He had asked her to leave the side door to the cathedral unlocked and to wait for him in the loft. It was not the first time they had met so Emmy was comfortable with this arrangement. She was sitting at the Farfisa pipe organ playing Bach, a warm-up piece she could have played in her sleep. The creak of the heavy loft door brought her out of her daydream but keeping her eyes down and continued to play.
"Good afternoon, Emmy." She loved his voice, dark, low, as if emanating from one of the wooden, organ pipes. "Are you ready to begin?
"Yes, Daniel, I am ready." He never commanded her to do anything only asked her, requested.
"As if," she thought, "as if there was really any room for choice;" she knew she would do anything this man asked.
She stopped playing when she felt his strong hands on her shoulders. The soft fleece of the black blindfold as it slid it over her head pressing softly against her eyelids. Then his deft fingers were at the buttons of her white cotton blouse. She was not wearing a bra so the air-conditioned chill caressed her naked flesh as he opened it. Sliding his hands up her sides and under her breasts, he rolled her now extended nipples between his fingers and thumbs, working them as if he thought they might secrete milk. She loved his hands too. It was his hands that first attracted her as she watched him work.
"Wait while I prepare for you, Emmy."
Yes, Daniel." Emmy sunk back into the warm pool of memory she had been swimming in before he arrived.
[[[[[[ O ]]]]]]
Emmy wondered when she had begun to lie in confession. She first began weaving webs when she realized the "...impure thoughts," she reluctantly admitted to when she was younger had resolved into more kinky and compelling desires. She masturbated to fantasies of exhibitionism and submission. Being the organ player at Saint Sebastian's Cathedral required active participation in the church social life and this made it difficult, to say the least, for Emmy to explore her libidinous desires. She dated some of the "local eligible bachelors" but it was so complicated trying to find trustworthy men to whom she could reveal herself. Shy, thirty-seven and single, Emmy Margolis found it impossible to find any degree of anonymity in this small Ohio city. She had resigned herself to the idea that her secret desires were destined to remain fantasies.
She had experimented with self-bondage after finding a dedicated website. At the instruction of an on-line mentor, Emmy had frozen her house key and the key to a newly purchased pair of handcuffs in a block of ice. On that particular night she trembled as she snapped the cuffs and stepped naked over the threshold of her front door. She had previously set the locks at the front and back doors. Her backyard was reasonably secluded but the thought of being seen by a passing driver or a late-night stroller thrilled her as she made her way out to the edge of her back lawn to retrieve the frozen tub of ice. She hadn't realized that the ice would take so long to melt in that late September chill but the danger of being seen was so invigorating. On that chilly night she held the frozen ice against her nipples until they burned. There had been other experiments and they too had been satisfying but nothing came close to the intensity she longed for in a real partner.
Emmy had found ways to timidly experiment in real time, with real people too. Saint Sebastian's High School Boy's Choir practiced in the loft twice a week and Emmy played for those practices. Emmy's serious spectacled look and simple style of dress masked the secret fires building beneath her surface. Speaking of surfaces, Emmy was attractive; she had been blessed with her mother's voluptuous figure and soft blond hair and she was pretty. She was the fancy of many an adolescent choirboy's eye and she got positively wet knowing all those hungry eyes were glued to every inch of her body.
In that bevy of hungry faces there were a few that stood out to Emmy. Johnny Thomas, tall, lanky, varsity swim team star, had one of the best voices. He was quiet, well mannered and kept to himself but she had noticed the way he looked at her. Emmy noticed because she liked looking at him. Johnny Thomas was a looker. He was also more mature than the others. He looked and acted older; he didn't snicker or sneer--putting on airs to hide his fear and inexperience. Another face she noticed was Todd Blake. Blake was the opposite, a student who was introduced to each new teacher with warnings and accounts of his notorious behavior problems.
