Maestro or Master

As I opened the front door I was almost startled. Everything was familiar and yet looked out of sync. I heard the tick toc of the stately grandfather clock chiming the hour. It was chanting not quietly ticking away the minutes. Something was different. I was different. I needed a warm bubbly tub.

It wasn't uncommon for me to slip into a warm bath and listen to music to allow my mind to drift and lift the feeling of being under pressure. I couldn't erase the thought that this was all preordained or somehow contrived? How could it be? I'd never interacted with Master Meridon before the events of these last two days.

Suddenly the thought that perhaps it was as simple as two people with internal desires for something different in lives that were for lack of a better word, ordinary? Was I that translucent? Was it possible that he was simply intuitive and saw in me what others couldn't see?

I slipped into the warmth and let my body soothe. The music was like a lullaby to my soul. Lying deep in the water, steam rising above me it was a welcomed respite from the intensity of the evening. Here is my solitude I could feel my mind and body giving in to the calm. I needed that.

After my bath, I climbed into my bed and fell fast asleep waking to the sound of the alarm clock telling me to get up and begin my day. No, I wasn't simply beginning my day was I? I was essentially opting to change my life. For a moment, I thought I might not go. This was a turning point that once taken would forever change me.

Who was I kidding?

Obeying his specific dress code, I choose a black pencil skirt and a white crepe blouse with long sleeves and a conservative neckline. Black hose and heels. Underneath, simple lace. I couldn't change everything that I held dear. My God, was I obeying?

I sat down and had a cup of tea. Was I going to continue this adventure?

Master Meridon offered me an escape. I replayed his words in my mind. "Lastly, if you decide that you aren't suited to the proposal I've made than you will simply not return. There will be no need for explanation. However, if you accept my terms than we will proceed accordingly. You will become my only concern. If you have any questions now would be the time to voice them, if not, please see yourself out and we will begin in the morning."

All I had to do to end this was ... nothing.

I finished my tea and dressed. Looking in the mirror I was wondering who this woman staring back at me was?

I woke with my faith shaken inside. Images of Master Meridon raced through my mind.

Did I forget to tell him something? I was caught somewhere between lost and found, trying to gain my balance between innocence and guilt. Was there any difference? The distance between our two worlds was quickly closing.

Arriving at Master Meridon's was a bit strange. I sat in my car for a few moments, took a deep breath and in a matter of seconds I was at his door. Surprisingly, there was no need to announce my arrival as the door was opening in time with my last step.

"Good morning Miss Layla, please come in, the Master is waiting in the music room."

Obviously, the young man was Jeremy, the Master's personal assistant among other duties. His smile was pleasant and welcoming. His demeanor struck me as very calm and perhaps obedient. Or was I simply reading something that wasn't there?

"This is the hall closet; you can always leave your personal things there quite safely. May I take your jacket and purse?" He was already taking my jacket and had my bag in his hands. "Yes, thank you Jeremy."

Once my things were secured away he led me to the music room. Watching him walk ahead of me I couldn't help but begin to analyze him as well as his function.

Jeremy was perhaps thirty, about six feet tall and very well built. I thought he must be a weight lifter and avidly exercise conscious. Dark hair and eyes, clean shaven. He smelled delicious.

His hands were large, long slender fingers. I wondered if he played? His attire mimicked the Master, completely in black, very well-tailored and fitted. Lost in my thoughts of him I was quickly brought back to this new reality.

"Ahhhh, dear Layla, wonderful, and precisely on time, attired as requested. You are perhaps this Master's dream come true? We shall see, won't we? I see you've met Jeremy; he will see to any needs you have should I be unable to foresee any requirements that you may not have made clear. We will be having lunch at noon. Is there anything special that you'd like?"

I couldn't think and he continued speaking without waiting for my answer. That seemed to happen quite often. These weren't questions he wanted or needed answers to. His words were simple and to the point. What was the point?

"This afternoon Jeremy will compile a list of your preferences and they will be available for you at any time." His eyes were dark and inviting.

Who would not want this relationship to work?

