Ode to Joy (2)

Ode to Joy

                She couldn’t see his face.  His long black hair had freed itself and hid that intense look from the audience.  To them the music was sweet honey, but she knew his eyes would show the pain of practice, of agonizing over notes and tones and relationships swept away on melody.  This was her third time seeing him play this year.  She sat in the center, her golden hair pulled tightly away from her face.  She never smiled or sighed or clapped.  She was unreadable. 

                When the curtain came down the audience stood, clapping and excited.  She made her apologies as she slipped like a wisp out of the aisle.  He had come through the velvet to bow again, and watched her as disappeared again into the night.

*****

                Isa sat at the bar.  Her long legs in silky black hose crossed and uncrossed nervously, shifting position on the tall wooden stool.  She hated these places.  She hated the way they smelled of old beer and soured men.  She looked around disappointed.  Just then she heard a rustle over the door and abnormally tall looking Korean man appeared, disheveled but smiling.  Her heart thudded against her chest and her palms usually cool and dry began to heat up and slicken.  He saw her from the corner of his eye and faltered only slightly. 

                He continued in, greeting men and women alike with a soft polite smile.  His name was Kim Min-Jun.  He was a second son and he was brilliant.

                The twinkle of bar lights illuminated his smile and the effect halted her breath.  She turned and faced the tired man behind the bar.  He grinned at her broadly as he brought her more wine.  There were no secrets here.  Somehow she knew this man could read her thoughts, her shaking hands, soft flush she got when Min-Jun came near but he was the sole of discretion. 

                Min-Jun slammed back a shot from the bar, just mere inches from her now.  His breath was warm enough for her to feel, to smell the taint of whiskey on his lips.  He grabbed the cold beer, glanced quickly at her and took up his instrument towards the tiny stage.

                Some bars had Karaoke on Thursdays – but not Mike’s.  His bar was classy.  He paid students to come, to practice, and to play on his stage for cheap beer and well shots. The patrons loved it.  They swayed together in the soft music, feeling the momentary sensation of culture travel down their polyester shirts and blue jeans – all the way down to well worn boots and scuffed heels.

                When Min-Jun played, the world stopped for her.  She closed her eyes holding her cheap red wine barely breathing at all.  Goosebumps rose along her neck and arms and her nipples pressed outwards against the soft cotton of her blouse.   She felt his eyes on her.  She knew if she moved just a little more to the right, slid her legs out, cross them even that she could face the stage.  She could gaze at him fully, smoking gaze into his eyes but she dared not.  She contented herself in watching him through the mirror behind the bar.  His image a little distorted by aged glass and dirt.

                Min-Jun played a soft waltz and time stood still.  The older couples smiled at old memories and turned each other gently.  The younger crowd moved back to tables and sipped at their drinks, still smiling.  While he played, the bow pulled against the violin in a delicate flip of his wrist, and his lips parted like a sleepy child. She knew how those lips warmed skin, how they tasted sweet against hers. She flushed.

                He could see her from his stool.  The long lines of her body stretched against the fabrics, the little black skirt drove him mad.  His cock hardened against grey slacks.  He couldn’t take it anymore.  He worked his way through the last few notes, waited for the applause to die and announced he would be taking a small break.

                She heard him and froze.  He packed his violin lovingly in its case and walked to the bar.  Passing it over to the bartender he glanced in the mirror at her.  He said nothing but moved on to the back. 

                The narrow hallway was dark with its wood panels and yellowing light.  He walked slowly, his slender fingers tracing the walls as he went.  He came to a door past the bathrooms.  He opened it slowly.  Light spilled through and he could see the small table and an old daybed against the wall.  It smelled of old furniture and cardboard boxes.  He didn’t care.

                He heard her behind him.  Her sweet perfume wafted into the room.  It was subtle, classy.  He waited until he heard the door lock and he turned around.  Without a word he grabbed her and pushed her against the wall.  She moaned slightly as her breath was knocked out.  His lips pressed roughly against her as his body stretched and pushed at hers.  His cock was hard and sharp as it crushed against her pelvis. 

                His tongue darted in and out of her mouth.  Her lipstick smeared and her breath was labored already.  He grabbed at her shirt and she gasped as she heard the buttons rip to the floor.  But she didn’t move. 

                Min-Jun’s fingers spread and pushed against her bra, the fullness of her breasts spilling above the satin fabric.  His right hand pushed at her throat as he dropped his head down to kiss their swell, biting the skin, the fabric – her nipples were hard flags of desire and she was on fire.

                Isa whimpered his name and his hand moved from her neck to her mouth – covering it.  He moved his head upward and stepped in closer, burying his teeth into her neck.  She cried out against his palm.  But he kept her quiet.  Her heart thumped wildly as he stepped back suddenly and let her go.  She fell forward a bit, suddenly loose from his grip. 

                “Sit on the bed” He said gruffly.  She nodded and moved to the edge of the bed and sat as commanded.

                “Now open your legs” He walked towards her, never lowering his eyes.  She did as she was bid, opening her legs wide.  She wore no panties beneath.  Her soft folds were shaved, exposed and wet.  He knelt down in front of her – pushed her back so she lay flat.  He took his fingers and opened the lips of her womanhood.  He bent down into her.  First he moved slowly.  His tongue and his fingers working in unison.  She began to moan.

                “shhh” he cooed and she bit her lip and dug her nails into the bed.  His tongue began to move faster and faster, she squirmed – moving her hips to meet his mouth.  Finally she came – bursting and he moved his hand quickly across her mouth to shut her cries.

                He stood and smiled then at her, a wicked thing.  She sat up, pulling his hips into her face.  Her hands clasped his button and zipper, moving quickly.  His pants slid to the floor and he stood there fully erect.  She immediately placed him in her mouth.  He was warm and smelled of flesh.  She tried not to gag at his size but her jaw strained against him. 
                He moaned deeply and pushed her off of him.  She looked up, her bright blue eyes shining. 

                “Get up” he said and helped her up.  He turned and laid himself on the bed.  His shirt half open revealing his chiseled hairless chest and his cock stood wide against the night.  He motioned for her to come to him.  She slid off her heels and straddled him on the bed, sliding his cock deep inside her wetness.  He grabbed her hips and held her all the way down. 

                “Don’t move” he whispered.  She obeyed and just sat, feeling the depth, the heat.  He began to move his hips slightly, rocking her, holding her firmly. 

                “Now you” he grinned.  She began slowly, moving her hips forward and then back.  Her breath began to speed up, and her hips moved faster and faster.

                “mmmm yes, that’s it” he said and licked his lips.  She nestled her face against him and came hard, crying out into his shoulder.  He rolled her over then, giving her no time to catch her breath.  He thrust against her hard.  She moaned and sighed for breath.  He got faster and faster – pounding the soft flesh between her legs.  His hands held her hips high and her breasts moved in rhythm.  Finally he cried out and she could feel his hot seed spurting inside her.  

                He stopped, letting it flow into her, letting the sensation move over him.  She said nothing.  Slowly he moved himself out of her, his cock still bulging and sticky.  He grabbed for an old rag and wiped himself.  He slid on his pants as she touched his skin gingerly.  

                When he stood he looked back at her.  She was lovely in her black skirt and torn shirt.  Her lips were red with passion and he could see the stickiness between her legs in the ill light.  He sighed and headed for the door.  

                “Min-Jun” she cried – but it was too late, he was gone.