Perfect Notes Page 6

  “Stefan,” I shouted from the top of the spiral staircase. “Where are my clothes?”

  On the other side of the vast studio, beavering away in his kitchen lining up pans on the stove and plates on the worktop, was Stefan, clothed in his polo shirt and black jeans.

  “Stefan!”

  He glanced up, switched off the extractor fan in the hood and cupped a hand to his ear. The smirk on his face told me differently. He knew exactly why I was hollering.

  I stomped down the staircase and marched across the space, past the piano. With my hands on my hips, I glared at him. “My clothes?”

  “Ah. What have I done with them?” He made a pretense of looking around, even opening a kitchen cupboard and poking around in it.

  “Ha ha.” I tapped a bare foot on the floor. “Did you think I might run off?”

  “Possibly.” He stood. “No regrets? I mean, if you do, fair enough, but don’t lie to me.”

  “Lie to you? You hold my clothes hostage and expect me to be honest.”

  “True.” He pursed his lips, but his eyes still twinkled with amusement.

  “It’s not funny.”

  He changed his expression, altered it. The humor vacated and he suddenly understood—I was far from happy at his game. “I see. Look, I’ll get your clothes, and if you want to go after lunch, I’m not going to stop you. However, if you want to stay, play some more, clarinet, whatever, then why put on your clothes again?”

  I wagged a finger at him. “You’re dressed.”

  “So are you.” He leaned back on the worktop, crossing his ankles nonchalantly.

  “It’s a bathrobe.” I shook a lapel.

  “By definition, you’re dressed.”

  “Are you usually this argumentative?” I snapped.

  “Only when somebody argues with me.” His lips curved upward again.

  Try as I may, I couldn’t stay angry with him. His face held an expectation of compliance and I caved. I shrugged and spun around. “All right. Feed me and we’ll see.”

  He laid place mats on the glass-topped dining table and asked if I wanted wine. I turned him down. I needed a clear head. The first glass of ice-cold water I quaffed in one go and he offered me a second.

  I sat at one end, conscious of my clothing and lack of underwear. I hugged my knees together and ensured that the robe remained snugly about my legs. The food was delicious. Tagliatelle with mushrooms, tomatoes, peppers and white sauce. Simple but filling.

  The conversation was initiated by Stefan, who morphed into conductor mode, guided me to open up and talk. He launched me into a short autobiography by asking how I’d learned the clarinet. A quick history of three itinerant teachers, each with their own foibles, drifted into revealing other facts. He found out my mother lived close by and that my father was deceased—he offered his sympathies. I also let slip that the relationship with my sister was strained.

  “Like me and Hans, my brother.” He raised a glass of water to his lips and took a sip. “He lives in Stuttgart. We don’t see each other very often. His heart is always in Germany. He hated England.”

  “Older?”

  Stefan nodded, lips pressed together, and I caught a grimace.

  “Big sister doesn’t like me because she thinks I pushed back and got away with it. I, on the other hand, believe she played the angelic child and reaped the rewards.” Charlene, in my opinion, had been spoiled rotten.

  “Manipulative. Yes, I recognize that in Hans.” Stefan tore off a piece of bread.

  I ducked my head because Stefan’s comparison embarrassed me. I’d been harsh with my words about my sister. Charlene hadn’t been that bad. She and I had been rivals for our parents’ affections, the usual sibling angst. With her gone to Scotland, my views of her had softened.

  “Maybe,” I said, toying with the last piece of pasta.

  “Lost your appetite?” He leaned back in his chair, tossing his napkin on the table. He slipped his hands behind his head and stared directly at me, expectantly. Crunch time. Lunch was over.

  “It’s delicious. Really good, Stefan.” I smiled.

  I uncrossed my legs and the robe slipped down my thighs. A waft of cold air swirled about my ankles. I put down my fork. My trembling hand had betrayed me. How quickly I succumbed. Doubts in the shower washed down the plughole and dismissed.

  “Do you want to play the clarinet?”

  I shook my head. The edges of the robe drifted farther apart and my cleavage showed.

