touching

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prelude

She was naked under the velvet, the black and red wine running over her skin and diffusing everywhere. He gazed at her, touched him, her nipples gradually hardening.

Rome, 1989

The lights dimmed. He stood alone on the stage, tall and thin, dressed all in black, his violin leaning against his right arm, the bow in his other hand.

The enthusiasm and excitement of the audience on stage assaulted him. He could feel the agitation in the bodies of those bound to the seats. The rustling of programs and the whispers of the audience reached his ears, and he could vaguely hear the slight rattle of clothing as the audience kept crossing their legs. The smell of perfume hung in the air, strong, tantalizing, and long-lasting.

He closed his eyes and brushed his fingers back and forth across the smooth surface of the violin, slippery like a woman’s silky skin, icy and flawless, containing warmth. He lifted the violin and held it close to his chin as he suddenly felt a familiar primal stirring deep in his belly. ‘She’ was docile now, this smooth, silky old zither, waiting for his touch. ‘She’ would squeal, whimper, sob and beg in ecstasy …… but for the moment, he had to calm her down first.

A woman with long, soft, dark brown hair wrapped in garnet-red velvet. It reminded him of an old, flavorful Burgundy wine, a far-fetched analogy, but interesting. As he stroked along the curves of her body, he was drinking that intoxicating wine.

He picked up the bow and, slowly, slid it over the strings as if he were lightly ruffling the skin with a feather. The subtle sound of flipping through the program stops, and the sound of the piano flows out, teasing the nerve endings and invading all the way to the most intimate parts of the body.

The sound of the piano is like a tongue kissing the ear lightly, sliding over the whole body, fine, weak, remote and ineffable …… He kept harmonizing and plucking the strings, and the sound of the piano was even more gentle and charming.

She was naked under the velvet, the black and red wine running over her skin and diffusing everywhere. He gazed at her, touched him, her nipples gradually hardening.

The audience had been infected by the sound of the piano, the passion within them was mobilized, they seemed to be waiting for something, expecting something. He seemed to vaguely hear her seductive whispers, her legs and lips already spread wide and welcoming him. A burning desire rose in his belly, searing his skin.

The crowd was also lit up, and he could perceive the tension in the arena as the spectators’ bodies were leaning forward, eyes slightly closed, muscles tense.

Sweat congealed into beads of water between his brows, hot and hot, and the air was dry and dreary and full of desire, and he was exhilarated again. He played the music low and slow, followed by a long silence. He could feel the anticipation, the suspense of the audience, waiting in silence for the next note, the next agitation.

He heard her moan with excitement, her body shaking as his torso continued to tremble under his teasing. He strummed the strings more violently, more excitedly, heavily and longingly. In time with the music, the bodies of the audience swayed involuntarily in the velvet-covered chairs.

Emotions were building, swelling, and the heart was pounding. The air was as thick and stifling as the velvet she wore, and it was breathless. He sensed the dryness within the audience and the anxiety looking to vent. He added vibrato to his playing, releasing more throbbing and tremors. The music flooded the audience, flowing and rippling through the auditorium.

The mesmerizing, maddening climax is getting closer.

Time seemed to stand still, wildly aroused, as he kept ramming, violently, setting off one climax after another, igniting a blaze of desire. He was as solid and firm as stone, and he was confident that he could play forever, that he could penetrate the deepest parts of her body.

Her screams of excitement out of instinct put an end to the tumultuous music.

Exhausted, he put down his violin, his hands still shaking.

As the last trill reverberated through the air, the audience, still in a haze of confusion and bewilderment, fell silent. Slowly they snapped out of their haze, and the applause rose, sporadically at first, then suddenly like a snowstorm, and they felt more content than they had ever felt before.

Backstage, she listened to the thunderous applause. Listening to the wild cheers of the audience, she couldn’t help but smile. She was always fascinated by Bach’s music.

Chapter I. Prelude

Her pale skin, her soft black hair, her crystal amber eyes, her soft, erotic body-Max leaned back in his chair, his mind racing with images of Serena.

Geneva, Switzerland

“Right here,” said the television announcer in an agitated tone, pointing to a country house hidden deep in the shade of the trees, with only the thick brick walls showing, and the faint outline of which was visible, “is the place where Mika, the violinist, has been living in seclusion, and where Mika, with his marvelous acting, with his unique interpretation of classical music, has made the whole world go crazy for him. interpretation that has driven the whole world crazy for him, and where he has been living for over a year with his longtime companion, Serena.” Pictures of Mika and Serena appeared on TV, with Mika in that rather individualistic black dress and Serena in a narrow, extremely sexy white dress.

“Hmph, what a mate!” Serena accused as she watched TV.

“Do you have a more appropriate word?” Mika asked with a disgruntled accent.

Serena swept Mika off her feet and said nothing.

The TV announcer continued, “The details of the accident that led to Mika’s sudden retirement from the heights of his art have never been revealed. But our reporter has learned the inside story,” the announcer paused briefly, licked his lips, and continued, “There is no indication that Mika will publish the secrets of his acting skills that have impressed audiences around the world, and they may just stay locked away in this villa, his incredible magic… …”

“Ridiculous!” Mika said, casually picking up the TV remote.

“Don’t be mad, darling, wait a minute, don’t turn it off,” Serena said, sprawled across the black leather sofa, sipping her champagne, “I want to hear what’s going to be said down there, look, they’ve got a newspaper clipping of a performance in Vienna two years ago. I was never too happy with that costume,” she added, speaking with a critical tone about her image on television, “maybe there were too many little metallic sequins used for decoration on the dress.”

“Serena,” he said, “I’m not interested ……”

“And Max, it’s been a long time since you signed with him. Oh, look, that was the last recital in London.”

“Serena!” Mika’s voice rose much higher all of a sudden, “I don’t want ……”

“Pay attention,” she said, her eyes fixed on the television, which showed Mika standing alone on the stage of the Barbican. The announcer’s explanation was suddenly replaced by a solo violin performance of Bach’s Sonata in G Minor, and the allure of the music was still palpable despite the televised broadcast.

“Serena,” he broke the silence and turned to her, realizing that her cheeks were flushed, her body leaned forward, and she was breathing heavily. He had forgotten the anger of a moment ago and gazed at her. She had become so familiar with her beauty, her pale skin, her soft dark hair, her crystal amber eyes, her sheer lust-filled torso, that he had become almost unfamiliar with her reactions in her arousal.

“I didn’t realize that this song would still work on you.” He said softly.

She looked at him, her gaze hot, “Mika, remember when we played in London? I remember ……”

“I remember that too, Serena,” he interrupted brusquely. “But it’s all in the past, it’s completely over!” He said desperately, as he stared at his gloved hand, “Don’t bring it up again, Serena.” He warned.

“Mika, honey, maybe we can do something to change things, we can ……”

He abruptly turned off the TV, “Stop talking, Serena, and leave me alone.”

She looked at him with disappointment. The afterglow of the setting sun was on his sexy face, his blonde hair glistening in the sunlight, but his blue eyes were cold.

“I’m sorry Serena, I’d like to be alone for a while.”

She wanted to argue a few points, but hesitated, edging silently out of the room.

She stood indignantly outside the door and looked around the living room, her eyes blurred with tears. Music and memories stirred her nerves, long numbed by champagne. How she missed the far-off but wildly exciting times; the high park skating railroad, the various concerts, the dances, and the soul-crushing pleasures that had become fond memories. Since the accident, Mika’s life had changed; she had stayed in seclusion with him, and he had asked her to stay with him when he needed her, and more often than not had told her to stay alone.

She knew that Mika would not blame her if she left him and went back to her old life alone. But she had been so tightly bound to him that it would be hard to separate. She thought, absentmindedly fingering the gold necklace around her neck.

Alas, I have at least one hobby, Serena thought with a bit of indignation. In the past, she had considered focusing on some sort of artistic hobby, only to turn around and get frustrated. Because art often meant that there was a magical power that she could get lost in, that she couldn’t help herself.

She walked barefoot across the waxed marble floor and straight up the stairs to her room. It was a rich and luxurious apartment, a paradise for pleasure-seekers. Silk tapestries hung on the walls, sofas of all sizes and a variety of fluffy cushions were placed everywhere, and large vases were filled with flowers. The exquisite bed in the room was specially made in Hong Kong, and the light came in through the lattice windows and shone on the black bedspread embroidered with dragon and snake motifs.

There are various niches in the house. The most eye-catching of the niches are the incalculable and bizarrely shaped works of art with sex scenes. A fresco from Pompeii depicting the life of a brothel, obtained through a secret pipeline from the collection of the Museo Nazionale di Napoli, a red-glazed teacup from a renowned artisan depicting a man and a woman in free love, and the Greek mythological god of the forest in debauchery with the beasts; and a sculpture from a Nepalese temple showing an exuberant, pleasurable sexuality. These works of art seem to condense history into a romantic history full of carnal joy and sexuality.

Several framed, gilded mirrors took up nearly a wall, and silently peering at the images of unspeakable lustful pleasure, Serena calmed down a bit as she spoke into the bedside pager, “Serge, please come up here.”

Serge pushed open the door to see Serena sitting in a black-painted dressing chair, her clothes half-covered. He gazed in fascination at Serena’s collection of kinky objects: a large, smooth penis made from African ivory; a Japanese jade bead used to prolong orgasmic pleasure during sex; colorful Mexican whips; black leather masks; an assortment of steel surgical instruments; perfumed lubricants and bottles of Serena’s own specially scented fluids.

“You called me, ma’am?” Serge asked carefully, both eyes hotly fixed on Serena’s body.

“Oh, Serge, the driver doesn’t seem to deserve such a nice name,” Serena said with a smile. Serge was the newest young handsome boy to be chosen from a group of young men from the village, blonde and strong, with a neck as strong as a bull’s, and the rest of his body must be just as robust and powerful. Serena thought about it as a wave of pleasure coursed through her body. Serge wasn’t very well versed in the ways of the world, so she took it upon herself to seduce him, to teach him how to tease her, to turn her on, to drive her wild. Serge was a clever student and soon mastered those techniques of conquering women. But for the time being Serena was worried that Serge would become arrogant, and she felt uneasy and tired.

“Want to relax and have fun?” Serge asked. He slowly moved closer to her and placed his hands on his crotch, where a bulge was noticeably raised.

“Yes, massage me.” Serena said in a soft tone.

With graceful movements, she removed the white silk robe she was wearing and lay face down, across the bed. Serge picked out a richly scented lubricant, then knelt beside her and carefully, evenly spread the oil over Serena’s body. Both of Serge’s hands ran slowly back and forth over her erect neck, shoulders, and back. Her eyes were closed, as if hypnotized, and she didn’t move a muscle as she experienced feeling his caresses, her full senses following his hands as they touched her high, puffy breasts and plump buttocks one by one. Smooth, lust-inducing oils coated her body.

Her body began to stir within her, and the enchanting music seemed to ring from her ears again. Suddenly, Serena’s thoughts returned to the dim scene under the library. Poor Mika! Ever since the accident he had become withdrawn and unapproachable. He had cut himself off from the earthly world and was no longer interested in the affairs of men and women. Serena knew it would take Mika some time to adjust his mood, and she bore his indifference and unbearable loneliness. But it couldn’t last long.

Sensing Serena was distracted, Serge knelt down, stretched his arms out, took hold of both his feet and spread her thighs. He kneaded her knees that, her ankles, and gradually, he ran his hands up to the roots of her thighs and rounded buttocks, all the while crossing her legs wide. Serena felt his hands writhing gently against her body, his fingertips gently rubbing against the white skin, and she felt a stirring inside her, a heat, a slight tremor, and she was no longer thinking about the unpleasantness of what she had just experienced, concentrating on feeling the fire that was pulsing through her body.

The phone next to the bed rang suddenly and then stopped. Serge poured out a lot more lube and slowly rubbed the sensitive parts of her body. He felt her already aroused, breathing heavily and filled with sexual longing as he gently rubbed along her ass.

The phone rang violently again, and Serena picked up the receiver while signaling Serge to continue the caresses she had just given.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” came the butler’s voice from the phone, “Max is calling from London, he must speak to you, and he won’t listen when I tell him you’re busy.”

“Okay then, put the phone through.” Serena said, and all of a sudden, she was eager to hear Max’s voice.

She rolled over and leaned back against the pillows. Serge poured more lube into his hand and spread the oil over her throat, her arms, and carefully rubbed her ample breasts, deliberately avoiding the two upturned tan nipples.

“That’s comforting,” she purred excitedly, an image of Max flashing through her mind, dark-skinned, medium-sized, and athletic, with aggressive green eyes that made him stand out even more.

“Serena? Serena, is that you?” From the phone line came Max’s voice slightly out of tune.

“Oh yes,” she gasped a little, the thick man’s hands were pressing against her high breasts, fingers drawing circles around them, nipples pinched and swollen slightly.

“Serena, you’ve been in isolation for almost two years now, how can you stand this boring monotony.” Max yelled on the other end of the phone.

“Yes, this life does get monotonous,” she echoed, a little distracted, as if coping.

Max’s voice rang again on the phone, “Anyway, I’ve got a suggestion for you, it’s a brilliant new idea.”

“I like novelty.” Serena found the same flirtation with Max exciting.

“Serena, I think it would be best if we could meet, could you come to London in recent days?” Max asked.

“To London?” She repeated, still reeling from the pleasure Serge had given her, “I hope to make the trip soon.” Serena raised her eyes to look at Serge.

“I know, you’ve never liked London much. Tell you what, I’ll come to Geneva. I’m going to arrive tomorrow at noon.”

“Why the rush, Max?” She asked, suddenly a little frightened. She hadn’t been prepared for Max to come out with something like that all at once.

“Hello, Max?” She yelled a few times in a row, but the other side had hung up. “Asshole, damn it.” She muttered, putting the phone back.

“I want to know exactly what he wants.” She yelled.

“I know exactly what you need,” said Serge, “and I know what I need, and right away we’ll both get it.”

She was so preoccupied that she barely heard what he was saying, and she didn’t feel a thing when Serge moved his mouth to her breast. Annoyed at her soulfulness, Serge took her nipple in his mouth and bit down hard and heavy.

Vaguely she felt her skin burning, the blood rushing up and seeming to concentrate all in the middle of her thighs, hot and itchy, with a shudder around her body and her nipples tingling.

“I’m sorry, Serge,” she said, rubbing his hair with apology, “but I really must ask Max to come back for a visit. Maybe put it off a little.”

“Max?” He repeated hatefully, not believing Serena’s explanation at all. His body was boiling with heat, his blood seemed to rush up all at once, he was wildly uncontrollable, he threw himself on Serena, pressing her face down dead against the pillows, almost suffocating her as she struggled as hard as she could, the pillows pressing down on her as she struggled to breathe, gasping for air. He became even more aroused, ignoring Serena’s cries of curses beneath him, Serena’s body writhing in agony, which drove him ever more frantic. His vise-like hands gripped both of Serena’s wrists tightly, and he conquered her without effort.

“Serge, not Max!” He growled.

Serge had tossed aside all the techniques Serena had painstakingly taught him in the past for teasing women, no longer warm and tame as he had been in the past.

“Asshole! Stupid dog! Serge, you forget what you are.” Serena cursed loudly and angrily, “Gently, you’re hurting me ……”

Serge roughly covered her mouth with his hand so she couldn’t scream.

“That hurt!” He cried out, starting a new stroke, and she tried to struggle, tried to fight back, but with her body pinned down by his big hands and heavy torso, there was nothing she could do.

Serge pulled his cock out of his pants and gently stroked it with his left hand. Since his hand was covered with lubricant, it soon glistened as if it were a baked ham coated with butter.

He soon became a bit unable to hold on, and his right hand, which had grabbed Serena’s hands, pressed downward as his left hand attempted to force Serena’s legs apart. Although he had a lot of strength, Serena desperately clenched her legs, and Serge had a hard time succeeding for a while.

Snap! At this point, Serge became even more furious, aiming both of Serena’s cheeks from behind, opening his five fingers and inciting them several times in a row, before aiming a hard twist at the base of her thighs.

“Ah, Serge, stop it! Ah…”

While Serena wailed, legs clamped a little slack, Serge’s right knee straight into the middle of Serena’s legs, followed by the prick straight into the center of Serena’s two pieces of fat meat buttocks in the honey garden. Serge is like a hungry cheetah after killing his prey with a single blow, crazily tearing and devouring everything he tramples on; it is also like a medieval robber who conquered the enemy’s woman after attacking the city by force, enjoying the helpless wail of the weak.

Serena heard Serge gasping for breath, his body heaving up and down, suddenly feeling pain all over her body from his pressure, and suddenly an inexplicable rush of energy surging through her body. Suddenly, bracing herself with her wrists, she summoned all the strength in her body and lifted it with a jerk. She twisted around and stared face to face at Serge.

“On my terms, Serge, and only the way I like to make love.” She warned, while tightening up.

Serge was stunned by Serena’s sudden movement, he was in the throes of sexual arousal, he glared at her furiously, his lust still rising within him, he pressed down on her again, wanting to re-possess her. Serena did her best to clench her thighs together, desperately dodging and resisting him. In her writhing struggles, Serena wrapped the sheet around her thighs, her long nails clawing at Serge’s hands.

Serge shuddered and made one last stroke, but the silken sheets were in the way, preventing him from doing so. He looked at Serena in disappointment, her crystalline amber eyes showing a hint of amusement as she smiled slightly at him, those rosy, slightly curved lips even more seductive in their captivating smile.

She slid out from underneath Serge and walked over to the dresser. After a short while, she hung up long distance for Max ……

London, capital of United Kingdom

Max reclined back in his black leather chair and carefully placed the phone back in its place. Serena’s voice on the phone earlier had been so lingering and arousing that his thing had actually gotten hard. “Since you’re so desperately eager, let’s try to quell it,” Serena’s teasing voice caused Max’s mind to flash back to her delectable torso. He shivered with electricity as he remembered how her shimmering, amber-colored eyes had gripped him and captivated him, oh Serena! He could not forget their first acquaintance.

It was at his first ball to celebrate Mika’s signing with a record company, as the owner of a newly opened record label, he thought it was a brilliant move to sign Mika, who was a rival to the master musician Menuhin, who was a rising star in classical music performance, and who would be a cash cow. Among the group of ladies and gentlemen attending the party that day, Serena was radiant, like a wild flower, mysterious and strange, lovely and charming.

“Who is that mysterious woman with the long slender legs?” He asked Mika, who was standing beside him with a rare smile.

“Oh, she’s beautiful, her name is Serena.” An undercurrent surged through both of them, and while Mika and Max deliberately sipped their champagne as if nothing had happened, their eyes were fixed on Serena, who had been followed by a large group of men, clustered around her like shadows, trailing behind her. The crowd parted a little for the moment, and she peered through the gap between the men toward them, her eyes half-closed and half-open as she gazed at Mika, fingering a thick gold necklace she wore around her neck. Max realized that this might be a secret signal being passed between her and Mika that only the two of them understood.

“Oh, she’s your ……” Max searched hard for the right words; he figured she was an old-fashioned, loyal woman.

“Mine?” Mika replied, “Serena …… Serena belongs only to herself.”

That Parisian night, Serena had snuck into the hotel room where Max was staying, dressed in a long, white, silky nightgown, a glass of champagne in her hand. It was a night of excitement, of tension, of wildness, of ecstasy, and she turned him on, her arms, her pink shoulders, her lips, teasing him to the point where he couldn’t get enough of her, and she took him to the peak of his excitement again and again, with the skill of a whore, as he’d never been with any other woman before, so madly, so addicted. When he was exhausted and sound asleep, she left quietly.

God, how he needed her, and after that soul-destroying night in Paris, he searched for her relentlessly, hoping for an unexpected coincidence and reunion. He exhausted every means, but all failed. Sometimes, if he learned that Serena was in Rome, he flew there immediately from London, only to find that she had just left again. Over the years, he had had several opportunities to meet her, in Vienna or in London, but she had been accompanied by other men and he had been unable to approach her.

Immediately after that, there was that unexpected turn of events.

Max sighed and pressed the pager in front of him, summoning his personal assistant in.

She flashed in quickly, she had been waiting for him to call, and ever since he had told her he had hung up long distance for Geneva she had known he would call for her sooner or later.

“Did you tape the TV report on Mika?” Max asked.

“It’s taped, here,” she replied, raising to him the black videotape she held in her right hand, “would you like to see it again?”

He nodded, and she went to the end of the room and inserted the videotape into the player, and in an instant the image of the smug TV announcer appeared on the screen.

“The secret of Mika’s mesmerizing, heart-stopping performance that has captivated the entire world has remained locked behind these doors, and his incredible, magical playing has added unparalleled sensational power to the world of music for ten whole years, which has resulted in Max’s DISC-O Records signing Mika to a deal that nets him half a million pounds a year. How long will Mika remain a recluse? How long would DISC-O survive without Mika? When is Max going to come forward and explain all this to the public? When will ……”

“Turn the sound off and keep the picture fixed!” Max said, staring at the TV screen as Serena in her glittery leotard appeared on the camera.

“Is it fixed right here?” His personal assistant asked, as petite and vivacious as the woman on TV. She’d also long since had a job that was more than simply assistant.

“Yeah, okay, Sally.” He responded, gazing at Serena in the VCR. Her sensual body was tightly wrapped in a dress adorned with metal pieces. Her lips were flushed and erotic.

“What is the announcer babbling about? How do you deal with it? We can’t ignore this outside pressure or things will get ……”

“I’m going to Geneva tomorrow,” he interrupted Sally, “and while I’m there, will come up with several options for coping, so button the door, please?” Max’s eyes, unmoving, were fixed on the TV screen, burning with lust.

“Sure.” She replied, though with a slight hint of jealousy. She had known in her heart for a long time that he had been obsessed with Serena, and was growing too drunk to hold back, but was more than a little offended that he was so impatient.

Max leaned back in his chair, his mind filled with images of Serena, the white leotard accentuating the lines of her body, the high, teasing breasts, the pink arms, the full, rounded hips.

“Now let’s get to work, dear. We have to come up with several reasons quickly, I mean think of some suggestions that I can take to Geneva, please consider them.”

“Yes, sir.” She replied, turning to close the door behind her and entering the washroom.

Sally returned to her desk to find a note pressed under her coffee cup in Max’s highly personalized, dragon-like script:

1. Collect a list of all finalists in international instrumental music competitions in the last eighteen months.

2. Book me a first-class ticket on a flight to Geneva tomorrow afternoon.

Chapter 2: First Audition

His playing can be exhilarating and mesmerizing. It is the lure of the bow and strings that captivates the mind, entertains the heart, and is hard to resist. The gentle, stringed music seems to touch your skin, like a sweet, intoxicating kiss, which follows your lips and slowly kisses your whole body ….

London, capital of United Kingdom

“Mr. Max, your first class tickets to Geneva are booked for tomorrow afternoon,” Sally said as she looked over at Max, who had walked into her office later that afternoon, “and I’ve already begun to gather a list of the finalists, as you instructed.”

“Well done,” he said with satisfaction, and it was clear that Sally had gone about her work properly. Her desk was cluttered with various papers, newspaper clippings and assorted publicity photos.

“I really can’t figure out why you want me to do something like this though, what exactly are you looking for? I’ve been searching for half a day.” Sari asked in disbelief.

“Find someone special and you’ll know what she’s like when we find her.” He spoke confidently.

“She? A female? I didn’t realize you were only interested in female artists, I wish you had told me earlier.”

“Did I say it was a woman I was looking for?” He asked, a little taken aback, “I’ve never given the matter any serious thought, and I can’t be sure ……” His voice trailed off, and he furrowed his brow in thought.

“Perhaps it might be of some help to me if you told me exactly what kind of person you are looking for. With at least a hundred finalists in various international instrumental competitions over the past eighteen months, there seems to be more than enough people. You haven’t even told me which instrument and how relevant this is to your trip to Geneva tomorrow. Of course, you could very well say that you’re going to Geneva this time in order to talk about a few deals.” Sally’s words were not without irony.

“Violin, I want the list of finalists in the violin competition,” he picked the easiest question to answer. “Viola might be fine, but I’m not sure. What we need is the mika. I watched the recording again just now after you left, and we’re really under increasing pressure, we can’t afford the loss of Mika’s inability or unwillingness to make a comeback, the cost is just too great, what do we do? What is the choice?” He asked rhetorically, “I’ve told Serena that I have a marvelous proposal to bring to her, is it okay for me to do that?”

Sally did not comment, but secretly thought, this is just an excuse for you to see her, if you only know that woman is a fling, DISC-O will sooner or later be brought to hell by you.

“Tell you what,” Max continued, in a somewhat unnatural tone, “I’m going to Geneva to talk to them about terminating the peace treaty, I’m going to re-sign with another player, and with a female violinist, who will soon surpass Mika, who will be a quick success, and I’m going to embarrass Mika. “

“Not necessarily, is it?” She said coldly, “What you need is a woman.”

“What do I need …… to say?” Max said with his mouth full, but in his mind he was thinking, of course I need a woman, that’s what it is.

“I’m saying that there’s no way a woman can match Mika’s playing skills, much less surpass him and achieve the success he has.” Sally responded calmly.

“Aren’t you a feminist activist?” He spoke in a mocking tone.

“Haven’t you ever read a comprehensive survey of the performance market?” She snickered back and shot back, “Seventy percent of the CDs and recital tickets for Mika’s violin performances are bought by women. Interestingly, the research survey showed that over fifty percent of these women were not interested in classical music, which is a travesty, why is that? The reason is simple, because his playing is exhilarating and can be erotic, as you have experienced.”

“Yes, yes, we’re all fully aware of the magic of that music inflicted on the audience.” Max sulked a bit, but Sally, still unrelenting, quickly interrupted him.

“You neglect to mention that no music critic has yet been able to accurately and meticulously describe that feeling I get from Mika’s playing. Perhaps because they are all men. They only compare his great technique to Perlman, his pure understanding and interpretation of classical music to Menuhin, but they miss the point, they don’t touch on the individuality of what Mika expresses through his playing, which is an indescribable sensation, something special, like an intoxicating, swooning first kiss,” she said, with a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth, and a quick lick of her tongue on her lips. tongue darted to her lips.

“How romantic!” There was a sting in his words.

“Yes, it’s always very romantic,” she said, obeying his words, “that first kiss is soft and unintentional, but on the occasional touch it’s unforgettable, it makes the skin tingle and the heart rhythm quicken and enchanted.”

“Go on.” He prodded, his interest suddenly coming to him as he stared intently into her eyes.

“It’s the lure of the bowed strings that captivates the mind, entertains the heart, and is hard to resist. The gentle strings seem to touch your skin, like a sweet, intoxicating kiss, it follows your lips and slowly kisses you all over, that’s its magic.” She said.

“Tell me more, tell me more!” He looked at her fervently.

“Well, all this magic is of course due to his superb playing. Have you ever had the feeling that when you hear some kind of superb music, it’s like an electrifying shock all over your body, with tremors all around you and your hair standing on end?” Max nodded and Sally continued, “Mika’s playing does that to you, even more magic. You can feel the music flowing right through your skin again, and it seems as if he is playing right through you. The music seems to be a dream lover, a spirit of love, making love to you without restraint, entwining with you, and it leaves you spellbound, as if you were on a rollercoaster in a park, dizzy, and you would say that this is the most pleasant, the most pleasurable sexual intercourse you have ever had. It not only makes you rhapsodize, but it also makes your whole body crazy, it is music, it is a kind of seduction, there is nothing comparable to it, and it will make you feel a kind of pleasure that you have never felt before. Perhaps, in saying this, you do not understand.” Sally stopped talking and shrugged, then buried herself in a pile of papers on her desk.

“What does that make you mean?” Max asked, feeling that there was something in Sally’s words.

What I mean is that you have been living in sexual fantasies and while you were touching me with your fingers, your mind was thinking of making love with another woman. Sally thought this in her mind and said with her mouth, “I mean you don’t intentionally seduce anyone for a long time.” She said sharply.

“Sally ……,” his words came to his lips and were retracted as he stood there awkwardly. She remained expressionless, sitting quietly in her chair, unmoving.

He looked at him, and despite her cold expression, she was still attractive. He liked her, he needed her, and she was one of Disco-O’s greatest assets. He knew she wouldn’t get angry for no reason, and he understood that what she had just said was offensive but undeniable.

Max slowly walked up behind Sally, and for the first time Sally felt his hands ruffling her hair so gently and seemingly apologetically. He ran his fingertips through her thick hair and then parted it in two, exposing her smooth erect neck as he lowered his head and pressed his mouth gently against it. Sally could feel him breathing and she closed her eyes as lust swelled inside her. She just sat there quietly, intently feeling his tongue on her smooth skin. His hands moved to her shoulders, her back, and then stopped as he pulled on the back of the chair she was sitting in. She leaned forward slightly so that he could smoothly caress her spine and plump ass. He moved gently to fondle the bulging, sensuous ass, then her high breasts. She felt her nipples grow hard and twitch slightly under her clothes ……

He put his hand on the back of the swivel chair Sally was sitting in and swung the chair back so Sally was facing him. His eyes were closed and his head was leaning back. He stroked her jaw, his arm down to touch her rounded breasts. He pressed the palms of his hands against the sensational, titillatingly voluptuous breasts, his forefingers and thumbs squeezing and pinching the hard nipples, which jutted out and pressed against the woolen garment of his upper body. He kept winding and teasing the nipple, moving harder and harder. She felt an intense tension shoot up into her lower belly, desire filled her body, and she felt that most sensitive part of her swell dramatically again.

He took his hand away from her straight up nipple and placed it on her lips. His fingers followed the graceful curve of her mouth, touching and pressing gently as he bent down, his mouth pressed against her cherry lips, sticking his tongue out to lick and tweak her mouth, groping his way toward her mouth, where it was wet with a faint sound. She tapped her tongue against her alabaster teeth, opening it slowly, pushing his tongue in as if searching for something, flicking it around for a while before he eased his tongue back out of that lubricated, charismatic mouth.

She was restless, her body temperature rising, her mind intoxicated. Her body twisted as if in rhythm with the stirring of his tongue. Unconsciously she opened her mouth wide, she wanted his tongue, she bit down on it and swallowed it into her warm, moist mouth. He felt extremely soothed, and he opened his mouth wider and wider, and his tongue went taut and hard, stabbing solidly into her mouth, churning desperately.

His tongue stirred with abandon, his whole body surging with frenzy, desire bracing the roots of his lust. He slammed his hands behind Sally, rubbing his firm, plump ass over and over, slowly picking her up, turning her around with a single motion, his lips leaving her, and laying her down on the fuchsia carpet. Sally woodenly let him manipulate her, still with her eyes tightly closed, enjoying the infinite pleasure.

He assisted Sari to her knees in front of him, while he himself did a moment in the chair. With his right hand behind her head, he pulled her hair back and gently rested her mouth against the center of his body where it protruded. Sally’s arousal was rising within her, and the moment her lips touched him there, she quickly unzipped the chain of his pants with her hand, and his cock jumped out of it with a flourish.

Sally slowly stroked Crown with her cherry lips as he closed his eyes at this point and let out a few soft grunts. As if on command, she swallowed the entire shaft in her mouth and tongued the thick shaft a few more times before slowly pulling it out of her mouth ……

He was a little overwhelmed, and his moans grew from small to loud, his breathing from light to heavy, and finally, he picked her up again, laid her across the carpet again, and darted out of his pants, pulling Sally’s skirt off with one hand and tossing it behind her back, unable to wait to impale himself on her equally aroused body.

“Oh!” The long-awaited Sally hummed out in pleasure. Max fought even harder to meet her hungry body, unleashing wave after wave of attack.

Outside the window, at some point it started to rain, a haze, the accompanying thunder ……

… …

“Your kissing skills have to improve!” Sally said.

“You mean, teach me how to kiss?” He asked, his breathing slowly returning to calm again.

“I do mean that.” She replied, handing him a towel.

“If you could teach someone how to kiss,” he started and then stopped. He carefully towel-dried his body of sweat and the residue from his earlier orgasm as another rush came over him. “I have a great idea, Sally! We can get Mika to teach his acting skills, his methods, his secrets. We can find a pupil for him. I can’t go wrong with this idea, it will work.” Max said, his meat stick hardening again.

“What do you mean, good idea?” Sally asked a little impassively.

“I mean a woman, of course! If, as you say, Mika’s playing has created a frenzy of excitement among the women and won over a wide market for music… Oh, you’re right, I really haven’t looked into the market synthesis report …… I think a skillful woman would be just as likely to win over a male audience. “

“Interesting, makes sense to me,” Sari said slowly, a little relieved that he was at least thinking about the future of the company, “but you’re assuming on your own that that kind of playing know-how can be taught and passed on, but how are you going to convince Mika to do it willingly. Also, Serena’s a tough nut to crack, how are you going to convince her? She’s inseparable from Mika and watches him to death, you can’t even get close to Mika. Serena won’t tolerate another woman between her and Mika. I’m really a little surprised that she would agree to you visiting her in Geneva.”

“She didn’t agree,” Max admitted that Sally was right in her analysis, “I was calling to try and get her attitude, I hung up before she could possibly say no back, she must be pissed off on the other end.”

“What a thought,” she said, unimpressed with Max’s approach, “How are you going to stop her when she can call over to you?”

“It’s okay, she can just call her number, you can tell her I’ve left and can’t get in touch with me and see what else she can do,” Max said.

“It’s too easy to recognize, Max, that’s a trick Serena won’t have a hard time seeing through.” She warned, unintentionally calling out his name.

“In the meantime,” he continued, ignoring Sally’s comment, “you go out and find for me the prettiest, sexiest, most promising young female violinist who has stood out in the last few recitals. Get me a copy of her resume as well; we have to know her thoroughly and leave no detail unturned.”

“Does she have to be very pretty?” Sally asked, asking partly because she’d noticed that the man in front of her was obsessed with voluptuous, gentle beauties, and partly because it was easier to look for them when she had them in mind. There was also some reason that female string players were often, like opera singers, sadly, regrettably, sadly mediocre looking.

“By all means, be able to draw attention to it,” he compromised a little, “and before I leave to-morrow, give me the selection along with the material.”

“It’s almost impossible, you know, time is too tight.” She gushed at him.

“I’m sure you can do it, why else would you get such a high salary, dear. Besides, you have an assistant, so let the capable Eve help you work this out together.”

Typical Max’s language, she thought, muttering under her breath, “Don’t you know that capable Eve is still in New York.”

“Actually, I’m back,” a sweet voice said from the porch. Max and Sally turned to look, and there stood a woman with pale yellow curly hair and a bright red jacket, a woman of outstanding good looks. Her body was well-proportioned and she looked like a painted beauty, with two beautiful faces.

“Eve?” Max said, slightly terrified. How long had she been standing there?

“Eve,” Sally called out, her thoughts a little wild. “Thank God you’re finally back, we’ve all missed you so much.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve got some things to take care of, I’ve got to go.” Max said, and slipped toward the door.

“Don’t worry, boss,” Eve said slowly, “we’ll find the fiddler you have in mind.”

“Did you just hear us talking?” Sally asked. The door was closed quietly by Max.

“Heard more than half of it,” replied Eve; “another queer crazy thought?”

“I can’t actually figure it out,” Sally said slowly, “He always seems to be right, even if it’s possible to figure out that there isn’t a single proper and correct reason for him to do so. Oh, God, I’m just so tired.” She let out a long yawn, a weary look on her face, “I’m sorry, Eve, how was New York?”

“Same as before, no changes,” Eve replied, there was a small refrigerator in an inconspicuous spot in the corner of the room and she walked towards it, “All Americans.” One of these very special Americans was going to use his fabulousness to support the plan she had been ‘hiding’ for quite some time, a plan she needed Sally on board with, but it was too early to speak of it with such haste. Eve thought this in her mind, but her mouth blurted out, “May I have some wine?” She looked at the exhausted Sari and added, “Why don’t you relax for a while.”

“Good idea,” Sally said as she stomped her shoes off her feet and collapsed headfirst onto the long, cozy, soft couch. Her office had an assortment of furnishings for personal assistants and their bosses to rest and relax. An ottoman, although slightly smaller for Max and with a faux leather top, was still a good sofa. The refrigerator was practically a mini-bar, keeping the wine inside cold at all times. Then there was her own assistant, who was becoming more and more indispensable in many ways.

“What are you thinking?” Sally asked, taking a sip of her drink.

“Not bad, at least Max is thinking about the changes in the company’s business.” Eve put her glass down and put both hands on Sally’s feet and began to gently rub and massage them.

“Do you …… you really want me?” Eve asked, her eyes gazing into Sally’s face.

“Oh, Eve, I ……,” Sally tried to pull her foot out of Eve’s grip, and just as she was about to start, she was quickly interrupted by Eve.

“Hold still Sally, you know this will loosen you up and make you more comfortable.” She continued to massage skillfully, not allowing Sally time to refuse, she slipped her hand under Sally’s pants and felt the tops of her stockings, which Eve slipped down to Sally’s ankles and pulled down again with a firm hand, then proceeded to massage.

“But ……,” Sally wanted to say. Eve’s hand was cool and icy, and an indescribable feeling welled up inside Sally. Eve rubbed the tops of her feet steadily, then inserted her fingers between Sally’s toes, rubbing and stroking gently. Sally drifted a little.

“Then we need to find a woman.” Eve’s words interrupted Sally’s disoriented thoughts. Eve stuck out her delicate, pink tongue and deftly licked the back of Sally’s foot, then stroked her slender toes.

“Oh,” Sally hummed out contentedly, rocking her body slightly as Eve’s wet, warm tongue was brushing against her soft skin; Eve had a gift for combining work and pleasure, Sally thought, feeling her body heat up a little.

A violinist capable of attraction, Eve continued to speak as she took one of Sally’s toes in her mouth and sucked hard, a stirring in Eve’s heart as she knew she was having a reaction. Slowly she moved her hand up to Sally’s ankle and up to her sensitive knee joint, there Eve’s hand stopped moving and pressed firmly, her mouth still sucking hard on the toe.

Sally was loose, lazy and cozy on the long faux-leather couch, she spread her thighs and closed her eyes. The sensation of her toes being licked in her mouth gradually aroused the desire inside her, and she gasped a little, feeling that Eve was nipping at her feet with her teeth, a little tingling, but comforting.

Eve heard Sally’s sharp gasp and she smiled with satisfaction as she took the toe out of her warm mouth and took in another. She loved kissing Sally’s feet like this, as if she were flirting, making love, and she sucked on each toe with her warm, slippery tongue, her movements rich in variety, fast and slow, light and heavy, and sometimes she flicked the tip of her tongue over Sally’s toenails.

“Is that good?” Eve asked, also a little out of breath, as she looked at Sally.

“Oh,” Sally responded, not wanting to think about anything more at this point, much less have her pleasure interrupted by something, and she felt the blood raging through her veins as she reached out and pressed her hand against Eve’s lips.

Eve understood the meaning of Sari’s gesture, and she softly guided the finger into her mouth, then took the slender, scallion-like finger in her lips, and she sucked gently on it, then swallowed it whole, wrapping her tongue around it, over and over, as she licked and sucked. She deliberately hesitated not to touch Sally’s breasts and the middle of her thighs; she wanted Sally to beg for it. Eve was a little overwhelmed too, teased by the hardness in her mouth, and the twisted, sheer body of the other woman near her made her want to, and she crossed her thighs, intent on prolonging that pleasure.

Sally felt hot around her body, getting more and more stirred up, and she wondered to herself how Eve had turned her on so much just by continually sucking on her toes and fingers. Her nipples were hard and she longed for Eve to lick her nipples, to lick her breasts, to lick the sensitive spot between her thighs.

“A woman,” Sally said thoughtfully, as Eve’s cascading light yellow blonde hair cascaded down her arm and Sally reached out to touch it.

Eve felt Sally’s touch, she pushed her hand under Sally’s skirt and moved it back up to her blouse, she cupped the full breasts and pressed her palms against them, squeezing and pressing softly, she could clearly feel the firmness of the nipples even though they were through her clothes, Eve squeezed and rubbed rhythmically with her thumbs in a deft, skillful, and extremely provocative motion.

Sally moaned in comfort and arched her hips slightly, her eyes were still closed and her skin was on fire, she was completely in the grip of lust and Eve saw a flush hit Sally’s cheeks, she knew that Sally was too horny for her own good.

“Is that okay?” Eve repeated softly.

“Oh good, that’s it, don’t stop.” Sally cooed in a low voice, already lost in her extreme arousal.

Eve’s hand didn’t move as she deliberately asked, “Is it better than it was with him?”

“Come on, touch down, Eve, you know ……”

“Is it better than it was with him?”

“Yes, yes, you ought to know very well; come on, Eve,” she replied breathlessly.

“Fleisch,” Sally murmured silently, “of course, skin.”

“Beautiful, fluffy, lovely, white skin.” Eve whispered under her breath as her mouth filled with breasts.

“Not the skin, I mean the Fleisch, Karl Fleisch contest.” Sally said, “The tournament starts tonight, so we can go along and see who’s playing.”

“Great.” Eve agreed.

The phone suddenly rang shrilly and screeched to a halt.

“Don’t worry,” Eve said, “she won’t ring again.”

Serena snapped angrily, dropping the phone receiver with a snap.

“Living hell, Maddy, I don’t believe it, I’ve been to DISC-O’s office,” Serena said hatefully, “I’ve called so many times and not one person has answered. That’s Max’s private hotline, and besides, I just got off the phone with him an hour ago.”

“Why don’t you turn him down?” The butler asked, seemingly reasonably.

“I was busy, and I hadn’t figured out what he meant,” she snapped back, “and the line hung up right after he said he was coming.”

“Does it matter? His visit might be good for both of you.”

“I don’t want him to bother Mika, Maddy.”

“Perhaps it would do him good to disturb him a little.” Maddy said coldly, “You’re not doing it right, not at all.”

Serena’s eyes narrowed, Maddie had been with them for several years and almost from the beginning, he had called Serena ‘ma’am’, she really thought Serena was Mika’s wife. “What do you mean by that?” Serena asked Maddy.

“You two have been moping around all day for so many years, alone, oh, almost alone,” she hesitated, changing her tone slightly as she thought of the gang of chauffeurs and cobblers with whom Serena used to flirt. “He does nothing, and all day long he is always playing that old record, over and over again, and even at night I hear that nasty Bach when I go to bed, and you are …… all day long,” she hesitated.

“What do I do all day?” Serena prodded, her tone easing considerably, even a bit curt, provoking her to finish her sentence.

“You know best what you did yourself!” Maddie bubbled a little, “I know it’s not my place to get involved and it’s not my responsibility, but it’s definitely not right for you to do that, and look at him, he looks like he’s out of breath.”

“You mean Mika? He looks handsome and healthy, don’t have nothing to worry yourself about, Maddy.”

“He’s pale and depressed, depressed, he’s closed himself off, as you well know.” The housekeeper still refused to stop.

“Well ……,” Serena tried to say something and swallowed it back. It was indeed clear to her. Hadn’t she been thinking the same thing for a long time?

“It won’t hurt Mika to see Max, they used to be good friends. Fresh blood would be good for this place.”

“Fresh blood.” Serena repeated, a hint of a smile sweeping across the corners of her mouth.

The housekeeper’s eyes showed some imperceptible annoyance and uneasiness as she turned to walk away, “Should I prepare a guest room for him?”

“Okay, let’s do that, Maddy, you’re right, we need a new face here. But I can’t be sure Mika will accept him.” Serena frowned slightly, which spoiled the expression of her smile a moment ago.

“I think it’s mostly up to you, up to you to convince him to take it.” Maddie said, with a special emphasis on ‘you’ in her words. But Serena didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence and left the house.

Serena saw Mika sitting on the balcony, sipping his coffee, Midas lazily stretched out on all fours curled up in his lap. She stood in the arched doorway and smiled as she gazed at his striking pose, all black, jeans, polo shirt, and sunglasses, except for a ball of blonde furry stuff in his lap. It occurred to her, with a jolt of surprise, that the pose was exactly the same as the cover of his latest weekly movie and TV magazine, except that there was no cat in that picture. It was a black-and-white photo, she remembered, taken in this very spot.

“Can I help you, Serena?” He opened his mouth to speak, his face not turned, his back still to her, and even though she knew him well, she was still surprised that he had such sensitive hearing.

“Max called.” She answered, sitting quietly in a steel chair.

“Oh.” He said absently, obviously not very interested. He did look pale, with no trace of blood on his face, a pallor that didn’t harmonize at all with his yellow and tan skin from sitting on the balcony.

“He said he was coming to see us, dear.” She said, her tone intentionally seeming warm and relaxed, “He said on the phone that he had something new and exciting that he wanted to discuss with us together.”

“Why don’t you shrug it off, Serena?” He asked, a little annoyed inside, his black gloved hands resting on the cat for a moment, “You know I don’t want anyone coming in here.” As if he could feel the Director stirring, the cat arched up, opening its sleepy eyes wide and meowing.

“Because his words sounded interesting,” Serena lied, reaching out to calm the cranky cat. “Take it easy, Midas. I thought it might be good to meet him and see what he has to say. Oops! That damn cat!” She yelped shrilly, jerking her hand back. The cat’s sharp claws scratched a thin bloody line on her hand.

“Ha, Serena, you can fool me, but you’ll never fool Midas,” Mika said with a small laugh, “You go see Max!”

“Are you always this kooky, Mika?” She asked, her hand aching where the cat had scratched it.

“It won’t! You should watch it carefully.”

“Well,” Serena said as she licked the blood from her hand, “I’d like to see what Max has in his gourd, he said he had a peculiar suggestion.”

London, capital of United Kingdom

Eve and Sally sat in the darkened audience. The performances at the Carl Fleisch Music Competition were undoubtedly first-rate. But seeing that now, all the contestants were male, Sally’s head ached a little and her mind was not as highly concentrated as it had been a moment ago; she felt weary and wanted to doze off. Too much lust, not enough coffee, she ruminated on how she had gotten herself involved in this cutthroat dispute. She searched left and right. Eve and Max, Max and Eve. Was Eve using her to get herself to the top of the company? Had Eve already slept with Max?

She felt Eve’s hand on her thigh, and Sally frowned.

“Eve ……,” she interrupted just as she started.

“Look,” Eve shushed, pointing to the inside of the stage, where a girl stood hidden behind a heavy curtain, waiting to come on. She was tall and slim, with long, fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders. Her face was hidden from view by the shadows of the stage.

“Francesca, will be performing Bach’s Sonata in G minor as a soloist.” The announcer’s voice was mellow and loud, but you could hear the tone was a little surprised. Playing this piece of Bach’s music was Mika’s specialty, unique, no one dared to match Mika, and for this girl to dare to bring this piece to the competition was a bit of an understatement. How will the judges deal with this?

The girl walked from the inside of the stage to the center of the stage, the dazzling and blazing lights shining on her hair, looking like it was lit on fire from afar. Her skin was white and flawless, and her arms were bare outside of her black evening gown, white arms and black clothes, a rather stark contrast. Two thick, dark, and attractive eyebrows crossed over her eyes, which were extremely incongruous with her fair skin.

“Fascinating,” Eve cooed, and as she watched her raise the violin, pressing it tightly toward her chin and against her neck, Eve felt a hot stream of desire rush from her anal cord straight to her nipples. The girl held the violin, lifted the bow, rested it on the strings, and pulled with a steep motion. Eve seemed to feel the bow as if cold, pink and white hands were plucking and knocking at her, as if it were sliding over her breasts, over her thighs, even down to the middle of her thighs, and the sensation grew stronger and stronger, and she wriggled uncomfortably in her chair as a violent tremor ran up her spine and into the long hair that covered the back of her waist.

She looked around her, all eyes were on the stage, and Eve surreptitiously squirmed, quietly stretching her long bronze dress to cover her entire bottom. She lifted one leg and rested it on the chair, gritting her teeth and doing her best to restrain herself as she glanced at Sally, who was sitting right next to her. She was staring intently at the girl on the stage with a deadpan stare, her breath was coming in sharp gasps and her cheeks were scarlet. Great, Sally was moving too. Eve leaned forward a little with her upper body, as if to pick up the program that had fallen to the floor. Suddenly, she picked up the pace, squeezing and pressing harder, her body convulsing as a mesmerizing orgasm was soon to race up.