Emmy was normally a composed organist but having this appreciative audience brought out her theatrical side. She knew every curve of her wrist or gesture of her shapely leg was a feast for these boys, so Emmy took the opportunity to subtly exaggerate her movements before them. She chose her clothing for these days; skirts that would show more of her legs or present a tantalizing view of her shapely ass (another gift from her mother.) She selected bras and blouses that accentuated her zaftig breasts. She always set the bench back a little more when the choirboys would be in the loft. It gave them a better view of her slender ankles because the Farfisa required as much pedal work as at the keyboard.
One hot August day she prepared carefully—she had shaved her shapely legs to a fine smoothness and splurged on a pedicure at the Asian parlor at the Mall. She played soulfully that day, articulating her movements until she knew she held all their hungry eyes at ransom. Then she slipped her feet out of her shoes, stretched and wiggled her newly pedicured toes and began to play bare-footed. The choirboys squirmed and shifted in their seats for a better view, or maybe for relief from their aching erections. From all outward appearances Emmy looked to be wrapped in her music but in her minds eye she was enjoying an out of body experience--floating above the loft watching herself playing the Farfisa, naked for these young boys, naked for Johnny Thomas and bad boy Blake.
Emmy had met Daniel Hobson in the loft when he was there to assess the condition of the Farfisa Organ. He had stayed to hear her play the organ under normal conditions. The choirboys came shuffling in and Emmy became nervous about Daniel being there at the same time. She played through her set and tried to will her mind and body to play it straight. She was the picture of propriety as she took the Farfisa through its paces but her good behavior did nothing to quiet the boys' interest. Daniel was quick to recognize the lust in the looks the boys directed towards Emmy. It was this that first led him to take an interest in the organ player as well as the organ that day.
Though no one would have complained because they had adapted to the organ's slow degeneration, it practically hurt Daniel's ears to listen to this valuable instrument perform so badly. This led to the eventual decision that Saint Sebastian's grand old pipe organ needed extensive refurbishing. Daniel was commissioned to restore the Cathedral organ and, as its principal player, Emmy was appointed to oversee the restoration project. Immediately drawn to this quiet, older man, Emmy took it as license to visit his studio more times than was probably necessary. She watched him work carefully rebuilding each of the hundred wooden pipes, one by one. They took lunches together on those days when she visited. During those months Emmy's attraction to the organ technician grew until she had began to fantasize about his hands working on her pipes.
After the restoration was complete Daniel had invited Emmy to accompany him to a pipe organ restoration convention in Chicago. He told her it was a city of churches and there would be a tour of some of the most magnificent pipe organs in the country.
"You may even have the opportunity to lay your hands on an exceptional organ, Emmy."
"I've always wanted to get my hands E. M. Skinner's pipes," she responded.
"Ahh, the finest example of a historic grand organ, it's at Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church. It will be a highlight of the conference." Emmy looked at him trying to decide.
Then he added, "Emmy you aren't the only organist dying to get your hands on Skinner's Organ."
They both laughed at the little exchange and Emmy accepted his invitation. The conference sounded great but Emmy was secretly thrilled at the thought of being out of town, out of Saint Sebastian's sight with this man whom she was beginning to like and, more importantly, trust.
The trip finally arrived and it turned out to be a fabulous three days; the conference had exceeded their expectations. They had seen and heard some of the finest organs in the country; the technical workshops in the afternoons were informative and well organized. Emmy took one of those as an opportunity to peruse some of the nicer women's apparel shops looking for something sexy she might wear while out of town.
They both wanted their last night in Chicago to be a special celebration. So they decided to dress up and dine at the hotel's showcase restaurant. After drinks in the bar they enjoyed an intimate last dinner over which they abandoned all the sexual innuendo they had been swapping for days and engaged in a direct conversation. Daniel was a good listener; his gentle responses and subtle questions led Emmy to open up to him. They sat, leaning into the candle's yellow glow; the warmed aromatic brandy worked its magic.
"Emmy," Daniel all but whispered, "I've watched you with the choirboys."
"Their voices are quite good for their limited training; don't you think," Emmy responded nervously.
"That's not what I meant, Emmy"
"They are so sweet."
"You enjoy their lust don't you? You thrive on knowing every one of those young men is devouring you with his eyes."
She stared at him then looked away nervously. "...They are so clumsy, aren't they?"