  “Take you home?” He leaned forward, pushing his plate to one side then resting his elbows on the table. A keen look.

  My pulse increased.

  My answer came without thought. Another act of impulsive Callie. I gave my shoulders a little twist and the robe easily descended. It slithered down my arms, uncovering my breasts and baring my erect nipples.

  “I’m taking you to bed.” Stefan stood and held out his hand. “Then, I might give you your clothes back.”

  I rose, took his offered hand and abandoned the robe on the chair. I walked behind him, naked, as he led me toward the spiral staircase—a meek little woman with her sex on fire. I followed and didn’t look back. My clarinet remained on the piano. I hoped she didn’t mind.

  Stefan flung back the covers and with a nudge, pushed me onto the bed. I expected him to strip and ravish me without compunction. The pace changed, the urgency of our initial coupling unnecessary. He leisurely stripped, giving me no indication of where my clothes might be as he laid his on a nearby chair. I reclined on my side and he came to join me. I stared at his erection—big, ready, heavenly. I wanted it inside me.

  He ran his hand down my arm, over my curved hip, and stopped at my thigh. He gave it a light squeeze.

  “I love this body.”

  “You do?” Unable to hide my surprise.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I’m skinny.”

  “No, you’re not. I found plenty of flesh to handle. These thighs, biker’s legs, I like them. Muscular and shapely.”

  I blushed. “I don’t have big breasts.”

  “Liebling.” He shook his head, shifted his hand and surrounded a breast. “No, they aren’t. They’re just right.” I noted his large palm didn’t look out of place, since my breast hadn’t vanished into it. Rather, his hand cupped it gently and quite perfectly. “Big tits are overrated.”

  “And my hair.” I flicked at a loose strand. It always irritated me how it hung limply and without shape.

  He eased up on an elbow, looking down. “If your hair is unruly, mine is a disaster.”

  That comment made me smile. I reached up and touched his curly locks. “Just needs to be a bit shorter, that’s all.” I twirled it about between my fingers.

  “So, you clearly have self-image problems.”

  “No, I don’t,” I recoiled, dropping my hand. “I just… You’re a good-looking man and I’m…modest. Average.”

  “Touché, self-image problems. I think you’re beautiful. My Mausi.” He loomed over me, closer, eyes bearing down.

  My heartbeats ramped up. “Mausi?”

  “My little mouse,” he murmured, lowering his lips.

  “Then who are you?”

  “Me?” he sighed, pausing.

  I witnessed a fleeting sad expression.

  “Eine gefährliche Fuchs.”

  I knotted my eyebrows.

  He seemed pensive, as if regretting his words. “You’ll have to look it up.”

  His lips brushed against mine and I closed my eyes. Oh, yes. A little mouse, but a passionate creature. Meek, I might have been, when he led me to his bedroom, but once he touched me, I came alive with hasty lust.

  His hard kiss woke me from my reverie. I spluttered. “Stefan… Condom…”

  “Shit.” He flopped to one side. “Okay.”

  He opened a bedside cabinet and hunted. Out came the condom in its wrapper. Another sequestered supply. I pursed my lips. The man came prepared—too prepared. Te
aring off the wrapper, he pinched the tip of the condom between his fingers then lowered it over his erection. Another display of expertise and speed. He shifted, moving back above me.

  My solemn expression remained.

  He shrugged. “I’m no innocent.” He traced a finger down my cheek. “And neither are you. So let’s not dwell on it.” He moved swiftly, surprising me. He nudged my legs apart with his hand and plunged a finger inside my pussy. “This is what I desire.”

  I quivered with a near spasm. Plundered by him, I ached to have more than a finger inside. I whimpered.

  “You’ll give it to me because you want it. Don’t you? Mausi, don’t deny it.”

  “Yes, I want you,” I murmured, almost hating myself for being so eager. I dripped with juices, lubricating the passage of his finger as he delved deeper up to his knuckle. He knew it. His grin said everything. I could come on his finger if he asked me to. I didn’t want to, though. I wanted to show him I was no pushover. I had my pride. Sometimes this little mouse could roar like a lion.