The girl’s playing skills were almost impeccable, she was confident and skillful in controlling the strings. But her choice of this piece for the competition was clearly a blunder, too unpredictable. This sonata by Bach could only be played by Mika with the kind of soul-crushing, maddening rhythm that no one else could hope to achieve; it belonged only to Mika. The audience applauded, not too enthusiastically, cautiously.

“Well, okay?” Eve whispered, the tremors from her extreme arousal causing her to squirm gently, the fire of lust still burning in her throat, not quite extinguished.

“Oh, very good, fantastic!” Sally responded, their eyes meeting, each understanding the turmoil in the other’s mind just now. “I don’t understand why she chose this piece by Bach though?”

“I can go figure it out, I’ll go backstage and talk to her, okay? She must be alone, Sally?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe we could go together.” Sally hesitated, hesitant. As she spoke, Eve had risen from her seat, her purse and program in hand.

“I think it’s better to go alone, so why should you get involved? It’s curtain call, you might as well approach the judges and get a few words out of them, I’ll get it done alone.” Eve put that down and left her seat.

Backstage, the air was tense and dreary and smelled of sweat as the contestants huddled in small groups in a pile of critics, comparing the night’s performances or gossiping aimlessly. Eve saw Francesca without much effort. She was standing alone, an unlit cigarette in her hand, looking annoyed.

“You pulled it off wonderfully,” Eve said, rushing over to her and holding out a hand.

“Of course it’s brilliant,” the girl said coldly, ignoring Eve’s outstretched hand.

This girl is pretty cool, Eve thought, finding it rather amusing as she retracted her hand and ran it through her hair, “I’m Eve Drake, at ……”

“Works for DISC-O Records,” the girl picked up on Eve’s words, “that I know.” Standing in front of her, Francesca was even more attractive than from a distance, tall and slim, her high breasts wrapped in a tight black tunic that accentuated her curves. Her eyes, a pale gray, fluttered, thick black eyelashes covered her lids, and her deep black, sharply defined eyebrows gave her a sensual, arousing look. Eve was a bit distracted by the fact that this was the same girl who had just played the seductive music that had called her to lust, and the girl herself was even more flavorful and attractive all over, which was exactly what Eve had in mind to find in a girl.

She reached out and gently grasped Francesca’s left arm, “Tell me, can we go somewhere to talk in private?” Eve asked, pointing her finger at the dense crowd in the hallway, “Preferably without anyone else hearing.”

Francesca stepped back slightly as she took a good look at the woman immediately next to her. Everyone knew that two high-level talent scouts from DISC-O Records would be sitting in the audience that night scouting for new talent. The news had spread like wildfire. The speculation had been further reinforced by the earlier TV coverage of Mika’s playing career and reclusive life, which had quickly spread.

“I’m just so tired tonight,” Francesca said, “I managed to get a private dressing room, it’s as rare and precious as gold around here, but I’m pretty lucky, at least tonight.” I may not be getting any luckier, Francesca thought, and added, “We might as well talk there, if you like.”

“That’s wonderful,” Eve replied, moving her hand down Francesca’s arm to her back, where she gently drew her fingertips over the neatly aligned spine and slightly jutting vertebrae before sliding over her firm shoulders and resting her hand on her pink and white, slippery right arm.

“That’s it then, I wonder if you’d mind if I changed my clothes there?” Francesca said, with a deliberate bit of teasing in her words, as she felt the woman’s cool fingers pressing against her arm, and she could tell by Eve’s burning gaze that she was already reacting.

“It’s okay,” Eve said, shivering slightly, “not at all.” She whispered, following close behind Francesca as they pushed their way out of the crowd, through the corridor and straight to the dressing room.

As soon as she walked into the dressing room, Eve felt breathless and restless, her cheeks flushed, her throat hot, and her engorged nipples hard and tight against her dress.

“Say,” Francesca spoke up, casually closing the door and pulling on the electric light, “what brings you here?”

“Oh, we’re always interested in first-class caliber music contestants.” Eve said vaguely, gazing at Francesca as she stood, leaning slightly, in front of the mirror that covered almost the entire wall from ceiling to dresser, with small flickering bulbs dotted around the frame, adding a touch of fairy tale color to the small dressing room. In the mirror, Eve could see Francesca’s silhouette, her full, high breasts pushing against the tight black dress, her plump, rounded hips hooped by the dress in beautiful, sexy curves.

Just then Eve was seized again by the instinctive lust that Francesca’s playing of the music had just aroused in her. Suddenly she longed to touch and tantalize the moving curves of the girl’s body with her tongue and her fingers, she wanted to pierce the girl’s rounded buttocks to probe deeply into that fascinating place, she wanted to grasp those two white breasts, she wanted to lick her, kiss her, bite the jade-like flawless skin on the back of her neck.

Francesca straightened her body and slowly, sensuously untied the ribbon that held her tousled hair in place, her long locks cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall that just happened to graze her bulbous ass.

“Does DISC-O’s need a new talent on board?” She asked, her words dripping with confidence, “I saw it on TV a while back.”

“There’s no denying the power of DISC-O,” Eve said pointedly, and by the very nature of her profession she immediately backtracked. But her eyes were still admiring Francesca’s plump, extremely attractive ass. “Tell me first why you chose Bach, don’t you realize that choosing this piece is a big risk?”

“I like adventure,” Francesca said paranoid, “Can you unzip my dress for me?”

Eve held her breath and swallowed hard as she walked over to Francesca, she could smell the mixture of many perfumes on her, it was rich and assaulting. She smoothed her long, fiery red hair that cascaded down her back to the side, squeezing her dress tightly with one hand and slowly unzipping it with the other, pulling down just a small amount and letting that dress slide down to reveal her smooth backside. Eve could then see Francesca’s breasts reflected in the mirror, standing out like mountain peaks, firm and plump, with large tan nipples quivering in the wind. Francesca turned around and leaned her full weight against the dresser as she faced Eve.

“Thank you Eve, the zipper is all over the place and I can’t rip it off.” She cupped her hands around her breasts and gently massaged the lower part of them, “This damn dress is just too tight.”

“No thanks necessary, Francesca-” Eve said, her thoughts getting even more wild. Was this girl unintentionally or intentionally trying to tease me, to irritate me! Whatever it is, she thought, it doesn’t much matter. While her mind was reeling with how much good this beautiful creature in front of her would do for the company, and how capable she really was, she couldn’t help but get carried away, mesmerized by the girl’s sensual charms.

“You can just call me Franca.”

“Franca!” Her mouth was suddenly speechless, and Eve couldn’t take her eyes off Franca. They were standing this close, and Eve wanted to lean even closer, to contain those big, jutting nipples with her most mouth, and then suck them until they glowed red, until those cold, gray eyes grew fiery …. Yes, those eyes were too cold.

Eve stepped back slightly and smiled slightly, already caught up in the lust of how to touch the girl’s body herself. After a moment’s pause, she said, “Yes, as you suspected, we are looking for someone, someone special.”

“True enough,” Franca laughed, sliding the dress slowly down her waist and thighs, letting it slide all the way down to the tops of her feet. At this point she was almost completely naked except for her panties, making her even more sexy and attractive.

“It does stand out, and I can safely say to you that you have a great deal of untapped potential, and you have a great future ahead of you.” Eve said, her tone calm.

“Potential?” Her voice was calmer.

“Get involved in our new program.” Eve suddenly interjected, pleased that her words had somewhat moved Franco.

There was a knock on the door outside the house, “Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? Is Ms. Francesca there?” It was Sally’s voice, urgent and somewhat hesitant, “Is Eve there?”

How coincidental, how timely, Eve thought, perhaps Sally was jealous and just couldn’t wait? Or had she already heard something?

It’s really too much of a bummer, Franca thought, she’s pretty much got Eve in the palm of her hand. “Come in,” she said with a turn of her voice, kicking her coat away from her feet and reaching for a Japanese kimono to put on, she straightened the dress, which wasn’t long enough to cover her hips, and she stared straight into Eve’s eyes. “Come in.” She repeated.

When Sally pushed open the door, she immediately sensed the thick, hot, tense lust that permeated the room.

“Talk with us a piece, dear,” said Eve, “I think things are getting interesting.”

“I know,” Sally said pointedly, her eyes having to scan everything in the room, the black evening gowns piled up on the floor, the weary violinist in his narrow kimono, Eve’s fiery, flickering gaze. “Have you told Miss Francesca the details of our plans and where our interests lie?” She asked tentatively, and then didn’t know how to say more, hoping that Eve hadn’t been completely impulsive before revealing the bottom line.

“I was just about to talk about that,” Eve replied roundly, “and since you’re here, why don’t you get on with it?”

Crafty Eve. Sari straightens her shoulders and walks into the room without asking a single question, sitting down in her chair with a large flourish. She crossed her legs and glanced quickly at Eve before focusing her attention on Franca, “I’ll simply cut to the chase, we’re looking for ……”

“The next virtuoso?” Franco interjected.

Sally’s eyes snapped to Eve, “I thought you already said ……”

“Well, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” Franco said, “Two of DISC-O’s top talent scouts show up at the Fleisch Contest, could it be anything else? There’s been a lot of things coming to the public’s attention at DISC-O lately …… It won’t all be good. You guys need new sensations, like me for example!”

It was too bold, too cocky, and she wondered a little to herself, her nerves twitching.

“That’s not all,” Sally said slowly, “it’s much more complicated than that. We’re looking for a genius, someone who has the same talent as Mika, someone who can play classical music in such a way as to control the audience and make them drunk and extremely aroused. And we hope that Mika will pick up this highly gifted person and then nurture, train and teach him or her great skills.”

“Who?” Franco asked, his voice shaking a little.

“Mika.” Sari replied with a nod.

“If that were the case,” said Franca, trying desperately to steady herself, “I would do anything, anything at all.”

“Great,” Eve said softly, “I thought you’d want to.”

“But it’s more complicated,” Sally said, giving Eve an angry glare, “Technique aside, the person we pick has to be distinctive, forthright, and charming, that’s the most important thing, and Max’s recommendation to Mika relies heavily on that. “

“In that case,” Franca said after a moment’s consideration, “let me give it a try. Learning to play with Mika is the dream of all violinists who would break their heads over this rare opportunity, and I can think of ways to convince Max that I have the …… sexy seductive powers? The ability to indulge? A sense of classical music …. Or the certainty of being adopted?”

“Darling,” Eve said softly, “you’re in too much of a hurry. We have to make a list of finalists. Otherwise, you must first convince us that you have what it takes.”

“Max is leaving for Geneva tomorrow,” Sally interrupted Eve nonchalantly, “and I think you should go and see him for a while and talk to him about the program. Our personal recommendations will come when the show is over and after due consideration.”

“This is your go-to guy?” Max asked the next morning, flipping through the array of publicity photos.

“She’s the first candidate on our list,” Sally corrected, “and both Eve and I feel that a more careful search and research needs to be done.” She added, a little less confidently, that perhaps Eve was more persuasive than she was.

“Tell me about her.” Max sat on the edge of her desk. Sally began, “She’s been studying violin since she was five years old, and she made a tentative appearance at an international festival in Lucerne, Switzerland, last year, and she hasn’t had a teacher yet.”

“Uncomplicated and unusual,” Max commented, “but why can’t I remember such a person?”

“Oh, last year, that accident outside of Mica ……”

“Yes, yes, it was an unfortunate time.”

“She hasn’t performed much since then. There’s a record I’ve left in your office from a label she made when she was in Germany. It’s not easy for her to become famous when she’s been studying everywhere. Eve has prepared a list for you,” she said, pointing to a stack of papers on her desk.

“She sure is pretty,” Max said, his eyes fixed on the photo as he admired the curve of her throat and the high, prominent breasts. “Does she have that, though?” He asked, “Charisma, glamor, seductiveness, isn’t it sexy.”

“Oh, she totally has it.” Sally replied, remembering again the scene she had seen last night when she popped into Franca’s dressing room, “She’s very sexy and flavorful. She might not be too easy to deal with though.”

“Maybe, it’s more flavorful and challenging that way. A challenge for Mika, too. I don’t know if I can convince him to accept that challenge,” Max said, his eyes still on the photo, “How about the others?”

“There doesn’t seem to be anything available to impress Mika,” Sally said with a bit of a grumble, “Why don’t you browse the material and listen to the record? She gets here in an hour or so. As for the others, there won’t be anyone else. Eve and I will be there while you’re in Geneva. Keep this work going.” Actually, Eve had decided long ago that her attitude wanted to be quicker ……

An hour later, Franca arrived and walked into the office like a whirling torch, her fiery red hair set off by the long black cloak that covered almost her entire body.

“Sally, Eve, good to see you again, where’s the big boss?”

“There,” Sally said, pointing to the door that had to be behind her, “but I think ……”

“Oh, I presume you are Miss Franca?” Max asked, saying striding through the door.

“Mr. Max.” She responded, ignoring his outstretched hand.

“Ah, yes, you come to my office, will you?”

“Thanks,” she said, her voice a little raspy, as she brushed against him to get across the porch.

Without waiting to be greeted, Franca sat herself down on the black leather couch and slowly removed her coat, underneath which she wore a black dress, skin-hugging leggings and a thin woolen sweater that outlined the curves of her body. She straightened her legs and crossed them at the bottom of the table. Okay, Max, she thought, you’re the first hurdle I have to clear. Don’t you need to be seductive and sexy? That’s fine, keep your eyes on me and I’ll have everything you need. Please, she watched as his gaze traveled over his body, first lingering briefly on her breasts, then sweeping between her legs, then lingering on her slender thighs.

“Oh, I take it you’ve gotten the general idea of why I’m looking for you here and the circumstances surrounding it?” Max asked. She’s not quite the same as in the picture, he thought to himself, with her eyes, her high, pointed breasts, her fiery red, tousled hair, and more. She radiated charisma, wild, titillating, raging, like a beast in heat. She was sexy as if she was thinking about, longing for, expecting to make love and indulge. Thinking.

Yes, that’s right, she thought, he examines my eyes, seems to be looking at what I’m thinking, and I’m just what I need you to read it, to see it. “Yes,” she replied softly, still floating, you’re imagining me completely naked, blocking you, under you on top of you, sucking you, screwing you, driving you crazy, driving you insane, driving you beyond belief.

“I thought you’d be interested, are there any ideas?” He said goadingly, deliberately vague. It was obvious that she was in over her head. Though her eyes were cold and passionless, her body looked callous, and her fingers, long and pointed, were ruffling the loose curls …… of Serena’s hair! She reminded her of Serena.

An impulse came over him, and he left his seat and sat down on the couch as well, watching Franca with an expectant gaze.

Franca was a little overwhelmed for a moment, and then, in a whirlwind, a new idea came to mind. Okay, let’s show you my charms. “Oh, will you see me?” With that, she scooted her ass toward Max.

Max felt her body next to his, his breath catching with it as his hand slowly moved toward those plump, rounded hips. “Let’s analyze this together and see what your potential is.” They both shuddered in unison as his right hand touched her tight pants. Franca felt a warmth spread from the middle of her thighs throughout her body, and she involuntarily twisted her hips, opening her tightly closed legs slightly. Max found this to be a sign of acquiescence, and his hands wandered from his hips, up to the ethereal nectar.

The two men’s buoyant states of mind infected each other as Max suddenly walked over to the door and briskly unlocked it. Then walked briskly over to the couch, “Let’s get on with it, our genius.” He brushed the jutting biceps through his woolen shirt, holding them carefully, and Franca’s young body was soon, setting off a wave of pleasure.

Her hand stroked the bulge between Max’s legs and slowly unzipped his pants. Let’s see what I can do, she thought as she stroked his already hardening manhood, and soon the top part began to fill with blood, slowly oozing out wisps of clear liquid, and she stuck her tongue out to lick them clean.

Max was in extreme arousal at this point, “Oh, honey, there are so many barriers between us.” He quickly stripped off her tight pants, pulling them down by the legs with both hands, his beautiful, fleshy, white thighs were presented to him, and with his blood pumping Max, leaned down and charged towards the lush, green, grassy, dense field.

“Oh, honey, gently…gently.” The frigid young girl let out a cry that made the man’s passion flare.

Half an hour later, Max rang his pager, “Sally? Book me two tickets to Geneva tomorrow afternoon.

Chapter 3: First intermission

She went to the mirror and admired herself. “Fresh blood,” she said aloud to herself in the mirror. She remembered that unforgettable night in Paris all those years ago ……

Serena looked at her watch again and poured herself a glass of wine as she scrutinized herself in the mirror. She’d spent a long time dressing carefully, she’d soaked in the hot water she’d sprinkled with perfume for a long time and rubbed a lot of moisturizer around her body as she pondered whether or not she should shake his hand. Max’s plane was almost due to arrive by now. She sent Serge to pick him up at the airport in a Rolls Royce limousine. She smiled slightly, imagining the two men meeting. Serge, the typical Scandinavian Germanic, blond, blue-eyed, fair-skinned, and as strong as a bull; Max, dark-skinned and muscular. One of them was a chauffeur, the other a business tycoon, and to her they had only one thing in common, and that was, to be more precise, that she had both of them at the same time.

She walked naked to her closet and admired herself in the mirror. Her breasts were high and firm, her stomach slightly bulging and curvy. She pressed the entirety of her palm against her breasts and touched her nipples, which were hard and quickly perked up.

She picked out an extremely sexy black dress with large openings in the back and front, just enough to cover her breasts and just enough to wrap around her plump ass. She wore no underwear, letting the silky dress rub against her stomach and thighs.

“Fresh blood,” she said aloud to herself in the mirror, remembering that Maddie had said this to her, remembering that unforgettable night in Paris so many years ago. Max had been very gentle at first, gentleman-like, taking care of her as if she were a fragile piece of glassware. How exciting it had been, the way she had acted before him, wild, lustful, wild. Eager to indulge her lust and let it all out.

What a thrill it was, dragging him into a dark place where the air was hot and suffocating, teasing him over and over, riding him, driving him crazy, driving him insane. And while she was always able to regulate herself, she ended up leaving Max drained and exhausted, but she managed to retain the pleasure throughout. He didn’t know, and he wasn’t likely to ever know.

But she was a little confused and uneasy remembering the way he had taken her in his arms and touched her gently, tenderly, calming her down and bringing her together into an orgasm. She felt a little vulnerable, a little unable to control herself, as if he had this tenderness, a secret weapon she hadn’t noticed, cleverly hidden. Afterward, he said those words, which made her leave him …… until now.

“Enough.” She muttered to herself, as she heard the low sound of the Rolls Royce’s motor coming from outside the door, and she took one last look at herself in the glasses again, and realized that she was quite beautiful, and found it fascinating that no one else would be able to resist such beauty. Still, she reminded herself, she had better be careful. Max was a businessman. It was important to get him off his guard, to distract him so that she could pry all the details of what was going on from him, and even, before he knew it, to find out what he was hiding, what he was doing in Geneva this time, and she was sure that Max had something else in mind for this visit.

Impulsively, she went to her dresser and, in a pile of bottles and jars, found a small paper packet of scented powder, a highly potent aphrodisiac derived from Chinese herbs that aroused one’s libido thousands of times over, special protection, she thought.

She darted downstairs to meet him as she pushed open the two doors that were covered, stretched out her arms, and embraced him in a warm hug.

“Max, darling, you’re here after all, I’m so happy to see you.” She said, her voice showing contentment, excitement, as she kissed him lightly on the lips. He felt the touch of her lips, soft and erotic, and an electric jolt ran down his back.

She eagerly signaled for Serge to take the suitcase away, her mind too preoccupied with Max to notice the murderous glint in Serge’s eyes as he left. Serena led Max into the spacious living room, asking about the trip and talking about the weather. He responded absentmindedly, staring directly at Serena, whose intoxicating perfume and white skin always mesmerized him.

“I’d like a drink,” he cracked, his eyes still fixed straight on her as he imagined her lying naked beneath him as he furiously impaled himself on her over and over again. He thought of Paris and his mind flashed back to the scene when they had made love, her sitting on top of him, he could see her belly as she rode him, shaking wildly. …… He felt a little stirring in his belly, blood rushing upwards.

“Scotch?” She asked with a grin, she could feel his puffing desire that filled the room, pounding into her, sweeping over her, and she was secretly a little pleased that she could now control him, manipulate him with ease. However, she was strangely surprised to find that her body was vaguely echoing his desires, the fire slowly rising and burning inside her, searing her delicate skin, and the shuddering lust seemed to rustle against her skin, churning her to the core.

He tried to calm and sober himself, to cast away the lustful thoughts that swirled in his head, but the scene still lingered: Serena meeting him naked, beneath him, embracing her. How could she unleash such incredible sexual allure? Even the simple act of pouring her wine could arouse irresistible lust. He watched as she picked up the bottle and poured out some scotch, she used a silver clip to hold some ice cubes and put them in the drink, and he was mesmerized by one of her graceful and supple movements.

“Where’s Mika?” He asked, coughing softly as he crossed his legs to hide his erect manhood, “I’ve been longing to see him.”

“Mika won’t be joining us for dinner, he asked me to pass on his apologies,” she lied, what Mika had actually said was inappropriate to say, and Mika’s words convinced her further that Mika was becoming more and more passive and reclusive. Maybe Max would have to build a new council to pique his interest a little.

“How is his hand, Serena? He ……” He stopped abruptly, staring into her angry eyes in surprise. Quickly, she lowered her eyelashes to hide her expression.

“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you,” she said, ignoring his question. She handed him his drink and rubbed his arm, sitting down close to him, “It’s often hard to feel lonely here, I’m so glad you decided to come here.”

Her words made him think again, a subtle but clear voice echoed in his head …… come…you come …… over here. “I’ll come over whenever you want, Serena, you know me.” He responded softly.

“As long as I want to, Max?” She echoed softly, looking into his lust-filled eyes. There seemed to be something else hidden there, something she couldn’t accurately tell at once.

“Yes, I’m always available, any time you need me.” He nodded, pulling her hand to his lips as he gently turned over her wrist, kissing where her pulse beat.

“Drink your wine, Max, we should go to dinner. Maddie will storm out if the meal gets stale,” she said as she naturally retracted her hand and got up from her chair to lead him to the dining room.

“Make yourself at home, I’ll get the wine, it’s a very special wine,” she said, feeling his eyes on her as she slipped out of the room and into the kitchen. The wine was already ready as she had ordered beforehand, two clear goblets side by side with the bottle. She pulled out the powerful packet of powder she had hidden in her dress and carefully sprinkled it into the bottle of wine, giving it a gentle shake before turning back to the dining room.

“Here you go, Max,” she said, handing over a glass of wine, “it tastes special, I hope you’ll like it”

He and she were seated at opposite ends of the long, narrow table, the candlelight flickering, the room seeming dark, and he couldn’t take his eyes off Serena, the soft candlelight casting a golden hue over her white face, her dark hair glistening in the candlelight. He drained the wine, trying to stabilize his nerves and control his emotions.

“Serena,” he said, lifting his glass and blessing it, “for us, for Mika, for the good times to come” Geez, what a horrible thing this is, he thought, unable to help but quake. What the hell had this mature, sophisticated woman put in her wine, it tasted too strange to swallow. However, it was the wine she had served him on purpose, so he had to force himself to drink it and still show that he was satisfied and enjoyed it.

“Good times,” she echoed, pretending to take a drink as well, “Well, tell me Max, what brings you to Geneva?” She asked, picking up an oyster and picking out the meat inside.

“I want you, I’m just thinking about you,” he replied, his body trembling a little as he finished, he wanted her now, her demeanor mesmerized him, he imagined her opening that hot, wet portal to him, anxiously awaiting his entry. He could feel desire swimming through his veins like a snake, a rush in his lower abdomen.

“What’s the status of DISC-0,” she said absently, pouring him another glass of wine. She noticed that his eyes were glued to her breasts, as if he could look inside them through her shirt.

“DISC-0? All is well this year, I think,” he said, looking into her eyes. His mind was getting less and less able to focus on the conversation, getting more and more distracted and soulful. All he could think about was touching her, caressing her soft skin, poking into her over and over again. “Serena, you have the most beautiful breasts, the most beautiful skin, they’re so white and longing to be ravished.” He wondered if the words that came out of his mind were loud enough for her to hear.

“I’m talking about D1SC-0 Corporation, is there trouble?” She prodded, a small smile sweeping across her face.

“DISC-0, yes, of course. We can’t fill the losses caused by signing a contract with Mika, we need a new sensation to replace him,” he said absentmindedly he said, “a new sensation,” he repeated, feeling his body getting harder and harder, ” I need ……”

“So why did you come here, Max, if you were looking for another?” She asked softly.

“Actually. The person I need has been found. She flew in on the same plane as me today, and she looks a bit like you, Serena, with slim, pretty hands and slender thighs, and the sight of those legs makes you imagine them wrapped around your waist, clenched tight and swaying slightly ……”

“You led her here, Max? Why?” She choked, looking as if the piece of oyster she’d just had had caught in her throat, and she coughed out as hard as she could. That’s when she felt him come over and stand behind her, gently patting her on the back and bringing the glass to her lips, and she unconsciously swallowed it in one gulp, the oyster meat sliding down, and she felt a rush of heat run through the veins around her body as if she were being burned by wildfire.

“Max,” her words were clear, but her heart was in turmoil, “Max, I ……”

Being in such close proximity to her, his arousal was instantly ignited, and in a trance he barely heard what she said. His hand, patting her bare shoulder. Her skin was as smooth as silk, as white as snow, and highly sexually alluring. He leaned his body forward, placed her glass of wine on the table, and squeezed her shoulders. He gently pressed his mouth to her neck, his lips hard and hot and fiery.

“Serena, I need you now, and I’m not going to let you run away from me again like you did that time in Paris.”

His exhaled breath warmed her skin, and she could feel the hard part of his body behind the chair, and she felt a bit of described chaos instead.

“Max,” she said, dropping her chair over to face him, “why don’t you lead the young lady here?”

He was so completely lost in his lust that he didn’t hear her and didn’t want to listen. He grabbed her shoulders violently and pulled her up from the chair Yu, his body against hers, both hands sliding restlessly and irritably over her throat, her arms, her breasts, and then between her legs.

Her skin grew hot under his touch, and she felt herself relaxing completely, softly sensing him. His hands made her shiver, made her hot, and the hot currents of desire filled and raged through her body. Her breasts swelled as well, her nipples standing straight up, extremely sensitive. This is the aphrodisiac kicking in, she thought, feeling lightheaded.

He rubbed his hands along her silk dress, her breasts prominent under the spread, her nipples slightly bulging, and he slid his hands slowly down to her stomach, her thighs, where her two strands met, and then back up again, back and forth, causing her blood to rush out of her body, and she felt herself expanding and opening up as if inflated, and she was vaguely aware that she was about to lose control. His mouth was warm and wet, and he ran his tongue softly over the outer corridor of her ear, probing, then poking his tongue into her ear.

Suddenly he pressed his mouth hard against hers, his tongue swirling and stabbing in her wet, soft mouth, his teeth touching and swelling her lips. He became rough, kissing her violently over and over again as he dug his tongue between her upper and lower rows of teeth, as if trying to suck something out of her. She felt hot blood rushing through her, her mouth bulging more and more under his press. Her breasts swelled under her shirt, too, bulging high, nipples hard and eager for him to use his mouth. To touch them with his teeth, with his hands. A hot stream of arousal raced out from between her breasts.

She stepped back slightly, breathing heavily. “Max, I ……… She was just about to speak when she was immediately interrupted by Max.

“Go upstairs, Serena,” he said, sealing his mouth around hers to keep her from getting the words out. He deftly pulled her to him and picked her up, his mouth still pressed to hers, then stumbled quickly through the foyer and across the stairs, he accurately touched the door to her room and pushed it open to get inside, he dropped her onto the bed and quickly glanced at the decor of the room: pillows. Vases, flowers …… dressers displaying sexually stimulating implements didn’t quite harmonize with the surrounding furnishings, and his eyes were on fire as he stared at a pair of handcuffs, which dangled, rattling, from the edge of a black lacquered table.

“There’ll be no more Paris this time, Serena, no, you won’t run away again,” he said roughly he said, grabbing note of one of her thin wrists and cuffing it to the bed frame.

She was in a trance, so drunk on his kisses, so drunk on the potency of the drugged wine she’d swallowed, that she was barely aware of how Max had gotten her into the house. She was hot all around, and suddenly the cold handcuffs jammed around her wrists snapped her out of it; she’d used them countless times, on Serge, on others, just never on herself. She used to swing the whip around during sex, cuffing the other man to the bed frame to keep him submissive and tame.

“No, Max, you don’t understand, I never have.”

“Never?” He interjected mockingly, “I’ll have to learn my lesson this time, Serena.” Her other uncuffed hand swung at him, and he easily grabbed it with one hand. He took the heavy steel cuffs and slipped them over her wrists, jamming them tightly on the bed frame again, then sat down beside her smugly.

“This isn’t Paris,” he grunted. His eyes twinkled and wandered, as if he were trying to see through her, see through her. She felt a little heat and tingle run through her body from his gaze. This wasn’t the Max she knew; he seemed to have become strange, menacing. Dangerous. Rude, which was due to the aphrodisiac. She’d only tasted a little while he’d had a couple of large glasses …… His hands were rough, impatient, tearing at the clothes she was wearing, stripping them off with force, exposing her tantalizing breasts, his mouth hot, hungry, biting her nipples violently and frantically, as if trying to suck the blood out of them, and he switched from nipple to nipple, sucking on them until they were raw and sore .

Her wrists were cuffed, and she was meta-fighting, powerless to make him suck slower, softer. His rhythm was violent and unrelenting. She realized helplessly that she had begun to succumb to his intense stimulation, the pounding of his mouth, the meshing of his teeth making her tingle a little. Her breasts engorged and bulged as his mouth buried itself between her two peaks, kissing and licking with abandon. She felt hot, and the stream of lust that made her quake raced through her veins, burning around her from nipple to fingertip. She arched her back and pressed her thighs against his hips, wordlessly longing for him to continue exploring her deeper, demanding that he suck and touch her most sensitive places, but he ignored her, his mind focused entirely on her breasts.

He seemed about to go on like this forever, oblivious to the rest of her body waiting anxiously for him to fill it. He suddenly got up from the bed and stripped off his clothes in one smooth motion, his skin red and hot, his thick, dark, smooth chest hair sexy and seductive. She wanted to lunge at him, but realized her hands were cuffed, and she was a little annoyed, lust mixed with anger.

He realized that she couldn’t wait, she was already wet between her legs, and he rushed to her in a hurry ……

… …

Serena rubbed her bruised and swollen wrists and grunted contentedly. Still shivering slightly from the aftermath of her orgasm, she gradually relaxed …… Max just wouldn’t be satisfied even if he fell asleep, she thought, smiling as she felt his hands would still pounce on her. She quietly slipped out of bed, pulled on her white silk robe, and bent down to pick up the jacket that Max had just thrown on the floor.

She picked up Max’s jacket, crumpled, and she shook it, when suddenly a slim folder fell to the floor. She quickly rummaged through it, plane tickets, passports, traveler’s checks …… and a few densely typed pages with a publicity photo of a girl with red hair and thick eyebrows pinned to it.

She sat down on one of the sofas and flipped through the file, which was a resume of the playing career of a young female violinist named Francesca. The material had been prepared by someone whose initials were E.D. It was detailed and full, and she quickly skimmed through the resume, “…… Roussein International Music Festival …… Recordings for German record companies. ……” Had she heard these records? She wasn’t sure, “…… She doesn’t have a regular mentor ……” She looked at it while thinking about what Max had just said to her and tried to make the connection. Satisfied, she closed the folder and noticed a note on the floor that read.

Confidential copies of personal data

Organized by Eve

Francesca’s life and professional resume looks to be in line with our selection criteria, which means that she possesses an unusual musical talent with a potentially captivating allure. Our primary objective. It was to discover a female artist who could master the wonders of Mika’s conquest of the female audience by exploring the various techniques of Mika’s lesser-known performances, so that her performances could arouse the lust of the male audience. The secret of Mika’s success, Mika’s knack for conquering her audience, cannot now be carefully analyzed. But it is quite possible that under Mika’s tutelage Francesca learned his set of tricks. She was an admirer of Mika, and her style of playing was so influenced by him that she practically idolized him. Currently she thought that Mika was considering coming back to the fold to take on an apprentice, which is why she was willing to enter into negotiations with DISC-O.

She read intently, not realizing that he’d woken up long ago, and Serena was startled when he quietly got out of bed and cupped his cold hand heavily on her shoulder.

“Oh, Max, I thought you were asleep,” she said, jerking her head around to face him, “I was picking up the clothes on the floor, and these pieces of paper slipped out of your jacket,” a defense that sounded untenable to her own ears.

“So, what’s on your mind?” He asked, “I was going to tell you over dinner, but ……” he stopped and shook his head as if to try and clear it, “I’m sorry Serena, I’m a little dizzy, probably from jet lag. I feel faint, is there any water here?”

“Of course I do, Max, I’ll go get you some, just wait a minute.” In the bathroom, Serena kept the faucet running as she looked at herself in the mirror, blushing. Eyes flickering unnaturally, what was wrong, what was this. Was it a thief’s mistake? Damn Max! She got a hold of herself and stabilized herself, then turned around and went back to the bedroom where she saw him lounging on the bed, looking through the papers.

“Water, Max.” She said, handing him a glass.

“Thank you, my throat is so dry it’s on fire” he took the glass and drank it down in one go, “It’s a simple enough solution, the girl does have a lot of talent, if we can convince Mika to take her on as an apprentice for a few weeks she can study with him. Get some training, then we have a way out of our current dilemma” his eyes were as bright and clear as the glass, “come to bed, you’re too far away from me and wearing all those clothes”

She removed her robe and climbed onto the bed next to him as Serena picked up the photograph. The face of the girl in the photo seemed somewhat familiar, though she was sure she had never seen the girl before.

“You brought her to Geneva?” She asked after a moment of silence.

“Yes, I’ve placed her in a country boarding school.” Max replied, taking the picture from her. He straightened the scattered papers and casually placed them on the table next to the bed. “What do you have in mind?” He asked again, gathering her in his arms.

Serena leaned against his firm, warm chest, hesitating to speak her true opinion. His thoughts were so risque, so ridiculously ridiculous, it was unbelievable, it was simply impossible. Mika would not, would never publicize the secret of his success, why he was able to excite his audience and ignite their lust …… How vulgar is that? But perhaps there was some merit to the plan, perhaps this young woman could awaken him from his cold isolation and rekindle his love of music. Sure, he could teach Mika some of the tricks of the trade if she wanted, but would Max be trusted by him?

“I’m sleepy,” she muttered, not answering his question as she rolled over and lay on her other side, grabbing a sheet to cover her, Max turned off the light and lay down beside her, his chest against her back, the small of his back against her ass, his legs intertwined with hers. He reached out with one hand and caressed her breast.

The next morning, she awoke from her slumber, rejuvenated by a good night’s sleep. Max was scrunched up in a ball under the sheets, and all that could be seen was the tip of his protruding nose. She recalled quickly everything that had happened last night, still amazed that the aphrodisiac had been so powerful as to make Max as turned on as he was. She felt her breasts still heavy and swollen, and there was an unaccustomed tingling between them. Slipping out of bed, careful not to wake him, she slipped into her silk robe and walked downstairs to find coffee and Mika, surprised that she was humming with pleasure.

She saw Mika on the balcony, eating breakfast.

“You’re up early, Serena,” he said, scrutinizing her with somewhat puzzled eyes. She looked refreshed, happy, radiant, with a gleam of excitement in her eyes, he hadn’t seen her like this in a long time. Serena’s expression seemed determined, he thought, hoping he was wrong. Once Serena was determined to do something, then there was nothing anyone could do to stop her.

“I went to bed early last night,” she smiled, pouring herself some coffee and picking out a snack, “I was with Max yesterday.”

“Oh, yes, Max. I hope you figure out where he’s coming from so we can deal with him.”

“I already know why he’s here, dear. But I think his proposal sounds quite interesting. In fact his idea still has merit, so can we talk about it?” She said, taking a bite of her snack.

“I told you, Serena, I’m not interested in Max or his so-called plan” he replied coldly.

“Read this,” she said, ignoring the tone of Mika’s voice as she handed Mika the folder she’d taken from Max’s jacket when she’d left the bedroom, “you’ll find it quite interesting.”

He grudgingly took the folder and flipped through it slowly, yawning at his lack of interest. But suddenly he couldn’t help but be drawn to Francesca’s publicity photo all at once. Her fiery hair and thick, shapely eyebrows made her stand out. She seemed familiar, though Mika was sure he had never seen her before, and he searched his memory for some kind of musical imagery …… of Vivaldi’s Autumn Rhythm. He seemed to see a fiery summer in her hair, but her eyes reminded him of a cold, biting winter. If it had been in the past, he would have preferred to compare her to a ripe fall day, when he could enjoy her body as much as he enjoyed the fall harvest. Mika could sense from the pictures that she was vibrant, individual and seductive. Her glittering red hair was like a clump of fragrant autumn flowers, and she looked like gypsophila and chrysanthemums blossoming in the golden autumn sun. She was beautiful to look at and extremely pleasing to the eye. Mika imagined rubbing her firm apple-like breasts with her teeth, rubbing her hands with abandon, scratching her long flowery hair, making her horny and erotic.

Serena watched Mika carefully across the table, she saw that his eyes were a little lost in thought, and from past experience, she judged that he was thinking and intent at the moment. “Isn’t she fascinating?” She asked, “She’s also very talented.”

Mika didn’t hear her, he was still lost in reverie, perhaps it would be better if Verminska’s bushy eyebrows spread a little. The candles flickered, thick white ones in heavy silver candlesticks, and she was dressed in silk. He took her in his arms from behind, and in three swift movements he pulled her dress down to her waist, and he pressed his belly against her torso, his belly slippery and cold in contrast to her rolling, supple buttocks ……

“You needn’t force yourself to express an opinion, my dear. Max has settled her in a boarding school in the village, and I will send Serge to fetch her. You might like to meet her, talk to her, examine her. If you think it’s good, teach her some techniques, like breathing, posture, whatever. You don’t have to think about most of it, but of course, if you’re not happy with her then forget it.” Serena added, then watched Mika’s expression carefully, “Everything is up to you.”

“It’s impossible, Serena,” he thought for a moment categorically he said, but his eyes were still dead set on the picture.

Serena could sense some weakness in Mika’s voice, “It’s not impossible,” she topped him off, “It’s not impossible, and besides, there’s nothing at all to lose for us, so why not take our chances? …

Luck, in fact, had been unconsciously chanced years ago when he was desperately trying to be among the first-rate players, an older woman in the orchestra. A lot of vodka after the last rehearsal before the official performance. A dark room with heavy velvet curtains. Some oddly shaped steel or leather implements were neatly discharged. She put on a record they had played in rehearsal, poured some strong vodka into a tall glass, and she stripped off her clothes and slipped on the heavy handcuffs with a light, crisp movement. At her gesture, he picked up a long leather whip and held it firmly in his hand, feeling stupid and uncomfortable with the way he looked. The vodka in his belly made him sway gently, and it seemed to him that the music melted into his blood, rising and reverberating through his veins, and his guy swelled up and quivered.

The whip in his hand swam across her stomach, her thighs, rubbing against her skin as if it were a bow pulling on the strings of a lyre. Her skin grew red and hot as the tune entered its final movement, the melody growing stronger as the torrent inside him ran blindly and poured out violently, splashing down on her bare breasts. The music faded and he came to his senses, staring in horror at her whipped skin. He dropped to his knees and lifted her face, and he was surprised to find her pale face revealing an expression of extreme arousal.

That very night of the concert, as they played the prelude slowly, he was distracted and absorbed, his mind wandering between the darkness of the velvet curtained cabin and the hot, blinding stage lights, feeling both the smooth wooden surface of the violin and the soft, naked body of the woman. He swung the bow like he was dancing with that whip, frantically confused as to whether he was plucking the strings or playing with her flesh. When the music ended, he almost thought that the strings in his hands had turned into her swollen skin. He was playing from his own life experiences, which instantly pushed him to the very top of the classical music world.

He had thought of disclosing the secret, of how he unleashed his passion from the strings, how he generated high, burning, frenzied desire, but he had not done so.

“Mika?”

He looked over and her eyes were gazing up at him, a smile on the corners of her mouth.

“You agree? She can stay here for a few more days while you think it over. Don’t push yourself, dear.”

But her words were clearly forcing him to agree, and he could sense Serena was adamant. “Serena, tell me, why is this important to you?”

“Because …… because I’m tired of it. Because you’re tired of it.” She shrugged, “It’s going to be dangerous for us to go on like this.”

He let out a loud laugh, “You, Serena? You are not going to get tired of it.” He knew her well enough to sense something in her words, though he couldn’t get an insight into the full truth.

“Well, let’s pretend it’s a joke and we can sign an agreement, Mika?” She absently fiddled with the heavy gold necklace around her neck.

He remembered that the necklace had been given to her by him that night, when he had played Vivard s Four Seasons) so exquisitely that he seemed to be able to see in the music the summer sous of all things, the vibrant spring, the blazing heat …… of the sun, and all because of Serena.

“Very well Serena, just let her come to the villa.” Mika said softly to him.

The other woman could have rejoiced, she had easily achieved her goal and she would have excitedly extended her arms to embrace him.

“That’s great,” Serena said just as gently to him, “I’ll get Serge to pick her up right away and have Maddie get her room ready for her, Max will be thrilled, would you like to meet him?”

“Not yet,” he said flatly, “I am not ready to see him. You keep him happy, and keep him as far away from me as you can; I don’t suppose that will be difficult for you?”

“Not at all, dear.” She smiled and stood up, patting him gently on the shoulder before walking away.

Chapter 4: The Melody of Water

She silently tinkled at him, unvented lust tearing at her, rushing and pulsing between her legs …… She wondered wildly what this tune had to do with the fiery flow of lust that was receding inside her.

“You’ll be happy, Max, that’s exactly what you really intend to do, isn’t it?” Serena sat down at her dressing table and lazily ruffled her hair as she looked at Max in the mirror. “I must admit I’m rather surprised …… but very pleased. We share the same interest in this plan–your novel proposal has–a similar interest.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, sure.” He responded absentmindedly and casually, his eyes fixed on her, admiring her pink arm as it swayed back and forth. Should have it carved in marble, he thought, gazing at her curvaceous elbow.

“Mika wants to see her alone, I think it’s easier for strangers to approach him now, I’m sure you’ll understand. We can eat here, in my room or some other interesting place not far from here, Serge will bring her here later in the afternoon, and you and I will talk about her.”

Max gazed at her in fascination, his eyes traveling over her body.

“Serena, last night …… didn’t hurt you last night, did it?”

She couldn’t help but smile at his words, his voice low and full of concern and warmth. She looked into his direct gaze, her mind intent on avoiding his question, her throat was a little bruised and engorged, the marks left by Serge’s desire to conquer her.

She looked at Max in the mirror. For some inexplicable reason she hadn’t woken him up this morning or sent him back to the room that had been prepared especially for him; instead, inexplicably, after talking to Mika on the balcony, she’d gone to the kitchen, where she’d asked for a plate to take back to her room, and where she’d plucked a rose from down the hall and placed it on his plate.

Suddenly she regretted that she had lost her temper a little, and hastily replied, “Yes, yes, Max, you didn’t hurt me,” and she added immediately afterward, “Now, let’s talk about Francesca, what kind of a person is she? She is ……”

“I’m glad,” he said, in a much lighter tone, “I’m afraid, because, I think …… I think I got a little upside down last night.”

The words sounded very funny and ridiculous. His gaze, his voice was still full of attention. The tray with breakfast rested on his lap, and he looked at her imploringly, as if to encompass her in his gaze.

He couldn’t be that naive. She smiled in the mirror to hide her unease, “Great, fantastic, that was mind-blowingly crazy, Max. Okay, tell me more about Francesca, isn’t that exciting? How did you come up with that brilliant idea?”

“Serena, I just want to talk about you, about us.”

The blood curdled in her veins, but she did her best to restrain herself from letting her desire show, and she raised her hands with the same graceful and generous propriety. She walked toward him, deftly removing the tray from his lap, and she pulled the sheet over his thighs, burrowing herself under it.

He slowly undid her nightgown and tried to remove it, but she blocked his reaching hand with her fingers, then gently rubbed her fingertips against his hand.

“Serena ……”

She gently placed a finger on his lips, signaling him to keep quiet, and he moaned as he sank completely.

Mika had agreed to see her and pick her up from outside. She would be able to stay at the villa for at least half a day. The woman spoke in a soft, husky voice, but spat clearly, a voice that was easy to accept and get used to.

Francesca looked around the smartly appointed house, she hadn’t unpacked the night before so there would be nothing to pack. She dressed quickly, narrow black pants, a thin black sleeveless silk t-shirt with a loose jacket and black leather boots. It was all dressed to please Mika, who she knew always wore black, and this black outfit complimented her pale skin and fiery red hair. She tied her tousled hair and leaned in close to the mirror.

She had large eyes and snow white skin. As she carefully tinted her eyebrows with oil, she felt a little nervous. She hoped to spend some time alone in the village so she could calm her nerves, plus she was going to adapt some music that Mika might be interested in.

The extreme tension made her a little agitated. Eve and Sally, the two star scouts from DISC-O, were still easy to deal with, and she had left an indelible impression on Max, but Mika …… Mika was not like them. And then there was Serena, the brunette. The sexy, sultry woman was inseparable from him. Everyone knew they were longtime lovers …… How did she react to Francesca’s appearance? Jealousy? Suspicious?

She picked up a book and put it down again as she wandered around the window, staring out of sight at the picturesque view. She changed her clothes twice, at first she picked out a white gown, which she quickly took off. Suddenly she felt her legs didn’t look good, so she put on a long, dark purple dress, but it looked too tacky, so she had no choice but to put on the first pick anyway. The eyelid cream might give her color.

She heard a knock on the door and went over to open it, there was a tall blonde strong male in uniform standing in the doorway.

“My name is Serge, I’m your driver,” he said, walking straight into the room without waiting for her to say anything, “Is this your luggage?” Serge pointed to the suitcase on the bed, but his followers eyes were fixed on Francesca’s body. Serge’s thick, tall frame made the room seem smaller, and she wondered what else was hidden beneath the man’s submissive exterior……. She nodded.

“Yes, please, oh no, not that one, I can get my own violin case.” She responded busily.

Sitting in the luxurious and comfortable limousine, she tried to relax herself, trying her best to summon up the courage to drink in her confidence, and even displaying the arrogance of looking down on everything on the scene of a music competition, but she knew in her heart that this could not completely eliminate the uneasiness and nervousness within her heart. She was finally, finally going to meet him, she was going to meet him.

Mika.

Master violinist.

Sensational musical genius.

The mentor she so ardently desired, he would be her master, her guide, her guide, he would teach her how to summon passion and desire from the strings of the lyre.

“Here we are, please follow me.” Serge said. She was so deep in thought that she didn’t notice that the car had stopped long ago and Serge had opened the door for her, waiting for her to come out. She stepped out of the car and looked around, the thick brick walls, the towering towers, the green grass caught her eye at once, and then she saw him.

He stood in the meandering arcade, leaning casually against one of the pillars, a large yellow blur over his shoulder. It was only when she walked up the stairs that she saw it was a cat.

“Miss Francesca,” he greeted politely, out of courtesy, but with no intention of shaking her hand, “Serge, thank you. Maddy has arranged for her to be appointed at the ‘Green Room’.”

His voice was beautiful, a deep, rich baritone, clear and staccato, a penetrating, honey-coated voice that could tempt a saint to sin or lead a sinner to become a morally upright person. Suddenly a kind of pleasure surged out of her, and she wondered wildly if he was aware of the magic of this voice.

His looks were striking, capable of leaving an indelible impression, and from the covers of countless picture books, she had long been familiar with his distinctive face, with its deep-set eyes and thick, seductive lips. His gaze was aggressive, seeming to see through people’s bodies and insight into their minds.

“I think we should hear you play together.” He said, gesturing for her to move inside.

“Okay.” she said, hastily suppressing the surge of emotion as she realized ominously that she must be too conspicuous. She followed him wordlessly into the hall, the heels of her shoes striking the white marble floor with the The heels of her shoes clicked against the white marble floor, and she looked around the hall at the intricately carved Corinthian columns embedded in the walls, the huge chandelier, the small, dainty tables and chairs scattered about, the large bouquets of brightly colored, carefully pruned flower arrangements.