"Actually I am very easy to please. I enjoy most everything so I doubt that there will be any concerns." This was beginning to feel as though I were being studied, or observed may be a better description.

"Very well then, please take your place at the piano and we shall begin." Without taking his eyes from mine he spoke to his ... exactly his what? "Jeremy that will be all for now, we'll sit down for lunch at noon."

"Thank you Master." And with that Jeremy disappeared. Well trained I thought.

"I neglected to mention something quite important but I see it wasn't necessary after all. Although impeccably manicured nails are a fact of beauty when playing your nails should be kept rather short and absent of colorful polishes. This allows me to see how you move your fingers across the keys. You have lovely hands dear Layla." He smiled.

"Alright, please sit with your back straight, neck held steadfast and your eyes slightly lowered. You should be able to view the entire keyboard by using your eyes not necessarily the movement of your head." In this altered personality, the Master was all business.

For the next two hours, I was impeccably and carefully instructed. My hands were placed and replaced if I drifted slightly. His voice was quiet and pedagogical. I was delighted that by the end of the morning I had mastered the scales with very little confusion or any apparent lack of ability.

"Yes Layla, very nicely done." That was his general statement when I completed a required instruction to his satisfaction.

Master Meridon had a very gentle touch. Moving my hands, placing my body in position and the character of his voice was encouraging, never stern or exhibiting displeasure in a demeaning posture. No matter the scope of our relationship I was quite serious regarding my learning to play. I believe he understood that and appreciated my dedication.

"I'm very inspired Layla, you follow instruction very well and that's a wonderful realization for a teacher. I suspect I will have you playing selective pieces quite soon. Alright, it's a few minutes before noon, you may freshen up and I'll see you in the dining room."

There was no need for comment, he simply made a quiet command and left the room. Lesson concluded. I had to admit to myself that this was brand new territory for me. I have never been one to accept dismissal. I knew this would be the most difficult step I would have to agree to take.

When I arrived in the dining room I was stunned. The table was a veritable feast of gastronomic beauty. Jeremy held my chair and once I was seated the Master took his seat. This caused a momentary confusion. I would have thought he would assume the position of Master and be seated. Even in his dominance there remained respect.

"Please help yourself, Jeremy has gone to great lengths to provide most anything you might enjoy. I enjoy a glass of wine; would you pour please dear Layla?"

Smiling to myself, this was the man who I'd spent hours with last evening. It was clear that in his position as Master there were expected responsibilities I was to attend to. I filled his glass, then my own. I wasn't sure if I was expected to serve him, that was quickly made clear.

"I'd enjoy some salad and perhaps a small piece of chicken." As requested I prepared and set his plate down. Selected my own delicacies and lunch ensued.

"This afternoon we will continue an in-depth conversation regarding our personal relationship, that of Master and slave."

Excuse me? Slave? That word was unnatural to my senses. I didn't consider the role of slave to be part of our understanding. I was also somewhat uneasy in the feeling that perhaps Jeremy could hear us speaking. For me this wasn't a relationship that I wanted to become public knowledge.

"Slave ... I'm not entirely sure I agreed to become your slave? Isn't this a conversation that we should have in private?" Jeremy was standing by quietly looking straight ahead. I wondered what his thoughts were?

"My dear Layla, if you're concerned with what others may think perhaps you're not at all ready to commit? Jeremy is aware of my inclination; he is a trusted and extremely loyal person. There will be moments that you will be asked to ignore his presence and behave accordingly. Surrender and submission have no sense of the outside world, for that matter no logic of refusal. You choose to submit, you will never be forced, that isn't purposeful for either of us. However, as I've said, you will wish to serve me, that will be your choice if you are to become the devoted and cherished treasure I wish you to be. Let's finish our lunch and continue when were through?"

As an after thought he continued. "I do understand the reluctance to discuss personal matters and I will have Jeremy leave us this time." Without looking in his direction he simply said "You may leave us Jeremy." With a smile, he departed for places unknown.

"Yes, that's fine." Only it wasn't. What else could I say?