  I pushed back at him, pressing into his chest with the palms of my hands, and he gave, landing on his back. I straddled his thighs and leaned over him. “Before my next lesson, I want to exercise. Warm up.” I rose and grasped the shaft of his stiff cock.

  I sank effortlessly until the tip of his erection struck my belly. I landed on his balls and he groaned.

  “Again,” he muttered, cupping my breasts, squishing them flat with his hand.

  His actions forced my spine straighter and my shoulders back. He penetrated deeper and occupied my pussy with no capacity to stretch it farther.

  I rose, letting him almost slip out before slamming my bottom down again. He felt enormous. Fucking him came close to being painful. I didn’t care.

  He pinched my waist and lifted me. His face contorted as I crashed back down.

  “Faster.” He demanded, holding me tighter.

  I bucked up and down while his hips knocked into me. Together, we smashed our bodies into each other. My ass slapped on his thighs and I reached up with my hands, bundling locks of hair into my fists. He kept me balanced as I fucked him. I hoped to drive him to insensibility with my bouncing.

  I underestimated his stamina, his staying power. It was I who went into overdrive and lost it. I exploded with an uncontrollable climax. I stuffed my fingers into my mouth, nearly biting them as I tried to stifle my screams.

  “Let it go. Nobody will hear you, liebling,” he panted from below.

  Tears crested on my eyelids and I tried to scream, but failed. My mouth hung open as I tipped my head backward. The ceiling lights blinded me.

  Flipping my docile form onto my back, he continued to fuck me. I went hazy, only sensing his pummeling and the closeness of his body as he slid over me. Beads of sweat dripped down, landing on my skin, and I imagined them sizzling with the heat of my frazzled flesh.

  “Come, come again.”

  He slammed into me.

  My legs jerked and I held them behind the knees, supporting them as they wobbled. He angled down, picking up his pace, doing press-ups on my twisted body.

  Another orgasm scared me. It would rip me apart. “No,” I almost sobbed. “Too much.”

  He found my clit with his thumb, exposed it and rubbed hard on the sensitive spot. I hollered. The muscles in my neck tensed as I lifted my head and watched his cock enter me, sliding past my slippery folds, and pound up to the hilt. His balls knocked against me. Forced to orgasm, I didn’t think it wasn’t possible to come like this, but Stefan was about to prove me wrong.

  “No, surely…” I quaked with anticipation, hovering on the brink.

  “Now,” he commanded.

  I stopped breathing. I held my breath for an eternity as the orgasm burst out of me, radiating out in waves affecting every nerve in my body. I clenched about him, squeezing him as he erupted. A cry left his mouth—a wordless sound.

  I opened my eyes and, above me, Stefan’s face contorted as he came. He flopped down, a heavy weight on my breast, overheating me and suffocating.

  “Stefan,” I gasped, heaving him with my weakened arms.

  He slumped to one side, his eyes closed and his breath restless. I watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest—it entranced me. My eyes flickered. I drifted into sleep.

  * * * *

  I woke with a start. I’d forgotten where I was and why. The unfamiliar room gradually came into focus. Outside it was dark. The afternoon had vanished in a blur of fucking and sleep. Twice we’d stirred and joined in another tumble of limbs and roving hands, each time more leisurely and with increasing tenderness. It needed to be—my pussy was sore. I couldn’t ignore her and my groin ached from being spread wide.

  I turned onto my side. No Stefan. Listening, I heard the shower. I sat up and hugged my knees. Somewhere were my clothes. I wondered if I’d missed the obvious. I hung my head down the side of the bed. The bedside cabinet had a small cupboard. I opened it and there inside, neatly folded, were my clothes.

  I laid them on the bed. Those horrible post-sex thoughts flooded my addled brain. A Sunday of fucking. Well, almost a day, and not my usual activity. Lounging on my butt was what I typically did, or maybe a bike ride when the weather turned good. I couldn’t shake off the feeling in my gut that sex had been his intention—his only intention. If I stayed, would he want me again? How many times could a man keep going before his cock expired entirely? Stefan had an insatiable lust and it was rubbing off on me.