He pushed open the two heavy, carved doors, which were adjacent to the staircase that circled upward, and stepped aside to let her into the room. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a slim figure in white hovering on the stairs, but when she turned her head to look upward, the figure disappeared again.

The room was large, with smooth marble floors scattered with jewel-encrusted Persian rugs, antique glass cabinets holding leather cases, and an intricately constructed set of high-class stereo equipment occupying almost one wall.

He walked over to the stereo and put in a CD. the music started and she shuddered with surprise and unease. it was a Mozart tune she had mastered for a German record label. She fidgeted a little, feeling embarrassed. she peeked at him, and he stood quietly, listening intently to the music while petting the cat, whose eyes were staring fiercely at her.

The Mozart piece calmed her down a little, and she gazed at it with full attention. The solo in the first movement and the scherzo for the orchestra in the second seemed fine. As the music continued, her nerves tensed and her heart rose to her throat. The third movement was about to begin …… The title of the piece was ‘Turkish Palace’, and she could not yet fully express the exotic and oriental mystical flavor of the piece.

“You recorded this last year, didn’t you.”

“Yes,” she replied, pleased to hear her words calm and clear.

He played the record again, and when the song was over, he played it again, and so the hours passed. Finally he opened up, and his words called him a little surprised.

“Come on, let’s eat, we will be dining alone.” He said, bending down and placing the cat on the floor, then gesturing for her to follow him.

“Really …… but I thought maybe Max and ……” She stopped the sentence abruptly, as she saw a fierce light come out of his mesmerizing blue eyes.

She stood silently, then walked out of the room right behind her, their footsteps echoing on the marble floor as she glanced at her watch, surprised to find the hour hand already pointing to eight o’clock. Without realizing that so much had happened, it was as if he could make time irrelevant, that he could lengthen and compress it at will, change it as he pleased.

The dinner was simple but exquisite, an aromatic roast suckling lamb, french fries smeared with butter, a fresh vegetable salad, and fruit and cheese. He was a man of few words, only occasionally commenting on the taste of the wine and handing her a few pieces of bread, and apart from these dinner table courtesies, he ate alone and in silence.

She was disappointed.

Every now and then her eyes looked at his hand, and despite the soft black leather gloves, she could still feel that his fingers were long and slender, as if they had been finely sculpted, and there was no hint that they had been crippled by the injury that had forced him to retire from the music scene prematurely.

He unconsciously fiddled with the heavy silver cutlery, moving with the grace of a violinist fiddling with his bow. He rubbed the mouth of the clear bottle as if it were the smooth surface of a violin, his thumb and forefinger following the curve of the bottle, then poured the wine into a tall glass. The delicate contours of the glass aroused his lust, and he drifted off like a hypnotic drug.

He examined her, and though he wasn’t used to the company of a stranger, he was a little surprised to find that she was a great companion; she wasn’t as sweet and gentle and tame as Serena, but there was something indefinably delightful about her. It could call to mind.

Franca stirred the food on her plate, feeling light and dizzy from the wine she had drunk. A breeze blew and the candlelight wavered, his face even more silhouetted in the candlelight.

He looked at her, and he liked her face, the smooth skin, the unusual sloping eyebrows. She was beautiful, of course, but he’d gotten tired of beauty a long time ago.

He wanted to know about her private life, about the hidden things that were not in the biography that Max had prepared. He also thought about Max and Serena, who must be having dinner elsewhere in the villa by now, the two who had orchestrated his meeting with Franca. After much deliberation, he thought he could forgive Max.

Suddenly, he felt sorry for the redhead in front of him, who had become a tool for so many ambitious people. “They brought you here, Ms. Francesca, you became a tool in their hands, do you understand? We all are, but you are still the victim of a dying once extremely admired man, and Serena will not let this man rest in peace. Does this bother you in a disturbing way?” He said.

For a moment she kind of didn’t believe her ears, but he did say that again. Sacrifice? Dying once extremely worshipped people? It was confusing and puzzling.

“It’s not a bad analogy,” he said, calming him as if he could read her mind, “but I forgot, you don’t know Serena yet, have you ever considered the relationship between teacher and student …… ” he asked, clearly changing the subject.

“Often considered,” she said, trying to remain as composed as he was. “But I sometimes wonder if those teachers of mine aren’t …… aren’t all unusually stupid.” She stared at him provocatively, her face regaining its usual smug look.

She was not a disposable tool, and it was better that way. “It depends on how competent the teacher is,” he explained, not paying attention to her words, “but this competence is not professed, but possessed in itself. The relationship between teacher and student should be one in which the student trusts the teacher from the bottom of his heart, believing that the teacher is experienced, skillful, and has an absolute advantage, a relationship like that between a parent and a child, more intimate than that of a lover.” He looked across the table, his eyes gazing at her, and she couldn’t avoid it, being held firmly in his gaze.

“If,” he broke the silence again after a moment’s pause, “if you are indeed interested in me, I can teach you.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt a little surprised, “But you must understand the nature of the relationship, and you would do well to put away the vice of criticizing people for a while, and obey me absolutely.”

He leaned back in his chair, took a long sip of wine, and wondered if he really intended to teach her or if he was just doing it on a whim to please Serena, and although Franca’s performance of Mozart’s violin piece struck him as a good meeting gift without being too much of a surprise, the beauty of it was that she didn’t have that mysterious, enchanting flavor of the East in her playing. This somewhat disappointed him.

“You read the reviews about my playing,” she said, still not showing any weakness he said, “those critics think my playing is impeccable and a worthy successor to yours. That will interest you, at least a little.”

To her surprise, he laughed out loud, “The critics think?” He teased, deliberately blinking.

“Well, it’s a critic.” She said.

“You are a naive person with an uncut musical talent, you always play according to the sheet music, and I admit that your technique is excellent, but I don’t think that’s the right way to go about music.” Mika nonchalantly he preached.

“Untouched,” she repeated Mika’s words, a little confused, “What do you mean by that?”

“You just stick to the score and play it blindly, without putting your heart and soul into it, grasping it, expressing what the music is all about. True music is hidden in the depths of your soul, it’s a primal drive, or an instinctive impulse, it radiates from there to your heart, your breasts, your belly, it makes you soulful and evocative, and in that moment you become the violin, and the violin becomes you, and the two merge, and that’s the ultimate in music.” He suddenly stopped talking, realizing that to go on would be to reveal the secret of his genius playing.

Had she opened her mouth to speak, even a word, he would have turned away from the house, and had she gone out of the cottage briskly and insolently, he would have wiped her from his memory at once.

But she did not say a word, sitting still, her head bowed, her brow furrowed, and she was lost in deep thought.

Tears glistened in her eyes as she looked up, “You’re talking about the third movement, aren’t you ……” she whispered.

He nodded at her self-awareness, the tears she’d already shed removing his anger. She didn’t seem to realize she was sobbing.

He rose silently from his chair and walked behind her. “Perhaps, an audition,” he said softly he, as if to himself, “why don’t you try …… we can try your instrument and see if it resonates. Put your hands on your chest.”

“What ……” she asked in surprise as she felt his hand on her shoulder.

“Trust me and do what I tell you,” he urged, his tone irrefutable.

He demanded absolute obedience from others, and in his subconscious mind, obedience was uncompromising and there could be no hesitation. She was seething with emotion, and seemed to feel the warmth of her hands in their fine black leather gloves, seemed to feel the hardened piece of his body against her back, and from his body, too, the surging torrent of desire that made him tremble. She was so close to this musical genius, she could smell the intoxicating scent of him, and right then and there, she knew that this man would have a tugging relationship with her, that she would obey him blindly, obey his voice, his hands.

“Okay.” She murmured, placing a hand on her breast, where it was twitching, and she wasn’t surprised at all.

“Very well,” his words were softer, “you must think of your body as a real musical instrument, think of it as a violin, your fingers would be the bow. Every instrument has vibrators and sensors that will make people’s emotions vibrate, the vibrators and sensors on a violin are the strings, think of your nipples as the strings on your body.” She did as he said, rubbing and tweaking her nipples with her hands, they were taut under the black silk costume.

“Okay, that’s it,” Mika said with satisfaction as he spoke, “stroke them up and down, carefully.”

She felt her face heat up and a jolting sensation traveled from her fingers to her breasts. Mika’s hand pressed gently against the back of her neck, then traced her hair.

“Don’t stop until I tell you to stop and then stop again,” he said, “focus all your attention on your body.”

She closed her eyes and rubbed her thumbs up and down her nipples as Mika had instructed her, and gradually she found that a faint, soft eroticism pervaded her, and her nipples bucked and quivered slightly. He stood behind her, shaking her head lightly with his long, slender fingers, and a stirring went through her, as if something heady was touching her, mesmerizing her.

He must have noticed, must have seen her nipples hard and erect, as if they were demonstrating to him, longing for his warmth, his sucking.

He stood silently behind her, his hand pressed against her temple, he could feel it throbbing hard, could feel her surging lust.

“Tell me what you feel.”

“Hot.” She whispered, her body burning around her, seeming to burst into flames, intoxicating lust running through her body, and she knew he was looking at her, his gaze falling on her hands, her breasts.

“Heavier,” he said, “pluck the strings heavier, it’s a pizzicato.” Pizzicato. Her fingers pressed hard against her nipples as if plucking them, and she felt an electric shock sweep through her body, the pleasure radiating from her breasts to her belly and spine.

“Do it again,” he said, moving his hands slowly over her shoulders, “and then do it.”

Her nipples were like two burning embers, hot, sensitive, her breasts heavy, swollen, almost riotous. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair, her head resting gently against his stomach, and without his urging, Franca took the initiative, rubbing and rubbing her fingers over the nipples, which grew harder and swollen. She felt wetness between her legs, and she was gripped firmly by her heightened lust, sinking deeper into a quagmire of desire, curling and writhing in the chair, and she tried to turn around, but her shoulders were held down by his death grip, and she couldn’t move.

“Tell me how you feel.”

“It’s still hot, hot hot hot.” She murmured softly.

“Is it wet?” He asked, the breath coming out of his mouth tickling her ear.

“Yes, wet.” She felt the growing wetness and heat and swelling between her legs, a stream of hot liquid flowing out as her arousal burned hotter and hotter.

“‘Rhythm of the Waters,'” he said softly, “imagine the music striking you and stirring you like a current.” She felt his hand slide down her shoulder and take hold of a beautifully defined, plump breast.

“Be this way,” he said softly, guiding her as she popped and plucked. “Be like this.”

She pressed his hand gratefully, feeling the heady coolness of the leather glove with her heart, savoring the tremor of his breasts in his grip, the pleasure of which enthralled and intoxicated her.

“Now the string is tuned, you pluck it, your body is a speaker, make it vibrate.”

She was mesmerized by the sound of his voice, the flickering candlelight making her drowsy as her hands slowly wandered. Suddenly her breath caught and his gloved hand rubbed her breast violently, sending a shiver of unusual arousal through her body.

“Your hand.” She whispered, feeling his hand probing lightly and warily up her abdomen. Her nerves tensed, her lust fluctuated, ebbing and flowing like a tidal wave, and she became a harp for the moment, plucked and played at his whim. She was even more disoriented, in a trance …… she was rushed by the raging bucket of lust. Carried along, sinking up and down.

“What ……” he asked sharply.

“Riptide.” She subconsciously said as she felt an ineffable, mesmerizing fire of lust consume her body. Her breasts were full and hot, longing to be touched, teased, and sucked. The silk dress was wrapped tightly around her and she felt hot all over. Sweat dripped down her neck, and the air became dull, like a layer of velvet.

“Tell me,” he said, and Franca stirred under his touch, and it made him feel aroused, and he watched her from behind her, and he saw her cheeks wander red, and that it was lust burning, and her breasts stood out plump and prominent as if in anticipation of something. She was so flooded with lust that he was a little surprised. He had merely wanted to test her and see how she reacted, but he hadn’t expected the girl to be so impulsive.

“That’s enough.” He said suddenly, then let go of her and turned away.

“Why is this …… what’s wrong?” She opened her eyes, confused and bewildered.

“Enough, you’ve gone overboard with your senses, you haven’t really grasped the true meaning of Handel’s Rhythm of Water.” He stood with his back to her, gazing intently at the painting on the wall.

She stared at him in silence, unleashed lust tearing at her, rushing and pulsing between her legs, and she heard his words faintly, as if from a distance.

“Well, did you learn anything? You should be able to learn something from the flashbacks.” He said casually.

Gradually, she slowed down, scrutinizing the implications of what he’d just said, doing her best to contain her restlessness and the sense of loss that came from his pulling his hand back. “My body is a violin.” She said slowly.

“What about your hands?”

She knew the answer he expected. It was his hand touching her, plucking her, like a bow, and she was a violin he played.

“The hand is the bow,” she said, deliberately ambiguous. He nodded, clearly satisfied with her answer.

“What about Handel?”

Handel’s Rhyme of the Waters, published in seventeen-forty, might have been composed for a royal trip on the Thames, she thought wildly. What did the tune have to do with the fiery stream of lust that was receding within her?

“Handel’s work is not pretentious.” She replied.

“Okay, I will make the final decision tonight. It’s time for you to go to bed and get a good night’s sleep, you’re staying in the ‘green room’ at the top of the stairs. Call Maddy if you need anything.”

“But I ……” She was about to say something else, but it was too late. Mika was long gone. She wobbled up, holding onto the table to support her body. She felt confused and disorganized inside, the torrent of desire that had just raged through her body was calming down, and she felt exhausted and aroused.

She carefully made her way out of the house into the hall. Touching the railing of the stairs, she held onto it as she slowly made her way up the stairs, her room seemed especially far away, and after a long time, she closed the door of her room with a trembling hand and fell head over heels onto her bed.

“Well?”

Serena’s voice took Mika by surprise, he was pouring his wine and spilled it on the mahogany sideboard in his nervous hands, he hurriedly wiped up the stain and then proceeded to finish pouring the wine. He sighed and reached for another tall wine glass.

“A drink, Serena?” He asked.

“How about some, then, darling?” Her voice rose with anticipation.

He purposely turned his back to her and poured more wine, which was made to a complex scientific recipe with just the right consistency.

She sat down in the fluffy couch, smiled and added, “How was it?”

“Serena,” her name was enough to calm him, and he whispered it again mentally, the sudden agitation he’d felt moments before calming down a little. “Serena …… maybe you’re right.”

“That’s certainly true, my dear. But why are you surprised?” She liked to break the ice.

“She plays a little restrained.” He said thoughtfully, “You can hear she’s a little put out and stuck to the sheet music, but her body responds to the music and you should definitely listen to that CD.”

“I will,” Serena promised, the smile still hanging at the corners of her mouth, “but do you have any plans, any plans at all?”

“Rhyme of the Waters,” he said, finally turning toward her, the wine he’d poured for her in his hand. “What she needs is to be more receptive. No taboos, maybe proper sleep therapy …… Did you have Maddie send her something?”

“Of course,” she said softly, her fingers touching his as she took the glass, “want me to go keep her company?”

“No need, I will.”

“But Mika, you never ……”

“Allow me, Serena, I …… would like to try it tonight, isn’t that what you want? Isn’t it?”

Was it? She took a sip of her drink, scrutinizing him while she considered how to answer him.

She’s asleep. No, technically he wasn’t asleep …… maybe dreaming? She had woken up, she thought, and she saw him approaching her, blonde hair, dressed all in black, but in an instant it all disappeared from view again. This moment… She was naked, naked. She could hear the sound of her nightgown rubbing against her skin as it came off a moment ago, the cool breeze caressing her torso, and she felt her body about to burst open as the silky dress slid up her arms, over her breasts, and the soft ribbons dangled down from her stomach, dangling between her legs, lightly brushing against her jade legs.

There was the sound of music drifting in, and she heard at once that it was Handel’s “Rhythm of the Waters,” with a solemn, beautiful, smooth, and quite infectious melody. The music was so close that it was as if she were sitting in the front row of the audience. Her body swayed slightly, as if she were struggling to steer a boat upstream on the Thames. The river was running. Her reserved, dignified demeanor looked like that of a regal princess in a grand procession on parade. She bent over the cool marble veneer of the tub. She knew that she was naked and could feel the texture of the marble against her skin. Her pink, slippery arms were being held up from either side and wrapped in thin silk rope. If she was really tied up, the ropes that bound her body must have been made of silk, she thought, slightly disoriented. She felt someone tugging at her legs, spreading the two strands apart, and wrapping thick silk ropes around her ankles again. Instinctively she knew the cord must be white. Baring her torso in front of her admirers may have embarrassed her somewhat, but she knew that her skin was as snowy white as the silken ropes, knew that she was as passionate and voluptuous and cheerful and spirited as the current beneath the boat.

He stood back, gasping for breath. She was so slim and slender that she could easily be lifted. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even, and he was sure she would wake up if he lifted her, but for the moment she looked like a heavy sleeper. Thanks to Maddie she had been placed in the ‘Green Room’ which had an en-suite and bathroom that was self-contained. She sank deep into the black marble tub, her pink and white skin glistening like pearls. She spread her arms and legs, resting on the edge of the tub, her long, slender, jade legs spread wide, her fiery red hair tousled and disheveled, she looked like the sacrificial victim he had compared her to earlier in the day, as if she were to be offered up to …… remembered something, and focusing on the music, he unscrewed the faucet, adjusted the temperature of the water, and then picked up the rosette head ……

Oh God, it was awesome, soothing, those jets of hot water wetting her skin, running over her, warming her. The cold marble was a stark contrast to the splashing hot water. What a marvelous shower it was! The heat gushed slowly from the center of her feet to between her toes, then followed the curve of her thighs and rushed to the most secret parts of her body, the water flowing back and forth along this path, stimulating her over and over again, the water flowing slowly and sharply, soothingly and violently …… as if it were harmonizing with a lyre. The Rhyme of the Waters, she thought, longing for the spray coming down to capture the lilting melody, longing to summon the music to the center of her pleasure, but her wrists were bound, her legs could not move. Only her torso moved and undulated with the current. She was like a sea anemone in the ocean, floating and rippling in the waves, she was controlled by the water, wrapped up in it, sinking into the troughs for a moment, then surging up to the peaks a few moments later, splashing in all directions, seemingly in response to the continuous rhythm of the music.

Mika looked at her tense, taut body, could feel the tremors inside her and knew she was reacting.

He carefully placed the rosette underwater and rubbed her slender thighs slowly, longingly. Her knees were bent, rounded, sensitive. He stroked his hand from top to bottom, finally tucking the rosette between her toes.

He turned around and cranked up the volume on the CD with his free hand.

The final notes of the movement are loud and long.

He knew her lust would keep burning, that she would experience the pleasure of orgasm over and over again, that she would even tempt him to tease her, but the record had come to an end, the song had ended. He leaned over the tub ready to remove the rosette when suddenly a tremor ran through his fingertips. Accustomed to the visions that often appeared in his dreams, he ignored the sensation in his fingertips and reached for a large, fluffy white towel. He bent down and gently flicked away the mechanism on the tub that allowed the water to run off, then he waited to the side and watched as the water slowly flowed away. Her skin was reddened by the water and by the burn of her desire, and she was still breathing hard. Her water-soaked hair rose and fell with the water that was flowing up and down. He looked at her, her full, smooth breasts still high and bulging, the tantalizing muscles in her calves still quivering slightly, and he was a little bit out of his mind.

He quickly pushed away the tumultuous thoughts and untied the silk cords around her wrists and ankles, wrapping her in a towel and carrying her back to the bed. She snapped out of her stupor a little, her eyes opening for a moment. She was still confused, though, and couldn’t figure out if she was in a dream. Still awake, the memory of her carnal desires from earlier still lingered in her mind, which was exactly what he wanted. She cricked comfortably under the blanket and quickly fell into sleep.

A cold wind blew the curtains open, and he went to the window and looked out. Thick, dark clouds rolled in, distant peaks were visible in the haze, and more and more clouds were gathering, signaling a storm. Just in time, he thought.

He returned to the bathroom, briskly drying the water on the tub as he pocketed the four lengths of silk rope that had bound Franca, then drew out the CD record and hesitated for a moment. Back in the bedroom again, her chest was pressed against a pillow as if she were embracing her lover. Her fingers, long and graceful, gripped the pillow and leaned against her warm body. Without thinking, he bent down and kissed her cheek, then left the house.

He walked down the stairs and down the hall, the thick carpet suppressing the sound of his footsteps. He hovered in the doorway of Serena’s room and finally left, not ready to deal with her words.

Tell her what?

She had a keen response to music, and this girl, this violinist, who was alluring and lustful, who dwelt on the voice, who was full of carnal desires, she could express all this in music, and what if she knew how to rely on it fully, to depend on it?

He felt restless. The unusual energy, the calmness of mind that had prompted him to enter her room had left him, leaving him tired but restless, irritated but helpless.

Had it been in the past, he would have owned a woman easily, flirting with her at will, his fingers had a magical power to unleash shuddering lust. Subconsciously he flexed his fingers, stretching them out and clenching them into fists. It was nothing more than a simple reflex. He knew that his hands would never recover, never again would they have the magic of old.

The morning air was fresh and fragrant, and last night’s rainstorm had washed away the accumulated dirt of the world. Serena woke up early and returned to her room just as the day was breaking, leaving Max alone and sound asleep. She had only left him twice last night, once to see Francesca’s arrival and once to share a brandy drink with Mika. Curiosity now drove her to quickly put on her robe and go to Mika.

Mika, of course, was still on the balcony, sipping his coffee as Midas crept over the long table in front of him.

“Good morning, dear,” she said, sitting lightly in the seat opposite him, then waving the cat away, “Go away, Midas, you can’t come to the table.” In reply. The big yellow cat opened one eye viciously, and Serena was taken aback.

“Leave it alone, Serena,” Mika said, his face showing his displeasure as he poured some coffee into his own cup, but not for Serena.

The cat and its owner were in a terrible mood right now. Instinct told Serena that she had to stay quiet and leave him a little wiggle room, but Serena was a little impatient, “Mika? What’s going on, honey? What happened?”

At her words, he raised his eyes to hers. “I’m not sure, I tried to play Rhythm of the Waters for her last night, and my fingers were big and clumsy and inflexible, nowhere near your standards, I think. The rhythm of the music was poorly grasped, and the momentum was not accurately formed, but I felt that she was able to empathize with the music.”

She was in ecstasy, now she could go with him, let him do as he pleased. But she knew not to reveal what she was thinking at the moment. “I heard that tune last night, it was late in the night and the storm woke me up.” She said naturally, breaking the silence, “I’ve never really liked Handel’s music.”

“Don’t comfort me, I know it in my heart. But that storm was just too good to be true.” He said, remembering the lightning that cut through the night sky last night.

“It does look good, dear.” Serena said.

She took a large sip of her coffee and let the silence continue again. She picked up a piece of salted meat to tempt Midas, letting the cat deftly and provocatively grab it from her fingers. Finally she broke the silence once more, “So how did she play?”

Mika tapped her black leather-gloved fingers on the tabletop distractedly. “It’s excellent, I think, maybe it’s brilliant, I can’t be sure, Serena, I haven’t made up my mind. Would you like to try?”

“Sure. Rhythm of the Waters, what do you think? Why don’t I ……”

“No, that’s not the right tune,” he interrupted her.

“But we can pursue the theme of the tune,” she said, “and why don’t I take her swimming? I’d like to meet her,”

Their encounter. In the depths of her glassy eyes, he read about their past and saw music. If she had known the unease and apprehension hidden behind his blue eyes, she would have shown even less.

“Yes, yes, I think you need to meet her,” he agreed, “Where’s Max?”

“Probably still asleep, he’s so tired, I think,” she said, in a cozy, sweet tone, “What? Are you going to see him now? That’s wonderful, Mika.”

“Yes,” he said, with a sudden decision, “I’m going to see him, and I’ve been hesitating about it, and I thought how hard it would be …… a friend, you know, an old friend coming all this way, but, well, he brought a girl with him last night ……”

“Franca.” Serena blurted out.

“Yes,” he nodded. “It’s not as hard to deal with as I thought it would be.”

“I’m glad,” she replied, “really glad.”

“How’s Max’s plan working out for her, Serena? How are you thinking about it?”

“We haven’t really discussed that.” Serena ran her fingers over the gold necklace around her neck.

“I know,” Mika said coldly he said, “Max is always interested in you,” he added slowly, “It’s a bit too much of a no-brainer if… …”

“It’s so uncharacteristic, isn’t it?” She said coldly in return, and without waiting for him to say anything, she stood up and walked back into the villa. As she stepped up the stairs, her load of irritation with Mika dissipated again. He’s a little off balance in his mind, she thought. The girl could resonate with music, and that would increase the likelihood of their plan succeeding. She mused, knocking on the door of the ‘green room’.

The door opened quickly, “Oh,” Franca said, looking surprised, clutching the towel draped over her body. This sexy, white woman with a healthy complexion was very different from the repulsive-looking housekeeper, just the kind of woman she’d been waiting for. “You’re ……….”

“I am Serena,” she said, stepping through the door so lightly that any other explanation would have been superfluous and useless. “I welcome you here with all my heart. Did you sleep well?”

Can she sleep well? She looked exhausted, her body as tired as if it had been dislocated. Wisely, Serena didn’t expect Franco to answer anything.

“Mika’s on the balcony, I thought you might be planning to come downstairs to us, maybe take a swim.” Serena surveyed the girl in front of her with sophisticated eyes. She didn’t look exactly like her picture, she looked more attractive, more charming, so it was no wonder Mika was interested. She smiled, a warm, affectionate smile that quickly freed Franca from her constraints and uneasiness.

“Swimming is really nice, but I didn’t bring my bathing suit and I’m a little scared,” replied Franca. With this Mistress Serena in front of her, she seemed friendly and genuine, and her earlier misgivings and concerns melted away.

“I can lend you one, I think, we’re both about the same size. Why don’t you come with me, to my room?” Serena said as she did, before pulling the girl out of the house and down into the foyer, “I live right here, it’s not far at all. I know I’ll have something for you.”

Franca entered Serena’s room, he had never seen such a luxurious and spacious house. A huge bed, a wall covering an entire mirror, large vases filled with flowers …… Her eyes were drawn to the painting in the niche, where a man and a woman were affectionately embracing each other in the midst of extreme exuberance.

“Try this,” Serena said, handing her a small bag still wrapped in cellophane on the outside, “I haven’t worn it yet.”

She took the swimsuit, wanting to thank Serena and prepare to take it back to her room to change into it. But she was struck dumb for a moment as she saw Serena briskly removing her robe, naked, her white skin bathed in the morning sunlight as if gilded with an enchanting gold color. Her breasts were larger and fuller than Franca’s towering ones, her wrists were thin, her hips plump and inviting, the union of her thighs smooth and hairless.

“Try it on and see if it fits.” Serena suggested bluntly, gesturing for Franca to remove the towel from her body.

Their gazes met. Serena’s amber eyes were deep and attractive, seemingly harboring endless wonders. There was a faint fragrance about her that was mesmerizing and intoxicating. Franca let the towel slip off with barely a thought.

Ah yes, Franca is indeed fleshy and seductive, Serena thought. Firm, round breasts, beautiful.

“Your ass is smaller than mine,” she said to Franca, “but it doesn’t matter, just put it on and see.”

It was a pair of black boxers with a narrow crotch just covering her hidden places.

“Just right, I’m glad,” said Serena with pleasant satisfaction; it was a good opportunity to test the violinist’s reactions. “But of course you didn’t think of going swimming. I have some marvelous stuff I bought in Rome that is absolutely good for sensitive skin. You might want to apply a little of it, and I’ll take it for you,” she said, walking to the other room.

“Okay, I don’t ……”

“What?” Serena asked, folding back with a small bottle in her hand, “Lay down on the bed, stretch out your limbs, and try to spread your legs as far apart as you can so I can anoint you with the ointment,” she droned on, pulling Franca to the edge of the bed.

“Good. Now you put your feet on the floor and spread your thighs as far apart as you can, as wide apart as you can, and while I apply the pumping cream, you can lie down and lean back. ‘Stripping’. Isn’t that an indecent, somewhat vulgar word? But it’s widely used. In the East, you know, those Orientals believe that shaving the pubic hair enhances pleasure. It’s actually a very old belief, even reflected on vases in ancient Greece in the fifth century B.C.” Serena chattered on, unabashedly, her words both comforting and confusing Franca.

Franca felt Serena’s hands slowly, gently stroking her inner thighs, stopping now and then to pluck away the stray pubic hairs, then rubbing fragrant ointment into the area, massaging it vigorously.

“This will take away any sting,” Serena said softly. The eucalyptus oil moisturized and soothed her skin, as well as spreading her eroticism in all directions around her comfortably. Her fingers trembled violently, involuntarily, as Serena applied the rest of the oil to Franca.

Franca’s breathing calmed, no longer panting as she had been a moment before, revealing her hardened lust. She was relaxed, no longer agonizingly conceiving of grabbing Serena and letting her stimulate herself with her mouth and tongue, though there were still remnants of searing passion.

“Good. Done,” Serena said as she stood up and took a few steps back to admire her masterpiece.

“Isn’t it more comfortable and easier for someone else to do this for you than to do it yourself?”

“Yes, much easier and more comfortable.” Franca said approvingly, opening her eyes and trying her best to speak in a calm tone, “I’ll be glad to return the pleasure later.”

“We should get down there,” Serena said, “the pool is just over the balcony, and I’m sure you’d like a cup of coffee, too.” She rummaged through her drawers and found a narrow white bikini swimsuit, identical to the one she’d lent Franco, that just barely covered half of her ass suit. Her hands twisted back, ready to unbutton her bra, when she realized Franca’s hands were already there, cool, smooth, tracing down her back.

“Serena, let me, these things are always embarrassing and awkward, oh, I’m undone.” But her hand well had no intention of leaving, she stood behind her, leaning in closer than she had a moment ago, her nipples just brushing Serena’s spine. She moved her hands forward and placed them under Serena’s tantalizing, car-full breasts, slightly adjusting the bra that covered her nipples in a completely unnecessary manner.

What nerve, Serena thought. Her nipples responded, slowly bucking. She was an extremely perceptive and rapidly improving student. Maybe Franca could prove she was just the kind of challenger Mika needed.

Chapter 5: The Water Game

The splash hit her breasts and she threw her head back, the cool water propping up her body. A surge of love juice surged out of her lower body, her nipples straining and shrinking as lust seared her skin.

Serena paused for a moment as she emerged from her room, not quite used to the sun-filled balcony. Letting her eyes get used to the burning, harsh light. Franca followed Serena, stumbling a bit before she could stand still. The slight noise startled Midas, who opened his eyes and meowed, following his eyes as Max and Mika glanced toward the archway.

It was a moving picture. Serena stood motionless, her weight on one leg, half her ass puckered seductively forward, her black hair draped loosely over her shoulders, her eyes half-closed to avoid the sun. Her fine, seductive figure was bathed in sunlight, and her body looked like it was gilded in gold. She was almost naked, with only the white bikini bathing suit covering a bit of her white, smooth body. Her breasts towered under the tight swimsuit and her nipples were strung out in outline, and a little behind her, standing sideways, was Franca, who had nearly fallen a moment ago, one hand still resting lightly on Serena’s shoulder. Her full head of red hair was spread across her back like a tidal wave, glowing like fire in the sunlight.

If they had been wearing more clothes, they would have both looked like a pair of sisters, but now that they were almost naked, the difference between the two became obvious and prominent. Serena was plump and full, while Franca was slender and slim, with a pointed ass and flat belly, while her breasts were high and pointed. Against the white walls of the balcony, the two of them actually looked a little unreal, like daydreams of lustful encounters.

Max looked a little dazed, his mouth was dry and a part of his body started to react by becoming hard. That’s when Mika coughed, breaking the silence.

“Want to join us?” His black-gloved hand lifted in an invitation of sorts, but the expression behind his sunglasses was unreadable.

Serena slithered toward them with a sensuality of womanly grace that perhaps she didn’t realize. She knew she had an irresistible attraction to everyone present. “Of course, my dear, I’m sure Franca would like a cup of coffee as well, hello Max, how did you sleep last night?”

“Very well, Serena.” He answered as casually as he could, still thinking about Serena from yesterday. Yesterday she was so incredible, like a crazy slut, making him feel orgasm after violent orgasm. She was a satisfying Mistress.

“Are you two catching up on old times?” Serena continued, glancing at the table, “Franca, why don’t you sit down and I’ll order some coffee, maybe you’d like iced coffee? It’s so hot it’s kind of screaming, maybe some champagne and orange juice.”

She kept talking, knowing that her voice was captivating and that these two men would be drawn to her. There was a tension between Max and Mika. It wasn’t clear if it was because the two hadn’t seen each other in a long time or if there was a deeper reason.

She could feel Max’s gaze wandering over her body, staring at her breasts one moment, then sliding to her thighs the next. She noticed him darting glances at Franca every now and then as well.

“It was a lovely morning. I convinced Franca to swim with us. Mika, come along piece by piece, will you? We haven’t used this pool in a long time, which is a shame.” She was still chattering away he said. Franca was a little nervous, and from time to time she looked at Mika, who was sipping her tea. Where was Mika? He was leaning his back on his chair and he understood very well the meaning of Serena’s words.

“Ha, Maddie, thank you. What’s to drink, gentlemen? Coffee. Champagne, which is orange juice? Should we mix them together, or drink them separately?” The tray held a tantalizingly fragrant ‘Blue Mountain’ champagne fresh from the cellar, along with freshly baked, charred bread and strong-smelling orange juice, “You’ve got to try it, Maddie bakes it every morning and it tastes wonderful.” Serena politely conceded.

Mika ignored her remark and frowned at him, and Serena glanced at him and looked away again, her fingers casually stroking the heavy gold necklace around her neck.

Franca was curious about this silent exchange between Mika and Serena. As she sipped her coffee, she surreptitiously eyed Mika, the same enigmatic man who had once placed his hands on her breasts the night before. Treating her body like a violin, stroking it back and forth as if he were plucking the strings of a violin, making her respond to him, evocative, dreamlike, and she felt his presence as a huge magnetic field.

Serena noticed Franca’s unblinking gaze at Mika and with a small smile, she stood up and walked around the table, purposely brushing her half-naked ass against Max’s shoulder as she walked past him before stopping behind Mika and resting her hand lightly on his.

“Going for a swim, Franca?” Serena interjected, and Franca leaned back physically, looking up into Serena’s eyes, and she saw a look that removed her doubts.

“Yes, I’d love to go.” She said as she got up to fix her hair, she tied her long hair that was loose around her shoulders into a thick braid.

“Coming with us, Max?” Serena invited him, her hand still resting on Mika’s shoulder. As Max watched Serena’s long fingers still resting on Mika’s strong shoulder, he thought to himself that there must be something between Mika and Serena that no one else could understand. He had never been able to understand their relationship, only that there was none of that sexual jealousy between them. He had often wondered, after that crazy night in Paris, if ……

“Max, go swimming?”

“I’ll be back later, Serena,” he struggled to come back to his senses, “there are a few things I need to discuss with Mika first.”

Franca stood up and walked arm-in-arm with Serena along the steps that stretched from the balcony to the poolside, the thick braid behind her resembling a boa constrictor as it swung back and forth behind her with each step she took. Max watched them both from a distance, again mentally comparing their figures. Though Franca’s body tantalized him as well, it was Serena who mesmerized him more.

“Well, Max?” Mika’s tone was flat.

Max reluctantly withdrew his gaze from the distance, “Here’s the thing, Mika, I’d like to explain something about Franca, really, but first I want to apologize, I know I shouldn’t have asked you ……”

“My hands, I admit, I may be greatly sensitive,” Mika said calmly, looking at his black leather gloved hands despite the heat, “No other explanation is necessary, Serena has discussed your offer with me and I have not made a final decision. “

“But she has potential, don’t you think?” Max argued anxiously, “When I first met her, she reminded me of Serena.”

“Serena?” Mika mused.

“Strange, isn’t it? They have similarities, but of course they’re not exactly alike.” Together, the two men looked toward the edge of the pool, where Franca and Serena were standing on the edge, ready to dive. Their half-naked bodies were composed and graceful, and they were looking forward to the cool turquoise water of the pool embracing them.

“It’s a little hard for me to understand that you think that,” Mika said after a long while, “When I first saw her picture, she was reminding me of someone. Let’s take our time,” he added suddenly, “I need a little more time to think about it.”

“Time?” Max asked, a little confused, “I thought ……”

“You might be willing to stay with them while I make my decision?”

It couldn’t have been a clearer expulsion.

The clear water shone blue in the oval swimming pool bathed in sunlight, which was adjacent to a clay flower garden with purple and red flowers. On the other side of the pool was a well-manicured lawn. Dark green bushes were planted densely around the pool to protect it from prying eyes. Folding lounge chairs are scattered on the tiled floor next to the pool.

Serena skillfully dove in and swam through the water like a shark. Franca hesitated for a moment, estimating the depth of the pool, then followed suit. As they surfaced together, Franca faintly heard Handel’s “Rhythm of the Waters” coming from the balcony.

A tremor of pleasure sent her into a trance, a rush of heat rushing through her veins, and she subconsciously rocked and twisted as if answering the melody of the music that remained in her memory. She rattled the pool water with her fingers as if dancing to the music, the splash hitting her breasts as she threw her head back, the cool water supporting her body. A surge of love juice surged out of her lower body, and she could feel the muscles in her thighs twitching, her nipples tensing and shrinking as lust seared her skin. She let her hands drift slowly across the water, moving slowly around her curvy breasts. She thought of Mika, of his hands flowing over her stomach and down her lower body, and the hot lust that had been aroused swelled through her body.

The music grew louder and louder, the joyous sound of violins rippling through the air. The agitation in her body grew violent as well, the pleasant sensation vibrating through the veins around her body.

Serena propped one elbow casually on the edge of the sink and eyed Franca. She could see that the music was making Franca react, the carnal desires that had once been there seemed to be aroused again, Mika must have had a cloudy affair with her last night, how clever Mika was! How accurately he understood Handel’s music.

The music faded and Franca felt her body stiffen as desire pulsed rhythmically between her legs, like the beating of a powerful and persistent drum. The stream of desire ran high and seemed to engulf her.

Serena glanced toward the balcony, where Mika was standing alone on the steps leading up to it, his eyes on Franca. Serena raised an eyebrow at him, which he knew was Serena’s way of signaling him, and he turned his head away, shrugging.

“Mika? That’s not what I meant.” Serena whispered, but he quickly understood.

The music stank to a halt, and Franca, lost in her desire, was taken aback. She opened her eyes, the sudden quiet feeling oppressive and unbearable as Serena looked at her with sympathy.

Max lazily leaned back in his poolside lounge chair with a dazed look on his face. For a moment, he was sure Franca was about to go into orgasm with the music in the water.

“Franca, let’s get some rest.” Serena’s voice was soft, with the same kind of conviction as Mika’s husky voice. She felt Serena’s hands brushing her hair, undoing the hair ties and letting it fall over her shoulders and back. Serena whispered, her voice calm and soft, and Franca felt the stirring lust inside her settle down.

“It’s always not very smooth at first,” she spoke, “and, besides, it’s been particularly hard for you, because you haven’t yet chosen a suitable tune that would please Mika. But you play the violin very well, and it’s quite a feat to have such a high standard when you have no one to guide you; do you feel better?”

Serena’s warm words somewhat soothed Franca’s frustrated disillusionment, “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Franca replied, remembering Mika’s words, “The body is the violin. I think …… I think I’ll get it.”

“I think you can,” Serena said, an approving look in her eyes, “Let’s go talk to Mika,” she said, getting up out of the water with light ease and heading for the balcony.

As she passed where Max was lying, Max grabbed towards her hand, “Serena, how’s it going?”

She paused for a moment, her fingers still entwined with his, and the memory of them sleeping together made him want to pull her closer to kiss her hair. She pushed him away, but still clung to his hand. “You have to trust me Max,” she said softly him, “I have to go talk to Mika, trust me, it will do you the most good.”

“Serena you must know ……”

“Later, Max, why don’t you go for a short swim?” She let go of his hand and headed toward the balcony.

Serena sat down in her chair and opened the door he said, “Mika, she’s great, her body can memorize music, but we still have to guide her correctly.”

“I told you the wrong tune was chosen.” He pointed out.

“I know,” she mused, “so what do you think of her?”

“I don’t know, my mind has been racing with possibilities, but I can’t even find a composer who would be a good fit for her, Bach is for me, his compositions aren’t suited to being played by a woman, and that’s a real problem, and you know I never used to think that a woman had the ability to be a first class violinist. The violin is a woman and has to be played by a man.”

“Macho!” She blurted out. She knew this view was common among male violinists, “Honey, it’s okay, we’ll figure it out, but we should tell them ……”

“The real situation?” He interrupted her, knowing exactly how her mind worked.

“Not all true, of course,” she replied, a little surprised, “perhaps not even half. But Franca is a little suspicious, and we’ve got to tell them a little something so that we can work better together. It’s up to you, of course.”

“Then you are happy to trust them.”

“Trust them? What a ridiculous idea you have!”

He sighed in relief, “We need the right music,” Mika said slowly.

“You write it,” Serena replied without thinking. Her thoughts had flown away, making a decision was an important first step, the music would be there, and she raised her voice, “Max, Franca, come here, will you?”

Mika was capable of this, he didn’t doubt it, he could feel his brain already starting to work, he was so lost in thought that he forgot even that she existed, not even realizing that Max and Franca had walked out onto the balcony and sat down in the chairs.

Serena poured herself a glass of orange juice and waited for Mika to snap out of her musings.

Finally he shook his head, took off his sunglasses, and looked at Franca, a long approving glance, and then he looked at Serena again. He spread his fingers and began to speak.

“A violinist’s first instrument is his own body. His body must be dynamic, balanced and fluid. The musical sound created must be as smooth and natural as if it had been played on a violin, and this requires him to have a fine sense of perception and a sensitive body. He has to have a great sense of musicality, and during hours of continuous playing, he must not only resist fatigue, but he must also concentrate, and your mind and body must be open and receptive. Some people need to comprehend over and over again, some even use drugs. Serena and I have found a way, one that works very well, to reach the kind of state I just mentioned.”

He was finally willing. Max thought ecstatically, the secret locked behind the door he was about to reveal, he was ready to teach her.

Franca listened to his words in silence, looking at him with all her attention.

“I’ll find something for her to play, something different, and things will clear up as we work together further. For now I suggest you discuss those pesky contractual details.” With that, he stood up and disappeared into the villa.

Serena smiled, her fingers caressing the heavy gold necklace around her neck. Max still looked perplexed; although Mika had given clear hints, he still hadn’t given Franca enough information to instruct her on how to get started, and without Ren asking for a theme, it was still an empty shelf waiting to be hitched.

Serena laughed again, always an improviser, she was in her own way alongside Mika, she was not accustomed to the music of the rules and regulations, in spirit she was more like a gypsy fiddler, inclined to a realm of the unknowable, a kind of improvisation that she appreciated more than anything else, the freshness and the indeterminacy of the style.

Of course, she would only try anything once, but if she liked it, she would also try it again until she succeeded, the only difference between her and Mika was that she didn’t have the specialized skills. She thought as she watched Max and Franca.

Music and sex.

Sex and music.

These two are just two sides of the same coin, both moving in a natural rhythm towards an unstoppable climax, and it should be a blessing that they are connected to each other.

“I’m so glad that Mika decided to explain everything, I have to admit I was a little surprised.” Her voice was a little raspy and Max nodded in agreement.

Wait, a voice in his head reminded him softly, explain everything? Exactly, Mika explained nothing, the violin, the body …… A player is a player, the good ones make money, the crappy ones don t, and the rest are amateurs. In a lifetime you find a star and then expect another one to come along.

Serena could see the question in Max’s eyes, but it didn’t embarrass her, and she craned her head to look at Franca, whose cold gray eyes were watching her.

“We’re not going back in the pool again.” Serena said casually, leaning forward slightly, her hands reaching behind her back and undoing the straps of her bra, her breasts were instantly exposed, two ripe golden haloed breasts with large rose colored nipples.

Their eyes were on her at once. “We can sunbathe, I hate sunbathing or swimming with a tan on my body from wearing a bathing suit. And you, Franca, Maddy will come and clean up here.” She was at ease, not feeling anything at all, and it was clear that she didn’t seem to realize that she had changed the atmosphere of the place, that she brought with her an erotic heat.

Serena lazily stood up, enjoying the intoxicating air. The jarring atmosphere and the hungry lust in Max’s eyes. “Max, bring some champagne and orange juice, will you?”

She walked idly toward the pool; she would have to try Franca’s professionalism again. To broaden Franca’s boundaries, she needed to know what the possible obstacles to Franca’s playing would be. How Franca reacted to a woman’s touch had been confirmed this morning in that scene, but she might always be a little uncomfortable or a little appalled when confronted by a woman.

So what should Mika give him to do? She thought as she sat down in one of the recliners. Maybe he’d be surprised at what she was about to do, but maybe his desire for her would take away some of his insecurities and doubts, and subconsciously he was still attracted to Franca. She let her thoughts flow freely. She let the bikini slip naturally off her body and then lay back comfortably. Her naked torso was fully exposed to their gaze, and most importantly, she reminded herself, was the total dedication of her body that Mika had spoken of, and it would take time to get to that point.

There might be something else involved, she stopped thinking about that. She felt a little hot.

She rolled over, closed her eyes, “Here’s some sunscreen, would you like to put some on my back?”

She wondered who would respond to her request. Whoever it was, it didn’t matter. Then she felt the sunscreen on her fingertips slide over her shoulders, down each spine, and come to a slightly hesitant stop at her hips. She wasn’t sure if this was Max or Franco. She moved slightly to pull the man’s hands down a bit to rest on her groin, but the hands quickly returned to her spine and shoulders.

“All over, please,” she murmured, “I don’t want to give a bad sunburn, oh, that’s much better.” She felt more comfortable with these hands, more sunscreen on them, warm palms rubbing back and forth across her back and hips; these were Max’s hands, and Franco must have been watching.

She parted her legs a little more as she felt the hands continue to slide down, stopping at her thighs, one finger skimming between her groin, “Isn’t it a little too esoteric for Mika to mention having to be all in?” She spoke slowly, as if to herself, “A violinist has to feel the music with his body, to have a high level of comprehension,” she turned slowly to look Max in the eye, “More, please?”

He swallowed hard. Her body was fully exposed to him, full of lust and flesh. It looked so perfect in the blazing August sun. He even saw her pink pussy, and he felt his thing already pushing against his jeans, and he knew Franca was right next to him.

“Max, honey, you’re still dressed,” Serena winks, “you must take it off, you’re mostly dressed.”

He laughed a little, unsure of himself, “Serena, I ……”

“And Franca, why don’t you take off your bathing suit? You’re going to get a tan on you soon.” Serena’s voice was a little hoarse.

“Physical input,” Franca muttered to herself, eyes on Serena, “I think maybe ……”

“No, it’s not something to think about,” Serena admonished, “it’s for later, just commit now.” She rose from the recliner and stood in front of Franca, reaching behind her and loosening Franca’s bikini bra. They were so close that each other’s nipples almost touched one another, and Serena’s hands traveled down Franca’s hips, finding the straps of her taut bikini swim trunks and undoing them, Franca’s bathing suit slipping down to her ankles at once. Franca took a step outward, but Serena held her down for a moment, “Max, pass me the sunscreen.” She said, not turning around.

“Serena, I …….”

“Max, sunscreen,” she said again, holding out her hand. Without a word, he put the sunscreen into her open hand.

Serena stroked Franca’s shoulder in a gentle rhythm, one spot of skin on her jaw looking red from the long hours of playing the violin, and she took extra care to pause there for a moment longer before running it down her arm, applying the grease to her first finger, where she could feel the beat of Franca’s pulse.

She moved her hands to Franca’s breasts and slid them back up to her belly button, touching her firm nipples.

With great patience she coated every inch of Franca’s body, except for her firm nipples and the sexy pink center that loomed beneath her pubic hair.

Franca’s whole being was immersed in Serena’s touch, responding to it, and she could feel that she was already a little damp, that she was quivering in that place, and that her nipples were feeling a warm, inexorable jolt of electricity.

