Prelude
Mai Chang stood at the podium, facing the assembly of young musicians. This was her first meeting with her orchestra for the new school season. She had lost almost half her musicians through last year's graduation. Her eyes traveled across the group of her seventy-five music majors, playing the game of matching names to faces.
She was the chair of the Music Department of this Ivy League school, and had interviewed each applicant separately last semester. The School of Music was the top rated in the country. She had handpicked all these newcomers herself. That was four months ago. A few faces were easy to recall. These were the bright achievers with perfect credentials. Her mind would need a little jarring to recollect the rest.
Seated at the grand piano to her left was Karin Sorenson, a talented artist Mai had chosen from several applicants. Karin was a flaxen haired beauty. Graduating last spring from a state college in Minnesota, she was an easy pick for admission . After hearing her audition, Mai had met with her in her private office last April. She had been seated when Mai walked into the room. This young beauty had the kind of shape Mai admired in a woman. Karin was slender, with the smooth muscles of an athlete, probably a swimmer. She had an outgoing personality, and a dazzling smile.
Following a brief interview, Karin rose to leave. Her knee length pleated silk skirt clung to her body, displaying her exquisite figure to great advantage and accenting her height. Mai judged her to be at least 5' 11' tall. As the student left the room, Mai admired her physical profile. Karin's bra contained and displayed a splendid bosom. The thin material of her dress and lingerie didn't hide the fullness of her breasts nor their erect nipples as she turned to thank Mai. Mai noted the downward slope of Karin's ass as she left the room. It was perfection itself. Yet this modest young woman seemed totally unaware of these assets.
Mai recalled that interview as she glanced at Karin seated at the piano for the first rehearsal. Karin waited attentively for Mai's baton to strike the side of the podium signally her request for attention. Karin marveled at both Mai's achievements and appearance. Mai was one of the first female conductors at the college and professional level to achieve the position of department head. She had been and was still sought after as a guest conductor with major symphony orchestra worldwide.
At 31 years old, she had a look not much different from the members of the student orchestra who sat beneath her baton. Her hair was a shiny jet black. It was styled in a pageboy cut, complete with bangs and shoulder length hair combed under and resting on a slender neck. She had amazing almond shaped eyes, set in a beautiful heart shaped face. Her hands were tiny, like those of porcelain doll.
She was only 5'2" tall. Softly flared hips accented Mai's tiny wasp waist. Her legs were sheathed in hose with an iridescent sheen. The fabric rose up her legs and disappeared beneath the hem of her skirt. Several of her male students sat in the violin section to her left and the bass section to her right. Each could only wonder at what lay beneath. Several males wished their that fingers could follow the seam up the back of her legs to discover if she wore panty hose, or better yet, a garter belt. The tight fit of her sweater accented her breasts. They were small, perhaps, but striking, perfectly matched to her petite shape.
This day she wore red, a matching cashmere pullover and pleated skirt, cut above the knee. The color suited her Asian features and complexion. She was truly a "perfect package" and she knew it. Mai realized that it was the entire persona.... her skill at conducting and arranging, plus her appearance that had advanced her career to this point at such an early age.
She had married a fellow student she met in graduate school. He was attractive enough, and also an excellent musician and composer. They had much in common. They studied together, practiced music together and eventually slept together. They were totally absorbed in their musical life and future careers. Neither of them had had much experience in the rituals of dating and courtship. Their sexual performance seemed adequate and satisfying, if unexceptional. They were quite satisfied with the physical, as well as emotional parts of their lives, and upon graduation, they were married. They settled into the academic life, had friends on campus among the faculty, all very similar in life style. To their fellow faculty members, they appeared perfectly content.
In the last year or two, Mai had begun to observe the youthful enthusiasm of her students; the easy flirting that was simply a part of their lives. She began to realize that somewhere along the path that led to choices of career and life partner, she might have taken a wrong turn. The excitement and thrills that were part of youth seemed to have flown past her. But she didn't dwell on it. She simply accepted the situation as a small tradeoff for her exceptional successes.
Mai's tiny hand tapped her baton. There was a rustle of music sheets and squeaking of chairs as the musicians adjusted themselves and looked toward the podium. Mai had chosen Mozart's Sonata in C as a good practice piece for a first rehearsal. It was pretty and melodic, and for Mozart, quite simple. Mai's hand raised the baton, pointed it at the strings, and began to conduct.
Seated at Mai's immediate left, in the soloist position, was a new cellist, Zacharia Zama. His chair lined up beside Karin's bench. The black man was dressed in a black t-shirt and black jeans. He was quite attractive, she thought.
Zach was a native of the Cameroons, the former French possession on the coast of West Africa. His parents were both physicians practicing in Yaounde. This was the capital city, with a population of 1½ million, and very cosmopolitan. He spoke English in a clipped British accent, flavored with French undertones. Most American students found his low-pitched bass voice attractive. Girls thought he was very sexy, even exotic. He was tall and muscular, over 6' 2". His skin was black, dark as ebony. His hair was short and curly. He had thick, full lips. His wide nose spread close to his face, his nostrils flaring slightly. His smile was wide, and his open mouthed smile displayed perfect white teeth.
He attracted women without effort. It would have been easy for him to connect with a great number of fellow students. Yet he was reserved and detached in his choice of friends. He stayed close to his few African classmates, one from Gabon, one from Kenya. There were no female Africans at the school. While at University in Nigeria, he had been advised to remain aloof from Americans, and not to make close friends. He was told that the differences between races and cultures are often misunderstood. These misunderstandings could lead to conflicts, followed by trouble. It was difficult being a stranger in a strange land. Now in a graduate school in the U.S., he chose to follow the advice of his countrymen. This was not without difficulty.
He was, after all, a 22-year-old alpha male, fully equipped.
First Movement
The Mozart piece was a familiar one to both Karin and Zach. They had played the composition countless times in undergraduate school. Neither looked at the sheet music in front of them. They looked toward the podium, following the beat of Mai's baton.
Karin glanced sideways at Zach. How handsome he was! A quick mental picture filled her mind. The two of them were lying side by side on a sandy beach, facing each other, nude. Her eyes darted back to the podium.
"Wow," she thought.
A moment later she glanced to her left again. Zach's attention was fixed on Mai Chang. He was at this point playing simple harmony, his eyes not even on the baton. Zach's gaze was slowly roaming over Mai's body. Karin knew the look. She had received it herself at times. He was undressing Mai bit by bit with his eyes. Karin squirmed on her bench, excited by what she was witnessing. She smoothed her skirt pulling it down toward her knees unconsciously.
Normally she would think that conduct was crude. Somehow, though, this behavior from the African sitting beside her created a stir of excitement. She felt the hairs on her forearms prickle as color crept under her skin. Her cheeks were hot. Her belly became warm. The beach scene returned. She blinked it away, turned to the podium and concentrated on the music.