Apparently, there was no room for discussion at this point. We were having lunch, that was all that was happening. "I'd like another glass of wine Layla." I poured both his red and my white.

Another glass of wine certainly eased my nervousness.

I wasn't truly nervous it was more of a feeling of being out of sorts, not knowing what was coming or how to react. This was a new and delicate experience by all accounts. I wanted to be attentive and fully engaged. Granted I relished the want, it gave me a sense of being special, maybe more than that, perhaps the feeling was more like being significant to someone?

The rest of the hour was filled with small talk. Our discussion of musical taste and service of dessert. When we were finished, Jeremy appeared like an apparition. "Let's retire to the sitting room Layla." Jeremy pulled my chair back and I slowly followed behind the Master.

He decided we should have some music to encourage calm and relaxation. Softly playing Brickman in the background was soothing and changed the tone of the atmosphere.

"I sense that this is all happening at a quicker stride than you may have expected?" Perceptive is the Master.

It was as plain as day I was sure. My mouth opened to speak and quickly shut. The Master was once again speaking. I had to learn that these weren't questions posed for me rather statements to me. At the same time, I had something to say and believed he wanted to hear my thoughts.

"Two days ago I was accepted as your student, realizing a personal dream you could say. Today I'm being, how did you put it, groomed? My experience in this type of relationship is nonexistent. I certainly have my own views, not in step with the conventional Dominant/submissive lifestyle, simple and far less aggressive I suspect."

"Why don't you explain your theoretical understanding of the concept?" The Master sat back and I was given his full attention.

"Dominance cannot exist or function without submission. In my world, this doesn't include masochistic or sadistic behavior, pain or humiliation. The relationship is based on mutual respect and fulfillment. You used the word slave. For me that denotes someone who is forced to subjugate themselves to another against their will. The term Master historically symbolized power with disrespect and violence, ownership and property, the slave having no more value than any other beast of burden."

He was intently listening. This was reassuring.

"Tell me what your perception is Layla, please be as explicit as possible."

"It has nothing to do with men and women. This relationship can be heterosexual, homosexual involving gay men or lesbians. There isn't an age variance. Two people come together, each have strengths as well as weaknesses. There is a mutual respect and caring. Each seeks to please the other. If I know you don't like apples I wouldn't give you apples. If you know I enjoy Jerez why would force me to drink Scotch? As Master, you seek my respect, devotion and adoration. I show this to you by learning what your wants and needs are, emotionally, sexually in virtually all aspects of who you are. In my submissiveness, you will care for and protect me because you seek to return these same considerations. They keep me dedicated to you."

It was that simple in my cognizance of what such a relationship was. I wondered if it were as simple in his understanding? After a few moments to digest my thoughts, a sigh and his response.

"There may be times that I will not give you what you want because I believe you wouldn't benefit from it, or my needs are stronger. I will appear egotistical, self-indulgent, how would you react?"

"I trust you. I would believe that there would be nothing you would ask for or refuse me unless you felt that it was for my own protection and my best interest. That's the key, isn't it? I give you my unfettered faith and trust?"

There was a soft smile on his face. I could sense the deep contemplation and seriousness of his thoughts. "You haven't used the word love; may I ask why?"

The "L" word. People say it, write about it, compose songs and sonnets in its praise and bow down to it. We seek it and when we find it we continually change our minds about it.

"Because love is just that; a word. I like you, I enjoy your attention, respect your intelligence, admire your sense of self, appreciate your musical genius. I find you sexually appealing, feel safe in your presence, believe you will never harm me, cause me pain. Aren't these feelings, emotions, sentiments and reactions so much more than a simple over stated, an inexcusably, excessively misused word?"

"You are a rare woman dear Layla. Your sense of logic is admirable. I clearly grasp your displeasure at being considered a slave. If I am accurately grasping your thoughts I would have to say I agree that for you it is an unacceptable term. Might I ask how you feel about the term Master?"

"For me it's a simple matter of respect. In your position, one that is appropriately suited on many levels, several of which I have previously described, you are a Master." There, I said it. I truly meant it and the Master could plainly see that.