“Structure and balance.” Serena murmured softly, feeling the muscles in Franca’s inner thighs tense and begin to quiver ever so slightly.

Franca was engulfed in lust, “Structure and balance.” She repeated, feeling the smudged, pumped hand roam her torso, a hot rush scattering to her belly.

“The soprano, you understand, has to be in tune,” Serena said softly, “thinking of a Bach tune.”

“Bach’s piece,” Franca repeated absentmindedly, trying desperately to concentrate and control her heightened lust. Her nipples were swelling and hardening, as if begging to be sucked by mouth and teeth. Her body stretched and expanded as if to match the caress of Serena’s fingers, which were gently rubbing along the curve of her thighs.

“Max? You paint her back.”

“Serena! Serena, I ……”

“Max, I need you to help me.” Her voice was soft, seductive, and almost impossible to push back.

He came back to his senses, but was still confused, and he walked over to them, his mind spinning violently as he tried to figure out Serena’s mysterious understanding of the Bach piece. Franca’s and Serena’s sensual bodies tantalized him, and he thought about how he could play with the fascinating flesh. Lust burned up and raced through him with reckless abandon.

He stood behind Franca, over her shoulder, and looked straight into Serena’s eyes. There was a fiery, feral gleam in her amber eyes as he held out his hand and Serena poured some sunscreen into his palm, then placed his hands on Franca’s shoulders while Serena stood facing Franca. Together, Max and Serena’s hands stroked rhythmically over Franca’s warm body, and he could smell a tantalizing perfume on her.

Lost in Serena’s silent gaze, Max slid his hand up and down Franca’s greased back while he almost felt Serena’s hand roam over her breasts. It was Franca’s long, lean, fleshy body that barred them.

She was wrapped up in a quivering desire, her shoulders and spine belonged to these men’s hands, while her breasts were owned by this woman with a pair of sensitive, slender fingers. Reluctantly she arched her hips, she could feel this man’s hardness, she twisted her hips again, she could feel this woman’s warm wet lips, it was like a heady symphony of lust.

Her belly was rocking fiercely, she felt the place throbbing as well, her heart trembling, she had lost herself, her whole body filled with lust.

“Max, honey, you’re still dressed.” Serena said softly.

Serena leaned forward slightly, over Franca’s lean shoulders, her tongue licking her lips. Max wasted no time in meeting them, kissing her on the lips, his hands unconsciously gripping Franca’s waist.

His tongue explored her mouth, first her lower lip, then sought out her teeth, and his hands were not idle, rubbing against Franca’s hips as he lifted one arm and wrapped it around Serena’s neck in a stronger kiss. Franca willingly leaned forward again as well, her breasts pressing against Serena’s. Franca’s smooth, sunscreen-coated back pressed against his chest. Max kissed Serena forcefully, and he forced Serena to open her mouth wide to meet his further intrusion as he continued to delve deeper with his tongue, stirring and twitching in Serena’s mouth as if he were using his second sharp arrow.

As he removed his mouth he felt the blood rush through his body to his ears. A loud noise boomed in his ears, he was too hard now, he no longer had any other thought than to take out his lust by ramming his body against it.

Caught between their two baking bodies, Flambu felt a burst of heat surge through her, and she shuddered, burned, and screamed herself.

“Max, you’re still dressed.” Serena laughed as she tenderly released Franca from their encirclement, and she led her to the grassy area by the pool, where Franca followed her, lying down together on the tender green lawn. She felt Serena’s hands caressing her knees and subconsciously spread her legs wider. Serena lay beside her, one hand on her breast.

Max hesitated for a moment, then stripped himself naked and stood naked in front of the two women. He knew he had never been so hard, like an animal in heat looking for a mate. Serena smiled and gestured for him to lie down with his back to Franca. He was still reminiscing about the scene where they had just kissed across a warm body of flesh.

The grass gave way to a gentle sun and a fragrance of grass and earth, and Franca closed her eyes, concentrating on the joy the pair around her brought her. Her whole body was stretched and relaxed, exposed to the sun and air, and soon she knew another shock would surround her.

“I can feel a lust,” Serena gasped, her amber eyes meeting Max’s fiery gaze. She gently stroked Franca’s nipple with her index finger and felt her quiver.

Franca moaned as she felt one finger tweak her nipple gently, a jolt of electricity coursing through her body, and she almost choked when another hand rested on her other nipple. This different hand bounced on her nipple, two smooth bodies squeezing her, rubbing against her skin, and she felt her arousal grow even more intense, even more uncontrollable.

She was almost melting from the heat inside her, craving teeth and tongue, longing for a man to push her to orgasm, to make her one with the earth.

“The slow burn, Franca,” Serena whispered, “is now the slow burn.”

Slowly, incredibly slowly. Anticipating, barely daring to breathe, she felt two fingers move away from her breasts and slide casually down to the small of her back. At the same time, there were two moist lips kissing both her nipples.

She couldn’t stand it any longer. She pleaded, “Hurry up and finish, Serena.” She gasped sharply, barely able to speak anymore.

“Slow boarding.” Serena insisted.

The warm tongue roamed over her breasts, wetting her nipples, and she unconsciously pushed upward, praying for more sucking to draw out the heat she couldn’t dissipate inside her. She suddenly felt her left tit being sucked by two lips, while the right one was still being softly licked by one tongue.

It was a sharp contrast, firm on one side, soft on the other, the man’s mouth full of desire and greed, sucking on her nipple with tongue and teeth, full of power and lust, while the woman’s tongue was gentle and lazy, tingling all over. The stark contrast stimulated her, sending her into paroxysms of shivers. She was completely lost, teetering on the edge of lust, unable to stop herself.

Surrounded by such intense stimulation, hard and soft, weak and strong. With only a little consciousness left, she murmured and whispered, “Improvisation.” Serena smiled, a smile full of surprise. Yes, improvisation, she’d connected that to her playing. They hadn’t been wrong about this girl.

She suddenly broke away from his hand and searched …… for it with her index finger. His hand followed her, sliding up to her waist, while her fingers had long been exploring the hidden sensual center.

Franca’s head couldn’t help bobbing again, she had felt Serena’s fingers stroking her ……

This was what she’d been waiting for. Max was so not a thing, of course what she needed was a man, she needed a man to possess her, to penetrate her and bring her to orgasm with her sharp arrows. Though Max wasn’t the man she wanted, she wanted Mika, only Mika could send her into a blind euphoric frenzy, but this woman was different, she was a part of Mika, she was too sweet, too gentle, her fingers felt like Franca’s own as they skillfully swam up and down her body.

She was lost in her own thoughts as Serena’s fingers brought her a rush of pleasure, and she kept shaking and vibrating as if she were singing on the strings of her violin bow. Serena’s fingers were as clever and deft as her bow, and her body was extremely relaxed and stretched. Her eyes were closed as she enjoyed the infinite pleasure. She felt her body turn into a violin, and Serena’s fingers were like the bow, but for some reason, the orgasmic music was delayed. Suddenly Serena lifted her fingers again, which angered her a little, for her lust had not yet burned out, and she was still looking forward to it, to an orgasm. She suddenly remembered her first lessons as a child, when she plucked at the strings with her fingers. Her hands caressed her body as if she were caressing her beloved violin, and she thought back to the music she had played as her hands traveled over her body. She found the place she was looking for and she strummed it gently. She knew there were eyes looking at her, scrutinizing her, needing her. She continued, unconcerned.

Serena’s body left Franca as she realized a new movement had begun.

Serge hid in the bushes around the pool and watched it all from a distance with angry lust in his eyes. He wanted her so badly, and she had no right to do this. He’d felt a change in Serena ever since Max had called that afternoon, and he remembered that afternoon, when he was pulling out all the stops to please her and she’d seduced him with her amber eyes, making him tease her deeper and more intensely, turning her on.

He imagined her greeting Max in a bare-breasted black dress. He remembered her dismissing him with a casual wave of her hand, oblivious to his rising arousal, thinking she would come back to him, would leave this stranger, would join him in the pleasures of the flesh.

They had never shared pleasure with a woman, ever. As he watched them, he heard Serena’s laughter ripple. He was seared violently by an angry lust that he couldn’t stand.

She laughed again, a lascivious laugh, and Serge felt a shiver run through him as he realized he had finally given vent.

Chapter 6: Variations

Composition is not a pipe dream, it requires music and an organ to accomplish it, just as a woman must have a man to have an orgasm.

Mika was alone in her studio, pacing back and forth, her mind searching for remembered music as Serena became both familiar and unfamiliar in her mind. Max’s fiery gaze followed Serena’s every movement, and the hunger that Franca felt when she looked at his hands was all in Mika’s mind.

All this because of this girl? Because of Franca’s arrival? He’d forced himself to call her by her first name, as he remembered Serena had forced him to do, she’d forced him to accept Franca. Max had seen the similarities between the two women.

She was beautiful, with fiery hair and a distinctive black eyebrow. She was, he had to admit, a somewhat competitive violinist. Indeed, as she herself claimed, she had become very skillful, but her playing lacked a passion. A violin meant everything to its player: a friend, a lover. Mistress, partner, and child. But you can’t chain yourself to an instrument, it’s not enough. With that in mind, he opened a cupboard and took out one of his most beloved violins, made by Stradivarius in his later years; how old was he when he created this youthful being? he thought, opening the case and carefully lifting the velvet covering the top of the violin; the craftsman was probably ninety years old then, or older. The fiddle was like a young dream, full of passion and ardent hope, accepting all innocent trust.

Write it yourself, Serena had said. Serena’s words echoed in his ears from time to time as he gently stroked the instrument and returned it to its stand fondly. Completely unconsciously, he put his hands on the other two instruments that lay to the side, caressing them.

But he had no idea how to begin, and he lied to Serena, to whom he had never lied before. He knew that no one could compare to Bach, and that it would not be easy enough to play Bach’s compositions well. Composition wasn’t a fantasy, it took music and an organ to accomplish it, just as a woman had to have a man in order to have an orgasm.

His feet stopped in front of the violin of the Greys, which he remembered he had used in Rome, to play Bach’s compositions. The violin was like a capricious young woman with incredible penetrating power. It was more complex than the Stradivarius, more in need of care and attention, and you had to play it with all your heart.

Next to it sits the ‘Golden Age’, which the luthier was in his seventies when he made it. This fiddle is a proud creature, it needs perfect playing and perfect music. It responds to the slightest touch. If you love her with all your heart and soul, she may love you all night long, and she will give you great patience and will help you succeed.

They are all Serena and, like Serena, ‘they’ are secluded but their hearts are tumultuous. ‘They’ wish to be on the stage, in their own perfection, to receive the admiration and admiration of the crowd.

I must write, write a Song of Serena, can he make her into music? Could he express her passion and exuberance in music? If he could, it would be his ultimate possession of her and the best form of expression of their relationship, and it would be played by the girl with the red hair and gray eyes. She was the first girl since the accident that had piqued his interest a little, and he felt that the relationship was unnatural, but interesting.

He would start with his first impressions of Serena, her warm, slightly raspy laugh that tingled his ears and nerves, and he would write about her fur, her smile, her dark night hair and her amber eyes.

He’s going to write six movements, he suddenly decides, six climaxes, doubling up on Bach. He was going to portray his Serena in six movements. Each movement depicts a different Serena, and each movement will set off a climax, a culmination. And each movement will be played by a different violin.

In a concert, it is an incredible thing to change instruments in the middle of a concert, if not for technical reasons such as a string suddenly breaking. Each violin has its own character, and to her owner she is a lover, in tacit agreement with each other. But he was going to use his six most beloved violins, the six violins he had long idled away, to express his Serena, and he was going to use six violins, six crescendos, to show the six sides of Serena.

She never moaned when her passion was high; she never screamed when her orgasm came. From that, he knew she was different from other women. How did she manage to do this? Did she still find a way to forget in the midst of her frenzy, or did she release her lust through self-regulation at that final moment?

It was a sensitive no-go area for both of them, and they had decided long ago that they didn’t want to jeopardize their relationship by having sex. He had never regretted it, and he knew that she belonged to him even without going to physically possess her.

But now, he was going to create six movements for her, six climaxes, and he knew that as soon as he finished the piece, she would be his forever, and the thought invigorated him, and he would record the closeness between the two of them in music.

But can Franca’s playing fully express all this? Can she express the lust-filled passion that he will express in his music? Can she express that sensual pleasure? Can Franca translate the physical reality of a woman’s performance of a theme about another woman into music?

He sat down at the table, a little refreshed. He sat down at the table, his spirit a little glowing.

A rushing torrent surged through her, writhing from the extreme excitement, she kept twisting her body, her eyes closed as she screamed in pleasure, Mika’s blue eyes floating in front of her eyes as she finally reached her climax.

But as that heat inside her dissipated, she came back to reality with a mixture of fatigue and joy, and she saw a cloudless sky.

It’s the sky, not Mika’s eyes.

But it was the kind of blue she had seen, and the kind she longed to see, needed to see …… These blue eyes haunted her. He was her master, her mentor, her everything. This enigmatic, black-gloved man had roused her lust, and even when he wasn’t there, she was burning with desire for him

Feeling a wave of dizziness, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes wide. Beside her, out of reach, were Max and Serena. Serena was riding gracefully up and down on Max’s body as Franca stood up in a daze and left the world of carnal desire that pervaded her and headed for the villa.

She absentmindedly picked up her bikini at the edge of the pool, still reeling from what she had just seen. She didn’t know if she’d done what Serena had wanted her to do with her input, and it was Mika’s blue eyes that helped her.

She had understood a little bit about what Mika had mentioned about using her body as a violin. Suddenly, there was only one thought in her mind, go see Mika! Melt him with her passion, let her lust ignite him.

She accepted the thought calmly, it was natural, she didn’t need to find a thousand reasons because it wasn’t true, she just wanted him.

The balcony was empty, the table was cleared, and only the yellow cat was left lazily basking in the sun. She bent down and stroked it affectionately, expecting the cat to do to her what it had done to Mika, but the cat just meowed and ignored her. She sulked at the rejection.

She wondered if she should put her bikini on and looked in, the halls were empty. She walked barefoot on the marble floor and up the stairs, stopping as she passed the music composition room.

She guessed he must be here right now, probably rummaging through a stack of sheet music, having promised to find something for her to play, a tune that stood out from the rest. He must have had his reasons for doing so. Not to associate him with the woman, simply because the woman wasn’t here at the moment. It seemed a little strange that she could be alone with her thoughts about him. She stood there naked, hesitating …… she wanted him.

Her palms were damp; did she have the guts to just push the door open, slip inside, and walk up to him? He had said for her to listen to Serena, and he must have known that Serena would guide her, step by step, from slow burn to climax.

Instinct sent her back to her room and, alone, she stood in front of the mirror, examining herself. Her skin was smooth and glistening from the pumping cream she had applied, her fiery red hair was cascading down her back, and her body was still reeling from the euphoria of her orgasm. Out of curiosity, she pressed her hands against her breasts and watched as her nipples quickly hardened, as he would see. The pointed nipples gradually went from pink to red, as if they were expecting a kiss from him, he had never seen her naked before, he had only touched her through her dress. If it was now, he would feel her warm white skin and hard nipples.

Her fingers were the bow, gently touching the strings — the nipples. She was eager to touch her pussy with her fingers again, and a shudder went right through her cunt. Her hand went slowly deeper, thinking of his words and of Serena’s teachings.

“The slow board.”

She seemed weary as she slowly tweaked her nipples with her fingers, watching the ring of halos around her nipples gradually fill with blood as she felt her ass gently swaying to a vague melody. This was what he wanted to see, and his hand would be willing to linger.

The music crescendoed and filled her mind, swirling between her legs as she let her hand slowly slide down to the small of her back and restlessly continued to explore ……. She pictured him in her mind, imagined those hands in black leather gloves, those cold fingers encountering a burgeoning pile of lust. She thrilled herself with this visualization.

Suddenly she felt less like a violin and more like a symphony orchestra, stringed instruments. Brass instruments. Percussion instruments playing in unison, her body pulsing like a snare drum pounding away. She closed her eyes and imagined that Mika was watching her, watching the graceful performance of her hands. Her body was playing in harmony like a symphony, and she wanted him to end the performance. She needed his hard tool to fill her, needed his powerful mouth already to guide her, to taste her, to suck her to an orgasm, and she felt those blue eyes staring at her.

He was exhausted. He propped one arm on the ground and twisted his head to look at her, her pale skin flushed from the sex she had just had, her black hair strewn in the grass. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing evenly. I don’t know if she was asleep or daydreaming. He surveyed her, her high breasts, the rose-colored nipples that had just been in his mouth, her nude body with its soft curves that had ridden him, swaying. But all had returned to peace.

He continued to ogle her, his gaze lingering on her ass and spread thighs. He couldn’t understand how this woman, who belonged in silken sheets and enchanting candlelight, could seem so at peace on this August lawn.

He’d wanted her since the first moment he’d seen her, since that night in Paris all those years ago, and his lust had always burned for her. Now, at last, he had once again taken possession of the creature who smelled of enchantment, his dream had come true.

No, not possessed, much less repossessed. He had to recognize the fact that it was she who had conquered him, who had made him relish every bit of his obsession with her, who had made him climb over one fresh, intolerable peak after another. She was the one who controlled everything, yet took it easy.

He wanted to bind her in chains, to give her glory, to take her to a secret unknown place, away from the greedy eyes of other men, to enjoy her superbness, her beauty …… alone He wanted to have her.

He had thought that perhaps one day, once they met again, he would possess her, ravage her, make her scream and cry out in rage to vent his long pent-up lust. Then he would no longer need her. But he was wrong, and the feeling that he wanted to possess her completely grew deeper and more urgent. He wanted to hear her laugh, see her smile, hear her talk. He wanted more than just sex with her, he wanted to wake up every morning and see her and kiss her. He wanted to wake up early in the morning to hear her read aloud from the morning paper. He wanted all the things lovers usually prayed for between them, and Serena would have nothing but disdain for them. Was he in love with her?

Still lost in his own thoughts, he was recalling every orgy, every sexual encounter with Serena since his arrival. Finally, he thought of this one, the most erotically arousing of all, but strangely enough, Franca deepened his realization that Serena was not a replacement, that she was a phantom.

Subconsciously, he felt Serena looking at him with wide eyes. Not wanting to give away his thoughts, he said nothing but kissed her lightly on the lips and he felt Serena smile.

“Ha, this is great Max,” she stretched and relaxed herself, “Mika will be happy.”

A kind of manly pride and jealousy made him ask rhetorically, “What does Mika have to do with all this?” He made his tone as calm as possible.

“Max, dear, aren’t you listening to me? You did it perfectly, very agreeably, and I think …… you are serious?”

“What does Mika have to do with either of us?” He persisted.

“The two of us?” She repeated in surprise, “Nothing, it’s the three of us, Franca learned a lot today, it’s just the beginning, she’ll learn more, I think she’s doing well, don’t you?”

He was stunned by her words and didn’t know what to say, he realized he could only agree with her unless he wanted to betray himself, but then again he felt very woozy. “Yes, yes, of course, Serena, it’s good, really good.”

A little surprised to hear his answer, she sat up, casually fiddling with the grass around her. She could sense he was a bit nervous and couldn’t hide his inner excitement.

Looking at that look, she was intent on teasing him.

“Like I said, you were good, but a little too bland, and I’d love to do it again, how about some sophisticated play?” There was temptation and taunting in her eyes.

He knew it was a tease, a seduction, like her lust-filled amber eyes.

She was inciting him, he realized that, for an ulterior motive. Though, he was almost in love with her, he wasn’t stupid yet. This was merely a physical struggle, he needed to understand her, he needed to win with his wits, to make her want him, forever …… How to do that? He needed time.

“After a while.” He said.

“See you in a few?” Her tone contained mockery, and her eyes flashed dangerously

“Yes, later.” He repeated firmly, “I’m so hot ……” he kissed the tip of her nose as he spoke, “and sweaty, I want to take a shower, then lunch, and I want to ask you to show me around the villa, then ……” his eyes, his mouth close to her face, “I’m going to make you die a quick death, my sweet.”

The atmosphere was tense for a moment and he could tell she was about to lose her temper, “I didn’t realize the house would be so big,” he added casually, “How old is it? What does it lead to there?” He asked, pointing to a path by the pool. He used to be interested in architecture, “Built in the sixteenth century?” He said as he looked for his clothes.

“You’ve got to be kidding, right?” She retorted.

He suddenly wondered if he had chosen the wrong topic.

“Don’t you see all the brickwork and arches? The original main part was built in the sixteenth century, but it wasn’t fully completed until the 1920s, and it’s a nightmare that it took that much labor and effort. The whole hall was transported from some palace in Venice.”

Relieved to hear her ramble on, he stopped listening to what she had to say and just busied himself with his jeans.

“The gardens are very beautiful, quite Victorian, with a special herb garden for the kitchen and a rose garden with a stream bisecting the whole cottage area. We can have lunch in the rose garden if you like.” She invited, her anger having subsided.

She realized that she had been unwise to taunt Max. He was cooperating well, and she shouldn’t be picking on him too much in an area where she had the clear upper hand; perhaps, they would need him in the future.

She stood up, sliding her body through Max’s arms and swept him towards the villa.

An hour later, Max had washed up and changed into a comfortable set of designer clothes. He had his confidence back. He filtered everything that had happened in the morning through his mind and made sense of it. What was Mika trying to teach Franco? As he pondered, he remembered that Serena had been seemingly facetious with Franca on the lawn. They had lain together, exchanging certain moods and giving vent to their lusts. They were trying to teach Franca to treat the violin like a lover. He did not seem satisfied with this conclusion of his. Was it possible to have perfect playing in this way? He doubted it.

There had to be something else in it, and whatever it was, it wasn’t cutting it. Mika was desperate to find the right tune for Franca to play, and he would help her find the right tune, just as he had found Bach for himself. Now all he had to do was a contract signed in Franca’s name. He had already called Sally and asked her to telex a draft of the contract.

London, capital of United Kingdom

Sally leaned her back into the wide black leather chair, her legs crossed and resting on the edge of the table. Eve watched her patiently from the other side of the table with a hint of mischief in her eyes. In the distance, a wall-sized television screen showed a man playing the piano. He was young, no more than twenty, long and lean, with high cheekbones and a lock of brown hair artfully tucked over his forehead. His hands glided gracefully over the keyboard, light, deft, and suddenly the sound was turned off.

“He’s cute, isn’t he? Eve said, “He’s one of the most promising people I’ve ever met, and here’s his resume.” She took out a stack of papers and gracefully clipped them over with her slender fingers.

“Yeah?” Sally said absentmindedly he said, looking for her cigarettes. She had started smoking again since Max had left, though she hated that.

“I think you ought to meet him, Sally,” Eve persisted; “he’s young, and full of life, like so many lads. At present he is playing the piano in a furniture department; perhaps, I could bring him here?” “Eve, are you joking? Letting everyone see him? He’s still a nobody, but bring him here, the intention is obvious.”

“It’s just a joke, a joke.” A wry smile appeared at the corner of Eve’s mouth.

Nikolai was the third pianist she had found. When she went to hear him play, she often felt a tingle in the small of her back that made her hair tingle with excitement. She wasn’t sure if the excitement came from her discovery of him, which would henceforth lead to a new beginning in her career, or because of his playing. Because of that, she needed Sally to help her judge. She had to admit that Sally was experienced and skilled in this area.

It wouldn’t be terribly difficult to get Sally on board with her, she could use Max and just say that they should find another replacement once his partnership with Franco fell through.

But she needed time. She needed time to get to know the whole DSIC-O company, time to judge the details, time to stray from Sally and Max’s relationship. And she also needed time to find a new star to help her, but not a violinist, she didn’t want to compete with DSIC-O, she wanted to find another way.

“You know, Eve, I’m not sure about this.” Sally’s words interrupted Eve’s thoughts, “We haven’t thought hard enough about Max and what to do if he and Mika fail to work together. The possibility is there, and I’m glad for us that we did, but I’m not sure.”

Eve flashed a smile, Sally was still unaware of her true intentions, let alone the mesmerizing spell she had already laid around her, “It’s all in you,” Eve said naturally as she got up and walked around the table, “look at those hands of his, at the way he gestures when he plays on the keys. ” she coaxed her, “you don’t need your ears, you can feel Beethoven’s compositions just by looking at his hands.”

She also naturally put her hand on Sari’s arm and stroked it back and forth. She felt Sari shudder involuntarily, she was now able to skillfully make react to her touch. Even a casual, affectionate touch could make Sari’s skin heat up and her nipples rise.

“I appreciate your opinion,” Eve continued, “don’t you?” Sally repeated in disbelief.

“Going to see Nikolai,” Eve reminded him, quickly coming back into the spirit of things, “we can meet him at Max’s house, and that’s work?”

“Okay, Eve,” she was powerless to say anything else under her kisses, “okay.”

Eve stood up with a sense of satisfaction. The experience of her mouth on Sally’s body and Sally’s strong reaction had been pleasurable. She didn’t want Sari to serve her like this yet, she would, but not now, she wanted what she wanted first.

She thought it was wise and intelligent of her to do so, kneeling so patiently and humbly before Sally to please her, just as Sally had once knelt before Max. Doing so would give Sally more confidence in herself, since Sally was the most critical of the people she planned to bring into the DISC-O fold. It was clear that Sally was in love with Max, and she was jealous of Max’s involvement with Serena, yet she loyally defended Max’s interests. It’s weird. Really, Eve thought she could change all that as she walked over and turned off the VCR.

“Any news from Geneva? Did you get a letter from Max or something?” She asked casually.

“Not yet,” Sally stretched, relaxing herself, “It’s strange, he’s been gone for three days, it’s not like him to do anything.”

“He’s busy cheating and having sex with Serena, no doubt about it.” Eve said this as she had to wait to see Sally change her face.

“You mustn’t forget that Mika was there,” Sally frowned a little, “and Franca was there too, so I guess Max must have been negotiating poorly and something took time. Mika is no pushover.”

“What the hell happened to his hand?” Eve asked searchingly.

“I don’t know,” Sally replied slowly, “I don’t think Max is quite sure either, probably a car accident, I guess, but the details were never made public. At the time, he was planning a concert in Milan, and he’d been driving along a coastline for a couple days. We didn’t know anything had happened until Serena called to say the concert was canceled. No reason was given and nothing was explained. Max had to fly to Milan to clean up that mess. That’s too bad, it happened about three months before you arrived at the office, right?”

“Probably,” Eve agreed, “I was still in New York at the time, and I think Max helped Serena quite a bit,” she added wryly, “Mika stayed in the hospital, and with her career suffering she had to need someone to lean on .”

“No, that is not the case, he couldn’t even find the slightest trace of them. They disappeared and were not contacted until a few months ago.”

Geneva, Switzerland

Lunch has been set up in the Rose Soul Garden, where thousands of roses of all kinds give off a strong scent. The air was filled with the refreshing scent of flowers and the faint aroma of fresh seasonal vegetables from smoked fish. Serena wore a tight white tank top that showed off her smooth shoulders and a long, flowing skirt that almost touched the ground. She was picking faded remnants of flowers when Max appeared in the doorway of the rococo-style gate. The floor-length dress she wore made her look extraordinarily young and regal. Her hair was loosely, casually coiled.

Without turning around, Serena said, “Max, as per your repeated requests, has prepared frozen chicken. Diced fish sauce, smoked fish, and a large bottle of estate wine, and I was just about to call out to Franca.”

“No, don’t go, Serena,” he replied, walking slowly into the garden; “I have just seen her, and she doesn’t want to come.” Leaving the door of Franca’s room just now, Franca appeared before him with an air of fatigue and weariness; she waved her hand to indicate that she did not wish to eat, and she was in a trance, with a distracted expression. She ignored his attempts to discuss business, contracts, and profits, and Max was annoyed that the tenderness that had lingered in his heart from the fun and revelry they’d shared with Serena had been swept away. Max’s thoughts turned back to the fact that he was a shrewd, practical and stubborn man who was waiting for an opportunity to deal with her.

“How is she?” Serena asked sharply, turning her face with a concerned expression.

“She’s fine,” he replied simply, doing his best not to reignite his anger. “Just not hungry.” He knew the words had a double meaning. This one was stubborn. Wild, with cold gray eyes and superhuman lust, what had happened to the girl? She should have been eager and eager to negotiate a contract and haggle for a better deal, and instead she just smiled in a trance.

“I’ll have Maddie bring her some food in a few minutes,” Serena said. Taking a seat at the table, she pointed to the chair across from her again and gestured for Max to sit.

“How’s the Mica?” Max said, watching her warily as she opened the bottle, hoping that this time the wine tasted better than the kind Serena had served him the night he first came to Geneva.

“He’s in the studio, I think,” she replied casually; “I haven’t seen him for almost a day, and he’s always on the terrace early in the morning, drinking coffee, and then going back to the studio. We sometimes have dinner together.”

“You’re so lonely,” he commented, leaning back in his chair. He watched as she poured the dark yellow, strong wine into two glasses, “How do you pass the time?”

A small smile hung at the corners of her mouth as she thought about how to answer him. She remembered that in the beginning, it was Hans who helped her to escape the lonely time, when Mika was injured, interrupted her acting career, became silent and cold, like an empty shell without flesh and blood, Serena was tormented by repressed lust, so she found Hans, wanting to give vent to the passion that had been in her chest for a long time. This Hans, quite understand the flavor, know how to do men and women. His extreme madness towards her, so that she recalled the primitive wildness, she screamed and screamed wildly, releasing all the carnal desire, this Hans became a poor scapegoat, she whipped him violently, she loved to hear the sound of the whip whistling in the air, loved to see his body bruises and purple bruises, and he was happy to bear it all, in the pain to find the thrill of the hearts of the people of today. She later found out about this dark psychology of hers, that only pain could generate sexual desire, generate passion. She almost became a sexual sadist.

Horrified by this revelation, she sent Hans away so as not to hurt each other. She found another civilized African boy, whose name she could no longer remember at all, and whose yellow skin was warm and hairless, and had a faint sandalwood odor …… she could hardly forget his alluring skin. His body was soft and flexible, light and comfortable, more slender and delicate than a girl’s, it fascinated her, she used her fingers and her mouth to stroke it for a long time, to enjoy it, she liked his slippery skin, except for the thick, curly body hair on his lower abdomen, the rest of the body is bare and hairless, she admired it with relish, as if to offset her fierce and furious for Hans, she was very gentle with him, concerned about his desires, the attentive to his sensations, afraid of hurting him. But soon she grew tired of it.

“Serena?”

“How do you pass the time? Do this, do that, do something random,” she replied, “like planting flowers, listening to music ……” She remembered the complex and difficult music that she and Mika had conceived and composed, which in turn aroused her lust. “Read books most of the time,” she began, looking for excitement in the erotic novels of authors such as Lawrence, experiencing those sexual pleasures depicted in the books, and although she was sometimes enraged and provoked by the fictionalized semen and sex, although she sometimes shuddered with exuberance, she knew that it was all pie in the sky, and not useful. She couldn’t simply copy the games and methods of lovemaking described in the book, and she had no choice but to shake her head and sigh alone.

“I didn’t know you had such a hobby,” Max said, curious about him, “What are you reading these days?”

“Poetry.” Serena said casually. She had been fascinated for a while with love poetry, Shakespeare’s, Donne’s, and had even picked up long-unused Latin to read Catullus’s original. She found him more passionate, more spirited, more energetic and incredible than she remembered him. She felt a special intimacy with Roman’s poems, instinctively feeling as if they knew each other, and he seemed to know her well. “‘In the wind and running water,’ Max, some chicken nuggets?”

He obviously didn’t get the verse Serena had excerpted as he silently worked on taking a piece of chicken from the plate Serena had given him.

She mused. Took a sip of wine. A woman’s promises should be written on the wind and in the running water, Catullus had written scornfully, fuming and frenzied with rage at having been wounded by his lover’s cold arrows. It was an ingenious piece of advice Serena had given Max. She cleverly steered the conversation away by asking about music gigs in London, newly formed jazz clubs and the latest musical trends.

He replied to each of them, his eyes watching her hands gracefully hovering over the asparagus as she reached out with long, beautiful fingers for the main stalks of tantalizing green, then she dipped into the bowl of spices and mayonnaise and other condiments, her overly-polished and voracious eating style appealing to him as she casually dropped the wooden stalks of asparagus on the grass at her feet and nibbled on the chicken bones with her tiny, white teeth like crushed jade. Instead of using those heavy silver utensils, she grasped her food directly with her hands, and she licked the spices from her fingers with the excitement of a child.

She ate much more than he did, and seemed unable to finish, and she brought a large bowl of strawberries and lemons, which he could not eat and declined politely. At last the meal was well spent, and they enjoyed the cozy quiet of the after-dinner period, Max lighting a small cigar and admiring her in the daylight, surrounded by roses.

The afternoon was so wonderful, he thought, that it was difficult to meditate on business at such a time. He realized that the visual pleasure she had given him had shaken his original resolve, though he had to bring the contract up for discussion at once. Mika didn’t seem to be getting involved in this money dispute with Franco, and he wouldn’t care about the honorarium? Max thought, remembering quickly Mika’s parting words, “nasty business details,” the word money was not in Mika’s lexicon.

Serena had played a decisive role in driving Mika’s eventual willingness to sign the contract with Max, who at first hadn’t held out much hope that it would be signed, even though Serena was playing a behind-the-scenes role and he hadn’t even met her yet, he thought. Mika wasn’t interested in money, just in the antique violins and bows he owned, and Serena seemed to be aloof from material things …… Was she already taking owning them, for granted?

He hardly knew the woman with the full head of hair in front of him, and he was shocked to realize that, despite the fact that he had been close to her body and enjoyed its wonders, despite the fact that he had been skin-to-skin with her for a long time, he didn’t really know her well, and that she was still an enigma to him. Gardening, architecture, music, poetry …… these were all things that required patience to do, and Serena was naturally lively and uninhibited, so how could she stand it?

At lunch just now, she was sardonic and flavorful, ranting about jazz in a very visceral way, wolfing down her food like a hungry urchin on the street, and when she reached for her wine glass, the juice from the strawberries ran down the corners of her mouth and onto her chin.

He had promised to turn her upside down and bewitch her, and now he wondered a little if he hadn’t been too flippant, too presumptuous; at the moment her face was so balanced that she couldn’t see the slightest hint of lust, and I was afraid that even if she had agreed to the deal they had managed to make by the poolside, she wouldn’t have been able to fulfill it, much less would have been able to enjoy it physically.

“Would you like to see the villa, Max?” She asked, stretching and then getting up from her chair. “Why don’t we go inside first and come back later, I’m going to show you the garden, it’ll be cooler in there now.”

She took Max’s hand without thinking, and gave him a fascinating account of the layout of the villa, describing its original and restored condition as if it were her own, leading him from one ornate room to another with its interesting furnishings, and he followed her mechanically, so absent-mindedly that he hardly listened to a word she said. When she reached the stairway, she ran her fingers along the carved wooden banisters and gave a mocking laugh, as if she despised this Victorian work.

She walked beside him, her skirt dragging almost to the floor, and he imagined her smooth legs and sheer, rolled, curvaceous stomach. He knew instinctively that under the jacket she must be naked, not covering her lower parts with anything, and when she stopped in front of the carved doors of the studio, he was tracing her sex as if it were an angry rose.

“We can’t go in there, Mika is working,” she spoke, “It’s also a spacious. Constant temperature collection room, of course the collection is full of the latest published music and sound equipment. The doors, which are very nice anyway, are made of hard wood of foreign origin, with a lot of labor. The skill of those craftsmen is first-rate, and when you look at the pattern of that door, I think it must be Chinese, perhaps from the eighteenth century.”

She bent over, carefully fingering the leaf pattern on the door, and she was bent so low that he could almost see her slippery, plump ass under her skirt. His mouth was suddenly dry, and he knew how much he wanted her, how much he needed her, how that tantalizing ass seemed to be waiting for his touch. He let her mellow words splash and slap him, and he savored her sweet voice, amazed that she made him hyper-aroused.

They circumnavigated the large villa, crisscrossed with aisles, corridors stretching out from the center of the house and leading to a room, large and small, one over the other, one next to the other, as if they’d stepped into a labyrinth. The wine cellar was buried deep underground, and Serena pointed meaningfully to where it was, and Max looked closely at a heavy slab of stone that was locked in place. He stayed close to her, looking for any excuse to approach her, to touch her.

He walked alongside her so he could get a closer look at her. Her hair had a tantalizing aroma, and he sniffed greedily, thinking of touching her bare neck with his fingers. As they walked up the stone stairs leading to the kitchen, he grabbed her arm and distracted her by caressing the soft skin below her elbow as he inquired about the features of the house’s design. She wasn’t interested in her answers or explanations at all, just playing with her melodious voice. He could feel her body reacting, becoming supple and delicate, no longer so cold, indifferent and rejecting. Did she realize that Max had gently wrapped his arms around her waist when she pointed to the skylight? Was it the feeling of Max’s fingers sliding softly up her arm as they walked through the kitchen into the herb-laden garden?

“It’s a very nice Chinese garden, planted with thyme, verbena, sage, and mint. If you go through here and Maddy sees it, you’ll be scared out of your wits,” she said, pointing down to a hole cut in the thick hedge, “and you’re back in the rose garden now.”

Here was the perfect place for him to have her, to turn her upside down, he thought. In the rose garden he was surrounded by blooming, richly scented roses, the velvety soft, smooth petals reminding him of her rosy sex, which fascinated and intoxicated him all the more, and the hidden place seemed to be radiating a pleasant fragrance, tantalizing one’s fragile eroticism.

He couldn’t wait to rush to her, pulling her half-heartedly through the carved conservatory and lowering her to the grass of the rose garden.

Serena put her hand to his lips, letting him admire the light blue veins on the inside of her wrist and the slender, elegant fingers, the skin in her arm white and delicate, almost translucent, he imagined …… very coordinated with every deep breath she took, every movement she made. He felt a shudder strike through her entire body …… He felt a pang of fear that his strong body would hurt her, but the desire to conquer took over, and he indulged himself in reckless ……

She felt the forceful intrusion from the opposite sex, accompanied by increasingly rapid breathing. Max pushed in recklessly, enjoying the pleasure from heaven and entering into oblivion. Serena’s parted petals gradually became infected by the wheeling in and out of his cock, the blood turning it a vibrant red, and thick love juices spilled like a fountain all over the lower part of the two of them as she moaned aloud, her arms wrapped tightly around his broad shoulders ……

She waited until his anxious, ragged breathing subsided to a rhythmic murmur, and it wasn’t until he released her and withdrew from her that she stood up and pulled her skirt down to cover her ankles. Reluctant to speak, a little surprised that she reacted so strongly, she held out a hand to Max as they lay on the grass. He kissed it gently before releasing it and standing up, straightening his clothes. They quietly made their way back to the cottage, Serena a few steps ahead of him.

The light had dimmed and the half-full August moon had risen, and the rose garden was bathed in the soft moonlight as if gilded with a fearful silver color. He walked toward her; she was sound asleep, naked. He stood by the bed and watched her, his greedy eyes gazing at the graceful curves of her body in the moonlight. He leaned down and placed a bottle of scented hypnotic potion under her nostrils, she merely squirmed, not reacting much.

Her breathing was deep and subtle, barely perceptible. He nodded in satisfaction, then picked her up in his arms. She was so light that he hadn’t even realized how much she weighed, and he carried her in his arms as he ran lightly down the stairs, through the kitchen, and down the huge stone steps that led to the wine cellar. That cellar had been a dungeon, he’d heard her describe it, and it was then that a thought flashed through him that excited him.

Chapter 7: In Rehearsal

The first pleasure was like the beginning of a flirtation, a shade of desire, and the climax came when the two lips were drawn together by a gravitational force. Lips and tongue stirred together like a bow and strings. He knew how to show it all.

Mika leaned back in his chair, the muscles in his shoulders aching slightly as he crossed his arms behind his neck and let out a long, shaky sigh. The morning sun, soft and bright, was streaming in through the window. He had been working almost non-stop since yesterday, taking almost twenty hours to finally finish nearly twenty pages of a manuscript that could be played for about ten minutes, maybe a little longer.

He composed the piece at an alarming rate, inspiration springing from his mind and transforming into a cascade of notes that landed on the manuscript paper. The entire musical work had formed a rough framework in his head, now it was just a matter of giving it flesh and blood with specific notes. He seemed to have seen the final climax long ago, to see people getting excited and shouting wildly because of this work of his, and he seemed to be absentmindedly fiddling with the pages of sheet music he had already written.

The first movement was like the beginning of a flirtation, he had decided that the chapter would be called ‘The Kiss’, and he suddenly felt that the six chapters should not carry equal weight, the first chapter was the incipient of desire, and the climax came when the two lips were drawn together by a kind of gravitational attraction. Lips and tongue stirred together like a bow and strings. He knew how to act it all out.

He rolled his neck, by way of loosening his tired nerves, while his mind was still on his ‘kiss’, the piece would be technically unproblematic for Franca to play, but it might be a little difficult to talk about it from a different angle, what she lacked was perhaps the passion that this work particularly emphasized. She would have to play it with her emotions and soul to make it work, not just skillful technique.

He walked contemplatively out of the room and down the hall, wondering if Serena had given Franca some instruction on how to make her body react.

Franca, another woman.

It was so different from the old days, and he recalled quite a few times he and Serena spent together, where they would talk for hours together about music, playing techniques and stage performances, planning for his shows.

He headed in the direction of the balcony, suddenly craving the fresh coffee Maddie had made for him. He’d always loved the idea of being alone on the balcony early in the morning with a cup of delicious coffee, enjoying the morning sun and the fresh air, and then Serena would get up and stay with him, letting him get lost in his own thoughts and spending the day with him.

He was quite accustomed to all this, and he sat in that regular seat, knotting himself a cup of non-milked coffee from a large white mug, and with his other hand he went to stroke the Midas, which was always, at this time of day, curled up on the balcony. He did not notice her presence.

She had moved a chair from the table and sat motionless, her slender legs wrapped in jeans and stretched out in front of her, barefoot and wearing a loose shirt on top with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and the collar wide open. Her hair fell loosely over her shoulders like a flame. She waited, trying to make herself as motionless as possible, looking serene and cautious, her gray eyes meeting his gaze.

An indescribable shiver and thrill ran through his body as his eyes met hers. He felt the audacity of her trespassing on his private world, but at the same time an emotion slid like a snake through the pit of his stomach. He sipped his coffee slowly and consciously, savoring the taste. It was good that he hadn’t said a word the whole time.

She sat there, silent and motionless. Subconsciously she waited for him to speak, content to be this close to him this morning. She watched him as the light grew brighter, every move he made, every breath he took, she was silently watching in her mind.

She felt like she was suspended in mid-air, almost burned, just by his presence, his body. She reveled in her own imagination that it was he who had changed her, awakened her, and she waited willingly for him to lift the veil.

Midas came out like an actor, and as if surprised by its strange audience, it stopped and meowed at Franco.

The voice expressed its emotions and Mika couldn’t help but laugh out loud, “It always seems to be lovingly jealous of my personal affairs.” He poured another cup of coffee as he spoke, and after a slight hesitation he poured one for her as well.

An imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she didn’t say anything as her eyes turned to the pool reflecting the blue sky in the distance. His voice was full-faced and magnetic.

“Coffee?” He said, fingering the cup of coffee.

She shrugged slightly and lifted one hand a little, maybe she didn’t want to drink, maybe it just meant she heard him.

But he was fascinated by her hands, by her long fingers and delicate wrist, the hands of a musician, deft and sensitive.

“I’m writing something,” he said suddenly, “that might suit you,” he saw her eyes widen as she stared at him, and her body tensed, “I’d love to know how well you’d play it. “

Excitement overwhelmed her at once, “When?” She asked eagerly and tenderly.

“Now, if you will.”

“Please.”

“Coffee first.” With that he rose and disappeared into the villa. Suddenly she stood up, almost clumsily, and drew her chair closer to the table. Trembling, she took a sip of the coffee, the taste with a hint of bitterness seemed to burn her lips, and she inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself, like the nervous and uneasy mood that preceded the start of a concert.

He returned again almost immediately with a sheaf of sheet music in his hand, which she took and quickly buried herself in, skimming through it with great experience, stopping now and then to read it again. It amused him greatly to see her unconsciously banging her head to play the piece. When she frowned, her two eyebrows were almost joined together, and sometimes she shook her head. When she finally looked up, she had confusion in her eyes, but her voice was sincere.

“It’s wonderful,” she purred, “so simple and clear, not difficult at all.”

“It’s not hard?” He asked calmly in return, she looked very sexual but cute, “Maybe you’d like to try.”

“Sure, big think!”

Two hours later, she was sweating profusely and had an agonized look on her face. It was as if she was undergoing the torture of lust. Her whole body was shaking with anger. She threw her bow on the music stand in annoyance, “Fuck, that’s not what happened at all.”

“Try again.” His voice seemed calm and cold.

“I really fucking want to ……”

“You really don’t fucking want to,” he corrected her with a grin, “do it again. …”

“It doesn’t make sense,” she shouted like crazy, “I don’t know what you want, you know I pull well, you fucking know that.”

“It’s not The Kiss,” he said, still patient, “you’re not kissing the music, and you’re not bringing the strings to life.”

She angrily wiped the sweat from her forehead and smoothed her hair upwards that was stuck to her face from sweat. He was reclining casually in a black leather chair, a smile showing at the corners of his mouth.

Fake, all fake, she was still angry, she had been so happy to play in front of him, to have such a gifted teacher, but he was always dissatisfied with her playing, always shaking his head, saying “do it again”, her self-control was finally challenged, she could no longer concentrate on her playing.

“Didn’t Serena teach you anything” he asked, he had suspected that The Kiss was too simple to convey the meaning he wanted to convey, he didn’t know what Serena’s hands had brought her, what they had taught her, he only knew that she should have been more relaxed, and he reminded himself that Serena hadn’t captured the theme.

“It was a kiss.” He repeated.

“The kiss is the first part of all admiration and desire, and when you are longing for the lips of another, you must be filled with imaginations of what the other person’s lips are like, whether they are soft, raw, experienced, or know nothing. The first kiss is the most titillating moment of any relationship.”

“I’ve met some assholes.” She said with a sting in her words he said.

“Judging by your performance it is,” he shot back, “one more time.”

Maybe with a few more practice sessions, she’ll find the feeling. But I could tell from her expression that she was already seething with anger and couldn’t control her temper.

“Do it to me,” she challenged him, anger flashing in her eyes, “why don’t you do it to me?”

Hearing that, he felt the snake slither through the small of his back again, her anger warming him, even tempting him. He sat back in his chair and seemed to feel her heat and electricity. Her eyes were on fire and he remembered the first time he saw her picture, she made him think of fall. He rose from his chair.

He hesitated, closing his eyes as he forced himself to focus. It was music. It was just music, a kiss, a tender exploration.

Despite her anger, she felt a change in him. His eyes were still closed and his whole body was trembling slightly, as if he were in the middle of a raging wave.

Then he came toward her, and at an arm’s length from her, stood still. Eyes focused. He looked at her so curiously, as if to see through her.

“From here,” he stroked her lip line with a gloved finger, “and here,” and he touched her nipple again, gently, gracefully. How she wished he’d do it again. “And here,” he whispered as his hand slid to the small of her back.

“Franca,” his voice was low and persuasive, “close your eyes and think about kissing.” He moved closer to her again, his body almost touching hers.

“Kissing?” She retorted, her tone not without irony and sarcasm, but her breath hitched. His fingers stroked over her face, running gently back and forth along her cheek.

“When a man needs a woman, he kisses her first with his eyes, testing her skin with his eyes, her lips,” he moved his fingers to her upper and lower lips, letting her lips touch her teeth, “and her hair.”

His hands ran through her long, satin-smooth hair, and she felt her whole body and mind loosen under his touch. He turned the notes into poetic fire.

“Kissing your body with my eyes, savoring you with my mind, soothing you and exploring you with my eyes.” His hands moved to her shoulders and arms, and he was so gentle, it was like he was just touching her white cotton shirt. All the same, she felt the hairs of sweat stand up all over her body, a tingling burn on her skin.

