One of the advantages of working as an usher is that you get to know everything about your theatre. All the labyrinthine nooks are yours to explore, and before long you find that you have a power over the building to move through it like a spectre. I had been working part time at the symphony for some weeks now and I was coming and going as I pleased. Nights that I had off, I would sneak in, avoiding any hassles because of my familiar face and listen to the glorious music from far above the stage. I found my favourite spot high in the belfry, where I could let the music wash through my body and never once here some yuppie fool make idiotic comments on Berlioz, or his small opinions about the intricacies of Brahms.
The only problem was that my sanctuary was fast becoming a lonely place, and I ached for someone to share heaven with. I was so secure from any interruption that I was able to open myself up fully to the music emanating up from beneath. From time to time, a particularly rousing allegro would send me into a passionate frenzy and I would use my fingers to propel myself to climax along with the symphony. And the soft, supple melodies spun out in those heartfelt solos would enchant me so that I'd dream of a companion to romance me.
It was around the time that this crisis was coming to a head that a friend introduced me to Calypso at a party. She was an art history major, and we discovered we even had an English literature course together, although we'd never met in the hundred-person sprawl. We had many common interests and hit off into a great conversation at once. I felt comfortable around her, and found her very charming indeed.
She was also strikingly beautiful. She was a creamy mulatto with delicate, shoulder-length auburn hair. Her lyrical voice rang out with a soft island accent that made my heart flutter. I could spend hours just listening to the sweet sound of her speech and be completely entranced. I tingled at the thought of her singing a challenging aria.
As we talked and talked, oblivious to the cacophony of the party around us, it came up that I worked as an usher at the symphony. To my surprise because we had such similar interests in other areas, Calypso confessed to me that she was not a music lover, and that in all her compact disc collection she had only one 'Best of Classics' album and the soundtrack to Walt Disney's 'Fantasia'. I was taken aback but she quickly expressed her desire to know more about the subject of music and I immediately offered to take her out on my next night off.
"Won't you want to get away from the theatre on your night off?" she whispered with her oh so arousing diction. I smiled realizing that such a notion had not once crossed my mind. Calypso naively admired my passion, perhaps not fully understanding that a night at the symphony was not for me what it was for others.
Knowing her virginity to the world of professional music, I was acutely aware of the need to take her to the perfect show. It had to be accessible but inspirational or else she'd be lost to me forever in the depths of mediocrity. Of course, I also had my own ulterior motives for our date, so I wanted it to be something that I could get emotionally and physically aroused by, and hopefully sweep Calypso along with my passion. I finally decided on a night that featured Beethoven's sixth symphony as the opener, followed by a second act that included some moderns like Dillon and Lindberg.
My plans almost came crashing to a halt when I found I couldn't get the night off. No one I talked to seemed interested in switching with me, even when I made offers that were very unfavourable to my schedule and disposition. At last I talked one of the boys into helping me out. He was kind of an idiot, and I suspect he only got this job because he was a son of one of the major contributors. He cared little for music, and just treated the work as a pay check to finance his drinking parties. He wanted that same night off, of course, for such an evening of revelry, but I at last convinced him to switch. I suppose it was me flirting with him after never showing him any attention that made him more malleable.
As our date grew nearer, I began to spend entire days consumed with fantasies about the night. I envisioned Calypso transforming under the music into a feral, passionate lover. In my daydreams, she came undone before me as her heart broke to the first twang of aural beauties she had never imagined. In my tender embrace, she felt us melt together like the complex harmonies and we made love like no human being ever had dared. I strummed her soft womanhood like zephyrs on the Apollonian lyre and she sang out with the glory of the divine. Our love making shook the earth itself, and each person in attendance was overtaken by the blissful tune of our performance. I found myself stealing away from my duties at work to pleasure myself in anticipation of this night. I became a wreck, barely stumbling through my routines with that night always in the forefront of my mind.