"And you dearest Layla are summarily becoming this Master's treasure." There it was again. Softness and consideration.

"Thank you, you've given me the gift of respect." I believe I would never again be thought of or referred to as a slave. I wasn't and never would be his slave, at least not in the sense that the word infers to my mind. Could I be instead his treasure?

I could be everything he needed, wanted and expected. I could never be nor would I want to be his slave. Such arbitrary and incendiary terms are what the human condition rebels against yet they're terms that appear to clarify relationships in the minds of those who view themselves in those persona's. Master and slave? Centuries of conditioning that has become accepted by the many. I didn't include myself in that category.

"You may think of me in any way that satisfies your need. I may attend, react and oblige you in the manner that has long been associated with the label of slave, however, in my own need to retain self-respect and purpose I don't assimilate any part of my life in bondage under the guise of compliant slave." I didn't leave a glimmer of misunderstanding between us.

"I trust we have covered every aspect of the subject and have reached an amiable understanding and are in total agreement. This has been enlightening and educational in the sense that I have learned an extremely valuable lesson in the misconceptions of labeling." There was a gentle and clear degree of acceptance in his voice. The matter was settled.

"I'd like to play something for you. Let's go into the music room." He was rising as he spoke, walking ahead of me, clearly expecting me to follow. I smiled, this was his dominance, and I respected it.

"Please make yourself comfortable dear Layla." He sat down at the piano.

I hadn't noticed it before but there was a chair and ottoman in the corner to the left of the large bay window. Beside it a small table and lamp. I could imagine him sitting there in the evening reading, perhaps scoring music or simply looking out into the night sky. He gestured to me to take my place. The Master took a deep breath and began to play.

The music was intoxicating. I watched his hands move along the keys, exacting and yet effortless. I listened to the melodic changes, tempo rising, building to a crescendo and quieting to a simple harmony that seemed almost ethereal in its smoothness and softness.

There was a moment when there was no one else in the room, no one listening, he was playing to his own desire. I closed my eyes and felt my body drifting, wandering as if nomadic, waiting for the next brilliant composition of chords and notes that would lift me above realism and allow me to rest in the simple imminent beauty. The piece he was playing was one I had never heard before, or perhaps had never heard it played as he did. Suddenly there was absolute quiet. I opened my eyes and looked at him. Smiling.

"You love the music, I can see that Layla, your ability to touch and sense the changes in the piece, hear the subtle variations and deviations in the sound of each key being struck, seamlessly blending until they create exquisite magic holding your mind prisoner in the intensity and passion." I fixed my eyes in his. He was looking at me, reading me I felt.

"What were you playing?"

"Perhaps you might tell me what you heard as I played? I sense that you were intently seeking to understand the story.? Every piece has a story to tell that's what lures us to music, the story."

"The piece is strangely erotic, tenderly sensual, quiet in its beauty, loving in the melodic movement, delicate as it changed rhythm, exciting as it built to a passionate crescendo and finally sweet and gentle, as if it were a caress."

The Master smiled as I spoke, almost as if he were sensing some inner liberation that I grasped the intent and understood the story he played.

"Some years ago I was sitting exactly where you are now wondering if I would ever find a woman who could share my life. Music is in a sense an etymological deviation of words, their origins, and how their form and meaning have changed over time. We study the history of music and although many believe music is a universal pathway into every life they don't grasp the breadth and depth of the hunger that beats so strong in the hearts of those who create music. It's as if music is a language unto itself. I decided to compose a piece that spoke to that hunger. The intense feelings, her sounds are what I would imagine I would hear in the arms of that woman if I could hear her music. This composition is what I heard."

Sensual, erotic, quiet beauty, loving and delicate of heart, sweet and gentle. These were the attributes that every man wanted in a woman. I'd never thought those traits could become music, but then I never knew a man who could compose the woman of his dreams with an accurate and concise blending of notes and chords that became a vivid image. The images in my mind were pornographic and sultry. I could feel the seduction in his words. Yes, I thought. You're seducing me Master.