“My mind visualizes your breasts, I suck them with my eyes, harden your nipples with my imagination.” He touched her casually, from arm to shoulder, stopping again at her breasts, his touch so mesmerizing to her, his hands full of skill. She felt a burning ache of longing assault her entire body, he had only lightly touched her nipples through her shirt, but her nipples were firm and eager for his sucking, for his teeth. She felt a rush of heat erupt.

His hands continued to move down, sliding over the zipper of her jeans to her stomach. She looked like she was ripe for the picking, her whole body swelling with muscles, the love juice between her legs thicker and sweeter.

“Lick you with my eyes and imagine tasting a hot jet of your body under your clothes.

His hands continued to move down, sliding over the zipper of her jeans to her stomach. She looked like she was ripe for the picking, her whole body swelling with muscle. The love juice between her legs was thicker and sweeter.

“With my eyes licking you and imagining what it would be like to taste your body under your clothes.” He gently moved his hand to her ass again, following its rounded curves toward her thighs. He was kneeling in front of her now, his head against the small of her back, and she could almost feel his breath.

“I’m going to make you stir with my eyes and then kiss you with my mouth.”

His words sent an inexorable shiver down her spine, and she felt an emotion she had never felt before strike her whole body. Impulsively she clasped his head and pressed it toward herself. But as if he had read her mind, he rose to his feet and grasped her hand.

Their lips almost touched, and she could feel the heat of her body, her mouth dry as she smelled the irresistible scent of man emanating from him.

She felt like her whole body was on fire, teetering on the edge of lust, she wanted him, she needed him, if only his fingers would touch it she would explode, his lips were so close to hers, if only he would lightly touch her with the tip of his tongue the effect would be the same ……

He had noticed that her whole body was trembling, her cheeks were flushed, and she was breathing heavily.

“Get it? Franca, what it means to kiss.” He said.

“Yeah, got it.” She murmured softly, she was longing, waiting.

“Great! Try the first six bars again.”

“You utterly shameful son of a bitch villain!” Her eyes widened in anger.

He sneered a small smile and went straight to his chair and sat down. “Again.”

She was exasperated by the sudden change, but picked up the bow with shaking hands.

“Begin.” Mika leaned back and closed her eyes wearily, absentmindedly running her fingers through her hair. This asshole of a woman! She played the first movement like a lioness gnawing on a piece of raw meat, and she knew it. Never mind, let her play her little game for a while. Music was like a mistress, sometimes you had to let her go, and eventually she’d come to her senses.

Suddenly, there was a silence, which was like waiting for yet another craving.

He sighed, “Again.”

It’s better, just a little bit better, but it’s progress after all.

Geneva, Switzerland

Serena woke up in a daze, feeling sore, as if she hadn’t woken up, and tried to roll over. Taking something to cover herself with, but realized she couldn’t move. She shuddered and was instantly awake.

She was lying on top of something soft and silky, her hands and feet bound, and as she tried to move, she saw that the restraints were a pair of stainless steel, mink-lined handcuffs. She recognized them at once; they were the ones she had bought in New York one time on an impulse.

She moved her wrists again, to no avail. She was tied there, even her vision was affected, she lifted her chin and saw the top of the stone and the shelves on either side of her body.

She was put in the cellar. Tied to a narrow space between the bottles, her feet cuffed to the shelves, she shook her body, trying to shake down the shelves, which were filled with Mika’s favorite wines. The shelves didn’t move, and she couldn’t help but curse the American handcuffs that had brought her so much pleasure, and that she had loved so much in the past, when she had been in the throes of lust.

She struggled with her anger.

In desperation, she adjusted her breathing. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, she wasn’t afraid, she had only been afraid once in her life, and that was when she saw Mika in the hospital in Milan after her surgery all those years ago. After that nightmare, there was nothing left in the world that could scare her.

She ran her tongue over her teeth and mouth, he must have used sleeping pills to make her sleep so deeply, he ……

Who is he?

She had shown Max the cellar and scared him, but she had a feeling that this was not his style. It might be possible, but it wasn’t like him to do it. He had handcuffed her to the bed that night with these cuffs, but he had dared to do it under the influence of an aphrodisiac, and it had satisfied her lust, and it had been a wonderful experience.

But doing it like this wouldn’t be Max. She thought again of her experience with him in the rose garden a few hours ago. His roughness and impulsiveness had been a little overwhelming to her, but her libido had been so satisfied that she had felt at one with him. Then, without any explanation, she left him, saying only that she wanted to be alone.

Even so, he couldn’t have offended her so much.

She thought again of that conversation he’d had with Max by the pool, where she’d sneered at him for being too warm, and whether he’d be about to play an awesome game on her because of it, but as far as she knew Max was too soft and big a romantic, and he wouldn’t even understand that she had a darker, other side to her. To that point. She was almost positive, without a doubt.

She thought back to the last time she’d been with him; he’d tried to resist, but she’d only been willing to tease him about it. She hadn’t had anything to do with him since Max and Franca had arrived. She hadn’t used him to drive or seek pleasure from him again, had he?

She pondered in agony, Franca? Could it be that Mika was allowing her to do this in order to give her more experience? But that approach wasn’t Mika’s style either. Besides, Mika would never do something like that without consulting her, because it would ruin their relationship.

She couldn’t figure out who the hell had done it. She gritted her teeth in anger and gasped for air. Suddenly, she smelled a scent that was familiar to her and made her heart pound, she opened her eyes and a pair of black gloved hands flashed in front of her ……

Mika? Was it really Mika? Her whole body felt an uncontrollable pleasure.

He stood tall and watched as she closed her eyes, her whole body teased with lust again. He quickly took a black cloth from his pocket and blindfolded her, he wanted her to see nothing, to know nothing, to think nothing, she could only be a crazy slut full of lust, waiting to be satisfied, she might be hard to frighten, but he had learned a few tricks from her already, he knew her, and he would make it too much for her to bear soon.

He began to caress her with his sable-gloved hands, starting with her feet, where he wanted her to feel a stirring. Then, down the ankles, calves, knees. Thighs kept stroking, the sable stimulating her smooth skin, and she felt a tingling all over her body, while an unspeakable pleasure ran through her firm nipples and quivering whole body.

London, capital of United Kingdom

“Nicola, my sweetie, go get me a robe will you? Max is bound to have an extra one or two, we need to talk.”

The young Russian pianist sighed reluctantly, his hand still reluctant to leave her puffy breast. He took his other hand, which was under her waist, and laid it on his back on the bed.

“I’ve never enjoyed such great sex with a man.” She whispered against his ear.

Nikolai couldn’t imagine how much truth there was in her words as he got up and stumbled toward the dressing room that was immediately connected to the bedroom.

“You, my dear Eve, mesmerize me more than any woman I know.” He said.

He quickly found two luxuriously thick nightgowns, one black, which he wore, and another white one for her to throw on the bed.

“Let’s have some mineral water,” she offered, one hand touching her robe back, “he’ll have a couple of bottles in the fridge, and maybe some fruit and chocolate if we’re lucky, and then we’ll talk.”

Nikolai obediently went looking for it.

Of course he was submissive. But would he take the bait she was about to throw? Her thoughts went back a few months.

NY

This is a city of opportunity. She knows how to look for opportunities here. Before she joined DISC-O, she had worked in the financial world in New York for a while. More recently, she went there for Max and Sally to investigate the market situation in North America. While there, she came across a big opportunity. She met Jeff B. Brooks, a music lover, a billionaire’s son, and an investor. Jeff is confident that the record will have a great future.

No one expected Classical Madness to cause a stir in the U.S., as it did in Europe, and DISC-O could certainly develop in the U.S. with the right market research. But DISC-O’s image has been harmed because of reasons within the senior management of a Toronto subsidiary.

So now a new image needs to emerge. So Eve moved to start a company on her own. Of course Jeff will give her financial and registration and a host of other legal help.

But she also needed an expert in other areas. A veteran of the recording industry was always going to be more competitive than a novice like her, especially one like Sally, who had already worked for DISC-O for so many years and had experience in the art of management and marketing. She’d been Max’s personal secretary for ten years, and she’d know a lot of details.

“Do you just want mineral water?” Nikolai interrupted her thoughts. He was holding a tray with two glasses, a bottle of mineral water and a plate of fruit.

“Yes, dear, I’ll have to keep a clear head for the next few hours,” she replied, “but you can put a couple of bottles of wine in the fridge, and I think we’ll have a visitor in a little while.”

“I hope it’s not Max,” he tensed a bit, “I thought you said he was going to be in Geneva for another day or two.”

“Of course, I don’t mean Max, I mean Sally.” Eve said.

“Your boss Sally, why?” He set the tray on the bed and handed her a glass of the mineral water she’d asked for.

“Because,” Eve sipped her water, “she knows what’s going on in Geneva, and through her we can steal Max’s plans for Franca. We’ll schedule your concert for the same week.” She smiled and took another drink of water. In a dreamy voice, she continued, “Imagine the people who will flock to see you, a keyboard virtuoso, play, a breath of fresh air now that the violin is obsolete.”

“But Max won’t agree to it,” he objected; “he won’t let me go and fight her for a market at the same time.”

Her voice was filled with a slyness, “Nicola, we don’t need Max.”

“We don’t need Max?” He repeated with a frown, “But what’s this about you promising to let me sign with DISC-O?”

“Nicola, tell me, have you ever heard of the Brooks family?”

“Of course,” he said with a perplexed look on his face, “even in our proto-Soviet days, we Russians learned English and read Western magazines. This family started with oil and gradually rose to prominence from the fifties. But what does that have to do with me?”

She could tell he was getting a little anxious. She was ready to make peace with her plan.

“Jeff Brooks wants me to start a new record label,” she said, a gleam in her eye, “and if you’d like to come on board, your debut performance will be arranged by this company. All the public’s attention will be on you, so think about it.”

She stood up, threw on her robe and paced the floor, “The Russian pianist is making a splash in New York, from nightclubs to concert halls,” she danced around excitedly, “This is going to work, I’m not going to put it off, and neither are you.”

His eyes widened as he listened to her live, “But what about this Sally?” He said, “Why bring her into this?”

“Because she knows a lot of the inner workings of Max and DISC-O, and at the moment she’s the only one who can tell me what’s going on in Geneva.”

He still looked confused.

“Trust me honey,” she said as she moved to his side and kissed his face, “I know what I’m doing, Sally’s probably ready, I’ll just make a call and call her.”

“Is that how you do business?” He asked, a little puzzled.

“Don’t worry sweetie, everything will be fine,” she said as she patted him on the shoulder and left the bedroom with a turn, leaving Nikolai alone to savor her words. This woman called Eve was so inscrutable.

Geneva, Switzerland

And the last note ends. The Kiss.

He seemed reluctant to break the silence, and Mika exhaled so deeply he didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath.

“All right!” That simple word expressed his relief and cheerfulness. She was finally relieved, too. Franco had at last played what he had asked.

Franca’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled with triumph. She looked at Mika teasingly, “Okay?” The tone contained a distinct mockery, which surprised him.

All morning she had played the piece, over and over again trying to please him, but after four hours he seemed to get impatient no longer and actually left without a word. Surprised, perplexed, and then with a burst of anger, she waited for ten minutes in silence. There was no sign of his return. She couldn’t stand it any longer, she was so angry she wanted to smash something. She looked around the house and found the wooden cupboards filled with his beloved antique fiddles that he had collected from all over the place, as well as the extremely modern and high end stereo set.

Holy shit, how dare he leave her here alone, she gasped and ran out of the music room. Going back to her room, she changed into the black bikini bathing suit, throwing the shirt, jeans and panties she was already wearing all over the place.

She was much calmer after her half-hour swim in the pool, but she also felt a weariness, physical and mental. She floated on her back, letting it float, and looked up at the sky.

It was only yesterday that she had taken the blue sky for his eyes, and she had found joy in his eyes. Since coming to this villa, her moods had been shifting. She was swayed by Mika, whom she needed and longed for, but at the same time she was enraged by his cold, emotionless manner, and she had to make a plan for herself.

She was going to be the best virtuoso in the world, he would help her, and she was going to sign a contract with him to get her way. She kind of regretted that when Max had come to her yesterday to talk about business matters, she had shooed him away impatiently, she just found those things too tedious and pointless. How could that compare to the excitement of being with Mika?

Yes, she needed him that much, she wanted to see him close to her, to feel the heat of his lips, to see his cold eyes moved by tenderness. In order to get that, she would have to find the strength in herself to finish the Kiss first.

“Yes, very good.” His voice was full of power, “This is what I imagined The Kiss to be, and you’ve captured the essence of it.” There was an incredible gleam in his eyes.

But her eyes glowed coldly, “I’m not that confident yet.” As she spoke, she put down her bow and walked to the window, looking out at the view of the garden in the distance.

“Especially in the last bar, you totally got the fire and portrayed that kissing scene in great detail,” he was still talking, “just as expressive as I asked for.” His hands couldn’t help but dance.

“I don’t think so,” she said again, interrupting him, then turned to face him. He was more than willing to look at her and admire her graceful movements.

“The feeling of your lips, your teeth when kissing, you were really smart to show all this at the end …… What did you say?”

“I said,” she repeated, “I don’t think so.”

He looked at her in amazement. She stood at the window, the setting sun’s afterglow in her hair bathing her graceful body. It took him a moment to realize that she had changed into a bathing suit; she must have gone swimming while he was gone. She had been staring at her hands and arms, not paying attention to her body.

“Why not?” He countered, “You play very well, and I think you have mastered the mystery.” It was the first time he had ever praised her, and she was deserving of such praise; she was, shall we say, a gifted musician.

“It wasn’t really a kiss,” she replied coldly, coming toward him and standing by a small table.

“Not a real kiss? What do you mean by that?” He knew she was still bitter about the morning’s failure and the torture of his patience with her.

“When a woman needs a man,” she began, “she wonders if she really wants a man and if that man wants her.” She was also conflicted and hesitant in her mind.

He said nothing, narrowing his eyes at her.

She could feel his gaze emitting great heat like the lights on a stage, “You’d test him with your eyes, imagining if you could make him want you.”

He was wrapped in an atmosphere of challenge; she was going to make him know her, want her. She moved toward him, her body trembling slightly, “A woman,” she said softly, “is like a violin. There is a hollow place in her body waiting to be filled, and in that mysterious orifice there will be the most, most beautiful music.”

Her breasts were high and defined under her bathing suit, “Before his lips touched hers, as his hands caressed her body, she would wonder if he was too firm, too eager, or too rough,” she placed her hands on her breasts, “Would he arouse her sexually? Would he be in a hurry to possess her all at once, or would he kiss her lips first?”

He watched her, his gaze deep. As if unconscious, she unhooked the bra of her bathing suit, and she now stood before him almost naked, except for the tiny swim trunks.

“We’re all brewing,” her fingers slid down to her bottom, “It’s warm and welcoming here.” She slipped her index finger into her black boxers. His eyes followed her finger.

He saw three of her long, slender fingers resting on his lower back, the other under the thin, black cloth.

He stood up, but his eyes never left her hand that was dancing under her black triangle swim trunks.

Her mesmerized gray eyes infected him, and her perfumed body swayed before his eyes. She took a step forward and they almost touched. Involuntarily, he reached out to take her waist, but before he could act, her fingers were on his lips.

She eyed his lips and, no longer able to resist the heat he radiated, she pressed her own lips into a soft kiss.

Stunned by the raw, unimaginable pleasure, he stood motionless.

“Mika, that’s what I call a kiss.”

Chapter VIII. Heavy metals

They were delicate and fresh and lovely, emitting a strong fragrance that was refreshing and intoxicating, as if they were just ripe fruits. One hand probed under the silk dress, finding the naked torso and feeling its contours ……

She turned her face away from the floor and picked up the ornate Malay national dress sand cage. “I think the bow method should be deeper and more soothing at the end.” Without haste, she wrapped the gorgeous sandcage around her shoulders and tied it in a knot.

“The vibrato when played should be slow and narrow, not snappy and broad as you show; it should be smooth and soft as velvet.”

He still didn’t say a word.

She moved farther away, stopping in front of the glass bird she had wanted to smash, and with her index finger, she touched its lips and stroked its curved glass wings. Her fingers still had remnants of her love juices, enough to be inscribed on the glistening glass surface. For a moment she admired the marks she had smeared on it.

“Of course, it all depends on how you view overtones and melody,” she continued, “and you’ll have to forgive me if I point out that your bowing is a little too revealing, too straightforward, and that the theme of the music you’re trying to express is in turn unclear, as if it’s being confined. A little too reckless longing, in fact.”

She turned her head to face him. He still stood motionless as a stone, his black-gloved hand clasped at his side.

“Yes, you do understand, even in the most complex movements, your point of view, the theme of the music, is clear.” She couldn’t read him, couldn’t be sure if she’d touched a sore spot. His eyes were expressionless, and the anger flared up again.

“Of course, you used to compose double rounds on the train．” She said pointedly to him. She didn’t think about why she was saying this, only that it would sting him and she was pleased to see the muscles in his face twitching, clearly he was touched.

“I’m hungry.” Without looking at her, he darted out of the room.

Lunch had been prepared on the terrace, and it was very substantial, with cold meats, salads, cheeses and fruits all over the table, as well as several bottles of mineral water that glistened in the sunlight, and white wine of local origin. There was no full set of cutlery, but on all sides of the table there were glasses, plates and knives and forks for four people, close to the crockery of the cold wine.

Franco shades his eyes with his sunglasses and looks up at the sun. It must be past two o’clock now, almost three. She touched the rim of the large shallow oval dish, which was cool and tender.

“How did she know?” She asked curiously, though she was still able to protect her composure and confidence in front of Mika, she realized she couldn’t hold back her longing anymore, she was a little giddy and her body began to shake slightly as she searched for the right topic to cover herself.

“Who? What?” Mika was already sitting at the table, pouring thick, clear yellow wine into two glasses.

“Your housekeeper …… Maddie, is that her name?”

“Yes,” Mika said. She gazed at him lost in thought, mesmerized by his graceful, leisurely movements as he finished pouring the wine and then reached for a bottle of mineral water. His demeanor was decent and generous, not a single extraneous movement, much less a superfluous syllable, as he deftly poured the sparkling mineral water as if he were playing one of Bach’s most difficult movements.

“How did she know what you were thinking, what you were asking for ……” her voice trailed off and she saw him staring at her in disbelief, “You didn’t order Maddie to prepare the meal, but how did she know what you were thinking? “

“Oh, so that’s what this is about,” he scanned the table absently, “Maddie’s gotten used to our way of life.”

The food is quite exquisite, colorful, flavorful, appetizing, mouth-watering, and will satisfy even the most discerning tastemaker.

“Are Serena and Max eating with us?” She asked, glancing at the other two sets of untouched cups and plates, still curious and also wanting to break the unbearable silence.

“Serena and I never follow the rules.” He said, Serena’s name raising a wave of love and compassion in his heart.

Franca was burning with jealousy; she couldn’t tolerate Mika saying Serena’s name so intimately. She thought of Serena kneeling between her legs, touching her gently, and she thought of Serena by the pool, smoothing her hair, and Serena smearing ointment all over her body, her amber eyes fiery and teasing.

“She’s stunningly beautiful.” Franca muttered to herself.

“Yes.” He chucked an oyster, sucked the meat out of the shell, and chewed carefully without making a sound.

Once again, she was mesmerized by his graceful movements.

“She’s different, beautiful and pretty.” He added, reaching for his drink.

He finally loosened up. “You ……” she hesitated, searching for the right words, “you’ve been together for a long time, haven’t you?” Her words were both a narrative and a question.

“Yes.”

Frustrated, she took an oyster and nibbled on it, not caring that the food was indecent.

“It will go on forever, really.” He added, as he looked off into the distance and saw times past.

She was capable of impressing him without pretense. But she knew the question she asked might not be appropriate, and the answer might be one she didn’t want to hear. With just a little more time in the studio, she could sway him so that he couldn’t help himself, she was sure of it.

Mika poured more wine and leaned back, inspecting the amber-colored liquid in the glass carefully. Nowhere near as good as Serena’s eyes, he thought, which were much darker and shinier.

Forever.

He and Serena had been together for a long time, passing the hours of unaccountable misery together, and in this hostile world they kept each other’s watch, and could forget for a little while all the discomforts and disappointments.

Together they had buried that bitter past, so quickly, so completely, so irrevocably. When he looked back now, it still felt fresh, even a little strange, and he couldn’t help but think of her as he first remembered her, of her big, somewhat hoarse laugh, of the tune called “Kiss”. It was as if he could see her, bony and thin, as if a gust of wind could blow her away. Eyes as big as discs, she was huddled behind the organ in the cold church attached to the orphanage, laughing.

She laughed out loud, perhaps because the beautiful sound of the piano excited her, or perhaps because they had found each other, both temporarily escaping the intolerable dullness and rigidity of their closed lives, in favor of that brief moment of pleasure.

At the time he was Mitchell and she was Sally, with no last name, no family, no identity, and no mother, they were a pair of poor orphans.

Is that why Franca’s words struck him, because she mentioned a mother and a lover? Birthplace, grave, lineage, first impressions.

Giving themselves encouragement, they both fled to London, where they took on new identities, he became Mika, she became Serena, and they devoted themselves to the art they loved so much — music. It was the only reason for their escape, the only hope. They eventually discover the key to his heart, and that too is music.

Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons.

Incredible talent instantly caught the attention of the critics and he received the acclaim he deserved. Curiosity was aroused and he knew that at his next gig they would swim like sharks, he wondered if he could pull off another miracle, and if not then he was ready to bury his head in the sand with his current accomplishments.

The rehearsals had gone well, and were on a par with the other performers. But the violin in his hands is still just a lifeless violin without any feelings, it can’t be transformed from wood to the carcass of a young girl as delicate and passionate as spring, he stands stiffly on the stage, he can’t be unrestrained and indulge his passions, he can’t grab that beautiful body, he can’t freely intrude into that field full of flowers, bathed in sunshine, and press her body to that wet soil on it, with extreme exuberance, to sow his seed, to sow his essence in nature, in music.

Serena knew all about it.

When he got home he was a little drunk, and an unbearable disappointment afflicted him. He found the apartment they shared transformed into a fantasy world woven with flowers, daffodils and violets, the flowers of spring, were all over the house, like a sea of flowers, Vivaldi was playing in the background, and there were two girls in the room, young, pretty and slim, with long blonde hair flowing behind their heads, they were dressed in blue and green dresses, which reminded him of ‘ Spring’ and ‘Summer’, the girls greeted him.

Wordlessly, he let them lead him into the divine realm of flowers, and he closed his eyes, letting the music flow through his entire body. He felt their petal-like soft hands combing through his hair, gently sliding over his shoulders, undoing his ‘shirt’ and letting it slowly slide down his body.

They are delicate, fresh and lovely, emitting a strong fragrance. It was refreshing and intoxicating, as if they were freshly ripened fruits. The music seemed to be able to touch as they rocked slowly in one piece, loosely embracing and gently kissing, like sisters, to the melody of the music.

‘Summer’ led ‘Spring’, kissing her cheeks, her brow, and her neck and throat.

He gazed at them, out of his mind, at their writhing torsos, as they used their tongues on each other, and their hands on each other, groping and probing. Fascinated, he looked closer again, and he felt the violin’s sound quiver and ripple like the bodies of those two girls. ‘Spring’ knelt to ‘Summer’ and reverently placed the bud on her warm lower part, sucking gently on her juices.

He had never heard Vivaldi’s tune so clearly before. He suddenly wanted to play that piece.

Serena did not return that night. The next morning he found the room back to its original state, without the slightest trace of the fantasy flower realm.

The night of the opening concert, he played wonderfully, fantastically, with mysterious rhythms, and the critics opened their mouths in amazement, as if searching for the ultimate in music.

The next day he went out and bought a gold necklace for Serena, spending lots and lots of money, almost more than they could afford.

Franca watched him from across the table and saw a vague smile at the corners of his mouth as he ran his fingers over the intricately painted tablecloth. The sunlight shone on his hair, glinting off bits of gold.

How to rouse him from his silence and get his attention back to her again?

“Have you settled on a general framework for the music?” She asked tentatively, reaching for her greens salad, a piece of tomato slipping off the clip and dropping next to her wine glass, “Obviously …… is it a concerto, orchestral piece, or something else?”

He answered her casually, “Six movements, six equally intense orgasms.”

“Is it the same length of time as The Kiss?” She asked in surprise.

“Yes.”

“That’s almost an hour long,” she quickly calculated, “isn’t that too long, don’t you think?”

“No.”

Her hand pushed firmly against the glass, and it was at that moment that Max appeared in the villa’s arched porch.

“Mika, Franca, so you are here. I’ve been calling to London all morning,” he explained, sitting down in a chair, “and I’m starving; the table looks good. Where is Serena?”

Mika looked to be deep in thought as he poured Max a glass of wine and handed him a saucer. It was Franca who broke the silence, “I …… we …… I haven’t seen her,” she said, glancing at Mika out of the corner of her eye, “We’ve been working, hardly ever stopping.”

“Work?” Max repeated, taking a sip of his drink, his tone clearly excited and relaxed, “You’ve found the right tune for her, Mika?”

“Yes.”

“Hopefully it’s not Bach,” Max said, his mind already turning to future markets and profits. “Or maybe it’s Paganini. I heard there’s a Japanese guy signed with EMI and they’re planning to release the news to the public in September, and there’s some things that aren’t quite clear, like what’s his name?”

Franco remembered such a Japanese man, Perlman had played his Concerto in F ascending minor when he first appeared at Carnegie Hall, and later he recorded his Violin Concertos No. 1 and No. 2 …… Marks understandingly couldn’t have been as obtuse as he sounded, could he?

“We need something different, something that can capture the market, and it’s a male market.” He added as well, remembering his close conversation with Sally in London.

“Max.” Mika’s voice was icy cold.

“Something that arouses one’s libido,” Max continued, not paying attention to Mika’s tone, “something that gives one a rush ……”

“Max,” Mika spoke in a tone so cold it could have frozen Max’s effervescent enthusiasm, “we’re gaining ground, I’ve gotten to the theme and ……” He paused for a moment. “Franca plays a certain kind of artistic effect that can evoke emotions. Leave the music in my hands, you can rest assured,” he added, his eyes showing a hint of mischief, “it will fulfill the requirements of your exploits.”

“Great!” Max enthused, taking a big gulp of his drink, “You’ll have to give me some time, though, Mika. I need to let the company know so we can anticipate the studio and start a massive publicity blitz. I know the Carnegie Sonic Teeth Hall is all but expected to be full.”

“It’s better to be quick, Max.” Mika warned, an unnatural smile on her lips.

“What did you say?”

“Slow down, that’s a famous quote from the Roman Emperor Augustus.”

“Yeah, nice, but she’s never dealt with a record label.”

She waited, waited for the moment of erotic eruption, he was wandering on the edge of pleasure, the hot stream of lust pounding through her, making her mind reel. She felt his fingers probing, his fingers had removed their sable gloves, thick and cold, and he touched her like a burning block of ice, sending her into a fiery frenzy.

A pungent smell drilled into her nose, and she was vaguely aware that it was the smell of a chemical-laden ointment that stimulated the body and enhanced the libido; it couldn’t be abused, and just a little bit of it was too much to handle, too much to control. But he applied layer after layer thickly.

It was like a fire burning between her legs, thirsty and agonizingly expectant, and it craved fast, furious, intense stimulation.

He kissed her thigh long and hard, then stood up ……

London, capital of United Kingdom

Sally cursed when the private hotline rang. She’d just returned from lunch five minutes ago, which was why she was sitting on the couch with a glass of apple juice from the fridge and a black cherry cheese. Max had been on the phone with her for hours this morning, discussing the business situation in Canada and, later, asking her to telex a draft contract to Francesca in Geneva. She had done this half an hour ago, so she understood that there could be no mistakes, right? They’d used that formatted contract many times.

Reluctantly, she reached out and picked up the phone on the table beside her.

“DISC-O, this is Sally.”

“Sally, it’s Eve. How does it feel to be alone?”

“Boring and tedious, Eve,” Sally snapped back, stung by the tone of Eve’s voice, “How’s Nikolai doing, or maybe I should say is he making any progress?”

“Everything is to my liking and to my liking,” Eve replied, with a hint of lustful teasing on her lips, “Why don’t you come over and join us? There’s lots of things we can talk about here, just outside the office.” She added in a soothing tone.

Sally sighed. “Eve, I’ve got quite a bit of business to take care of here, and Max and I have been on the phone all morning talking about what’s going on regarding the Canadian company. It’s a bad situation over there, or at least he thinks so. He wants details. I’ll have to telefax them overnight. He also wanted to discuss the report you brought from the U.S. He was very impressed with your work in Toronto. By the way, you did a great job there.”

I know better than you, Eve thought to herself, remembering her encounter in New York with Jeff… Brooks encounter. “Thank you, Sally, I’ll do my best to do just fine.”

“Thank God I have your full report here,” Sally continued. “He looks mesmerized by the American market.”

“I think he might be more enamored of the Geneva business,” Eve interrupted her meanly, “perhaps because of Serena.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought,” Sally replied slowly. Eve was never soft on Serena’s taunts. “Strange, he didn’t mention anything about it, except to urge that the draft contract be telegraphed to Franca.”

“Oh, so she’s admitted? What about Mika? Does that mean he came out of his closure?”

“Apparently so,” Sally said. She’d asked about Mika, and Max had mentioned Carnegie Hall, the score for solo violin, and his plans to debut the newcomer before the end of the year. “Mika is working on a score,” she exclaimed, “for solo violin for Franca.”

“So …… things are moving really fast,” said Eve, as if to herself. “But Serena must have had a hand in this, don’t you think? What did Mr. Max say about his beloved lady?”

“Max didn’t say anything, really. It’s weird, I guess.”

“Not at all surprising,” said Eve quickly; “come to think of it, he may be completely enamored of her now. She should have seen Franca’s potentialities, and been able to estimate the effect that such a gifted and beautiful girl would have on Mika by being at the villa all day. Doubtless they were already having fun in bed. ‘I’ll bet Max won’t turn that down,’ she giggled.

Sally thought bitterly. How blunt and obvious …… what Eve had said was brutal, but every word of it was true. How absurd and ridiculous it had been for her to turn herself into a sex slave that Max could dispense with at will. She had envisioned herself actually getting Max, and not just for the sake of sexual desire. But it was just a dream, and Eve had seen through that long ago.

“Are you listening, Sally?” Eve asked.

“Yes, yes, I’m listening.” Sally responded, doing her best to bring her thoughts back.

“Well… Listen to me, Nikolai is indeed brilliant, better than I thought he would be. I think you should meet him, come on, join us, I promise you’ll be satisfied. We always do it together, don’t we?” Eve’s voice lowered, softly.

“Yes, yes, we’ll do it together.” Sally replied, her body warming at Eve’s words.

“In fact, it’s very nice and fancy,” Eve said in a seductive tone, “Will you just come over here, Sally?”

Sally’s mind flashed back to the erotically titillating sight of being in Max’s apartment, lying on that huge, huge bed, with the ceiling above her head a full-length mirror, from which she could see Eve, and herself, and Nikolai. “Yes,” she said into the phone, “Sally will have to wait a little longer, have to finish the job at hand, Sally will go to Max’s place at five o’clock, Sally likes to listen to Nicola play Max’s small piano.”

“Don’t worry dear Sally, he’ll be here.” Eve said, carefully hiding a smug tone, “He’ll play any tune you like.”

Geneva, Switzerland

“Has it always been like this?” Franco asked.

Mika left them abruptly, without any explanation or apology. At first he listened with interest to Max’s account of a flutist’s affair, a mocking smile even spreading across his face, and then he rose from his chair and went into the villa without a word.

She and Max exchanged glances and opened another bottle of wine, both doing their best to ignore Mika’s emotions. Still, she had him on her mind, wondering if he’d gone back to the studio to work on his music or just to meditate, she wondered if he’d compare her to Serena, and she wondered why all the common courtesies of human interaction that applied to all people didn’t work for him.

“What’s it like?” Max asked.

“Too, too rude and impolite. No, that’s not quite the right word,” she replied, shaking her head. “Instead of withdrawing and avoiding, it’s more like he hangs you out to dry, like you don’t really exist… Is he always like this? Or has he been like this since the accident?”

Max took a sip of his drink, thinking carefully about how to answer Franco’s question. He remembered that when he had tried to ask about Mika’s hand, Mika had blushed furiously. “He’s never been a nice person to deal with,” he replied slowly, “but yes, he has certainly changed a lot; he’s colder and more withdrawn now than he used to be.”

“You’ve known him for years, Max,” she said, stretching her legs out of the sand cage and exposing them to the sunlight, feeling relaxed and uninhibited with Max. Beyond sex and gender, there was a wonderful intimacy developing between them, a contractual relationship.

“More or less ten years,” he said, “My career was just starting out, DISC-O was only two years old, and the company was in Paris at the time. both EMI and RCA were interested in Mika, and both went out of their way to pull him in to join their companies.” He laughed a little and said.

“But in the end he signed with you.” She couldn’t hide her surprised tone.

“Yes, he signed with Sally,” looking back, Max still can’t believe the risk he took, the price he paid, it was astronomically huge. At first he was prepared to put up two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to sign Mika to a lifetime contract, Mika nodded his head in agreement then after a moment’s contemplation, but soon called back and reversed his decision. Max couldn’t afford to lose such a genius, and had to recover the honorarium in order for DISC-O to quickly break ground and reach the pinnacle of its career. The final agreement was to double the price negotiated in the initial contract. After the agreement was reached, he was both relieved and a little frightened, and he had a special party at the Maxim Hotel. It was there that he met Serena for the first time.

“What’s he like?” She asked.

“Over the top and unrivaled.” Max replied.

“I mean …….”

“Do you know what Previn said about Perlman?” He went on, ignoring her words. “He said there were many good violinists, a number of them very good, but only a few truly outstanding ones, and the saints of extraordinary talent that were even more minimal.” He smiled, taking a large sip of his wine, “He hadn’t met Mika then.”

“But you’re asking me what he was like.” He searched his memory, but his mind was full of Serena. He knew his answer would be quite important to Franca; she needed to know more about the man, not just the violinist. But how much difference was there between the two?

“Sally heard Serena tell his story once,” he finally opened up, “Mika was very young, maybe three or four, when he first heard a violin. He wanted one too, and they ended up buying him a toy. Isn’t that a clichéd story? Perlman and Menuhin had the same experience, Perlman threw the toy under the bed and Menuhin stomped on it,” he paused for a moment and drank some more wine.

“Mika, well, Mika apparently threw it into the fire.” He concluded.

He seems to be talking to the glass, she thought. He shook what little amber liquid was left, as if to find some answers in it.

When he spoke again, she was surprised to hear him say, “Strange. I never really believed the story.”

Isn’t six movements really too much? Mika thought irritably, staring at the sheet music spread out in front of her. Was it big and long and indulgent? …… Maybe she was right, it should be shorter, tighter? But that would require going back again …… She dismissed it without a second thought, and without considering the entire frame structure.

Fucking women!

He tried his best to think of Sereno, murmuring her name, but it didn’t work this time, he couldn’t calm down.

He closed his eyes and tried to recapture the fleeting moments of that beautiful, melodic, dreamlike melody, that intoxicating. The wildly mesmerizing tune.

Nothing.

He was a little annoyed to have made up his mind. He could condense it into four chapters and the theme of the music, the soul of the music, could still remain. The Kiss was good, and he let it develop naturally, not thinking about whatever vibrato she proposed.

Then proceeded to …… hands probing under the silk dress, finding the naked torso, feeling its contours, its texture. He could have combined the theme of the still unwritten third movement with that of the second to make it deeper, more subtly titillating. The silk dress slipped to the floor with a rustling sound, the black lace tied around the wonderful, vibrant skin. Understanding fingers wandered ficklely. The Embrace.

His attention was back.

He heard the music begin to play, a slow riot of lust sliding across his skin and across the strings as they drew closer and closer, thighs against thighs, stomach against stomach, the fire of desire burning hotter and hotter. A soul-stirring, exhilarating tremor swept up his spine, the aftermath etched in his mind. The white linen sheet fell slowly under the corner of the bed, warm naked bodies met, and breathing began to catch.

The middle sector was still vague and obscure. Lust swam over the naked body, long, passionate kisses caressing the hot skin, which did not want to turn itself into the syllables and strings of a musical piece.

Filled with disappointment, he slammed his pencil aside and sauntered over to the window. The sun was going down, the glittering red orb gradually sinking into the thick gray clouds. It was an unusual and striking sunset, flame-like and brilliant, almost like a tropical sun rather than the Geneva sun he knew so well. It hung in the sky for a long, long time, seeming to stare blankly at Mika, and at last it slowly ducked behind the clouds.

The light softened and obscured, and the sky began to be gloomy and blurred. He thought that if he were to rehearse that piece, he must play it in this dark, misty, candle-less light, and wait patiently for the darkness to fall. In this room his violin lay in velvet. She must have been dressed in silk, too, ivory-smooth silk, long and cascading like a waterfall, trailing straight from her throat to the floor.

The back of the dress was adorned with hundreds of tiny buttons that lined up in neat bunches on the back, and as he undid a single button to the melody of the pizzicato tune, the tempo of the music picked up and his hands moved wildly, and his back was already revealing a line of warm, smooth skin, and he couldn’t wait to rip the dress open, the pearly buttons clattering and scattering all over the place.

Long syllables, the bow fell gently on the strings, and almost hesitantly, he turned her around so that she was facing him, and he pulled the dress off her shoulders, letting it slide down to the marble floor.

Yes, he thought, rubbing his hands together. That way the music sounds flavorful. But then …… there was something wildly uninhibited and mischievous and naughty about it. It was vaguely reminiscent of debauched, tawdry, smoky women, with a tremolo that was deep and slow.

The black corset wrapped around her supple breasts, pink nipples faintly visible underneath, and the black netting around her waist held her white, plump breasts, with her curvy hips attached below. Black camisole pants showed off her cheese-like slender thighs, and narrow black ribbons covered her lower parts. The contrast between black and white was striking.

He returned to the table with such gusto that he hardly realized that Franca’s image had gradually changed the wheelhouse of Serena’s Song.

Max was alone in the rose garden, smoking a cigar and staring at the sky. He and Franca had just been having a leisurely lunch, enjoying the sunshine and the wine, stealing pleasure from each other, and she seemed relaxed and uninhibited. Yet when he spoke of The Kiss, he could still feel the undercurrent of desire welling up in her heart.

He sucked thoughtfully on his cigar, using the draft contract that Sally had telexed to the villa as he did everything he could to lure Franca into the running of DISC-O. This contract was a departure from the norm; whereas it was usual for newcomers to recording studios not to have to haggle to keep their fees as low as possible, Franca, unlike the others, had already gained the upper hand in this business negotiation.

But when she heard Max’s terms of cooperation, she simply skimmed the contract, which stated that she would sign for five years with only ten percent of the net income. Max was surprised that she readily agreed without any objections.

Was she so desperate to be Mika’s student that she was willing to accept all the harsh conditions? Max found this reasoning a bit untenable. Maybe there was more to it than that. He could feel the urgency in her tone as she grilled him about Mika, and it was more than simple admiration for the master artist.

Maybe Serena is in this…

Nope. Reluctantly, he pulled his thoughts back from Serena again.

But his business instincts told him he had to put the contract in place with Franca as soon as possible, tonight, before she thought deeply about it. He’d get on the phone to Sally right away, before the office closed, and he wanted her to teletype the text of the two final contracts, complete with full details of the profits, which were crucial.

So Mika, what did he expect? “Obnoxious business details,” he had said, and it lingered in his mind, upsetting him. He tried to recall the precise wording of his contract with Mika. He was probably too smart for his own good; the contract detailed that DISC-O owned all of Mika’s work, including the compositions he had composed, for which the company paid a fee of half a million dollars a year, but for the past eighteen months the company had gotten nothing! He was furious at the thought–Mika had no reason to expect anything more.

His thoughts flowed and turned back to the complex North American market, targeting the Toronto company. Eve’s report had been quite accurate, as Sally had said on the phone, but was still unsure of her conclusions. The last set of data didn’t match what he had expected, and he was beginning to wonder a little if something had gone wrong, or at least was inaccurate.

The cigar nearly burned his fingers. He stood up and threw the butt on the warm dirt floor where the roses were blooming. The fragrance of the flowers was so strong, fragrant, and sweet. He reached out to stroke the pomegranate-red leaves, each brightly colored petal as smooth and soft as velvet, and he thought of Serena’s sweet, fragrant lips.

Last night, before she left his bed, they did it again, slowly and softly, in stark contrast to her rough, frenzied intercourse in the rose garden. In a rhythm of slow climbs to the peak of pleasure, he drove her violently, as confident in himself as he had been in the rosebushes.

“I’d like a moment alone, Max.” She said coldly he, donning her white robe and slipping out of his room like a ghost. He propped himself up on his elbows and watched her go, his heart aching.

Unable to sleep, he tossed and turned, in a daze he searched for her warm, naked body, only to awaken with a start and realize he was alone. He couldn’t face her bravely because he would blurt out his agonizing longings, his desires, and he was afraid she would despise him, pity him. She owed him nothing, he thought hatefully. She had possessed him, had been satisfied, and what pleased her now was to be alone and undisturbed.

He lit another cigar as the sun was fading behind fluffy gray clouds. He could hear the faint sound of violins coming from the villa.

He wanted to ignore it, but couldn’t, and he admitted that “the music was harmonious and pleasant.” That was a plus, really, in this deal.

She must have fallen asleep, because when she opened her eyes again, the velvet blindfold had been removed. She let the whip fall and pretended to be asleep, careful to keep her breathing deep and even. She could feel him nearby, and she smelled a strong odor of leatherwork.

Serena cocked her head and looked toward him. He was standing at the end of the hallway, his back to her. Dressed all in black. It was Mika’s color. Black leather pants tightened around muscular thighs, showing off bulging, open hips. On top was a black t-shirt that outlined broad, powerful shoulders. His brawny head hung low.

He looked strange and odd. She knew what was going on when he turned to face her; he was wearing a face mask. The black hood covered almost his entire face, showing only his eyes, nostrils and mouth.

She recognized the hood. She had bought it when she went to New York, at the same store where she had bought the handcuffs, and now the mink-lined handcuffs were clasping her wrists and ankles, binding her. When she wanted to try being bound, she slipped on the cuffs and felt the pleasure of the pain. The intense pain was intertwined and mixed with extreme arousal.

It was an experience she had gone through, one she had enjoyed herself with, fascinated and intoxicated, until she herself began to fear fear fear. The mask, the handcuffs, the energy.

She remembered well that the mask had incredible powers. It hid her face, and at the same time it camouflaged her in such a way that she was unrecognizable even to herself and her lover. She had felt an infinite amount of power, as if she were suffering from euphoria, and under the mask she no longer had any personality traits.

It goes far beyond sex and finds deeper, farther and more obscure territory. Mystery, pain, pleasure, energy.

Fear is a key. It surges the adrenal cords, it tenses the nerve endings, and it amplifies the sensations.

In fact, deep down she cringed, those thoughts like blades flickering in the dim light.

These are dangerous games. These cruel and bloody games can only be played between lovers and the rules of the game have to be laid down beforehand. Otherwise, it gets out of control and becomes truly dangerous and horrible. She was feeling her gradually losing control and becoming truly dangerous with the mask on.

He was coming toward her now. He darted to bring his whip down, but just as she closed her eyes for a moment, she caught a glimpse of his thick, strong, bull-like neck, and she knew that it wasn’t Mika, or Max.

It was Serge. It was he who appeared before her in a mask.

She had to be careful. She was sure she could handle him, manipulate him as she pleased, but she had to consider the fact that he came on like a stimulant, as if he were dissolving into a maelstrom of desire …… and he was wearing a hood. Her self-confidence wavered a little, but only for a moment.

He knelt beside her and she could feel his eyes on her face. She quickly thought of a way to cope.

Slowly, debilitatingly, she squirmed as if to wake up, a low sound coming from her throat. His hand touched her cheek and she opened her eyes.

They leaned close, and the hood was even more chilling than she had imagined, an expressionless black visage, like the face of an executioner, almost inhuman. Her eyes scanned it, and then she smiled, her lips red and warm with a charming curve.

“Good morning, dear,” she hemmed and hawed, trying to stretch her handcuffed limbs as best she could, “is it morning?”

As she expected, her opening statement took him by surprise. “No.” He replied, his voice coming out low and muffled behind his mask.

She smiled again, more tenderness shining in her eyes. She had to create the illusion of being a co-conspirator, of becoming complicit in his carnal desires. “I must have fallen asleep. She took her time he said.

He nodded.

She let out a low chuckle, “No wonder ……” she mused for a moment, “it really is quite …… spectacular and amazing. “

“It will look like this.” He corrected, holding up his hand to reveal a knife, it was long, with a thin sharp blade and a slightly curved handle.

She laughed again, a little evil in her laughter. Deep down, she liked the sound of it, and she wanted the laughter to sound natural, not contrived. Her spine felt an icy shiver, her bare flesh reacting instinctively to the cold light of a wobbly sharp blade.

He put the knife in her stomach.

“It feels so good.” She said. Trying to keep her voice and vision as hot as possible. Her mind was clear. There were two Serena’s now, Serena the Actor and Serena the Spectator. The bystander guided the actor. She had to change roles and take control of him with her flirtatiousness. But it was tough to do so.

She had no way of knowing his twisted desires, mind, or rhapsodies, having merely noticed his long shaft, deft hands, and mouth. She had controlled it effortlessly with her flesh, bowing him to her desires and using him as she pleased. She seemed to be the Mistress and he her slave.

“Yes.” He said, moving the blade between her breasts and laying it flat, the tip of the knife right up against the right breast, the cool hilt passing through the peak of the breast ask and resting against her stomach.

She shuddered for a moment, her fear subsiding by half, and she smiled wildly.

“It’s kind of cold.” She murmured, with a challenging look.

“Too cold?” He asked, pressing the hilt of the knife gently against her slightly rumbling stomach.

Be a victim, be submissive and tame, advises bystander Serena. But it’s an interesting sacrifice to learn a lot about.

“It’s too cold.” She responded, arching her back so that the piercing steel hilt of the blade would be closer to her.

He was quiet. Beneath the tight black leather jacket, she could see that he was getting a little soulful, that his plaything was growing erect, be careful, Serena, on the sidelines. The thought of him hurting you still makes him stir.

“Pleasure and pain,” she said aloud thoughtfully, “have centers of pain and centers of pleasure in the body, and sometimes they send signals that are often confusing. That’s why some can only seek joy in pain, and others merely find only pain,” Serena, the onlooker warned, beware, “it takes skillful mixing of the two to make them melt together in one piece to seek maximum pleasure.”

“Melt.” He repeated, his fingers touching the handle of the knife.

He wanted to enter her, and she remembered the sexual excitement he could give her, not that of extreme pleasure, but she would have to allow him to enter, once or twice.

It was Max who made you happy, bystander Serena reminded justly.

“Melt.” The actor Serena didn’t object as she licked and flicked her upper lip with the tip of her pink tongue in a motion that contained a teasing, erotic undertone, If you can get him to take off his hood, then you win, the other Serena suggested. Or at least change the current disadvantage and turn the situation in your favor. “Belly to belly. Tongue to tongue, Serge.”

“Tongue to tongue,” he repeated, raising the knife, “that’s my tongue.”

His eyes were hidden behind the slit in his mask, unreadable, as he held the knife up to her mouth and pressed the sharp tip against her thick lower lip. It was a sensation like a pinprick. The knife was cold, sliding along her lips, the tip tracing the ripe, plump whorls of her lower lip, and probing at her sensual, curvaceous upper lip, a soothing touch, so light that it could barely be felt, but it was, after all, a sharp blade, with a chilly, glittering light that threatened to take one’s life. Her nerves were highly strung and apprehensive, even though her mouth had come to love such thrilling excitement.

Gradually she reacted deep within her body, unable to hold herself back, and neither Serena the actor nor Serena the onlooker seemed to be able to control her.

He toyed with her, with the knife, the sharp blade swimming over her rosy, bowed lips, a kiss of sharp, piercing metal.

Be careful, cautioned Serena, the bystander.

I love it, said actress Serena.

More passionate deep inside.

She opened her mouth and pressed her tongue against the cold, steel sharp edge. His hand stilled for a moment. She opened her eyes so wide they seemed to set her amber-colored, fiery eyes on fire. She licked the blade, then closed her lips around the shiny knife. Her yellow eyes never left the narrow slits in that mask.

