"I've always had this fantasy," she said in his ear that night, leading up to something. It had already been an unforgettable night. A good night, a great night, the best night of his life, bar none.
"Me, too," he said back. "This is pretty much it."
Cecily laughed, and the laugh turned his stomach upside down. "Wow, really?"
He pulled his face back from where it lay against her chest. "Are you kidding me? Hello. Look at where I am right now. Lying naked on the floor of the practice room with the girl I have been staring at for thirteen months?" He grinned, looked down at her beautiful body, lying beside his on the rough carpet. "This is pretty much it for me."
* * * * *
He had wanted her, wanted to be hers, within about 10 seconds of meeting her. It wasn't just that she had a pretty face, although she did. It wasn't just that her grin was wicked, although it was--deliciously wicked. It wasn't just her piercing eyes, the color of the sea--green, blue, gray--or her long legs, or her trim, lovely body. It was all of that, and her hands--piano player hands, long-fingered and strong and sure--and her voice--rich, beautiful, pitch-perfect--and her brown-black hair, shiny and heavy and usually a mess. And other things, maybe particularly the joy she seemed to take in being alive, in being around people, in talking and listening and making music. Also she had freckles, a pale dusting of freckles across the band of her nose and (as he saw when she wore low-cut shirts) on her chest. The freckles made her so much more delicious...
Cecily was new at the college; he had been there for too long. He was a graduate student, slaving away at his doctorate, tired of almost everything except the music, and luckily there was almost enough of that to go around, what with rehearsals and performances and composition symposiums and teaching undergrads. He met her in the college's chamber choir, a group of 26 young men and women who rehearsed three times a week. For nine months they saw each other three times a week plus some--passing in the halls, at performances, after performances at the restaurant where the chamber choir singers usually went to booze until 2 a.m. at least. He watched her blaze a path through the males in the choir, leaving one broken heart and making three good friends. He and she had some good conversations, up late after a concert, or sitting on the bus on a quickie choir tour. They were friends.
But she scared him a little, she was so open about her sexuality, and so unwilling to be fettered. Not that he wanted to fetter her--she could have sex with the entire wind ensemble, for all he cared--but he did want her, at least for a little while. As a friend and maybe more... Definitely more, he knew as he watched her walk away. It didn't help that she was so damn sensual--she loved to touch and be touched, and after a while he found himself avoiding her on those choir tours, because it was tradition to exchange massages--strictly platonic, usually--and hers were a bit too much for him. The feel of her hands on his shoulders, no matter how well-meaning and innocent, made him want to lay her down and kiss her wildly and make passionate love on the floor of the bus.
He was sure she could not be interested in him as more than a friend. He was older than her by a few years, and too quiet, and boring and neurotic besides.
When the director of the piano program asked him to give her extra lessons, he was caught between delight--two hours alone with her every week!--and horror--two hours alone with her every week! But it was no big deal, really, and so she started coming to the lessons to learn about repertoire and to polish her own piano playing, which wasn't bad but needed some smoothing out.
* * * * *
For her part, she thought James was yummy as soon as she saw him. Intense, and shy, and talented--oh could he play the piano, and he was a good singer, too, with a lovely soothing baritone. Nice thick brown hair, and those blue eyes under heavy brows--that was what gave his expression its particular intensity. She liked him well enough, too. But there were so many men... She liked them all, but none of them matched her well enough. David was too dependent, and she still felt bad about how bad he felt, but she had been nothing but honest with him. She was looking for someone to be a partner, but she was not interested in sexual exclusivity. Emotional, sure; sexual, no thanks. So she had a good time with Mario and T'kwan too, and it was fun, but neither of them wanted more than a fun time, so that was all it was. Of all her friends, she liked talking to James best, but he was so shy, dammit... And she wondered, sometimes, if he was avoiding her. Maybe she weirded him out.
When James was assigned as her piano coach she was happy about it. God knew, and everyone else with one working ear, that he was the best pianist in the university, up to and including most of the professors. She had a lot to learn, and she was looking forward to it.
