound advice from him.

As the dinner ended, he said to her:

"Dr Little, this has been a true and rare treat!"

"And to think it started with a conventional female melt down!" she said grinning.

"There was, uh, nothing conventional about the melt down, or what you were feeling or expressing," he said softly.

"Thank you for understanding!" she said. Then she brightened and said:

"Why don't we go so that I can show you the apartment?"

"Great idea!" was his answer and she paid and they were off.

They got to the car and she said:

"Rafael, I'm the one that had wine; would you please drive?"

"Glad to," he said, taking the keys from her with a smile.

Catherine began to twirl her thoughts about him and how lovely he was. She didn't try to stop herself, as they drove through the night. She'd have fantasies now, she thought, to play with. It had been a bit of time, since she felt the desire to indulge her fantasies and do some playing with herself. She knew that this night, in bed, she'd have a fantasy time.

They arrived at her home and she showed him into the basement apartment. Like all the rest of the house, it was well taken care of, very modern, with up to date appliances and all. It had a kind small room that could be used as a study room too.

Rafael was taken aback by it:

"Dr. Little, this is lovely; it's really more than I ever hoped to find for myself. This is way beyond anything that you should probably be doing for me."

"Rafael," she said, "Look at it this way. There's lots of property here to take care of; I have the machines but don't do it or do it well; there are things to fix. You'll be contributing and helping me out a great deal."

She smiled at him, as she said it all.

"Are you sure?" he wanted to know.

She shook her head 'yes' and smiled at him. To and for herself, she was sure; she wanted him here.

"I'll pay you what I pay now for my room," he said.

"I'll take that and add it to the food money," was her reply. "I expect that you'll need to eat."

"You are being way too kind here, Dr Little!" he said quietly.

"But," she returned, "You rescued me, when I needed it, and you promised to play the piano for me. That's worth a great deal to me."

He finally gave her a big grin and said: "Sold! I'll play for you every day, whenever you want."

"I won't do anything," she said quickly, "To restrict your freedom, Rafael. I respect that very much. You can come and go as you like. You can even have girls over, as you like."

He grinned, "Well, not as I like; I'm so new here and don't know that many girls, and certainly haven't found any that I'm interested in."

That brightened Catherine considerably, though she tried not to show it too much.

"What's next then?" she asked.

"Well," he answered, "I'm on a very short term and easy lease; it will allow me to move out any time. I just need to make arrangements for a kind of truck to bring my few things over."

"Well, you're in luck," Catherine said, "I have indulged myself in all sorts of ways, since I'm not 'tied down'. I have a small pickup truck in the garage that you can use. I'll help you if you want."

"Dr. Little," he protested, "This is too much!"

"I guess that I need to try to make you understand how very important your coming along to help me was tonight. The way you acted; the kindness that you showed; the way that you kind of took over in a situation where I wasn't coping," she said, quickly so that she could get it out, while she had courage.

"I was feeling about as low as possible. You have simply perked me up, and I don't know why but your piano playing was almost a life saver for me, with its beauty. I have almost forgotten, in my gloominess, about beauty."

She hesitated then and gave him a look that showed her seriousness.

"I want to be able to show you that I appreciate what you've done, and how you've done it. I might have been being silly but I was certainly low. You've helped with that."

"Low?" he asked gently.

"Well, yes, it's a kind of a thing that I go through periodically with myself," she said.

She saw his look and said, laughing:

"No, I don't mean my female monthlies; I mean a kind of gloom thing that I periodically treat myself to, whether I need it or not. The combination of the exasperating tire and your kindness jolted me out of that at exactly the right time. It was the kindest thing imaginable. Thank you."

Once she said that she moved to him and kissed his cheek. It made him smile.

"I just want to show you my thankfulness in kind," she concluded.

"Well, Dr. Little, you certainly are doing that!" he said with a great smile.

"Can we not do 'Dr Little?" she asked. "Can it be, at least around here, Catherine?"

"It certainly can, Catherine!" he said.

Then she had a thought and asked:

"But, oh dear, you might have studying to do, and I'm keeping you so dreadfully late. Shall I take you back now?"

"Can I ask a request first?" he said.

"Yes," she said softly, not knowing what was coming.

"May I play for you again?" he asked, softly smiling.

"Oh, how lovely!" she exclaimed. "Would you? Please? I'd like it so much."

He sat to the piano, as she watched and listened. He went through some Mozart and then some Chopin.

"You are so accomplished!" she said, getting up.

"A few more?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, "But let me go get something first."

She came back with two glasses of white wine. He thanked her and they clinked glasses and then he played for her again ending with Debussy's 'Clair de Lune'.

She was in tears, when he finished.

"I'm sorry to be so weepy," she said, "But listening to the piano being played so beautifully is a really rare treat for me."

"Thank you, Catherine for letting me play it; it's a grand, grand instrument," he said, bowing his head to her just a little bit.

"Can I come tomorrow and see if you want to move anything?" she asked, and then she blushed, and hastened to say:

"I'm so sorry for sounding like I'm taking over and being bossy; I didn't mean that!"

"I know you didn't," he said with another smile. "Yes, by all means, come tomorrow and we'll see what needs to be moved. You are being kindness itself."

"We're friends," she said, "And, Rafael, it's what friends do."

"Yes, that's the lovely thing of it," he said, and they left.

She took him back to his place and dropped him off, promising to be there in the morning.