She closed her lips hard, her teeth biting down on the steel blade. He seemed to freeze under her aggressive gaze, staring at her mouth in death. She smiled again, and he saw her small, white, sharp teeth bite down on the sharp point of the blade.

Don’t be so eager to tease him and provoke him, warns bystander Serena.

It was an interesting role, and actor Serena shrugged in disbelief.

It has …… considerable charm. There was a third voice speaking again.

She let the whip fall, breathing deeply, her teeth nipping lightly at the blade. Her tongue wasn’t idle, either, playing with the blade as nimbly as a snake, tapping it, caressing it, wrapping around it, her movements varied and erratic, haphazard and wanton.

She could feel his grip relax, lost in her play with the knife. She swallowed the knife into her mouth again.

“Lick me,” she softened, exerting her characteristic charm, “lick me.”

If he was going to use his tongue, he’d have to move the mask. The cool steel blade was almost at her throat, and her thoughts raced, she didn’t care if it was a steel blade, or a tongue, as long as it brought pleasure.

He danced the knife deftly, teasing her pointed nipple with the tip, rubbing the halo around it as if kissing it, the muscles there quivering. Her nipples were hard, and the muscles in her stomach tensed with a cold sensation. She felt hot liquid running between her thighs. The cold glint of the knife still gave her a vague fear that irritated her, picking at her first nerve.

He moved the knife slowly toward the lower part of her body, and he saw the muscles in her abdomen and thighs tense and quiver. She stretched before him, exposed, her white, creamy muscles glowing pearly in the dim light. She had never been so aroused. Her mesmerized amber eyes were slightly closed, her messy hair cascaded around her shoulders, and her wrists and ankles were cuffed. She was his slave now, whereas in the past, he had been hers.

Through the whip, she gazed at him with interest. He was obviously mesmerized by her white skin and the glittering silver blade, lost in the blinding whiteness. The knife in his hand was tracing the blue veins of her inner thighs ……

Her feelings were distinctly stronger.

“Serge.” She whispered softly, her words full of sweetness and the excitement of delayed lust.

Yes, said Serena, the bystander. Stop him, make him stop, you’ve gone too far, remind him, remove the mask.

Not yet, there is a dark voice that opposes it.

“Serena.” He actually forgot who he was and dared to call out her name.

It annoyed her a bit.

She smiled, sticking her tongue out to follow her lips, licking her own soft, rosy mouth. “Kiss me.”

“Serena, with my tongue?” He asked, holding up the steel blade, which was slick with her bodily fluids and glowed softly in the faint light.

Her eyes widened, “Kiss my mouth with your lips,” she said in a husky voice, “I want to get a good feel for your lips and tongue before that tongue of yours licks me.”

Captivated by her eyes, captivated by the wintry way her tongue licked and tweaked her lips, he moved forward, his body sprawled over her torso, one hand still grasping the knife, the other reaching blindly for her hair. He had accessed her body from every different angle, had her in every conceivable position. But never before had she allowed him to touch her lips.

It was, as she had once mocked and refused to even explain, simply a matter of taste.

Through the narrow slit in his mask, he quickly spat out the tip of his tongue to touch hers, and she touched it skillfully, flicking the tip of her tongue sharply and deftly against his.

He growled, his voice pressed deep in his throat, low and muffled. His tongue stabbed forward hard, his teeth wide, the visor on his head pulled tight and twisted. She stepped back slightly, wrapping her tongue around the narrow slit in the mask, savoring the leather, the scent of sweat from his body mixing with the leathery smell of the mask, hot with a faint sweetness and saltiness.

“Kiss me, Serge,” she cooed in a whisper, “kiss me.”

He dropped the knife with a mutter and clumsily undid the straps on his mask before pulling it off. His head of yellow hair sprang out, his eyes fiery and swimming as he lunged for her mouth. His tongue was like a sharp knife, churning in her soft mouth, licking her well-aligned teeth.

“Darling …… darling.” Actress Serena panted he said, writhing sluttishly in his mouth, her thighs lightly touching his aroused thing.

A little too much, chided bystander Serena, now tell him to let go of your hand, even one.

I really like that knife, the darker side of her body lowered him.

Max picked up the telephone receiver in his room and dialed an outside line as he waited for the villa’s private telephone switching system to channel his voice clearly to London. He had once programmed his phone number into the digital memory key on the telephone, and now all he had to do was press that key and he could hear the other side of the line ringing as he waited. Surely Sally would still be there? He had a hard time visualizing Sally working sloppily while he was away. She never left the office before seven o’clock. Sometimes she was even busy until eight or nine o’clock at night, and at the moment it was only five o’clock London time.

The phone rang clear and pure in tone. He touched his fingers to his cowhide jacket. The phone continued to ring, and suddenly there was a loud click, followed by the sound of the answering machine being activated, and silence on the other side.

Asshole! Goddamn it! Sally must have left a long time ago and didn’t instruct the phone to put a call through to her apartment.

He put the phone down and redialed again, this time to Sally’s house number. From the valley outside the house came the frustrating wail of cowbells; the farmers were probably milking their cows. The sound stirred with the ringing of the long-distance phone.

How long did he call? Two minutes, or three? Granted, it was long enough that she should have heard it even if she was dripping Yuyu?

He hung up the phone and it was obvious she wasn’t home. He was anxiously awaiting Franca’s signature on the final contract form tonight, before she changed her mind, or the night would be long, but where had Sally gone?

Damn it!

Franca looked closely at herself in the mirror, and on a sudden impulse raised her hand to remove the barrette from her hair, quickly destroying the bun she had just spent twenty minutes carefully combing out. She thought the hair style was elegant, sophisticated, and subtle, but it didn’t suit her state of mind or mood at all.

Her fingers scrabbled at her hair, messing it up for a moment, then re-combing it, until finally, she let it cascade wildly in a tousled fashion as if electrified. Naughty hair that cascaded down like a molten bank of dissolution, scattering over her shoulders and back. This was good, she settled on. The pure white evening gown she’d picked out was adorned with nice metallic flakes, elegant and stately, almost seeming a bit formal and demure.

Dinner was at eight o’clock. The notice, delivered on a silver tray by the expressionless butler, who happened to be awake, bore the mysterious air of a man’s own total enigma. The writing was small and cramped and illegible, the capitals inflected and unattractive, and the signature was even more gargoyled and black and bold.

Incredibly, it set her pulse pounding violently, an ardent expectation driving away the inexplicable weariness that had followed her lunch with Max. It was this fatigue that whisked her into the house for a snooze, when, just after she had agreed to sign with DISC-O, Franca felt an unexplainable weariness. She had sold herself, she thought, to an agent who appeared as if he knew nothing about music, and if that was the case, it was a bummer and a chilling experience.

She had agreed to sign with Max because Mika and Max were related, she reminded herself, and now she was with Mika. Soon they would be meeting again.

She surveyed herself in the mirror again, okay, but not terribly impressive. The dress was too serious. She kicked off her shoes with the shuriken-like heels with a jerk.

That would be outstanding.

Bare feet. Wild hair, that stately white dress now looking a little incongruous and out of place. This odd, disorienting contrast would make a man’s eye wander to the curves and angles that were hidden by the clothes.

Tonight she was to appear cold and reserved. To look like a very insider and keep him at a distance. It wasn’t a novel ploy, she admitted in the mirror, but at least it was a ploy.

She took one last look at herself in the mirror, then turned and left the room, trotting down the stairs in a single bound. As she was about to push open the door to the music room, she heard very loud speech, followed by a burst of open laughter. Her instincts accurately told her it was Mika’s voice. She stood for a moment outside the door, admiring his voice. She had never heard him laugh before. She furrowed her forehead slightly, a confused look on her face, and then entered the house.

Max was sitting on a black leather couch, casually dressed in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, glass in hand, smoking a small cigar.

“Franca, come here, come to us,” he said, his words containing an incomprehensible tension, and he gestured with his glass for her to come closer, the ice in the glass grating. “We’ll have a drink before dinner.”

Mika stood in front of the window, looking at Max, her eyes shining and a strange expression on her face.

Her heart seemed to stop beating before she answered. She waited for Mika’s eyes to gaze upon her. She saw him raise an eyebrow, staring at her tousled, wild hair, bare feet, and stately dress as she made her way over to them.

“Yes, I understand.” She replied, smiling a little at Max, and at Mika, just nodding rather coldly.

“What can I get you?” Max asked, obviously assuming he was the host, “I can recommend a scotch that’s been stored for fifty years and tastes like it’s laced with fire. But of course, only Mika has the best.” There seemed to be a bit of an undertone to his words.

“Then whatever,” she responded, “no ice.”

Her eyes glanced over to the huge table, covered with papers, some crumpled up, some strangely spread out in a fan shape, and in one corner of the table, neatly piled, was a stack of manuscript paper pressed down with a glass bird.

She threw a surprised glance at Mika, who was meeting her direct gaze. Seeing her raise her eyebrows, the corners of his mouth suddenly curved as if in a smile.

“You’re very wise,” he said placidly, moving to the bottle, “One should never dilute or dilute one’s pleasure, not spoil it for oneself.”

“I totally agree with you,” she said coldly he, but Max saw her eyes widen at Mika’s comment.

Their conversation was all sidetracks and innuendo, and he wondered, in annoyance, why both of them were staring at those boring and tedious papers. Glassbird, if there is no mistake …… Mika is using something so valuable as a paperweight, how much it fits his personality and how annoying it is.

He watched as Franca walked over toward the table and stroked the wings of the glass ooze. The movements were idle and looked as if they had no significance. But he could feel her tense inside. At that end of the room, Mika whipped his head around and shot her a quick glance, his gaze seemingly penetrating, before turning back to the table and pouring scotch.

Max held his breath. For a few moments, a vague impulse between them was palpable, so much so that the air in the room seemed to splinter and pop, becoming alive and vibrant.

She dropped the glass bird and came over to sit next to Max on the couch, she brought her legs up under her. She spoke naturally and calmly, her expression was casual and loose, and he could hardly imagine the fire of lust that was burning between them.

It wasn’t long before he believed his suspicions. As Mika handed her the clear, flat-bottomed, footless wine glass, her fingers brushed against his gently. The gesture was quick, almost as if it were quite accidental, but one wouldn’t make that small, imperceptible gesture without considerable intimacy.

He had planned to deal with her carefully tonight with the final contract still to be signed, and now that seemed completely unnecessary, with her whole attraction to Mika.

“Is your work going well?” She asked Mika, tilting her head toward the manuscript paper spread out on the table.

Mika was silent for a moment, not making a sound, but he stood looking at the writing desk, at the messy manuscript paper. The glass bird’s wings were still stained. He frowned a little and bent his hand up, “Yes, it’s not going too badly,” he answered at last, “Yes, I suppose it is.”

“But you haven’t told me the entire framework of the work yet.” Franco reminded him in a faintly provocative tone, taking a sip of his scotch, “Oh great, you’re right, it’s golden liquid.”

“Probably expensive,” Max commented, draining the rest of his glass, “I’ll have some more, Mika.”

Mika’s slightly twitching lips revealed his reaction as he walked over to the liquor cabinet without a word.

“What is the framework?” Franca asked persistently, “Is it a practice piece, an orchestral piece, or something else?”

“Well,” Mika replied thoughtfully, “I think you might guess it’s in the form of an orchestral piece,” and he poured scotch sherry for Max before adding some to his own glass. “It’s bound to be heavily influenced by The Four Seasons.” His words were vaguely amusing.

“An orchestral piece?” Franco was a little confused he said, “But The Kiss is nothing like that ……”

“Conceptually, anyway,” Mika interrupted with a sharp interjection, “I think you might be right. Six movements might make for a lengthy performance, and I decided to condense it into four.”

“Oh.” She exclaimed in surprise, clearly out of her element.

“Yes,” he continued, “I wouldn’t lose the core of the piece, and I think structurally it might be better to split it into two parts, and your comments,” he added slowly, his eyes traveling over the glass bird, “are …… not going to be without value.”

Sitting on her empyrean side, Max could almost feel the burning arousal, but she quickly suppressed it, disguising her own tumultuous restlessness with a barrage of questions about successive chord progressions and musical melody. As he listened, he gradually lost interest, and they became completely absorbed in their discussion of the rhythmic cadence of the music.

Musician! he said to himself, humming his nose. The temperament of an artist. Sensitive, creative …… sensitive, my ass! Temperamental child with lots of money, he thought. Serena hadn’t shown up yet.

She wouldn’t have skipped lunch, he thought with a little grumble, wondering where she’d had lunch and where she was now. Maybe she was in her own room, or dining in the country. Hell, it actually occurred to him that she might have flown to heady Paris and had dinner at the Maxim.

Oh, God. What made him think of Maxim’s in Paris was his first acquaintance with her, the first good night’s sleep he’d shared with her.

He did his best to pull his thoughts back to the conversation between Mika and Franca, who were now passionately discussing eighth notes, diatonic notes, and sixteenth notes. The intense tension of emotion between them should have seized his attention, even if the words made no sense, but his entire senses were set on imagining Serena, flowing behind his blinking eyes, alluring, enchanting, licentious, lustful, cold and worldly, imagining her licking greedily, like an urchin, at the mayonnaise smeared on her fingers. This woman, effervescent and vibrant, completely immersed in her rose garden.

That Serena said, coldly and rejectingly, “I want to be alone for a while.”

“Garbo will do better.” He exclaimed, taking another large swig of scotch bourbon.

“Serge, darling,” the actor Serena panted him close to his mouth, “I want to touch you …… feel you …… tickle you with my fingers. Let go of my hand, darling, so I can caress your skin.”

Her voice, her words were seductive and driving. But her eyes, her crooked head looked calm, even though they were filled with fiery feelings that were hard to put into words.

Garbo would indeed do better than that, agreed bystander Serena.

Chapter 9: Moonlight Sonata

The deep topaz eyes shot out golden light like flickering embers. No man could resist the innate allure of those amber eyes. After intercourse, a dull sadness hangs over all men.

“Max was a little soulful at dinner.” Franco said, accepting a glass of strong, sweet wine.

“So, you know him well?” Mika asked, his words tinged with amusement. His eyes were fixed on the kind of potent liqueur Maddie had brought along with the coffee. He wanted to put a little something in the thick, steam-pressurized brewed coffee.

“No, don’t understand,” she replied, “but he looks, oh, I don’t know, preoccupied? Or worried and troubled? He’s hardly eaten anything?”

“He’s probably not hungry,” Mika said gently, his words containing a hint of tired weariness as he drained his coffee and leaned back in his chair, sipping his sweet wine.

The drink went down his throat, fiery and hot, and tasted very different from the golden scotch he preferred. The sensation was like a pale, scurrying fire bouncing up and down, as did the flickering candlelight on the table. The candle was just about to burn out now, and the faint candlelight cast shadows of her face, a mass of her fiery red hair glistening.

“No, it’s more than that,” she insisted, her gaze fixed on Mika’s eyes. “Between the two of you, there is some tension, awkwardness …… I sensed it as soon as I walked into the house.” His blue eyes shot a somber light, warning her to say no more, but still the torrent of words poured from her mouth, “I heard you laughing, just before I came into the house.”

Franca recalled that Max had swept a glance at Mika a moment ago when the expressionless butler had gathered up the dishes, and she had seen a bitter smile sweep across Mika’s face, while Max’s head had looked stiff.

Mika raised an eyebrow and poured another glass of sweet wine, “That’s not a bad taste. I think I’ll take a walk in the garden.”

This time it wasn’t a warning, it was an order to stop nagging and bothering him. Well, she thought, as she watched his black gloved hand pour some wine into her glass, at least it was much more polite and courteous.

He looked slightly drunk. There was no indication that he expected anything from her or wanted to ask her to join him for a stroll in the garden.

She wouldn’t have asked, she just took it for granted that she was going to be there too.

It was a warm night, even a little sultry. The midnight sky was actually blue as well, probably due to the twinkling stars. She walked beside him, her bare feet treading on the thick, cool grass. The rich scent of roses mingled with a faint scent she couldn’t tell what it was; it was an oddly spiced odor. As they walked down a graveled path, the soles of her feet inadvertently stung by a protruding pebble, and her body swayed, and she was surprised to feel his arm reach out and support her.

It was the first time they’d been this close since this afternoon, the afternoon when she’d taunted him with The Kiss, etching the substance, the essence of her body onto his lips. She slid her arm into his naturally, as if he wanted it that way, not just to hold the shaking her. They moved on again.

“Stupid girl, who wants you to leave your shoes on.” He said, his voice quivering a little, probably from some excitement.

“One should never dilute one’s pleasure, not spoil it for oneself.” She returned it softly.

He didn’t say anything, but turned back so that they were back on the grass again. She felt the warmth and comfort of his body, and clung to him without fear even as she walked in the dark shadows of the night; for a while the trimmed bushes loomed up and seemed frightening, but she paid no attention to them, and thought of them only as a mischievous prank played by the moonlight, and a joke on a human being.

Mika turned around again, and directly in front of them was a small fountain, the moonlight sweeping swiftly over the white marble as if it were a picture created in chiaroscuro, a singularly elaborate statue of a mermaid, with four jets of water shooting out of four spouts that resembled dolphins. The underwater light illuminated the smooth coiled body of the mermaid, who was breaking free from the hands of the lustful Poseidon, next to an angry turtle reaching out to bite Poseidon’s club-like phallus. It stood out in the light.

She exclaimed, surprised and filled with lust, “It’s so beautiful.”

“Was it Serena, or did someone else get it,” Mika said, “I don’t know, but it turns her on,” he added, “Serena is very Romantic.”

“Can we stay here for a while?” She asked, still gripping his arm.

“Sure, no problem,” he replied courteously, heading for the fountain.

She skipped away, eager to feel the mesmerizing fountain, and she moved forward to the circular fountain, dipping her fingers into the cool water, knowing how well the play of filaments and shadows would match her.

Serena, Romantic? How strange for Mika to say so.

Serena looked too cold, too worldly, too old-fashioned to be romantic at all. She did her best to pull her thoughts away from Serena, knowing that at the moment her impulsive, almost pressed tongue would prompt her to ask questions off the cuff about what kind of inside story, what kind of background there was between Mika and Max during the whole dinner, and why Max had been so strangely unintelligible in his words and actions.

Where was she? She was more or less a mysterious, energetic elf who could be smelled even when she wasn’t there…, and Franca didn’t want Serena to come between her and Mika right now.

As players, as musicians, as violinists, she and Mika shared that beautiful music in a way Serena had never experienced before. The emotional exchange between them must have been closer than any lover could ever hope to achieve, no matter how close and enduring those lovers’ relationships were.

“Did you mean to do that? Did you mean what you said? This afternoon?” She asked impulsively, but didn’t dare to look him squarely in the eye as she watched the water run through her fingers.

“I suppose so, whatever you mean,” he said coldly he said, “Generally speaking, when I say something it counts, and I think it’s valid.”

“Was it when you told Max that I was playing artistically?” She said, almost holding her breath.

“I said you show a certain artistic quality that evokes the theme of the music,” he corrected, “Yes, that’s what I meant, and meant it seriously.”

“Then, later, you said you decided to condense the work into four movements,” she said relentlessly, “but you never really explained the underlying framework structure ……” Her voice trailed off as she thought about the glass bird now pressed against the manuscript, which must have reached the second movement.

He was standing in front of her, his face unreadable in the shadows, and she felt herself doing the same, a mesmerizing heat sweeping through her whole body, a strong emotion that had appeared once before that afternoon, when she had kissed him with her fingers, caressed the outline of his lips with the fragrance of her body. She plunged her fingers deeper into the water, moving them around, groping for them, lost in the half-luminous memory of the melody, the rhythm of the music.

“After The Kiss comes the second movement,” she said softly him, “What happens after the kiss? Mika?”

The question, has multiple layers of meaning. She could refer to the kisses she had given him, or to the musical ‘kisses’ she had played for the bird. Maybe she didn’t really know herself yet, maybe there was no difference between the two at all, she thought.

“The second movement is, of course, much more complex,” he replied calmly. Flexing his hands and putting them in his pockets, he made to loosen the angry jolting sensation that ran through his fingers. His nerves not a little seemed to be becoming more irritated and annoyed, and were extremely prone to bursting out. “As you said, what happens after the kiss? You tramp, a little regretfully, backing away, examining his eyes to see if they are burning with incipient lust, to experience and test your own reactions, to be quiet for a moment before your hands become wildly audacious, the calm before the storm ……” He stopped speaking, and fell into a deep meditation. Soon he came back to his senses, “Don’t be afraid, don’t be timid, the second movement will stretch you, will excite you supremely.”

Sitting on the cold marble countertop, her fingers sliding in the cool fountain, she found herself wet after listening to his words, a wafting, mind-blowing heat returning between her legs.

“The chords are going to be complicated, with chromatic half notes descending to be played as sixteenth notes, and for dissonances and chord shifts which are long enough,” he continued, “your ‘impeccable playing technique’ should get you through the hardest part.” He said, deliberately emphasizing his tone to accentuate what he was saying.

Her thoughts ran wild and jumbled, and she longed to scream at him as Franca sat on the edge of the fountain, lust burning and churning in her belly. She longed to rub against him, to stir wildly with him, blazing lust crushing them, making them one, and she responded, “Then it’s cuddling, I think.”

“The title of my work,” he admitted, his voice tinged with a bit of surprise, “Yes,” and he lapsed into silence as he watched her touch the clear water with her fingers, remembering the first night she first arrived, when he saw her naked torso straining to Handel’s score, tumultuous, her water-dampened, golden-red hair undulating in the waves as if it were a monster coming up from the bottom of the sea. It all seemed like a long time ago, and what was especially memorable to him was the mesmerizing, irresistible sex appeal that radiated from her as she described the kiss and touched his lips with her fingers.

With a turn of phrase, he continued, “Assuming that you have experienced the first difficulties encountered in playing The Kiss, you may find it useful to focus your attention on some external signals. There is a kernel of music contained within certain specific material forms.”

Listening to him, she impatiently flicked her fingers across the water, almost a little arrogant, belittling everything in her demeanor. He must have misunderstood her, gotten her wrong, he thought.

He waited patiently for a moment, and when she had no intention of answering, he spoke, “I know that Serena will help you.” His tone was gentle.

“I don’t need Serena to help me with the Kiss, Mika,” Franca responded, a faint smile on her lips, “nor do I need her to help me with the Embrace, or even the third movement, and the fourth gladly and unnecessarily. Does your work end in a climax, or in an epilogue?”

“Orgasm.” He replied, taken aback at Franca’s keen comprehension.

He had heard and seen the extreme exuberance of orgasm, the drunken, luscious spectacle of two naked bodies twisted together in a frenzy, a frenzy of primal desire, as if they were about to merge into one, immersed in ultimate pleasure …… But after the orgasm, after the upheaval, after the storm, when the entwined, sweating bodies parted, when the fiery breathing cooled…then, undoubtedly, in the realm of the violin, after the breathless, death-defying climax was agonizing loss and despondency.

After intercourse all men are sad, did not Aristotle write so? After intercourse, a dull sadness hangs over it. This was a phrase that Sereno used to say when she flirted with him in Latin when he and Serena were living in London, and now he remembered that it was a reminder to write the climax in the third movement, and the intoxication, the excitement, the fatigue and weakness after the climax in the fourth, and the gradual waning of the immense pleasure …… What a good idea this was.

London, capital of United Kingdom

Sally was at the door of Max’s little room on the roof of the building; she had left the office a little short of five o’clock, and had picked a long gown with a belt out of the cupboard, and had run to the washroom to change into it, and then had taken the elevator down to the street to wait for a cab. Not leaving Eve or Nicola a moment to think.

Her head was filled with reports, analyses, market valuations and marketing strategies. After she and Eve spoke on the phone, she threw herself into the complexity of DISC-O’s designs, reports, and other documents. All kinds of reports and forms were gathered from secretaries, accountants, lawyers and consultants on the ground floor of the building, filtered, reviewed, summarized, organized and presented to Sally in a more precise form, and finally, Max had to think it over before making a decision about it.

It would be easy to work easier and not be bothered by all the red tape, as long as she didn’t have DISC-O on her mind, as long as she turned a blind eye to all the contracts and paperwork and didn’t worry about it.

Now she stared at the population of Max’s private domain she knew so well and couldn’t help but hesitate and hesitate Why had she come here? Why had she allowed Eve to rendezvous with Nikolai in Max’s private mansion?

Was it that Eve was too confident, too persuasive, too contagious, so that one had to believe her? She could not now recognize what the reason was, whatever the reasons and justifications for caution, but in short, she had given Eve the key that Max had left her.

Franca was about to join, as soon as Max had time to negotiate a contract with her. There was no need for Nikolai anymore, at least he wasn’t the major player Eve had designed to replace Franca.

On the other hand, Eve had said there was something to discuss and discuss. Max was far away in Geneva enjoying himself and having a good time, while she was in London selling herself like a slave. What was the harm in her doing that today? Even if he knew, what would he accuse her of, blame her for? He never would. The image of Max and Serena upside down danced before her eyes, and she strengthened her resolve.

“Sally,” she welcomed her, her tone warm and respectful, “I’m so glad you came as promised.” Eve’s eyes wandered over Sally’s body, stopping at her full, high breasts, which were almost hidden toward by the loose, long-sleeved robe she wore. “We really should talk, but first, some champagne?”

“Well, have a drink,” Sally replied, moving toward the sleeper sofa, “Nikolai? Is he still here?”

“Of course, I promised, remember? He’s so cute, I just sent him to the music room to tune the piano. He’ll be so excited and fascinated when he sees that piano, isn’t it a Stein?

“Yeah, I guess so. That’s funny, I bet Max can’t play it.” Sally said.

“Oh, it’s probably just sitting there to get attention and make an impression,” Eve retorted, “the giants of the recording industry like Max are attached to it. That’s the way I see it, look around this room!”

She pointed to the various musical treasures Max had collected in the room, a collection of modern art, most of it abstract and all of it classic masterpieces, with their harsh, chugging melodies, wildly disorganized rhythms, and raw, cacophonous tunes. It is the collection of a man, whether or not he has an accurate instinctive response to the latest trends, or an unfathomable sense of art. It’s impossible to say.

But it must undoubtedly be attractive and make an indelible impression.

“Yeah, he’s like that.” Sally slurred he said, her words tinged with faint bitterness and complaint, which made Eve bolder and more wanton.

“Of course he is,” Eve agreed, “Max probably doesn’t understand you at all.” Eve did likewise, but what did that matter. “He takes everything for granted, goldfish, success …… people.”

“Success,” Sally repeated slowly, sitting up on the sleeper couch. “It’s what shaped him, it’s what shaped his whole life, and success seemed to come too soon for him, I guess. He never really got to understand what success means to the rest of us.”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Eve said, “when you consider the salary he pays you!” She added suggestively, handing Sally a glass of champagne.

It was a mistake, and as soon as she said it, she realized she had spoken wrongly. Eve made a lot of money at DISC-O, a very good salary to be honest, and Sally was getting paid at least twice as much as she was.

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m having a really good time.” Sally said.

“But that’s not what I meant.” Eve quickly interjected.

“Yes, not this one,” Sally agreed, looking around the room. “Not this one.”

“You can do better than you are doing now,” said Eve with ulterior motives he. Her nerves were jumping up and down, and she never lost her temper impulsively, but she felt that the time was ripe, and that to hesitate and delay now would be to lose a great opportunity. Max was away in London, Sally was resentful and discontented, and Eve could use that resentment to do anything as boldly as she could, and, besides, Nicola was in the house next door.

“Uh-huh.” Sally responded with an uncertain attitude.

“Relax, come on, have some champagne and then let’s each show our cards, announce our intentions and speak from the heart.” Eve softly he said.

Sally lay on her back on the sleeper sofa while Eve sat down on the large cushioned floor, her right arm resting gently against Sally’s feet.

“I think,” Eve spoke up, shifting slightly so that one side of her body could rest against the edge of the sleeper couch, her blonde hair brushing gently against Sally’s legs, “I think Max needs to wake up a little bit, maybe we can help him out a little bit.”

The sound of the piano drifted into the room, lilting and smooth and twanging, and Sally lifted her head from the mattress and listened intently; it was Chopin’s Revolutionary Dances, something to get people to pick up their horns, she thought vaguely.

“I’m not sure I really want to help him.” She said suddenly. Feeling a little strange herself. Maybe it was the oil paintings in the room that annoyed her. She knew exactly how much each painting had cost, and how much each had increased in value and price over the years. The obnoxious red and green splotches and peels on the opposite wall could have paid her a year’s salary.

“It might be right to let him sober up a bit. But I don’t think I’ll be too lenient and merciful again now. Well, Nicolas is very good, isn’t he?”

“Darling, he’s second to none and easy to work with.” Eve added, pouring some more champagne into Sally’s empty glass.

She put the bottle back on the table and raised her right hand to rest on Sally’s bare leg. Then began to stroke it gently. Sally felt a little lightheaded, her face flushed red from the aftertaste of the champagne and the mesmerizing touch of Eve’s fingers on her calves and thighs.

“Maybe Max is simply too crazy and paranoid about the violin.” Sally admired Chopin’s music and thoughtfully he said, “Maybe Max is blind to anything other than his early success with Mika, and he doesn’t know what the audience wants and expects.”

Eve’s hand moved up to the top of her thigh, “You’re absolutely right, Sally. However, you’ve always set out with all your might to understand the pulse of society, the mood of the masses, whereas Max simply focuses on those market research reports.” Her fingers slid hesitantly, even a little surreptitiously, to Sally’s ……

“Indeed,” Sally said, remembering the last brief argument she had had with Max, just after which Max had decided to look into investigating Franca, “very true, I sometimes wonder …… “Her voice trailed off and she took another big gulp of champagne

“What?” Eve coaxed, her hand suddenly stopping and not moving.

Sally subconsciously arched her back to meet Eve’s hand, and she shifted slightly just enough to allow Eve’s fingers to graze her most sensitive parts.

“I wonder if he’s infatuated with Serena, made dizzy by Serena ……” she paused, and resumed speaking, “I wonder if Franca is the only way to get Max back into that fascinating circle of Mika and Serena’s way, and I wonder if he can see that?”

“Sally, I saw that coming from the beginning.” Eve sighed as he said Easy, but in her heart she was secretly ecstatic and pleased. Sally’s words, though they may have been a bit unclear and vague, her displeasure, her complaint was overflowing and clearly audible.

“That’s why Nicola will be helpful and will be important, especially for both of us.”

“No, I didn’t see that coming, Eve. Max wouldn’t be interested.” Sally replied, twisting slightly. “He’ll be signing with Franca soon, and she’ll agree to the terms on the draft contract.”

Eve’s eyes widened, but Sally barely noticed as she said, “What’s the point of Max going to one of those bistro pianists? No recordings, no big concerts, just obscure nobodies.”

“That’s a question, so what do you think?” Eve prodded, her fingers pausing.

“To do PR, to make his mark, to raise his profile,” Sally unconsciously he said, instinctively arching her buttocks, “he had to have a compelling degree from the Moscow Conservatory of Music, and maybe he deserved a tragic birth, at the end of the Soviet era, when his chances and his luck vanished, the The dream was shattered. He could be the son of a persecuted democrat whose father clashed with the K.G.B. for fighting for human rights, things like that that would help his image, help him get noticed, otherwise Max would never be interested.”

Eve’s eyes lit up. What a brilliant idea this was! Sally was never one to let her down, or rather, hadn’t let her down yet.

“But think about it, Sally,” she coaxed, “consider this. If you were free to ride everything, to dominate everything, to decide everything, how do you intend to use him, how do you intend to sell him, how do you intend to make him successful? Would you be willing to give it a try sometime? Wait a little while, and you’ll meet him, Nikolai! Come to us.”

Geneva, Switzerland

He stared into those hazel yellow eyes tinged with desire, deep topaz eyes that shot gold like flickering embers. No man could resist the innate allure of those amber eyes.

With a low groan, he slid his hands to her wrists, clumsily unlocking the cuffs for her, and just as he did so, his mouth had pressed against hers once more. Never before had he experienced such a soulful, so moving sensation, her tongue licking his, her small, sharp, ivory-hard teeth engaging him, her mouth had been sweet and welcoming, mesmerizing and obsessive.

As the cuffs opened and fell to the floor, he heard her sigh against his mouth. Her hands moved gently over his body, from his shoulders to his waist to his ass. His mouth never left hers, tightening as he tore off his shirt and pulled off his pants, frantically, anxiously, excitedly withdrawing the last barrier between them, a barrier long since destroyed and weakened by her mercurial mouth, which had been completely dominated by lust.

She couldn’t help but feel the sensation, the muscles beneath his skin tensing and bulging under her touch. His body shuddered involuntarily as she bruised his spine with her long nails.

Her hands roamed idly up and down his torso, admiring his hot, tense skin, teasing his arousal as he sweated, slippery and sticky. Her fingers moved down to his ribs, a soft, smooth piece of leather on the side of his waist, and she carefully pulled it out from between their intertwined bodies as she ran her fingers over it, a slow flush of arousal rising to her face as she knew that what she was touching was a mask.

He groaned hoarsely, trying to capture her lips again, but she guided his mouth to her breasts, her fingers rubbing the back of his neck urgently as a low moan escaped from deep in her throat.

Raw lust and excitement surged through his body at the sound, a petulant, thin gasp that signaled surrender and submission. She had never desired him so much, never been so tame, never been so submissive to his body’s reactions, his desires.

As his teeth nipped at her nipple, she picked up the mask and put it on her head.

He found himself peering at the expressionless black mask that was being placed over Serena’s head.

“Serge,” she whispered, her eyes hidden behind the narrow slits of her mask flashing gold like dancing embers, “give me your hand.”

She snapped the handcuffs on him quickly, the sharp clicking sound sounding like a loud bang at an explosion.

There is no more multiple-role Serena, no more actor Serena, no more spectator Serena.

Slowly, meditatively, she reached for the knife that had fallen to their side, and it was then that she saw a hint of fear, a hint of turmoil begin to show in his eyes.

“Serena,” he said, his voice a little rough, “Serena.”

Her other hand traveled up to his neck, her long, slender fingers searching gently. Her touch was so gentle and careful, like an affectionate caress. She found an acupuncture point there, which, if pressed hard enough, could render a person unconscious in seconds and dead within minutes.

He was lost in thought again, so mesmerized that it was as if he had turned sharply backward, and instead of walking to the fountain and sitting beside her, he had hurried away. His eyes wandered and flickered in confusion, such a strange expression she had never seen before.

In the soft moonlight and the light from the bottom of the fountain, his face was shrouded in a look of concentration that seemed like a medieval monk meditating. It was as if an Orthodox saint were praying in reverence. Contradicting the ascetic, ascetic expression: he had an extremely sensual face, with high cheekbones, a full, thick lower lip, and eyes that were deep in the midnight-blue evening light.

She looked up at the sky, trying to exorcise the extreme frustration. What had Newmanin said? “To play outstanding first-class music, you must let your eyes gaze at the distant stars.”

Distant Stars. The sky was scattered with uncountable stars that shone like dazzling jewels in a mesmerizing light, while it hung in the sky, so distant, as alienating as Mika was, and even so, she could still feel the heat of his body sitting beside her.

“Then I should love bright, special stars,” these words came coldly into her mind, and why the thought came to her was unclear and hazy. But she knew the impossible desire that despaired of her, that agonized her, that tore at her body and mind, and she counted on being able to obtain it, no matter what the cost.

She could own him, captivate him, seduce him with her music, her body and all the potential the two of them embodied. He was immersed in the music now, and one day he would be completely and utterly mesmerized by her, so disoriented that he would never find himself again.

“Hugs,” she whispered, trying not to spoil his full, mesmerized attention, “Hugs can take many forms. Elegant. Tight, soft, rough, wild, passionate.”

“Yes,” he replied, his eyes burning and glowing, “those were, before the pizzicato, before the pearls fell to the ground.”

There was no need to make sense of his words; she had already grasped the implications from his words, a timbre of suppressed excitement and thrill.

“For comparison, a man’s prick and a woman’s nipple are hard, while the hand is soft,” he ventured he said, his eyes fixed on her face, and she knew her nipples, were hardening.

“Yes,” he spoke again, “the tongue can be jerked violently; it is hard and sharp, while the body can be arched and stretched.”

Her eyes moved with his, “And laughter,” she exclaimed in an excited high pitched voice, “There has to be laughter, the kind that can only be shared between lovers at first sight, it’s warm, intimate, and exciting.”

“It’s plucked, not bowed,” he said, turning to look at her. Her eyes were bright and sparkling, her hair cascading over her shoulders in a tousled mess.

Lust surged and churned between them. A sudden burst, an electrifying rush swept over her, and the flames of desire seemed to ignite every cell in her body. She stayed quiet, motionless, as she waited for him, knowing he would come close to her, touch her, embrace her, just as she had when she kissed him.

“It’s getting late and I have work to do.” Mika coldly he said, “Let’s go back.”

Max called Sally’s apartment for the third time. This time he heard the same monotonous ringing, ringing, damn it!

Things had gone badly at dinner. Because there was no final text of the contract, he couldn’t do what he wanted, couldn’t grab Franca’s attention quickly enough; she had readily agreed to sign the contract in the afternoon, but tonight she was mesmerized and mesmerized by Mika. The mind was on nothing else. Serena, the damned woman, where the hell had she been hiding?

He put the phone down angrily, almost out of habit, and to get rid of the day’s disappointment, he dialed his home phone number to listen to some messages on the answering machine.

After a few minutes, he hung up the phone and wiped his eyes, as if doing so would erase the chaotic, confused thoughts in his head; he was a little confused.

He stared suspiciously at the bottle holding the scotch, which sat on the table beside him, with half of the bottle left, he didn’t have that much to drink, maybe it had been mixed with some sweet drink, he thought, and poured himself another drink, trying to confirm his suspicions.

Just now he was startled to hear Sally’s voice coming from the other end of the line. At last he had found her, and he first felt a wave of relief, and thinking of nothing else, simply instructed her to telex the texts of the two final contracts and hung up, but her voice sounded …… a little different than usual. And what was she doing there?

She had, of course, the keys to an extra apartment that was reserved for emergencies, but he couldn’t remember ever instructing her to check the mail and water the plants.

He fell into deep thought and drank many more scotch wee grog. Watering the plants? He drew his thoughts back to his apartment in London. He couldn’t be sure, wasn’t certain, couldn’t really say he was too happy about it, but he had some vague suspicion in his mind that was hard to dispel. It troubled him ……

He drained another large glass of scotch in one gulp.

No, he remembered, and was pretty sure that he didn’t have any flowers or plants.

London, capital of United Kingdom

Sally’s fingers trembled as she put down the phone, reached for a cigarette.

“What’s wrong?” Eve’s voice was gentle and pleasant, like honey.

“What’s wrong?” Nikolai echoed the question, his gravelly, rough, impolite voice a stark contrast to Eve’s sexy whimpering whisper.

She shakily fumbled for her gold-plated lighter and struck it three times in a row before lighting her cigarette. “It’s Max on the phone.” Sally said a little nervously.

“I guessed it was him before you called out his name, my dear,” Eve said briskly, “What on earth possessed you to answer that call …… especially at a moment like this? “

“I don’t know,” she replied, a little numbly, “just …… conditioned, I guess.”

That was true. She never could stand the ringing of the phone, as soon as it rang she would answer it, even in the shower she would leap from the tub, even in the hall she would drop her chores and fumble for the key to her room, and even when she was in the middle of making love she would reach for the phone without thinking.

She peered in at them, sprawled out on all fours on the crumpled white sheets that covered Max’s massive bed. Eve’s pale blonde hair was in disarray, her eyes bright and twinkling, her bright red, slightly lascivious lips pouting slightly.

She took a deep drag on her cigarette and exhaled again, as if trying her best to get Max’s words out and send them far away. His familiar deep baritone sounded a little confused, a little drunk; he was probably drinking scotch, she guessed.

“You were smart to tell him you were checking on tidying up the house.” Eve praised, secretly thinking she’d never heard a worse excuse. Fortunately, it was irrelevant now. “He might naturally guess that his sweet, gentle, capable and submissive Sally would be worrying about his flowers, his mail, and even checking his laundry room while he was courting Serena in Geneva. Isn’t that funny, dear?”

Sally extinguished her cigarette and lit another.

“Smart Sally,” Nikolai agreed, kissing Eve on the shoulder, “put out your cigarette and come to me.”

She sat on the edge of the king size bed, “No,” she spoke, “Eve, I don’t think we should …… I can’t. I don’t think it’s right, it’s inappropriate. Max trusts me, I can’t do this.”

She looked down at her hand, not seeing the glances being exchanged between Nikolai and Eve. Eve approached her side and quickly removed the cigarette from her hand, letting her lie down loosely, and doing her best to softly reassure her and dispel any doubts in her mind.

Geneva, Switzerland

His body quivered under her fingers, between her legs. She twisted slightly so he could go deeper inside her.

She reached out and lightly pressed her index finger against the side of her neck, feeling for an artery there as her body pressed harder, firmer, against him.

She smiled weakly, even as she increased and deepened the pressure.

Serena, what a wonderful name!

The faint, slightly fearful whimper excited her and added an infectious, driving quality to her name. The unsteady guttural sound that came from his mouth rolled and twisted and tangled like a snake. Sey, Sey, Sey, Serena.

The male’s body shook, rocked, and rammed her ferociously beneath her. He struggled to free himself, he was bound and enslaved by her violently moving body. He resisted, seeking to escape her domination. He saw the knife in her hand, and an instinctive fear made him tremble.

She could feel the muscles in his stomach tense as his hips rammed harder, more ferociously, and she knew from the sharp breaths he was taking as he came up for air that he was soon going to explode inside her.

He must not be allowed to enjoy himself, not be allowed to lash out inside her, not be allowed to be ecstatic and enraptured. She was in a trance, hesitating to know why, exactly, but her mind could never concentrate …… it might have something to do with the fact that he kept repeating her name senselessly, as if in prayer.

“Serena.”

“Se, Se, Serena.”

“Seh, seh, seh, seh, seh, seh, seh, seh, seh, seh, seh, seh, seh.”

As he rammed again, again desperate, wildly, trying to impale her. for extreme arousal, his eyes were closed tightly, fully engaged in the blinding, reckless sensation. He didn’t see the yellow eyes that looked like they were glowing with fire, hidden behind the mask.

“Serena!” The voice practically yelled.

Her eyes snapped open as she looked at the torso of the man pressed against her crotch, curled, straggly blonde body hair covering his chest; his neck as thick and masculine as a bull’s, his thick, powerful arms raised upward, securely restrained by handcuffs.

Serge.

Her driver.

He really shouldn’t have been so bold and indulgent as to call her by her first name. It sounded a little too familiar, she thought, too intimate.

The dark side hidden behind the mask, the actor Serena, the spectator Serena all joined hands and united. She flew into motion with vengeance, mounting him, riding him, controlling him.

She deliberately ignored his needs, his cravings, teasing him, whetting his appetite, keeping him teetering on the edge of arousal, telling him not to explode up.

He moaned roughly and harshly, once, twice, and he kept screaming. The sound of this suspiciously agonizing sound surrounded her, embraced her, the heat of arousal swept over her, and the sound made her even more frenzied, even more excited.

She let the boiling hot blood race and flow around her, finally converging together in her lower belly, violent, tumultuous, indulgent, manic, and she couldn’t help herself, completely immersed in extreme arousal, she was delirious, at the mercy of her desires, until she felt he was about to burst into flames, about to explode, and her arousal infected him, flicked against him. As her muscles tightened as if by induction, she would have preferred to increase the sensation herself; he had no power.

Both mentally and physically, what she did was enough to cause him pain, disappointment, a feeling that was sudden, intense, and intolerable, and Serena knew exactly how she was supposed to tease him, manipulate him, and stimulate him. She was able to toy with him.

She felt him struggling on the edge of extreme arousal, he wanted to relax, he wanted to let off steam, he maintained his stance of arousal and excitement as he waited for that pinch.

Her thoughts sped to the distant past, back to the dusty years, and she thought of the orphan days, of the time when she had nothing, when everything had been taken away from her, she thought of the reserve and the self-restraint she had shown Mika in those early years, of his talent, his genius; she thought of the gratuities, the riches …… and the unexpected accident .

Pressed beneath her, the stirring, restless, gnome consumed by insatiable lust interrupted her thoughts.

Serena. It seems to be a celebration of her name, a name she gave herself, which seems to be a sign of her success, a sign of her personality.

Smug with her own triumph, with her own success, she felt his desire falter, the wild passion of a moment ago inexorably diminished and subsided, and the uncontrollable tumult calmed incredibly.

She had done it, she had won. He lost his extreme arousal, the pleasure he felt just before his orgasm, and he didn’t know what it was.

Swiftly, deftly, she moved away from his body and let herself slide to his side. An electrifying tremor passed through her entire body, and she bent her arms, hugging herself tightly, and she smiled broadly as the mesmerizing flames of her desire ignited, hot and wild, as if they were about to explode.

He was at a loss for words, his head spinning as he gazed at her, firmly controlled and driven by her own lust, her slutty laughter and extreme exuberance causing her body to quake violently and lean forward in pleasure. Her milky white delicate skin flushed a shimmering pink, and her black leather mask looked a few shades more menacing.

His mind was desperate to unleash his primal instincts, his primal sexuality, but his body was unresponsive, unable to reach that extreme. It was almost a little too much for him. He saw her remove the mask from her head and shake her head, her scented, cloud-like tousled hair flowing out, which fueled him even more, the fire of lust burning hotter and hotter in his body.

“Serge.” She whispered, her smile was warm and her rosy, curved lips were quite captivating, and he knew it was a harbinger of pleasure． A harbinger of a thrilling and mesmerizing cloudburst.

“Serena, for God’s sake.” He grunted gruffly. Undulating his pelvis violently, like he was sprinting. He searched agonizingly, anticipating her mouth, her limbs, his need for skin on skin, for physical friction, his certainty that this time he could reemerge with titillating lust and surely unleash the ferocious, fiery, wild desires pent up inside him.

“Serge, my dear,” she said, looking at him tenderly, imploringly, with a look which, he thought, was almost full of belovedness. She leaned down and kissed his cheek with still smiling lips. Her breasts touched his shoulders, and the soft, light touch simply drove him mad.

“Serge …… you’re fired.”

She stood up, stretched, and ignored him. She looked around, trying to find something to shield her from the chill of the wine cellar.

Humming softly, she found a black leather shirt he had worn. Satisfied, she sniffed it through her nose before pulling it over herself. The shirt was long and…trailed right down to her thighs. The pants would be bigger and longer, she knew, so she took a black belt and tied it around her waist, satisfied with the outfit.

It was a shame that there was a lack of a mirror in here, otherwise she could have gotten a good look at her fangirl face, she mused.

She shook a head of hair out of her face and smoothed out the shirt she was wearing so that it covered towards her thighs.

Life is always like that.

You must learn to enjoy as well as suffer, for better or for worse, and take it all in.

Mika was alone in the music room, sitting hunched over, his neatly folded score sitting on the edge of the table, the glass bird pressed against it, temporarily acting as a paperweight. The harsh light from the desk lamp illuminated the large room. His hair looked like molten gold.

She stepped in gingerly, carefully closing the huge carved door without making a sound.

He quickly looked up and over.

“Serena.” His words seemed to contain something, and it caught her attention. It was a tone she’d never heard before, vague and indistinct. Was it anger? Was it relief? Or irritation? Perhaps it was simply surprise. Serena guessed.

“I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t wear my evening eyes to dinner.” She said, turning to whatever implication his words had, and ignoring it. She slouched into the black leather chair and spread her limbs out.

“Serena.” His tone sounded with multiple implications, as if a doting parent condoned their child’s misbehavior, as if a poor lover forgave the other for a small betrayal.

“Yes, Mika?” She said, her gaze challenging as she crossed her legs.

“You missed dinner, dear.” He replied, getting up from the table. He reached out for his wine glass and drained what little sweet wine was left.

He looked at her. Her yellow eyes sparkled, her flowing black shirt was rolled up and tied at the waist with a belt, emphasizing her slim, shapely waist, and her red mouth was starkly colored by the black shirt.

“It’s kind of tent-like,” she said, flattening the shirt again so it covered her thighs, “but I really haven’t found anything suitable to wear.”