  The shower stopped. I fingered my undies. Slip them on, get dressed and leave. Now, Callie. My heavy limbs refused to move. I didn’t regret my day with Stefan. I simply didn’t know where we were going. What next? I glanced over my shoulder as the door to the en suite slowly opened. Peeking through the gap in the door, he smiled. One of those enticing Stefan smiles that melted me each time.

  “You’re awake.”

  “Again,” I muttered. I clutched my panties to my belly. “I have to go.”

  “Stay. Please. You’re my tonic. Just what I need. You’re the first person to bring harmony into my confused mind.” He opened the door wide and a misty heat haze followed him out of the bathroom. A towel wrapped about his waist, his chest hairs still damp and curly, he inched into the bedroom.

  What he needs, his tonic. What about me and what I needed from him? I had discords hammering away in my mind too. I made excuses. What I really had to do was think without his stunningly naked body in close proximity. “I can’t. I’ve got work tomorrow…” I sat on the edge of the bed and fumbled with my knickers.

  Stefan crouched and I squished my knees together. “What’s wrong?”

  I wanted to be dressed. My nudity put me at a disadvantage, even though he’d only a towel about his waist. “Nothing…” I floundered.

  He held out a hand for my panties, and I hesitated. He took them and lifted my feet into each leg hole. “I’m not going to force you to stay.”

  “A lot has happened today. I need to think this through.”

  “I understand.” He stood up, stepping backward. “I do.”

  I slipped the knickers up over my hips and we both dressed without speaking—an awkward quiet with only the sound of rustling clothes.

  “How about I make you a sandwich before you go?” he suggested, hand on the doorknob.

  “Honestly, I should get going. Thanks,” I added.

  He collected my music sheets while I put Nettie back in her case. The metalwork on the joints had gone cold.

  What did it mean, all this sudden loss of feeling? I’d deflated into a shrunken violet. Fatigue. It had to be something simple. Yet, I’d slept quite a lot during our tumultuous lovemaking. I picked up my coat, still on the armchair, and slipped it over my shoulders. Stefan fished the car keys out of the cookie jar. Condoms and car keys, all together.

  It bothered me that he didn’t seem perturbed by our lack of conversation. We’d fucked, eaten and slept. All very basic stuff, and though he’d called me his little mo
use, he’d not opened up to me at all.

  “I’ll take you home, yes?” He stated the intention like a question.

  “Yes.” I picked up my stuff. “I think it would be best.”

  An air of quiet contemplation shrouded the journey home. Reaching my pokey little house—even more cramped now that I’d spent the day at Stefan’s—I dug out the house keys from my handbag.

  “Your number, give me your number,” said Stefan abruptly.

  “My mobile?”

  He nodded. “I’d like to meet again. Wouldn’t you?”

  “You’ll pick me up on Wednesday?”

  “Of course.” He fished out a notepad and pencil from the glove box and I scribbled my number down. He tore the sheet out and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.

  I opened the car door. “I’ll see you then.”

  He grabbed the sleeve of my coat. “Callie, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m not sure if I’ve found my confidence yet, you know, with the pieces.” I fussed with the handle of my handbag. Did he understand? I wanted more than sex. I wanted to understand him, find out what made Stefan want to compose, conduct. Dig beneath the surface and unearth the secret side of Stefan. I glanced across at him. Under the streetlight, his face was cast in shadows and barely visible.

  “I’m sure we’ll work on that,” he said softly. He slowly turned and his face lit up as he leaned forward, puckering his lips. I responded and kissed him lightly.

  No smile greeted me as we separated. Yes, things were wrong. I couldn’t articulate why, not yet.

  I paused by my front door and took one last look at Stefan in his car. He waited for me to enter, making sure I was safe. The moment the door opened, he started the car. He seemed impatient to be away and the exhaust spluttered as he revved the engine.

  Gefährliche Fuchs. I had some translating to do.

  Chapter Six