Black and White Music

March 28, 2008
By Seana Hill, Weatherford, TX

He sits behind me on the piano bench, legs opened in a suggestive way, that would have been risqu' to any one else. His arms come around my shoulders and his fingers stretch to cover mine, his chin rests at the hollow part of the left side of my neck and I can feel his expelled air down my shirt. He traces my nimble amateur movements with his own skillful learned power and concentration.

'It's been almost three years since I have played'' I admitted.

And he said nothing. But his right hand lifts off of mine that is still on the ivory. And his fingernails graze up the skin on my arm, when he reaches my elbow, his hand drops to my thigh, with a caution that shows he is younger than me. I felt him sit up straight and remind me of my own horrid posture. A hushed, but genuine laugh escapes his chest and he let go of my other hand, like a father letting go of the bike is daughter is learning to ride without training wheels. He slides his left hand slickly up my thigh and the meet at an even level of my squishy waist and I could feel his face in my hair.

I wanted nothing more in that moment then to be naked on the floor of his front room, or on the grand piano, whose I was tickling.

But I kept playing' pushing keys with fervor. Passion and depth poured out of my finger prints. I felt him lean against me and the tone of my music changed, it was no longer a memorized piece but my own emotion. Spontaneous composure. I hit keys that portrayed the power he had on me. Every inch of my back was touching his chest and stomach, nerves that had laid dormant my entire life, lit up with a fire I had no idea I was capable of. He rocked with me as I pushed the limits of my music and my talent to an extreme that I thought only Evil Kinevil possessed. A hunger for those keys that I had not felt in that three year absence rocked me'

I played for the first time for him' For me. Tears stained my face warm and fat and heavy. He drug his fingers under my arms with elegance, lighting up the cells and veins until he met my hands at the keys and held them. I slumped over and hung my head. I cried because I didn't realize how much I missed it, the love I truly had for illegal ivory keys and he pushed against me. The hands that still held my body tightened their ring around me. His head returned to the lunar shape on the side o my neck.

'Welcome back' he whispered.

His candy lips lit up the cells of my neck and they burned with desire, but he held me there tight, with force and good intentions.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!