He’s smiling a little unnaturally, Serena thought. She had a vague feeling that he was trying to make some kind of tall tale, trying to comment on something, and the words came to his lips, and those were the ones she didn’t want to hear, and she warned him with a look, dropping her eyelashes slightly and shrugging again.

“You must be hungry.” He said casually.

“I’m starving, dear,” she responded, “and thirsty as hell.”

“Wait here, I’ll go get some food,” and though he said it, he didn’t move his feet, still standing at the table, examining her as if he’d never see anything else again, with a look of intense concentration.

“Um, yes, dear,” she whispered, bending down, “maybe some caviar, asparagus, smoked fish …… something savory like that. Mika.” She smiled at him, feeling relaxed and cozy.

He came toward her, stood beside her, kissed her hair gently, and from her body, from the shirt she wore, a strong scent of sexual desire emanated, a blazing, mesmerizing aroma that went right through his nose.

“Greedy child,” he deliberately scolded, his hand hovering over her shoulder, “you’d eat the rest of your dinner if you could. In fact, you should go to bed without eating anything, like you used to.”

She smiled, gently and a little surprised. She watched him leave the room with a smile.

There was an origin to the joke he had just made, and it went back many years, to their poor orphan days, to the miserable years when they were in London. Back then, he was poor and unsupported, often unable to afford food, and sometimes a meal of baked beans was a rather rare and delicious treat, luxury enough for them. It was strange how those past times came so clearly to her mind tonight, and to Mika’s. But it was as if he had something more to say, the words were already on his lips, what exactly did he want to say? Serena felt that those words must be ones she didn’t like to hear, must be ones she didn’t want to care about, at least tonight.

She was famished.

Mika returned from the kitchen, carrying a tray in one hand and a couple bottles of white wine in the other. Serena stared at the items carefully, like a connoisseur of food and drink, and she salivated a little. Fresh bread, smoked oysters, cold asparagus, half a lobster, and pastries smeared with chocolate and cheese. There wasn’t a single dinner knife, knife, fork or spoon on the plate, and he knew she preferred to enjoy them in private and alone, and would find the cutlery obtrusive.

“Why isn’t there any caviar?” She screamed, the tone of her voice quivering like a restaurant executive with a lot of experience yelling in panic.

“When you eat caviar, you always grab it with your fingers, I hate that look on your face.” Mika shot back, cracking open her wine, “And you’ll eat it all over the floor and Maddie will then have to complain more than just a little. You should eat your meal properly like a good boy and not make a big mess.”

She grunted in satisfaction and reached over to grab an oyster, her fingers squeezing the oily, slimy oyster the way she liked it. “You’ve been working.” She said, gesturing to the writing desk, where a journal of scores was piled up on the smooth surface.

“Yes.” He responded, pouring a yellow colored wine into two glasses and handing her one.

“Great, that’s good,” she whispered, taking a long sip of the wine, savoring it, then setting the glass down. Her fingers, which had touched the oyster, left adhesive smudges on the surface of the clear glass. His eyes glanced absently at the glass bird pressed against his manuscript.

“Tell me,” she pleaded, tearing open a piece of bread, “tell me.”

Then tell her about it, right in the middle of her meal. Tell her how the form of the original piece has changed a bit. Adjusted, refined from the six movements at first to four; tell her how the passion of the violin manifests itself in bodily lust, how the sound of the violin harmonizes with human desire. How indistinguishable and intertwined: tell her how wonderful was the first movement that flowed from his hands onto the manuscript paper, and how much difficulty and frustration Franca went through before she finally caught his attention and gained his favor, and tell her that when Franca …… kissed him he temporarily shied away, even though he had a strange impulse to do so . He would, he knew, he would tell Serena everything in time, except the title of the piece. He would wait until the piece had reached its perfect conclusion, until it could be played with absolute perfection and completeness, and then he would tell her the title of the piece, so that she would know that it had actually been written for her, that it was her song, her music, and that it was the most precious and the best gift he had ever presented to her. And right now, he didn’t want to reveal it to her.

“Darling, it’s glorious, it’s wonderful,” Serena purred, dancing one of the lobster crayfish claws in her hand to reinforce the tone, then bringing it into her mouth and sucking out the white, tender shrimp meat from the crayfish claw. “This tune embraces everything we know and understand about violins, about music, and even about sex. It is a rehearsal in musical form!”

“You’re right,” he slowly he said, walking over to sit beside her. “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” he admitted, unconsciously reaching for an oyster. He jerked back when he saw his black leather-gloved fingers, and his outstretched hand fell in mid-air, dangling over the plate, whereupon he drew it back.

“How stupid.” She said naively and softly, grabbing his hand and squeezing her fingers gently before picking up an oyster and placing it to his lips.

“You’re the stupid kid who doesn’t like to use a knife and fork,” he sneered back, letting her fingers touch his own.

“But it’s quite difficult,” she said, her thoughts hard to take away from the music, “how do you rehearse? We’re playing with an underlying passion …… When that passion is the theme of the music, how does one prowl?”

Her fingers dangled between the lobster and the asparagus, indecisive as to which one to choose. Mika looked at Serena’s fingers, and he felt a sudden, overwhelming surge of tenderness. Long, slender, delicate fingers, with no rings and untrimmed nails, hands that had once gripped him with fear and excitement. Throughout Mika and the nightmarish years that followed, those hands had held him, relieved him, soothed him.

He could tell her everything, all of it.

Except, perhaps, for that one question that had plagued him ever since he had begun composing music, ever since Max and Franco had come to the villa.

She grabbed some asparagus violently, “How’s it going, honey? What are you doing?”

“Well, nothing really,” he said. He was deliberately trying to sell the idea. Anxious to hurry her, which made him feel interesting and happy, he drank some wine and gazed at her, “Nothing, except ……”

“Hmm?”

He watched intently as she pried much of the meat out of the lobster and ate it with relish and a satisfied grunt. It was amazing how easily she indulged in the oral pleasures of gluttonous shrimp consumption, whereas he was never able to let loose and enjoy a delicious meal with gusto.

He spoke at first with some effort and difficulty, and as his confidence increased he described fluently and soundly how he had endeavored to make Franca relax and play the ‘Kiss’ without restraint, and how he had thrilled her without touching her, and how she had . . kissed him, and the wordplay she had used, birth, death, and how he had felt his work cohering all at once by the fountain.

“It’s by that statue of yours, isn’t it?” She corrected, glancing at Mika out of the corner of her eye as she tilted her head back and drained her glass.

“It was by that statue of yours, dear.” He admitted but bluntly, knowing she could sense the smile lurking on his lips. “I realized later that the fourth movement had to be the coda, the ending, and I hadn’t noticed that before.”

“You’re selectively blind from time to time, Mika,” she replied, “you just have to look at those curves. How delicately and naturally those angles are designed, and how the whole piece is articulated in all its parts in a very staggered way, but of course, it’s just a sculpture.” She held her glass out for some more wine, which he added solicitously. He knew she wouldn’t talk about the fountain, at least, not all about it.

“Did she also say she didn’t need my help?” Serena asked as she licked the chocolate that had gotten on her fingers.

“Yes, she said that.” Mika replied bluntly.

“I wonder if that’s true,” she said thoughtfully he, “I wonder if she really knows the level of playing required, I wonder if she can maintain it. Of course, she may be right, she may have been able to recognize the material stimuli she needed to expound upon.” Her voice was soft, gentle, soothing, relieving.

He gazed sideways, staring at the glass bird in the light.

“How long before it’s over, Mika?” She continued, reluctantly forcing herself on him.

“A month, six weeks at least,” he replied, “it’s coming along quite fast and feels quite right, but I’m going to keep playing it, exploring it, expanding it. It is remarkable, mind you, that that music is coming to me in a different way. It always seems to be with me, even if I can’t realize it often enough, and sometimes I’ll suddenly understand how I’m supposed to deal with it. Does that make any sense?”

“Strevensk said something similar, my dear,” Serena preached, swallowing a large mouthful of cream. She giggled suddenly, “Too bad you’re not an American!”

He laughed along with her, a joke from the past that only the two of them could understand. “Of course, composing American music would be easier.” He spoke up.

“All you have to do,” she said, following up on his remark, “is become an American and compose any kind of, any impossible music you wish! What impossible names they have. Virgitomasan!”

“We have impossible names,” he commented, suddenly becoming serious, “Serena, Mika, what an impossible life we lead.” “Serena is a name that suits me.” She replied calmly, reaching for her glass.

“A strange thing happened tonight,” he said abruptly, “Max and I were having some drinks before dinner, and he was talking to me about DISC-O, about his plans to expand his career, and what was going on in business. I wasn’t actually paying attention, my mind was on the ‘Embrace’ riff, and then he mentioned Sally.”

She was completely stunned, motionless, her hand on her glass hanging in mid-air.

“I must have bled something, or maybe not. He changed the subject immediately afterward, asking where you were and if there was some problem.”

“And?” Nothing could be heard from her tone, just a slight curiosity.

“And then I laughed, God help me, at how things suddenly seemed so absurdly ridiculous, so odd, so strangely coincidental. I think I offended Him.”

“Coincidence?” She asked.

“Sally, as it turns out, is his assistant at DISC-O.”

Some color returned to her face. She was pleased to see that her hand held the glass rather steadily before raising it to her lips.

“It’s really a strange coincidence.” She said softly. Possibly from the wine or from the excitement of the situation, she drained her glass in one gulp and handed it over for a refill. It was impossible to tell.

“Yes,” Mika responded, refilling her empty glass, “and then I thought …… but Max isn’t sharp enough, or cunning enough, to play mind games like that, is he? Serena?”

“Cunning? Max? Sharp? Max?” There was some amusement in her tone, she found Mika’s words amusing.

“Oh.”

“Mika, dear, that’s ridiculous, ridiculous, same ……” she tried to find a suitable analogy but couldn’t for a moment, “it’s absurdly comical.” Serena spoke decisively, outwardly calm. With lightning speed and clarity she remembered the beginning, and she was sure that Max must have a hidden agenda.

She was sure she had spiked Max’s drink with an aphrodisiac to make him driven by an underlying desire to know what some of his plans were? She straightened out her confused thoughts and focused her attention on Max.

Whatever her initial suspicions had been, they had disappeared and she had felt some relief that time when she had seen his honest and forthright expression; it had been on Max’s first night in Geneva, when she had sneaked through his papers, not realizing that he had found them, but he had been so open, as if he had nothing to hide. On top of that, he was happy to indulge in sexual play with her, and the eternal, endless tenderness he displayed all but eased her worries and lifted her guard.

“Some things sound insincere and untrue.”

Mika’s words interrupted her thoughts, pulling her back from her memories.

“He can’t be as clueless about music as he pretends to be or DISC-O wouldn’t have grown to where it is today.” Mika said.

“I shouldn’t think he knows anything about music, dear.” She replied absentmindedly.

“You weren’t there at lunch,” he reminded her, and Mika recalled the look of surprised horror and incredulity that had come over Franca’s face when she heard Max actually misspeak the most basic musical truisms.

“Yes, I was not there at the time,” said Serena, with a sudden yawn, revealing her beautifully small, sharp, white teeth; “perhaps he was merely, alas, merely imitating you, and appearing comical; is that an English expression on my part?” Having no real nationality, Serena used to adopt an attitude of total ignorance of the most usual and commonplace things, which often amused him.

“It’s an English expression,” Mika patiently confirmed, “but Max isn’t English.”

She dismissed that as an irrelevant side issue.

“He was acting rather strangely during dinner.” Mika continued. He thought of Franca again, of how she had commented on Max’s lack of appetite, of how she had spoken of how Max’s eyes had always flicked to Serena’s empty seat.

“Max is not going to hurt any of us,” she said, convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was, “or he wouldn’t get anything out of it except to hurt him and DISC-O.”

“Yes.” He expressed his agreement with her, a little grudgingly. Serena not only had shark-like instincts for attacking bloodthirsty people, but she also had no shortage of self-defense skills, and those had gotten them out of danger many times before.

“I’ve been thinking, you know, wondering if something that hasn’t happened yet could possibly make him dangerous, and very dangerous indeed.” He said.

“What exactly do you mean by that?” She asked curiously, her eyes widening.

“I think he’s in love with you, understand?” He was raw and blunt he said, his blue eyes gazing at her.

Her amber eyes blinked, “Of course he loves me, darling.” She said and smiled, “How could he not?”

“Serena,” Mika’s voice snapped shrilly, “I think he’s fallen passionately in love with you, in love.”

She shrugged and dipped her index finger into the chocolate. Another loose end. How much difference, how much does it matter, if Max is English, if he likes me, or if he’s in love with me?

Mika grabbed her shoulders as if to answer her body language, his fingers seemed to be forcing something on her. “Listen to me, Serena, ‘love’, ‘falling in love’, they’re both dangerous, but the feeling that comes with ‘falling in love’ is complex, it makes you passionate, it calls for heartbreak, it makes you resentful and hateful, all the primal, instinctive desires are entwined. When it tears at your innards, the sensation is like grasping at the stars in the sky, it intensifies every sensation, every reaction, it turns the whole world upside down, shifts all the angles, is able to see through everything. Can you understand any of this?”

“Ah,” she whispered, her tone holding a pout, “is that an experienced sound?”

He relaxed his tight grip on her shoulders, but kept his gaze focused as one, “Yes, you can’t play the violin without being caught up in love.”

“But I can play the violin, Mika. You’re forcing a distinction that isn’t really any different. It’s a rather clichéd li’l bit of a tiresome distinction today, if you’ll pardon the expression.” Her eyes smoldered with anger, hot, her body tensed and stiffened, and Mika’s hand felt the violent reaction of her body.

He let go of her shoulders deliberately, and he felt the anger that was about to flare up building up in the back of his throat as he felt her recoil from his touch, his words.

Impatiently, he got up from the couch and slowly walked over to the window, from which he could see the picturesque landscape outside, though the night now shrouded everything in a monotonous blackness.

“Serena,” he exclaimed, “Serena.”

She watched him, her gaze harsh and unforgiving as she took a sip of her wine.

With his back to her and his eyes looking out the window, he spoke again, “Serena, it may be dangerous for us, but it’s not a terrible thing yet, and I didn’t express that clearly.” He paused, trying to find the right words, but couldn’t.

She took another sip of her drink, not by blinking, but by the subtle gesture that suggested how he had hurt her.

“I like Max,” he said to the window, apparently casually. “And I’ve been thinking about you and considering things about …….” Mika didn’t turn around. Pointing to the antique cabinet where his beloved violin was displayed, “Like that precious violin, you should be in the category of a person of public note, see, you’ve always been restless and unsatisfied, and I know your personality, so I’ve been thinking about the future …… “

She interrupted him, her voice smooth and soft, “Ah, the future. That’s a startling word, or do I mean a little conceited, a little pretentious? This is the future, Mika, what we dream for, what we plan for, what we work for.”

“Not quite accurate, not quite.” He said, looking down at his hands.

“Yes, it’s not quite accurate,” she responded, her tone surprisingly icy, “but we have money, we’re independent and free, and you’ve found another way to work.” She added, her tone much more conciliatory.

“But you didn’t.” He said to the window, and they were terrible words, and it was better not to mention it, to keep it secret. He had said those words before.

He knew something was wrong with her when she showed up in the house wearing a sexy, black leather shirt, as if she had been pulled to the dark side by something, a side that made him, or Serena, a whole different person. He couldn’t quite articulate the feeling, not even to himself.

“My dear, I’ve never really believed in that Protestant work ethic in my life. And I have no intention of getting up now.” Her voice was soft as taffeta, even a little flattering.

She purposely avoided the implications of what Mika was saying, reacting solely to his apparent conversation. She spoke flippantly and rudely, as if he were a meaningless acquaintance at a cocktail party. He had to break down the barrier and find some way to express his confused thinking. The growing trust between the two of them led him and her to find something new to guide them.

As usual, she guessed at his intentions and even expressed them in her own words.

“So, Mika. A future, I should maybe have a future? Is that what you think? Is that future different from the life I’m currently living? Is that even the purpose of life?”

“Maybe so,” he said boldly, turning his face toward Serena.

She smiled, a slow, drowsy smile. “Alas, it is something that adds meaning to my life, is that what you think? Purpose?”

He nodded approvingly in encouragement, a smile rippling across his face, making him glow.

“Then,” she mused, “understand where you are pointing. Max, a man in love with me. Involved in a job in which I am more proficient and specialized. A rewarding, challenging specialty …… or at least a chance to escape those barriers and – no, I can’t talk about ‘discovering what I’m capable of’, now, can I? Outdated jargon, and for all sorts of other reasons, completely out of the question. But that’s exactly what you’re suggesting and implying?”

“Yes,” he said, doing his best to control his somewhat shaky tone.

“In one fell swoop, you alleviate a fair amount of your apprehension about Max, whom you see as an omen . A threat, and there’s the alleviation of fussing …… some …… work over me?”

He was silent.

“And, then, in the future, who knows?” She said thoughtfully he said, “Decent, noble. Honorable, with social standing? I’m sure there are signs that show respectability, that translate a decent appearance into a noble social position, marriage? I think marrying well non is unimaginable, unfathomable, isn’t that right, Mika?”

His blue gaze met Serena’s yellow one, and he softened considerably.

“And so …… children? I think,” she said as she looked at her outstanding body, the ripe, fleshy jade of which faintly radiated tantalizing sex appeal as it was tightly wrapped in a narrow black leather shirt.

She laughed, warm and a little husky, a familiar laugh for Mika. “Why don’t we have roses when we talk, dear?”

“Serena ……,” he said, his voice a little forced.

“Honey, you’re romantic and that’s important, I’m always passionately in love with you, it makes you Mika.” Her words were soothing.

The words again sent shivers down the spine.

“But essentially a little middle-class romance, I’m afraid, my dear. It’s time you took good counsel to dispense with the clichés in your score.”

She stood up gingerly, adjusted her gait, and headed for the door, licking the last bit of chocolate from her fingers as if no one was watching. He knew her temperament too well, so he called out to her as she reached the door, boldly asking the question he’d been holding in his mind all day, even though he was sure he knew the answer.

“Where were you today, Serena?”

She had one foot out the door, and when she heard his question, she twisted her head toward him. Should she, could she, answer this yet another cliché?

Why not?

It turned out to be an unexpectedly boring night.

“Oh, honey, I’m tied up.”

Alone in her room, sitting at her black-rimmed dresser, the events of the past few hours that had infuriated and outraged her and made her furious collided again, and she felt a sudden, horrible tremor that she couldn’t stop shaking and gasping for air. She reached out with one hand to support herself, and she realized that she was clutching a carved ivory sex game toy, with a large pile of pornography scattered across the shaved black tabletop.

She hurriedly threw the thing to the ground as if it would bite her fingers.

Suddenly, out of instinct, subconsciously she swung her hand violently, slamming all those playthings she’d come to collect to the floor; love beads, whips, lubricants and aphrodisiacs. One of the bottles was shattered and the liquid inside spilled out, waving a pungent, aromatic odor.

She ignored it and stared at the mirror, rubbing her hand along the black edge of the dresser as if the gleaming, black sheen on the aged woodwork could warm the darkness, the gloom, deep inside her, and give her some comfort.

Chapter 10 Rhapsody in F minor

The bed is very comfortable, soft, wide, and with feather pillows like a supple lover, this bed is a great place to make love. He was determined to finish the movement “Embrace” and sketched out the theme for “Climax”.

Max stayed awake, his mind always in turmoil and he couldn’t get to sleep.

He tossed and turned in the bed, which was very comfortable, soft, wide, with feather pillows like a pliant lover. The bed was a great place to make love. He rolled over again and looked at the ceiling. The ceiling was lavishly decorated with carvings of all kinds, including scenes of lovers kissing. All he could think about was her name.

It didn’t look like sleep was going to happen, so he fumbled for his silk robe on the side of the bed and turned on the bedside lamp as well. His eyes fell upon a bottle of wine, but quickly dismissed the thought. What he needed was a glass of warm milk and a boring book to help him sleep as soon as humanly possible. Someone had placed a few recent magazines and bestsellers on the bed, but he wasn’t interested at all.

Dickens’s work might help him, and a villa area this size would surely have a library, which he couldn’t remember Serena ever showing him, but he hadn’t noticed anything that afternoon except for thoughts of her torso under her dress, except for thoughts of making love to her in the rose garden. He bit back Dickens and a glass of hot milk. He tied the belt of his robe and left the room toward the hallway.

He had almost walked past her room when he suddenly noticed a ray of light coming from it. His heart stirred and he slowed down, stopping in front of her closed door, she must be in there, he knew that much, but the door was closed. He was like a poor lover shut out, longing for her. The door separated them; she had said she wanted to be alone.

He stretched out his hand and hesitated, wondering if he should push the door open, feeling almost like a lover possessed by ecstasy. Suddenly, he heard a small laugh coming from inside the door, a strange sound, as if it did not come from a human being. A shiver ran through his body, and his hand on the doorknob felt as if it had frozen.

Without another thought, he twisted the doorknob and flashed in.

She sat in front of the dresser, staring at the mirror in front of her, the image in the mirror facing him, her face pale, her lips bright red, and she was dressed all in black, blending in with the black dresser and the black chair. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she seemed well unconcerned by his presence.

“Serena,” he called softly, trying to bring her back to her senses but afraid of scaring her, “Serena.”

He stepped closer and laid his hands tenderly on her, still whispering softly, and she cried, two lines of tears running down her cheeks, and she never took her eyes off the mirror as if she were mesmerized. Her hands caressed the smooth tabletop as if trying to gain something.

He took her shoulders in his hands and leaned forward, face to face with her. Her gaze turned to him, calm and expressionless, as if she knew he would come and as if she had never seen him before.

“Serena.”

He was distracted by the rhythmic, unhurried sliding of her fingers across the tabletop, and when he grabbed her hand, he realized her fingers were cold.

“Serena, darling, you’re freezing.” He knelt beside her and took her hand in his own, rubbing it tenderly, trying to transfer his heat to her. But something in his subconscious warned him not to try to embrace her, to get her away from the mirror in front of him.

The room was cool and cozy, not too cold, and besides, she was wearing a thick leather shirt, so she should be warm. There was an indescribable blend of smells on her. He moved to try and get rid of the smell, but his knee hit something and he looked down to find small potion bottles, wine bottles, whips scattered all over the floor. And some oddly shaped implements which glistened in the shadowy light.

Her hands were still cold, and she looked down at him, tears still dripping from her eyes.

He stood up, grabbed her hand, and led her toward the bathroom, where she stood passively as he undressed himself. He unscrewed the faucet and filled the marble tub with water, and soon water vapor filled the room. He tested the temperature of the water, then carried her into the Yuyu tank. She was flaccid and lay as quiet as if she had no bones. Without saying anything, he took a bar of soap and carefully scrubbed her entire body, fingers, arms, neck, breasts, belly, thighs, calves. At first, her naked body didn’t arouse him sexually, and he looked at her as if she were his sister or a child.

His sleeves trailed in the water and were soaked. He held her head in one hand, keeping her on her side, rubbing the soap on her back and ass. Her skin had grown warm, and she didn’t move a muscle, neither helping him nor objecting to his fiddling. He lowered her body flat into the tub again.

She looked at him, her eyes empty and expressionless, but focused. She had stopped crying, but he wasn’t sure she had fully recovered. He wondered if even if he pressed her head into the water, she would just look at him with the same eyes and make no effort to save herself.

He lifted her head and looked for shampoo on the marble shelf behind him. He found a bottle, then squeezed a little out and rubbed it into her hair, then carefully washed her hair until he thought he was satisfied, then he put her head back in the water and washed it off.

The white foam dispersed in all directions and he lifted her neck again, her hair shiny and silky, clinging to her scalp, and he realized then that he’d been sweating quite a bit under the steam of the water, and the silk robe clung to his body uncomfortably, like an extra layer of skin.

He lifted her out of the water and stood her up, her body supported all by his hands, and if he let go and went for a towel, she would undoubtedly fall to the ground.

She stood patiently and quietly as he wrapped the towel around her body. He took another and dried her hair, then draped her full head of hair over her shoulders.

She lifted her arms obediently, as he had implied, and watched curiously as he dried her off.

She was like a statue, a clergywoman undergoing authorization, a virgin waiting to go to the altar, a weary child.

She was all of them and nothing.

He knew she must be hiding a deep secret in her heart. She was scared, tired and sad. Max rubbed her body more carefully, noticing the teeth marks on her breasts and the halos on her nipples that were already fading, which was probably her secret.

As his eyes met hers, he noticed the corners of her mouth twitch. He wondered how she would react if he put his hands around her throat and suffocated her, taking out all his love and hate on her white neck.

She would laugh.

If she could no longer breathe, she would smile with her eyes, staring at him with an impassive gaze.

But what he had seen in the mirror was a pair of childlike eyes, wide open, looking at himself in tears.

He carefully dried her body, found a silk nightgown behind the door, wrapped her in it, and carried her back to the bed, laying her hands on the soft pillows. He hesitated, but he seemed to read something in her expression. He removed his own robe and lay down next to her, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

She was fast asleep, her breathing steady and rhythmic, her breasts rising and falling with her breath like the waves of the ocean.

He felt his eyelids heavy and was surrounded by the familiar warmth of Serena’s body. The scent of her body and her rhythmic breathing soothed him, and embracing her body wrapped in her silk robe, he too fell fast asleep.

Strangely enough, Max had a nightmare, he dreamed that some beautiful velvet had bound them, and made him feel a parched heat, his nose, his mouth had become as if it were clogged up with damp mud, he could not breathe, and he felt like he was going to suffocate.

He whimpered, holding Serena close. The silk threads bound them lighter and lighter, and just by the light, they became tongues and fangs again, tearing at him.

The fangs turned into a pair of hands, forcing their way to his throat, and into a dagger…

“Max.”

Sharp knives stray from his body, cold, smooth ……

“Max.”

Then he saw the blood, slowly flowing, flowing ……

“Max.”

He gradually woke up and saw her amber eyes gazing at him.

“Max, it was just a dream, a nightmare.”

Silk sheets wrapped around him, around his waist, just as he’d dreamed of snakes, and he was sweating, his fists clenched, his whole body curled up.

“It was just a dream, Max, wake up and go back to sleep.”

Her hands helped him tug the sheets away, smoothing them out and leaning close to him.

“Go to sleep, Max.”

“It’s a knife,” he murmured, seemingly unconsciously, as if he hadn’t quite awakened from his nightmare, “it’s a knife.”

Serena watched as he leaned his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes. Hands were searching for her, grabbing her with all their strength and not letting go.

A knife.

She wondered why the knife had appeared in Max’s dream, what could it mean? Thinking about it, she drifted back to sleep.

Mika was alone in the music room, pacing impatiently. He couldn’t apologize, explain to Serena, let her know that he was being tormented by an irrational thought. He could barely figure out what was going on himself.

He should have known her, he knew when it was as if she were possessed by the devil. At such times, she accepted neither love nor reason nor affection.

Of course, he wasn’t all that sensible.

Ugh, what was wrong with tonight, to be so lackadaisical and fearful of the future. He lowered his head and looked at his black gloved hands, his fingers began to tremble again, with a kind of sadness, like they were on fire.

Perhaps he felt that he had been gradually changing, as usual, and that she was changing with him.

When she appeared in the doorway, dressed in a black leather village shirt, but much too large and ill-fitting, a wide black belt loosely wrapped around her waist, her hair disheveled, and a wild gleam in her eyes. All of this should belong to the past, should belong to a past she should not return to.

Since arriving in Geneva he was well aware of the games she had been playing, chauffeur one moment, gardener the next, and they accepted her needs as she accepted his, but her black leather shirt and the look in her eyes disturbed him, reminding him of the first months when they first arrived at the villa.

Suddenly, he felt like he was caged and trapped. He pushed open the huge window and breathed in the gentle night air.

They had gotten further and further apart, and the thought pierced his heart like an icicle. That cold fact was something he had been afraid to admit.

It was a strange change to go from playing to composing, a change that also alienated them, she was no longer interested in his work, being a player was quite different from being a composer, it was Serena who helped him to become a successful player, it was she who took him beyond a pinnacle, combining pure virtuosity with emotion.

It was she who gave him this burden to play the new role of composer. Amusingly, she excluded herself, because he was no longer describing, not interpreting, but creating. It was a whole new world for him, familiar and strange at the same time, and he had to go on this new journey alone.

He turned suddenly from the window, hesitating in his mind that maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was just feeling too tired and distracted by the argument between them.

He smiled bitterly, remembering a quote from a composer who said, “It’s not hard to compose, it’s hard to keep unnecessary notes out of the score.”

Unnecessary note. Why did he bring Max in between the two of them? Why think Max was in love with Serena? And Serena, as usual, didn’t give a damn about his type of talk.

“You might as well write your clichés.” She said this.

Unnecessary notes. He circled the room, turned off all the lights, and stopped again to pick up the tray with food that Serena had dropped on the floor. He set the tray down on the table and hesitated, looking at the table full of sheet music, some of it scattered on the floor.

There are other differences between playing and composing.

Playing only requires constant rehearsal and staging according to the score, and he can imagine making love to a woman to energize his playing, which is not the case with composing.

For him, music is sex and sex is music.

He hadn’t touched any women in almost two years.

Franca fell into a deep sleep, dreaming that she was sitting next to a fountain, her slender legs swimming in the refreshing water. Behind her stood a man, then her shoulders, leaning forward, and in front of her was a lifelike male genitalia made of marble.

She lowered her head to see her legs spread apart, she was soaking wet and her body seemed to tremble under the man’s embrace. He picked her up and placed her on the white marble pillar.

For a moment she felt afraid she tried to fight it, to escape the hard thing, but she was too small, too constricted to know how to escape.

In her sleep, her hands clutched a pillow.

Even so that when she opened her mouth to call out, her body was still forked, allowing the very marble hard thing to penetrate her.

Her whole body relaxed for a moment, tensed for a moment, and all the heat built up inside her seemed to burst out. Her head tilted back and she saw the man behind her wearing a black leather jacket. The realization caused her to moan uncontrollably as a wave of heat rippled through her body and her entire body felt like it was exploding. At the same time, she seemed to feel that heat inside of him venting out inside of her, and after a moment of convulsions and moans, she quieted down and fell back into a deep sleep.

London, capital of United Kingdom

“Don’t wake her,” Eve whispered carefully, sliding off the bed, “Let her sleep.” As she spoke, she looked for her robe and found it spread out at the foot of the bed. Suddenly deciding to wear nothing at all, she walked naked toward the bedroom door and gestured for Nikolai to follow her.

Nikolai also stood naked next to the bed, looking at the sleeping Sally with a slightly dazed expression.

“Come on, Nikolai,” Eve whispered impatiently, a little annoyed at the way Nikolai was looking at Sally, “get over here, I don’t want her to wake up now.”

He was still standing there, reluctantly averting his eyes from the sleeping figure. Sally was spread out on all fours, half her face buried in the pillow. He shook his head, then glanced at Eve standing in the doorway.

Two women, two such different women, both in and out of bed. Eve was an energetic, pampered, extravagant woman who was reckless once driven by lust, whereas Sally, on the other hand, began to look nervous and uneasy in the presence of lust, and gradually would be overcome by sexual play until she was completely lost in it. He wondered if she understood that plan of Eve’s, he thought, lowering his head again to look at Sally. Eve had taken complete control of her with her kisses and touches, and sexually, she had become Eve’s captive, and Eve had encouraged him to do so.

When Sally squealed “yes” in reply, he wasn’t sure if she meant acceptance of Eve’s plan or acceptance of his tongue buried between her legs at that climactic moment. She squirmed beautifully beneath him, following his rhythm, and they worked so perfectly together.

“Nicola,” Eve seemed upset, “come here now.”

He sighed, picking up the robe he’d left by the bed and following Eve out of the room.

Eve controls everything at the moment. And it’s Eve who knows Jeff Brooks. Brooks, the Texas billionaire. She’s the one who’s going to start a new record label, and she’s going to make his name a household name.

“Bring some champagne,” she ordered haughtily, running her hands through her pale yellow blonde hair, her eyes sparkling with excitement, “I did it! Oh, it should be we did it,” she added, glancing away, “We got her, you clever little boy, she’s mine now.”

He slowly opened his wine and watched her walk excitedly around the room, “I’m not sure ……” he said hesitantly he said.

“She has fundamentally betrayed Max,” Eve didn’t pay attention to his words, “She’s letting us use his apartment, use his bed, the three of us walking together. That could be considered a big deal for Sally. And you heard her say ‘yes’. At the end of the day, I asked again to corroborate that, and she still said ‘yes’.”

The champagne bubbles overflowed the bottle and he cursed as he poured two glasses, handing them to her as he ventured another, “Maybe she meant something else by ‘good’.”

“Oh no, Nikolai,” her eyes widened, “business is business, remember that.” There was no lack of threat in her words as she raised her glass toward him.

“For me,” she said, clinking her glass with his.

“For you.” He echoed, taking a drink.

Geneva, Switzerland

Max woke up before Serena, lazy and sleepy. He found Serena with her back to him, her ass on the small of his back, her smooth back against his chest, his right hand resting on her breast. He slowly removed his hand, trying not to disturb her who was still asleep.

As usual, he quickly ran through the previous day’s events in his mind. Sorting them out into categories, whether they were business or personal; important or unimportant; immediate or could be postponed.

The most important thing today was to get Franca to sign the contracts, which shouldn’t be too much of a problem anymore. Sally would fax over two contracts, with Mika and Serena as witnesses, and Franca wouldn’t be asking for much more than that, she wasn’t very interested in that.

But something must have gone wrong within DISC-O, he could feel that, like smelling the aroma of Serena’s hair. He didn’t have any evidence or solid facts to back up his thoughts yet, but he knew something was wrong, and it had to do with the North American market.

His instincts told him he should go back to London to check it out, and maybe make a trip to New York and then to Toronto, or send Sally as well.

But before he left here, he had to talk love chu with Serena about some tedious business details, and in fact, there didn’t seem to be much left to talk about.

The next step was a personal matter between him and Serena, and he looked at her, her black hair falling like a cloud over the white down pillows, her breathing so even that even the thought of leaving her made his heart ache.

But he had learned to live with it, and he had been doing so for a long time.

Who was she? He had asked himself this more than a thousand times. She was the soft waves of water that slipped through his fingers, a mad and beautiful urchin, a fit and graceful woman …… The night before, she would have been struck by her own tears, she had caused him pain, and yet he would have only returned the tenderness ……

He had to leave before she woke up so that both of them wouldn’t be embarrassed, not after she realized everything that had happened the day before. He had discovered her lighter and weaker side …… No, perhaps it was not that at all, it was just that she was in a low mood sadly, and now that it was all right, he would not mention it again.

He lowered his head to kiss her hair, only to find her eyes open.

“Good morning, Max,” she stretched, surprising him by touching a finger to his lips, “you look serious.”

“Serena ……” he paused and added, “Serena, I’m so sorry, I was just leaving, I thought you were still asleep.” He laughed awkwardly and moved to the other side of the bed.

“Suit yourself,” she replied easily, “but I’d be glad to have you stay, and I’ll have some coffee and bread sent up; I don’t feel very well this morning.”

His robe was thrown haphazardly over the side of the bed. He suddenly felt a little sheepish getting out of her bed naked like this.

“You had a nightmare last night,” she said as she got up and straightened her silk spats with her hands, “do you remember?”

He slumped back against the pillows, “Yes, yes, I remember.” He said slowly, “I remember the knife, pretty scary.”

“Intriguing symbolism,” she said as she sat on the edge of the bed, talking fluently and freely about Freud and the parsing of dreams in question, but coming out of it, she was thinking of something else, “Want some coffee?” She abruptly aborted her conversation.

“Okay, thanks,” Max replied with a confused look on his face.

She informed the maid to bring breakfast, then got up and crossed the room, stopping at the dresser and looking at the pornographic paraphernalia thrown all over the floor, she smiled.

“I think I had a nightmare too,” she said cryptically, kicking a whip aside, “a very funny word, really, nightmare. When I was a little girl I always pictured them as horses, huge black horses with iron hooves, but actually the word comes from old English, where it meant evil spirits that came specifically to disturb one’s sleep.” She said as she knelt on the floor and gathered up the things.

Max didn’t know what to say, first Freud, then etymology …… what would follow? What was that weird looking thing in her hand? “Is it a nightmare?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“I guess so, maybe it was just a daydream, meeting the dream demon while I was awake. Hey, it’s Maddie,” she said as she heard a soft knock on the door and went to open it.

Max frowned, confused. He had expected her to be cold, distant, and discouraged, but instead, she seemed perfectly at ease. It was just that she seemed a little strange, all looking for something inappropriate to talk about.

She smiled as she placed the tray on the bed and uncovered the silverware, which contained the roast and eggs. She poured some more coffee into two mugs.

“What dream demon?” He boldly asked again, taking the cup she handed him. And took a sip.

“Of my own making, of course,” she replied easily, sitting on the edge of the bed with her feet crossed and a piece of meat in her fingers, “or maybe it’s just a hallucination that sometimes gets mixed up from time to time between the conscious and the unconscious, between the real and the visionary, don’t you notice? “

“No,” he replied honestly, and after a moment’s thought, added, “Serena, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Nothing, Max, just a random thought, she said, flicking an egg onto her plate, “Mika and I had a fight yesterday.”

“Oh.” Max was relieved and at the same time added some annoyance that this was why she’d disappeared and why she’d acted strangely last night. He hoped it had nothing to do with Franco.

“Let’s hope it’s not too serious, Serena,” he said, “Besides, what have you two been ……” what have been? He thought sharply, remembering the teeth marks he’d seen on her breasts when he’d bathed her last night, “been together so long.”

“Seriously?” She repeated, “I’m not sure, maybe, he said something unforgivable. Of course, as I said, he’s been working hard, hasn’t he?”

“Seems like it.” Max agreed.

“Franca and he are getting along well,” Serena quickly finished her eggs and took another bagel, “I’m glad they are, Max, why haven’t you eaten, more coffee?”

He picked up his cup contemplatively, she had been changing the subject so constantly that he couldn’t catch a break. The nightmares, the dream demons and Mika’s arguments, the unforgivable words… and she seemed so relaxed and pleasant, as if nothing had happened.

“A slice of roast?” She asked him, taking another slice for herself, “Maybe you’d prefer a burger? The strawberries are so good, you have to try some.”

Mika sat alone on his balcony, watching the rising sun and sipping his coffee while petting Midas, who was curled up in his lap. The cat had disappeared all day yesterday, and he guessed that he had gone out in search of prey, perhaps annoyed by the stranger owner of the villa. It was just like his master, a very regimented little being.

Mika slept poorly last night, he was so upset that he had been unable to sleep humanly. So he went back to the music room, determined to finish the movement “Embrace” and sketch out the theme for “Climax,” but he found himself sitting there without a note in his head, just staring off into the distance.

They would come back, he could almost feel the notes dancing in the depths of his consciousness, but every time he tried to catch them they drifted away again, and all that was left were the sounds of his surroundings amplified a dry multiple of their magnification, and the universe became a melting mishmash of even the slightest sound. The screams of Midas and the early morning chirping of birds became unusually dissonant.

So when he heard her footsteps coming this way toward the balcony and dragging a chair with her, the sounds actually made him uncomfortable and resentful.

“Good morning.” She said softly and poured herself a cup of coffee.

She wore only a white shirt, with the black bikini swimsuit vaguely visible underneath, and her red hair was tied back haphazardly and tossed behind her head.

“And okay.” He replied.

She was surprised to hear such an answer, but didn’t look into it, and she tried not to look at the cat that was glaring at her in a very unfriendly way.

“I’d like to take a swim before we get started.” She said as she sipped her coffee.

Her statement was to tell him that they were equal and independent of each other, and that she could have her own arrangement and order of life, and of course, he could contradict her. She was waiting for how he would react.

“You’re pretty good in the water,” Mika said after a while, remembering how her body had reacted to the water that first night after she arrived.

A pun? she thought. “I didn’t used to be much of a swimmer,” she returned blandly, “but since I’ve been here, I’m addicted. Maybe it’s the comfort of your private pool, and your fountains.” She added with a smile.

“Why don’t you brag about that stream at the end of the garden?” He said with a little sneer at him.

“Oh? There’s a creek?” She exclaimed happily, “Will you show me?” She should have blushed at how innocent she sounded. Shit! She didn’t look like a worldly, practiced woman, she was just a naive little child.

“Maybe, wait,” he said, no longer listening to what she had to say, his attention returning to his Embrace, the moment of an embrace being the moment when two attracted bodies yearn to join.

She finished her coffee and put the cup back on the table.

“I’m going for a swim.” He said, standing up, and she was more than happy to take off that white shirt in front of him, showing him her high breasts, long legs and swinging round ass.

“Sure, go ahead.” He replied absently, clearly his mind was elsewhere.

She left the balcony with a wiggle of her ass and trotted over towards the pool. He heard the water rattle as she dived, swimming merrily in it. His mind returned to his riffs, and the obnoxious sounds disappeared.

He let his mind wander, trying not to think of Serena, the shadow she cast over him, the future he couldn’t be sure of. He thought about the girl in the water, Franca, and how when he finished Serena’s Song, there would be no reason for her to be here anymore, no need for them to work together. But, for some reason, he didn’t want her to leave now; she had given him some help with his work, some advice that had enabled him to finish the score both well and quickly.

He was realizing more and more that she was more than just a collaborator in his work, she was a woman. Last night in the music room, he’d been shocked by the impulse that had come between them. Of course, he’d extinguished that flame easily enough, but it had added to the sense of repression, even irritation, they felt for each other.

Serena finally finished eating, she stretched and got up from the bed, she felt an indescribably troubled restlessness, she was going to drive to get away from everything here for a while. Go outside and take a drive.

“Max, let’s take a drive out today and I’ll give you an idyllic tour. Maybe we can have a picnic, I’ll ask Maddie to prepare it for us. It’s such a nice day.” She said, walking over to the window and pushing open the two bulky windows. She saw Franca, who was swimming, and Mika, who was alone on the balcony.

It was best to leave him alone today! He was reminded again of her upset with Mika last night.

“I’m sorry Serena, I’m afraid I can’t go.” He almost blurted out.

“You can’t go, why?” She asked curiously, turning to look at him.

Not because she wanted him to listen to her on everything, but she never thought there was anything that kept him from going.

“I’m signing that contract with Franca today, and I’m afraid Sally has faxed it over,” he defended himself, “By the way, I have to thank you for being so considerate as to put a fax machine in my room.”

Serena nodded absentmindedly, the fax machine was never arranged by her, it had to be Maddie, she was such an attentive and thoughtful person.

“But it won’t take all day,” she persisted; “there’s a nice little hotel by the lake where we can have dinner, and I’d really like to drive a little farther.”

“Serena, I have to get back to London.” His tone hardened.

“Max, actually DISC-O will run just as well without you,” she said a little forcefully, “I just want you to come with me.”

If those words had come out of her mouth a few days ago, he would have been thrilled, but last night had been another disappointment, and staying any longer would only make his heart ache even more, and last night he could barely breathe when he saw the teeth marks of another man on her breasts.

“That’s not the problem, Serena,” he said frankly he then paused again. She was taking off her nightgown, letting the white silk pajamas slide to the floor as he sighed, “I have to get back, there’s a conspiracy at the company that’s at least a little bit off, and I’m going to go back and check it out.”

“What conspiracy?” She asked, walking over to the mirror and looking closely at her reflection, a lower large noticeable bruise on her right nipple. She couldn’t help but frown at the pain as she applied the ointment, “So, how did you know something was a little off?”

Half of his mind was thinking about her body, watching her fingers slide over her breasts, while the other half was trying to figure out how to solve the problem at hand.

“It’s intuition, Serena, a feeling, I’m not sure exactly what it is yet, but I have some misgivings, and I always, always go with my gut.”

Serena laughed, actually she did.

“Yes?” She said, then returned to the bed and picked up the last slice of roast on his plate.

She wasn’t actually listening as he droned on about the market, the prospects of classical music in Europe and all the secrets of the modern market, but she was drawn to one word.

“What did you say, Max?” She asked.

“I mean it’s actually up to you to seduce the crowd as much as you want.” He replied, still lost in his own thoughts.

She laughed again, there was nothing she didn’t know about the point of seducing people.

“And Sally surprisingly overlooked that as well; we can’t simply assume that North Americans lack tradition, but we could have capitalized on that.”

She wasn’t interested in any of this at all, and she looked at the tray, noticing that one of the strawberries had fallen on the outside of his plate.

His green eyes sparkled as he continued, “We must evaluate the market correctly and convert the information into profit as quickly as possible.”

“Of course,” she shrugged, removing the strawberry, “it seems that doing big business is just as exciting as making love, creating demand and finding greed.”

“Looks like you’re good at it.” Max said commenting on Serena.

“Needs and greed? That’s for sure,” she replied, taking a bite of her strawberry, “but there’s something else going on in your head.”

He hesitates, he doesn’t want to admit that he still has doubts about a lot of issues because the private secretary who has been with you for ten years left the office early, forgot to answer that private hotline, and will somehow show up in your private apartment and answer your calls with a strange voice ……

“Max?”

“Maybe,” he said, “but I hope that’s nothing and that nothing unexpected will happen. Serena, we have some other matters to talk about.”

“Yes?” She stood up and headed for the bathroom.

“I think you or Mika, we need to clear the air on some tedious business details. Serena, this is ……”

“Sure, honey, I’m going to take a shower first. I looked out the window just now and saw Franca swimming, so we’ll meet her in half an hour, okay? I think you said you wanted to get her autograph before you left?”

He couldn’t figure out the meaning or the emotion in her words, she had left the room. He heard the water in the shower and he glanced at his plate, it was empty.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Max said, handing Franco a gold pen, “It’s a pretty standard contract that will protect both of our interests, there’s nothing harsh in it, this I assure you, once you sign it, you’re a rising star at DISC-O. “

Franca took the contract and quickly scanned it, and just as she took a pen and was about to sign it, Serena appeared on the balcony, wearing a pale yellow sleeveless silk dress.

“You’re fast, Max,” she said, coming toward the table, “Franca, good morning, Mika.”

Mika suddenly turned to face her and accidentally touched the table. The pen Franco was just about to sign twitched, and Serena touched him lightly on both shoulders. Then, turned behind Franca.

“Ha, there’s the contract,” Serena looked at it, “Can I see it?”

“Hello Serena, yes, of course ……” Before Franca could finish her sentence, Serena had gotten the contract and sat down in a side chair.

“I really don’t think there’s much …… here,” Max spoke up.

“Serena, I’m so glad you came down ……,” Mika was saying at the same time.

They stopped again at the same time.

“I’m sorry Max.” Mika said.

“No, no, I just wanted to say ……,” Max responded hastily.

“That’s funny,” Serena taunted as she looked at them both, “Franca, have you read all about it? You’re tying yourself up in a five-year contract, don’t you think? And with only ten percent profit, it’s not a good deal, really.”

“I didn’t look that closely,” Franco but white, a little bewildered, “but ……”

“Serena, you’re not an agent and you don’t understand these things,” Max interrupted her, “It’s a standard contract that I’ve used countless times with many new artists.”

“But she’s not a newbie anymore, is she?” Serena interrupted him as well, her eyes on the contract, “She’s miked records before and won an award at an international festival last year, you’re asking too little, Max.”

“Look, Serena, that doesn’t mean she has a stellar background.”

“But she’s not nameless either,” Sereyroach retorted, lifting his eyes to his.

“Ten percent.” Mika seemed a little interested as well, and he repeated.

“Ten percent is fair,” Max insisted, “and in any case ……”

“No, my dear,” Serena said, turning to Franca, “I really think you should think it over again, and perhaps you should consult your agent or attorney. Of course, I really don’t know anything about that sort of thing.” She added. A look of ignorance crossed her face.

Max was really pissed off, he kind of gritted his teeth, “Serena, what do you think ……”

“Ten percent of the profits,” Mika repeated, “Serena, how much did I get in the first place?”

“You don’t have any profit,” Max was about to blow a gasket, “you have a payoff that grows with inflation that only a complete lunatic would be willing to give ……”

“Why, what’s the matter, Max,” said Serena, in a soothing tone, “don’t be so excitable and prone to fits of rage; that’s what they say in England, isn’t it, Mica, fits of rage.”

“Maybe I do have to take a good look at the contract again.” Franco said, looking at everyone with a confused look.

“Actually, I think the word you’re going to use is, oversensitive, right?” Mika replied seriously to Serena.

“Let me be clear about this,” Max tried to suppress his anger, “I’m in a law firm in London ……”

“Ah, yes, London,” Serena interrupted, with a sad look in her eyes, “unfortunately Max has had to return to London, which is a pity,” she said to Franca and Mika, “I had thought of going out with him to-day go out with him today, leaving you to work in peace. I’d like to accompany him for a stroll through the countryside and perhaps a picnic, but I’m afraid business is more important than pleasure, isn’t that right, Max?”

Max gritted his teeth again, this woman, was she sabotaging this deal because he wouldn’t agree to go out for a ride and a picnic with her? It was unbelievable, unfathomable, strangling her was really a bargain.

“But I’m feeling a bit bored too, and I think I’d better go to London with him, maybe a trip to the stores and a bit of relaxation would do me some good. By the way, Franca, I can still help you work on that contract in London. If you’d like to, of course.”

“But Serena, you hate London.” Max and Serena shouted almost simultaneously.

“Maybe I just kinda miss it there.” She said perkily he said, throwing all of them a wide smile.

CHAPTER XI A DOUBLE PLAY

Her breasts towered under her white shirt and her long, elegant legs were wrapped tightly in her jeans. He could almost feel his hands stripping the pieces of cotton clothing away from her body as he felt her ivory-smooth body ……

Serena hummed a soft ditty as she rummaged through the rows of huge closets. London in August was so not a pleasant time of year. Dreary, miserable, cold, gloomy, rainy or hot and steamy. It was all to say. That brilliantly colored red and yellow Thai silk jacket would have to be brought, of course, and the white silk suit, the black leather skirt …… She then thought on second thought, never mind, she’d been wearing too much black lately.

“Serena?” Franca’s tone was tentative, “Oh, I’m sorry, I knocked, but you didn’t hear me.”

“Franca, it’s so good to see you,” Serena turned and smiled, “can you give me some advice on what clothes you think I should take? The weather in England is always uncertain.”

“Well, it was hot when I left,” Franca said, and Serena’s closet really kind of put Franca in awe, with rows and rows of all kinds of blouses, skirts, dresses, pants, and evening gowns, and rows and rows of shoes of different colors, textures, and styles of anything imaginable.

“How long are you going to stay there?” Franco asked carefully.

“I haven’t decided yet, really,” Serena replied, fiddling with a small goatskin dress in her hands, “It’s so tiresome organizing things, don’t you think? Maybe I should ask Maddie to get it for me, she always keeps everything organized, or maybe just go there and buy a few pieces to save on luggage.” She pointed to a small couch, “Make yourself at home.”

“What made you decide to go to London?” Franca asked, sitting on the edge of the couch and watching Serena cradle a small suitcase on the bed and then impatiently throw her underwear into it.

“Oh, on the spur of the moment, really,” Serena cheered him, “I think it surprised Max.”

“Of course, he was surprised.” Franco said dryly.

“Not just surprised, honey, he gave a stunned look.” Serena laughed triumphantly.

“So is Mika.” Franco finished, staring at her.

“Mika?” Serena shrugged as if after careful consideration, “Mika has to concentrate on his work, that’s what he told me last night, you’re a great uplifter for him.” She said, dropping a pile of white silk lingerie and sitting down next to her.

“Is that what he said?” Franca asked Serena in surprise.

“Of course, maybe the original statement wasn’t exactly like that, but I can feel that you do.” Serena said, placing a hand on her thigh.

Franca couldn’t help but shudder, which reminded her of Serena’s searing, frenzied lust, but this time the touch was light, friendly, casual.

“You need great enthusiasm to devote yourself to his imaginative score.” Serena said as she looked into Franca’s eyes.

“Of course, of course, I know.” Franca agreed, and there was an aggressive look in Serena’s amber eyes.

“Will you find the feeling?” Serena asked softly.

“I think it will, I hope so, it will.” Franco was confident.

“You want him, don’t you?” Serena said, her eyes widening, “You’re using him, aren’t you? You’re smart, very smart indeed.”

She didn’t feel the need to pretend she didn’t understand her, “Yes, it is.”

“But do you have enough willpower to harness the longing and transfer that mood to music?” She added, “The music should come first.”

Franca was silent, her sexual desire for Mika, for him, enriched her playing skills and emotions, allowing her to play more freely. But he often appeared in her dreams.

“You’ve got to be careful,” Serena warned, “very careful, you’ve got to go around him like you’re playing a Bach piece. You’ve got to stay true to your essence, and after you’ve mastered the music, made your recordings, and given your first recital, you can do whatever you want.”

“Do you mind?” Franco asked frankly.

Serena’s light laughter rang in her ears, “My dear, Mika and I have a relationship that goes far beyond sex,” she smiled at a confused Franca who didn’t understand, maybe no one else did, “No, no, I wouldn’t mind, you needn’t have any qualms about it. “

Franca felt a sudden wave of relief, the hesitation, nervousness, and uneasiness she had felt sweeping away. Serena was like an ally, a friend. She was who she was, Serena.

Franca grabbed Serena’s hand that was on her thigh and brought it to her lips for a gentle kiss, “Serena, thank you.”

“Have fun, honey,” Serena said, “and don’t worry about anything else.”

Franca leaned her body toward the couch to sit more comfortably. Serena walked back to the bed and continued to rummage through the pile of white silk lingerie.

“How kind of you to read that contract for me, Serena, do you really think his terms are unreasonable?” Franca asked.

“How would I know?” Serena replied absentmindedly, frowning at her suitcase.

“But you were so confident that you thought he should offer a better profit, and that’s why I didn’t sign,” Franco frowned back.

“Just scaring him, honey, I don’t really know anything.” She said vaguely.

Her attitude had suddenly taken a turn for the worse, was it because of annoyance?

“I have to meet Mika before we leave,” Serena said, “I also have to ask Maddie if she’s booked a flight for this afternoon, and it looks like I’m going to have to leave my car at the airport, which is annoying.”

“Why don’t you use a driver?” Franco asked.

“Not today,” Serena replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth; Maddie must have managed to dispose of Serge, sent him away, and would find another to replace him. “No, no driver today.”

London, capital of United Kingdom

Sally sat at her desk, rubbing her swollen temples and sucking on her cigarette for the tenth time in an annoyed gulp, her desk was piled high with all sorts of paperwork but she didn’t want to do anything with it.

She slipped out of Max’s apartment early in the morning, leaving a sleeping Eve and Nikolai behind. Like a chased beast, she went straight back into her office, her hideaway, and she locked all the doors as Sally lowered her head and looked at the piece of paper in front of her.

She had written down everything Eve had said last night on there, she remembered all her plans and dreams, a few of them she wasn’t quite sure of yet, her thoughts were still tangled up from time to time with bare limbs and lips and fingers sliding over her body, but she knew she got the gist of it.

A bold venture, Sari admitted, certainly not without the possibility of winning, at least for the time being, and a partial distraction from Mika’s problems would be in order. It wouldn’t be a threat to DISC-O in the long run, but it would at least make them panic for a while.

She was still on the fence, teetering on this crucial decision. It wasn’t too late to pull out; she could tell Max all this, fire Eve, and take emergency measures for the North American market.

Or she could make an alliance with Eve.

She twisted out her cigarette and sighed.

Geneva, Switzerland

“Serena, why are you doing this?”

She turned at the sound of his voice, she was busy in the garage picking out a car to take to the airport, the Rolls Royce was a bit too flashy and the Limeberg was too red in color – I don’t know how she could have ordered such a car in the first place. She was getting a little annoyed, maybe the black Maserati would be okay.

“Doing what?” She asked absently, the silver-gray Jag was pleasant enough to drive, but she preferred the feeling of driving a Maserati.

“Such a rush to London.” Mika said, approaching her.

“Excitement, impulse.” She replied offhandedly.

“Serena, you’ve never done anything on impulse in your life, is it because of what I said last night? If so ……,” Mika stammered.

“Don’t be silly, my dear, come and help me make an important decision, do you think I should drive Jagger, or Maseadi?”

“Serena, listen to me,” he preached seriously he, wrenching her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. “What the hell are you doing this for? Max is going to be furious this morning. We talked for a while after you left, and I was worried and concerned about you, about last night ……”

“Mika, honey, don’t worry,” she smiled at him. He was relieved to see her smile. “Everything’s fine, I think I’ve finally decided.” Serena continued.

“What?”

“I’ve decided to drive this Maserati.”

That was Serena, and a few hours later Mika watched her disappear into the distance in that Maserati. Always seeing things and solving problems in her own disconcerting way, she angered and bewildered Max, overwhelmed each of them, and then disappeared like a cloud of smoke.

He’ll miss her.

As usual, work was an analgesic, the movement ‘Embrace’ had been a bit of a distraction, he had a complete score in his head, it didn’t seem necessary to translate it into sheet music and record it, he was going to start the movement ‘Climax’, he thought as he walked towards the music room.

Franca hardly even looked up when he entered. She was sitting on a leather couch with her legs crossed, jotting something down with a pencil. She nodded in greeting, then remained buried in her own business. He felt a little offended for a moment, but quickly dismissed it; he had to hurry to finish the piece, and when he finished the movement “Climax,” he would politely ask her to leave.

She had gotten easier to read, and Franco couldn’t help but smile at the thought. When she looked up at him, he almost stiffened. Perhaps the best way to get his attention was to piss him off, to get him in a fit of rage and desperate to take it out on himself.

She felt herself greatly aroused by this thought, and it was as if a scene had appeared before her eyes, his blue eyes glittering, his hands touching her body sharply, tearing at her clothes, moving wildly and persistently over her body in a frenzy of rage that would be the first time that lovemaking had ever been made between them.

And she knew when it would happen, after her debut performance, on the night when the world was told that she was playing Mika’s first score, in her dressing room, in a frenzied atmosphere of excitement after her performance.

It will be a long process to seduce him first, and it will be at least six months before the first recital, perhaps possibly longer.

She would wait, and she would gladly turn all her tenderness for him, all her lust for music, and she would wait.

They worked in silence for a couple of hours, Franca ‘kissing’ the sheet music in silence and Mika burying his head in the composition of ‘Climax’. Suddenly, he whispered and joked about something, startling Franca.

“No, I’ve got to hear your pulling,” he said impatiently, “something’s wrong.”

“I’ll get the piano,” she said, getting up slowly.

“Don’t bother.” He said bluntly, “What kind of violin do you use? A Capichioni? I don’t much like the lutes these luthiers make nowadays. They’re too unrefined, oh dear! he exclaimed, ‘Perhaps that will cause some trouble; I hadn’t thought of that. I want you to play ‘The End’ on that ‘Golden Stryder’. I’d like to try that Amadeus, but it’s not fit for the hall, and neither is the Franzano.”

As he spoke, he opened a cupboard, took out a violin case, and from under a piece of flannel took out a violin, and she almost caught her breath at the sight of it.

Like a rare and priceless jewel, it radiated a glow and life. She took a step closer and gazed at it in awe, so delicate and perfect was its form that she almost incredulously couldn’t help but reach out and touch it.

He took the other Stryder violin out of its case as well and casually placed it over his shoulder. Couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her tense hands.

She had certainly tried out a Stradivarius or two before in some of London’s boutique luthiers, but she had never seen, or imagined, that an instrument of such delicacy, of such ingenuity, could be hidden in Mika’s hands.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He asked her, unable to hide the smile that escaped the corners of his mouth.

“More than beautiful,” she exhaled, “it’s perfect.”

“It was finished in seventy-four-one,” he described, handing her the instrument, “when the luthier himself was seventy-one years old, and it boggles your mind to think that it has such a tremendous energy, which is what Embrace demands, and we played Kisses with the other one, which was more resilient. “

Franca adapted to it easily, as if it had been built especially for her, “You mean different movements to be played on different instruments?” She was a bit skeptical.

“Of course,” he replied back, adjusting his music stand and picking up the sheet music she had dropped on the floor and setting it up. “Good, now start playing, you may think your Tuttle fiddle is good, but I prefer Pecaut’s, you’d better get used to it soon.”

She eyed the sheet music, if ‘Kiss’ was very simple, this one was incredibly complex, with a melody and rhythm not often seen. It started with a long note, with a variety of note changes, and oh my, did he expect her to fully grasp all of this in a moment?

“Now, don’t worry about the note changes yet,” he instructed. “Let’s try to get a feel for it, and I need to hear you play, fast!”

She held the instrument under her chin, against her shoulder, and a strange sensation slid through her whole body, as if the instrument itself were alive with heat.

“Play!”

She took a deep breath and began.

It’s a succession of chords, fast and furious, like a wildfire that’s smoldering and breathless.

“Harder,” he said, “harder.”

She ignored it and gave her full attention to the music.”

Mika stood behind her with her eyes closed and her fists clenched. Yes, she had acted okay, but it needed to be harder, like a man’s cock in a woman’s smooth, hot pussy.

“Harder,” he cried, almost rudely.

About to reach her climax, her attention was just on the sheet music. She felt his hand press on her shoulder, and the violin was suddenly taken from him, along with the bow.

“Be more forceful.”

She watched in awe as he placed the instrument over his shoulder and began to play. She watched as his gloved fingers slid skillfully and delicately, holding the instrument in his left hand and grasping the bow with ease in his right.

It’s not perfect, it’s a long way from his original style, but he shows a power, a passion, which somewhat masks some of the lack of skill.

He’s playing, she thought, simply stunned, could this be real?

He can play!

London, capital of United Kingdom

They arrived in London at four o’clock in the afternoon, Serena thought disdainfully as she looked around, the fashions of the place had changed quite a bit since she was last in London. She hurriedly averted her gaze when she saw a young man dressed all in black, with a Mohawk hairstyle, a gold nose ring, and long feathers waving under one ear.

“Edward, my driver, is supposed to pick us up.” Max spoke, “Great, he’s waiting for us over there, this way, Serena.” He put one hand on her back and seemed to push her forward.

He made way for her in the crowded area, he got the feeling of a protector and was still proud to be walking with her. She was beautiful, graceful, and if she put her mind to you, she’d be a good companion.

They had a very happy journey. It made him almost forget the unhappiness she had brought him.

“In the name of God, why did you intervene?” He had asked her that.

“My dear,” she said, her fingertips caressing his arm, “I don’t want to trouble you at all; I just think Franca is too naïve and unsophisticated to deal with a shrewd businessman like you, and probably not qualified.”

Hearing her words, which both angered and flattered him, he could only end his displeasure and indignation. Before he had left Geneva, he had gotten a promise from Franca that she would make no other choice unless DISC-O rebuffed her. He had also explained to Mika, simply and patiently, that DISC-O’s contract with him had been unbroken. Mika had seemed to understand that, and he had never been very patient about such things, but in the end, Max had let him know that whatever his new work was, DISC-O was of course the owner of it.

“Is that the small man who looks like a monkey?” Serena asked, watching the poorly portrayed man walk towards them.

“Certainly not as pretty as your chauffeur, that I know,” Max replied, busily pulling back his thoughts about to be Mercedes, “but he’s an excellent driver. Edward, hello, come and get these, where’s the car?” He handed Edward his bags and talked with him as he walked, Serena following.

Just as she had expected, it was decidedly cold, and dark and damp, and she was glad she had changed into something thicker; for some reason, in London, she always felt cold.

“Boss, are we going to the office or the apartment? Where’s the little woman?”

Hearing that; Serena raised her eyebrows in surprise at how rude it was! But Max didn’t seem to feel anything as he replied, “Go to the office, I want to get there as soon as possible, how’s the traffic now?”

“It’s scary, boss, it’s scary, but it’s okay, it’s okay.”

“Serena,” Max said, pushing the button to separate them from the driver, “where do you want to go?” He asked awkwardly. He hadn’t thought about it yet, all he remembered was asking Serena’s extremely capable housekeeper to buy the tickets and inform Edward to pick them up, he thought maybe Serena already had plans of her own, “Have you booked a room at the hotel? Of course, you’re more than welcome to stay with me, if you’d like.” He added.

“Max, darling, of course I’m with you.” She said wistfully, “Your driver can be a real pain in the ass, little woman, so rude.”

“Alas, Edward is like that,” Max replied, admiring Serena’s graceful form, “he works only for me, not for DISC-O, he’s a chauffeur and a butler and a bodyguard, he’s a two-timer on,” he added to her surprised, “If you get to know him, you’ll like him.”

“So,” Serena said noncommittally, “you’re going to DISC-O first? I’ll go with you, I was looking forward to that, do you have a meeting coming up or anything?”

“No, actually they don’t know I’m back yet, I think I’ll surprise them.”

She looked at him curiously, struck by something in his voice, she hadn’t looked at him seriously in a long time, he had dark hair, his skin was somewhere between brown and black, he looked healthy, he was still rather pleasant to look at, but she didn’t really like his green eyes. She suddenly realized that he was still somewhat attractive, almost handsome, even a stranger could recognize him by his forceful mouth and jaw, there was no denying it. He was a man not to be easily ignored.

“You’re eager to surprise everyone?” She said in a high pitched voice, her mouth asking the question while her mind was on other things.

“Not really,” he said, shaking his head, “it’s just that sometimes one can get something true when one doesn’t care and is unprepared.”

Eve’s tongue slid up the center of her foot, and Sally’s toes flexed like a spasm as she sat in the leather chair behind Max’s huge desk, writhing as she tried to jerk her foot away, but Eve’s hand suddenly became strong.

“Eve, please, I’m not going to change my mind, I’ve made my decision. Max won’t know, oh God, Eve, please!” Eve’s tongue was like a little wet snake, swimming between her toes.

She’d picked Max’s office to pick this up with Eve, just thinking that here, the desk and chair might give her a little sense of authority, a sense of distance from Eve, and she’d have to explain to her properly why she’d chosen to stay with Max.

But Eve went around that table anyway and slid down to her knees and begged her to reconsider, taking off her shoes as she spoke, impressing and infecting her in that way she had once known so well.

Sally shrank her body back as far as she could to block out the temptation that Eve was bringing, but she still felt a rush of heat coming from between her legs.

“Eve, stop, you have to stop, I swear I won’t tell Max a word of this, you can leave DISC-O and go on with your plans, oh Eve …… you can’t, you can’t do this, Eve, Eve, Eve.”

Geneva, Switzerland

Mika lowered his head and looked intently at his hands like he’d never seen them before.

“You can play!” Franca shouted, “I really don’t understand what’s wrong. They say it’s impossible to play with your hands since the accident, is that right, Mika? But you can play!”

Without answering her barrage of questions, he slowly removed the black leather glove from his left hand. The glove was soft, like a second skin. He carefully removed the glove, first the thumb, then the index finger, and she wanted to snatch the glove from him and throw it away so that his hands would be free from then on, and she wanted to stick his hands in the light ……

“For God’s sake, talk to me, why are you wearing gloves and what the hell is going on? Tell me.”

He’s still slowly pulling on the glove, now the ring finger.

She looked at him impatiently, “Say something!” She screamed impulsively, her voice getting a little hysterical, “Tell me, tell me now!”

“It’s strange,” he finally cracked, “we went to a clinic with a glimmer of hope, whether it was in Boston or Baltimore, I can’t remember.” He was still tugging unhurriedly at the glove on his little thumb.

“What hope?” She practically held her breath as she watched him tug on those gloves.

“Perhaps it will recover. The injury is not very serious, you see, and not deformed, but I have lost feeling,” he paused, still with half a glove on his hand, “and we were driving along the sea, and the weather was fine that great day, and the highway had good steep inclines and tunnels, and I was driving at the time, and I used to enjoy driving, and I liked to drive fast, and I felt that that I used to love to drive, and I loved to drive fast, I thought it was relaxing. I had a recital in Milan the next week and I had been working very hard to prepare for it. We happened to be coming out of a tunnel at the time, and I was looking down to turn off my headlights, and I felt a little bit out of place, and I kept wondering if it would have turned out differently if I had been driving my own car.”

She waited for him to continue, barely daring to catch her breath.

“The road,” he finally picked up, “was narrow, very narrow, and suddenly there was a loud bang, a dull thud, another cliché, but this time it was real. The other guy must have been going fast too, his motorcycle hit my car, and the others were catapulted up into the glass fender in front of me, and all of a sudden glass shards were splattered everywhere.”

“Glass shards in all directions?”

“He crashed in and the blasted glass scattered all over Serena, like diamonds, and Serena actually looked special at that moment, like she was buried in a pile of diamonds.”

“So your hand?” She was full of doubts.

“I never bought her a diamond,” he went on, and then after a moment’s silence, “I braked first, pulled over, and then went to pull her, and pieces of broken glass fell all over the seat, too, and I don’t remember much of it anymore, and then I saw blood everywhere.”

He took off his gloves and looked at his hands carefully, and she took another step forward and stared at his hands as well. His fingers were thin and elegant, pale from not seeing the sun for so long, but there were no bruises on his hands. He looked at the palm of his hand, and there was a not-so-visible mark under his thumb. “She looked very angry, and when I went to pull her, she screamed at me, your hand, your hand!”

Franca nodded understandingly; one hand was vital for a violinist.

His demeanor was still steeped in the past, “She was unusually angry, but it was still a fluke that she didn’t have any bruises on her, and the boy too.”

She looked at him staring dead at his own hand and said, “Isn’t it back now? You have feeling in your fingers, don’t you?”

He quickly tugged on the other glove and dropped both to the floor, “It looks that way,” he replied softly, “It looks that way.”

He moved his fingers and smiled, “I’ll be sure to tell Serena, tell Maddie, maybe we should have some champagne.”

A few hours later, they were several bottles of champagne down, and she couldn’t help but ask the question that had been nagging at her, “Why the gloves, Mika?”

“I can’t even stand it, and it seems strange,” he poured the last drop from the bottle into a glass and was about to fetch another, “a kind of mourning, perhaps.”

“But now that you’re better, you’re feeling it and can start playing again.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, “it’s too early to make a decision,” he uncorked the bottle and a stream of bubbles overflowed the bottle, he felt the coolness in his hand.

It had been a long time, and his hand felt only a burn of being, and his fingers could once again touch the ancient cork and smooth glass …… like a woman’s skin.

If only Serena was there, he decided to hold off on calling her in London, he didn’t want Max to share in the joy, he wanted to tell her face to face and watch the ecstasy in her amber eyes. He was still shaken by Maddie’s tears, she was overjoyed when he told her the news． Again, it was as if she had been expecting the happy news.

They drank a glass of champagne together, and she asked him what he was going to have for dinner to celebrate, and clutched both of his hands, tears trickling down her cheeks.

Franca had sat quietly, listening to him, proud that she had witnessed such a miracle. Mika poured more champagne and watched her arms bend into graceful curves as she raised her glass. Yes, a woman’s skin would look warm and smooth under his touch, her hair silky smooth, and her lips, her nipples …… all of this would be reproduced.

He felt a strange stirring and ecstasy within him, the likes of which he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Abstinence, like his black gloves, had become a form of mourning. Without the music, the need for sex had been lost, but now he could feel a thirst welling up inside him again.

Her breasts towered under her white shirt and her long, elegant legs were wrapped tightly in her jeans. He could almost feel his hands stripping the pieces of cotton clothing away from her body as he felt her ivory-smooth body ……

Her body would change endlessly, cool, warm, firm, soft, under the touch of his hands. He flexed his own fingers, without that burning sensation, but with a longing to touch her.

Yes, soon, he decided.

Tonight.

Maybe now.

Impulsively, he headed for a row of shelves that were filled with his vast collection of tapes and records. He remembered the first time he’d seen a picture of her, and how she’d made him think about how he’d go about owning her, fucking her, possessing her quickly.

But when he reached out, his bare hands made him change his mind; there was no longer any need for those black gloves, but there was no more music between them either.

There is only the music of a woman, a woman’s sighs and cries, screams of pleasure and moans of uncontrollable love, that is her music.

London, capital of United Kingdom

Max reached the door to his office and kept a distance from Serena. He went in and immediately closed the door behind him, and Serena, though curious, didn’t follow him in, thinking that he had his privacy.

The building was modern, but ugly and stereotypical, not at all to her taste. The cottage immediately adjacent to Max’s office also looked crappy. She slung her jacket over her shoulder and scanned it casually when she saw a table strewn with various papers, all modern junk. Unintentionally she saw a name on one of the papers and she curiously lowered her head to look at it more closely.

Max had entered the office and Eve straightened up as the door was pushed open, she greeted them briskly as she stood next to Sally, who was sitting in the big chair.

“Hello, boss! We weren’t expecting you back today. Right, Sally?”

He didn’t object to Sally using his office when he wasn’t there, and in fact he wanted to rearrange her office a bit, put in a few more proper cupboards for her, and replace the crappy office paraphernalia that was there.

How was he to know that if he had unscrewed the doorknob of his office a few seconds earlier, he would have seen them together, close and embracing, like lovers?

“It does come as a bit of a surprise,” Eve said as she moved away from Sally and away from the table, “I hope it’s not because things aren’t going too well over in Geneva?”

Sally looked like she had been suddenly slapped in the face, her gaze following Eve like an animal about to be hunted, trying her best to avoid his gaze.

He answered her questions naturally, inquiring about what was going on in the company, and saw that Sally’s face was returning to its natural color. He knew his instincts weren’t deceiving him.

He could smell a problem as well as he could smell a cigarette.

He could feel intrigue in the air.

“It was a success,” he said calmly he said, “an exciting opportunity for all of us, and for DISC-O,” he felt Eve sneer, or maybe it was just his hallucination.” Sally,” he said, “you’ve been smoking again, I thought you’d quit. Has something been stressing you out since I left?” He went around behind his chair and looked at his desk, unable to see that they had plotted anything.

“No, no, not at all.” Sally replied unnaturally. Thank God he was standing behind her, she wouldn’t dare meet him head on at the moment. Eve was in control, her voice mannered. Naturally, it was as if nothing had happened a few minutes ago, they hadn’t had any fun or arguments together, and she suddenly hated her a little.

“In fact, you should know the old adage that where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” Max said affectionately to him, his eyes on Eve, who was holding the pack of Marlboro cigarettes in his hand, “It’s bad for your health, Sally, a major scourge. If you’re feeling stressed, we can arrange a vacation, what do you think?”

“That’s what I said, boss,” Eve’s eyes glinted slyly, “She really needs to get out of here, doesn’t she, Sally?”

She could hear the meaning in Eve’s words, and Sally subconsciously reached out to touch her cigarettes; Max had been playing with the carton, and he hesitated before handing them to her.

She could feel the conversation had increasingly put a strain on the atmosphere in the room; every word Max and Eve spoke seemed lighthearted and unintentional, but every sentence made her uneasy.

“But everyone is indispensable, that’s what they say, right?” Max shot back, eyes still on Eve, one hand resting amiably on Sally’s shoulder, but it seemed to be a reminder to Sally that she was sitting in his chair. Embarrassed, she prepared to get up and give way, but he pressed toward her. Eve took it all in stride. “Ha, Serena. You come.”

Three pairs of eyes looked at her together, and Serena stood in the doorway for a moment, absently grasping a piece of paper in her hand.

“Sally, Eve, this is Serena, Mika’s mate.”

Sally greeted Serena politely, as if a pair of cold hands had gripped her heart; she had never seen Serena before, never directly confronted this love interest of hers. Her superhuman beauty and gracious appearance shocked Sally.

Serena had been fiddling with a piece of paper, she kept folding it into different shapes, and when she got closer, Sally recognized it, and she sucked in her breath, it was her handwriting.

“It’s so good to see you,” Serena said in her characteristic slightly raspy voice and held out her hand towards Sally, who just shook it numbly, “It’s so strange we’ve never met.” Serena smiled and looked down at the piece of paper in her other hand before turning to Eve.

Blood rushed out of Sally’s brain all at once and her ears roared, she could barely move, think, or breathe, her eyes fixed on the paper in Serena’s hand. On that paper, she had written down every detail of Eve’s plan. Serena walked gracefully towards a black leather chair and sat down, well fiddled with the piece of paper, folding it into a small boat.

“Don’t let my arrival interrupt you, Max,” she spoke, “I know you have many, many things to discuss, and Max and I have talked a bit about the music market and the outside market, which are all marvelous to me. But I guess that must be your specialty, right, Eve?” Serena said with a smile.

The boat disappeared and she refolded it into a new shape, a flower.

“Exactly he said, can’t be considered an expertise.” Eve replied carefully, if she was a cat her tail would have to be tucked in a bit more as she realized she had run into a formidable opponent.

It was a very pretty flower, and the bloom was reminiscent of a rose.

“Eve, you’re not doing yourself much justice by saying that.” Max said casually. “Your report on North America was just fine.”

Now that the rose had disappeared as well, Sally felt Serena looking at her and reluctantly raised her head, where she saw amber eyes that were kind, warm, and friendly.

The rose turned into a brooch in the shape of a rising sun, with the sun shining in all directions. Serena was smiling at her.

She felt her mind clearing a little; Eve and Max were talking about the Toronto market and former business, and there didn’t seem to be much danger, she just didn’t know if there was something in their words that she couldn’t understand.

Serena removed the brooch as well.

Did she leave that piece of paper on the table? She shouldn’t have been so careless …… Maybe she would have, why didn’t Serena say anything? Obviously, she realized that the paper was important, and she kept folding it into a small wooden boat, a flower, a brooch. Was there some hidden meaning in this? She wondered aimlessly if maybe it wasn’t her piece of paper at all, or maybe it was just her being vain, and she must have locked it in her desk drawer. She seemed to remember it being locked.

She regained her confidence, “You folded it really well,” Sally said aloud to Serena, watching her hand as the brooch turned into a pointy shape.

“You like it?” Serena asked casually, still continuing to fold, “Here you go then.”

She spread her palm and it was a knife.

Geneva, Switzerland

His eyes were the blue color of the Mediterranean Sea and often appeared in her dreams, making her erotically high. Her body seemed to turn into a pool of water, into liquid, as he watched, her heart beating wildly, and she even felt the hidden place between her legs trembling with fear as well, while he didn’t even touch her.

“One kiss,” she said softly, feeling her belly tighten, “just one kiss.”

“Just one kiss?” He repeated, clearly finding it amusing. He was beside her now. His thighs were against her shapely legs, one hand holding the couch, one hand resting gently on her shoulder.

It wouldn’t take much effort, just a little movement to pin her down on the couch and crush her under him, he was strong and tall and could take her easily and she needed him so desperately. She lay down heavily on the couch, knowing she wanted him very, very badly.

With tears in her eyes, she said once again, “It was just a kiss.”

She closed her eyes and felt his hands slide through her long hair, tilting her face toward him. His exhaled breath teased her temples. His eyebrows, his lips gently touching hers. His tongue kissed her lashes, carefully licking the tears from the corners of her eyes.

Her lips were open, waiting, waiting for his powerful lips, tongue and teeth. She felt too tight and tired in her jeans, and when she felt his mouth move to her ear, her whole body couldn’t help but shake, an irrepressible lust rising and rising. Her breasts shifted uneasily under her shirt, her nipples firm and hard. She almost screamed when his tongue kissed her earlobe.

His lips kissed her tenderly, gently, so softly that she felt too soft. His lips slid over her face, down her cheeks, her chin, just avoiding her mouth. Her nerves were highly aroused, and her lips were burning with a kind of supreme agitation. She could scarcely bear the torture any longer; the waiting had been an unutterable pain.

She moaned, her lips dry and parched, and she felt his mouth on hers, as if whispering something, his tongue licking her dry lips, wetting them and rubbing his teeth gently against them. She reached out her tongue to search for his, to feel his hot, wet tongue, yet he drew away.

Her eyes were still closed, and she knew that if she opened them and met his eyes, it would ignite the explosion that would come within her. She forced herself to lie motionless, knowing that if she moved a little, her nerves would be out of control, and a wave would rise up inside her that wasn’t supposed to come yet.

After what seemed like hours, he sighed softly and slid his lips to hers, deadening the squeal of extreme pleasure that escaped from her mouth.

London, capital of United Kingdom

“I knew something was wrong,” Max said, “Of course, I couldn’t care less while I was away.”

“Oh.” Serena looked absently at her reflection in the mirror. They had left Max’s office. She casually returned the piece of paper to Sally before Edward led her and Max back to the apartment, where she slipped into bed after a good shower, envisioning a large mirror on the ceiling.

“Sally must have felt the doubts too, and obviously she wanted to give Eve time,” Max leaned back on the pillow next to Serena, his hand stroking her hair, “Frankly, I can’t say for sure that Sally is completely right, but Eve is her assistant, and if she doesn’t feel she can work with Eve any longer. She knows what to do, and it’s Sally I’m really relying on.”

“Oh.” Serena answered again, not really interested in what he had to say.

It must have been crazy and fun as hell to copulate under this mirror, she felt herself relaxing all over, she smiled to herself and ran her fingers through her hair, maybe it was time for a different hairstyle, maybe it was time for a cut.

“When we spoke to Eve about it, she was surprisingly calm and collected, and she’s even considering going back to work in finance.”

“Really?” Serena turned to look at Max, it looked like Sally hadn’t sliced her own wrist with that ‘knife’ or bothered to poke Max in the side, she’d put it away, which was interesting.

She thought of Eve, who had been a big threat to Max, and to DISC-O, and maybe she should have handed Max that ‘knife’, and it was only on the spur of the moment that she had given it to Sally.

Max reached out his hand to gather her attention, and she stopped thinking about anything else.

Chapter 12: Interlude

He had already embarked on another song. She was still moving from place to place, slipping from man to man, as she had always done ……

Virgin Islands

The speedboat was moored off a small island in the Virgin Islands, and it was a clear and mild day, the sun shining silver on the sea.

“The weather is perfect.” The man beside her said, and he sounded as if he was congratulating himself for that fact and for himself, and maybe it was.

Serena was lying beside him on the moped and didn’t say a word, just raised her hand to hold up her sunglasses. The sun shone on her raised arm, the diamond bracelet on her wrist and the diamonds on her fingers sparkling in the beautiful sunlight.

Incredibly, some people think it’s vulgar to wear diamond jewelry in the middle of the day, and she finds that idea laughable, which of course isn’t the case, especially if you’re no longer wearing other jewelry at the same time.

“The sea is glass.” She went on, a self-absorption still in her tone.

Her eyes looked toward him, and a sort of contented smile played at the corners of his mouth, a smile that made it seem as if he owned the whole world, or everything.

He did have power, pretentiousness, she reminded herself, and in the end, didn’t she lie beside him?

She thought about the past six months and her thoughts returned to Mika. She thought of her return to Geneva when he hadn’t picked her up at the airport or waited for her at the gate. How disappointed she had been to walk into the villa, she had heard Bach coming from the music room, she had expected him to look dejected, she had hesitantly pushed the door open and walked in.

She found him playing!

Then there were tears, joy, relief, and champagne and laughter.

But he decided to continue composing: the playing was just self-indulgent, which was somewhat of a disappointment to her.

He should be with her now, she mused, he had decided to stay in Geneva and refused to go out with her for a piece, saying that work was too stressful. She wondered if maybe Franca was still with him, maybe she had listened to Max and gone to Rome for a few months.

Max, sometimes she wondered what he was thinking. Did he realize, did he appreciate what she had done for him, or maybe not.

She sighed as the man lying beside her dropped the book he was holding, “Serena, is something wrong? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing Jeff, everything is fine, maybe we should order lunch, I’m starving.”

Rome, capital of Italy

A monumental city. A city of lovers, Franca laughed to herself, and what a terrible thing it was to be alone on a September day.

It was raining again, a steady dreary rain that kept pounding on the windows.

Max had rooms booked for her at the School of American Studies in Rome, and for the first few weeks she was really happy to be able to talk to students and scholars about painting, sculpture, architecture, and music. She shared a suite with a young woman painter who had won the Prix de Rome, and they quickly became very friendly with each other. They ate together, went to the souks, drank beer together, and the colorful life here somewhat eased the pain she felt away from Mica.

It wouldn’t be long before we could see each other again, she looked down at the letter in her hand, the first recital was booked for January, Max wrote, at the Royal Albert Stay Concert Hall, and everything was going according to plan.

Soon enough.

Geneva, Switzerland

Mika sat on the balcony, sipping his coffee, already a little chilly from sitting here so early in the morning, but he still enjoyed it. Midas curled up in his lap, bringing him a touch of warmth.

He looked down at the postcard pressed under his glass, the picture of Aphrodite in the bath she had sent from the Vatican. He admired the graceful curves of the marble statue of the goddess in the picture, then turned it over and went to read the words once more.

It’s simple, just one word.

“Soon!”

The Song of Serena had been written for her, and, after three revisions, had become more perfect by the day.

He was already working on another piece, set in Midas, describing its dainty demeanor, but this time he couldn’t concentrate as energetically as he had on Serena’s Song, because he missed Serena.

What on earth made her leave Geneva, she went to New York, and from New York to Boston, and then disappeared into that tropical region with the man named Jedda B. Brooks. She disappeared into the tropics with a man named J.D. Brooks.

He had assumed that she had gone to London in August, a place she hated, to develop a relationship with Max, to seek a homecoming.

But he was wrong. She was still moving from place to place, slipping from man to man, as she always did, and how he wished she would make a trip back.

Soon.

The first show is getting closer, only six weeks away, maybe seven?

Boston, capital of Massachusetts

Eve looked down from the sixth-floor luxury apartment she’d rented, and right next to the luxury apartment was a modest restaurant; was Boynton the only city in the world that had no concept of urban planning? It was unbearable to think that a luxury restaurant could be next to a string of shabby houses, or a repair store, or a laundromat.

She found it a disaster to look at such a view, and she twisted her head to look at the phone as she waited for Jeff to get back to her. Almost a month had passed and DISC-O had still given her a generous severance package, she was perfectly capable of coping for a few more months before preparing to form her new company, but without Jeff B. But without Jeff Brooks, she couldn’t start her company.

She was glad she’d left Nicola in that furniture department in London until she’d set up their company in the United States, in some town Jeff liked, but Jeff didn’t seem to understand the importance of time and the need to move fast.

At first he was happy to join her program, he took her in and out of posh Boston hotels and to his ranch. At the time, she was in no hurry to rush him, just enjoying that high society life of freedom and sunshine.

Whenever I called him, his secretary was always not quick to say, “Ms. Eve, he’ll be in touch with you soon.”

Soon.

But that’s pretty much a fucking throwaway line now.

London, capital of United Kingdom

“I don’t get it, Sally, he’s hardly done anything for me, know what I mean? No excitement, no trembling fright.”

“But I felt it,” she said sweetly him, not just excited and trembling with fear. She thought to herself, and looked at the picture of Nikolai, and smiled.

“The contract is too generous for a nameless Russian pianist playing in a club.” Max expressed his displeasure and looked at her. She had cut her hair, like a helmet, and had bangs on her forehead, which made her look a little older than she used to.

“Underestimating novices is a mistake, Max.” She reminded him of the same mistake he’d made with Franco.

Max had to take her taunts, damn Serena, and he ended up having to make a deal with Franca for double the original profit and a fixed annual salary. This greatly reduced the profit he had originally expected to rake in from the tune ‘Anthem’, a stupid title that Mika had only agreed to, and about which Max still held a grudge.

She might be about to call, he lowered his head to his watch, pretending to think about something, she called once a week, sometimes twice or three times, and her coming apart from Mika actually did Mika a lot of good in furthering her recovery. She didn’t approve of him calling her, but he missed her.

“So, Max, what else do you have to say?”

He thought about it for a moment, but had to reserve his opinion and agree. She knew he would.

Sally returned to her desk, which had been replaced with a large glossy, neat black desk, and picked up the phone to tell Nicola the good news and opened the second drawer on the right side of her desk.

She smiled often now at her amulet, the drawer was empty, except for her amulet.

It’s what brought her good luck, she thought, gently stroking the paper knife of Serre’s mail fold.

finale

She knew today’s audience had come with curiosity. She felt something welling up inside her, and she felt her fingers begin to tremble, searching for the hard bow ……

The Royal Opera House, Aberdeen, London

The lights on the stage looked very dry. Four violins were neatly arranged on the raised playing platform, covered with velvet. She could feel people whispering curiously, some almost sticking their heads out to get a glimpse of Mika’s treasured Euphoria.

With the sixth sense of a virtuoso, she knew that a lot of today’s audience came with curiosity. She was just a nobody, and most of the reason this hall was packed today was because of Mika. They had come to welcome him back to the stage one by one as a composer who had mysteriously disappeared for so long.

In her imagination, they were like a herd of animals, some wild and lustful, some tame and vulgar. The critics dressed up like gorgeous cougars with wild eyes, ready to hunt, the friends and fellow musicians as smooth as chameleons, ready to follow the critics around a bit; and the music lovers, dressed up bright and shiny, in silk and silver, like birds of the tropics.

She was going to tame them, impress them, shock them …… and him, just like Mika.

She could feel his presence, could almost hear him speak.

They hadn’t met or even spoken before tonight; Serena had met her once and seemed very friendly. She helped Franca adjust her emotions, mobilize her enthusiasm, and get everything ready for the show.

The lights in the hall dimmed and she took a deep probing breath, closing her eyes and beginning to recuperate, feeling a bit of excitement when he heard an extremely cultivated voice forewarning that the show was about to begin, but the next words seemed very distant, causing her to concentrate even more mentally.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is with great pleasure that I present to you this evening an outstanding work by an outstanding musician.”

She felt something well up inside her, and she felt her fingers begin to tremble, searching for the ‘Stridvaris’. And the hard bow, and his warm, smooth, inviting skin.

“This work is full of unusual charm; it has the elegance of classical music and exudes the colors of neo-romanticism.”

Her mouth suddenly felt dry, so she stuck out her tongue and moistened her lips. She imagined his lips, imagined licking them with her tongue, and he opened his mouth, waiting for her, and her tongue swam between his white, strong teeth, and she smelled his hot, wet, sweet breath.

“Violin concertos have a long and romantic history, dating back to Bach in the sixteenth century, and generally have four movements.”

His body quivered slightly under her touch, his muscles tensing. Her hands wandered skillfully over his body.

“Even the most accomplished performers will find that tonight’s performance will be of a high caliber and difficult, so please join us in welcoming Franca to the stage and ask her to perform Serena’s Song, a four-movement piece.”

Serena in the audience was shaken by the title of the piece, and Mika, sitting next to her, clapped, her eyes fixed on the stage. Max, on Sereno’s other side, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Regardless, the title was a little better than Hymn, and he tightened his grip on her other hand.

Franca opened her eyes and heard the enthusiastic but cautious applause of the audience as they waited. She calmed herself a little, then walked to the center of the stage.

Her full head of red hair glowed golden like a burning flame under the blazing stage lights. She wore a bare-breasted black gown with a skirt that opened all the way to her thighs, and her only accessory was a heavy gold necklace that Serena had taken from around her own neck to put on her as she left her dressing room, “It’ll bring you good luck, my dear.”

She ran her fingers over the necklace around her neck, then bent down to remove the ‘Strider’ from its case. Just as she turned to retrieve the instrument, she heard an exclamation from the audience, a man’s voice, a man’s heartfelt admiration at the sight of her graceful legs, and the smooth white skin against the black dress. In their eyes, the perfect curves of her body had outshone ‘Stridvaris’.

Mika was there, somewhere, and she could feel his gaze, falling on her. Was he in the back row, in the front row, or in the box? She didn’t know, but it didn’t matter, as long as he was there.

She faced the audience and, suddenly, felt ridiculous, a little over the top. Not at all the emotion required to play the first movement, ‘The Kiss’. All she felt was hot and wild, a burning sensation in her fingertips, and a violent throbbing between her legs.

She started playing.

But she was still imagining him, and one little nub went wrong. She hid it well, though.

She was like a stream of water flowing around him, warm, passionate, tormenting him with her tongue and teeth, encompassing him with the aroma that radiated from her body.

Mika cursed something softly, so softly that almost only he could hear it.

The audience, motionless and attentive to the unfolding melody, was intrigued by the fleeting, vague and tantalizing sound of the piano, which struck them as having a vaguely mesmerizing quality.

The bow stroked and plucked at the strings as she deftly played the violin. The music rose and fell. She touched his body with her eyes, balking at the firm, muscular thighs. She fiddled flirtatiously with the zipper on his pants, feeling his thing harden. Her fingers roamed there.

However, the intense, torturously fragile emotion was so excruciating it was almost unbearable. She lowered the tune until the tendency was to silence. She wanted to avoid him, to hide from him, as if she had gone away from him to Rome. She let the sound of the piano return to the silence, the blackness of the night.

The music hall was silent, no coughs, no rustling of the program booklet being turned over, and no murmurs of mingled voices in the audience as she put the ‘Strider’ back in its case and switched to the ‘Geshilaires’.

She was calm and confident.

The tune of ‘Embrace’ is as light and smooth as flowing water, but also like an erratic breeze that stirs up emotions, it seems to be falling silks that are rustling and tantalizingly erotic, and like a flickering fire that suddenly bursts into flames.

She was lost in the exploration of his body again, touching bare skin beneath the silk and sheer linen clothing. Cautiously, deliberately, she roamed her fingers to the buttons of his shirt, but her gaze never left his face, she gazed imploringly at the fully masculine knot of his throat, her hands slowly tugged at his shirt, exposing his richly masculine, muscled chest, and she flicked at his hard, tiny nipple, as she stuck out her tongue and sucked on it. Just then. She began the strumming song.

The flames of desire grew hotter and hotter, hotter and hotter, stronger and stronger, and lust had been aroused and was being aroused.

Eyes gleaming like coals of blue flame, Mika cursed again.

“What is it, dear?” Serena asked in a small voice, Hen lightly touching his arm.

“Too nervous, too soon,” he replied irritably, forgetting to lower his voice.” She can’t keep this up …… wait a while to get to the Orgasm movement and it won’t be playable …… damn her! This is intimate, pro tweed sex, not announcements not announcements!”

From behind them came an exasperated shushing sound, telling them to be quiet and be quiet.

“She may surprise you, my dear,” Serena said against his ear, leaving a soft, soothing kiss on his cheek. Franca was playing wonderfully, and the sound of her instrument had struck a deep chord with the audience, sending them into a hazy emotional trance, as if they were wrapped in a foggy vapor. Serena herself was infected and overcome by the sound of the piano. Max, who sat beside her, was fully engaged, completely lost in the music, his hand pressed firmly against her thigh.

Finally, the crescendo of harmonies rustled through the air like the crunch of white linen as it floated to the ground. The music slowly dissolved and faded away.

On stage, she reached for the ‘Stryder’ violin, which looked like her lover.

Hot and rolling, the bow fell sharply and wildly, and her hand swung so roughly, impatiently, and greedily that any barrier between them was intolerable. She pulled at the fiddle now with such force that it seemed to sink in and penetrate.

In the audience, people rocked in their chairs as they were drawn to the music, imprisoned by it, and overcome by it. Lust blazed.

That lust rose up, and the sound of the piano added to the riotous scent that filled the air, heralding loud screams, frenzied excitement, blissful insanity, as they gave vent to their sexual desires, melting away the long-stored pleasures, as they relaxed and loosened up completely.

She had an agonizing sense of emptiness. She longed for him, longed for him to fill her wildly, to bring them both together in extreme joy, to explode them in orgasm. She could feel her own orgasm approaching, and as she went into her coda, drawing her bow long and hard, she felt the muscles in her thighs quiver as she struggled to control it, restraining herself even as she played the final notes that would make them scream wildly.

There was a palpable difference in the silence as she put the ‘Stryder’ back in its place and reached for the ‘Amat’ violin.

Mika was right. Amat’s voice won’t carry very far down the hall. But choices are deliberate and wandering, and the loss of agonizing love doesn’t mean dominating the space, but it can add to it.

It was a death, an end, fragile, torturous, agonizing. The fire that raced through his body cooled, his breathing leveled off.

She controlled it superbly, grasping it, calming her body’s agitation, the tremors dissolving into the odd, marvelous strumming, into the fainter and fainter sound of the piano, a warm, all-encompassing peace.

She replayed it three times in a row at the request of the audience, and when she returned backstage drenched in sweat, still basking in the thunderous applause, she was excited. Frenzied, joyful, she had succeeded!

He was waiting for her in her dressing room.