The piano

Here it is, people… I am so spent. Love, please hurry home, I am so in need of you now!!! (Uhm, if you want, you can read this, but uhm, perhaps you shouldn’t, or perhaps you should. Well, she girl in the story is not me, so… It’s just smut. Delicious, emotional, top quality smut, no obscenities though… I needed to put emotion into it; without emotion it doesn’t work for me.)

Uhm, if you’re not over 18, I’m not responsible. LOL!

The Piano

She had been watching him for a long time. She had been watching him ever since she started working for him, and that was several months now. Of course she knew who he was before she applied for the job. She probably heard him sing already when he appeared on the stage of music industry; he was a mere fledgling of a man back then, thin, shy, and very sweet to the camera. She remembered what a sensation he had made; critics and audiences were in awe at his voice. Some things never change, she pondered, as she checked the lists of menus she had ordered for the weekly pow-wow with the executives, producers, and the rest of the bigshots. Josh’s voice, stronger and more mature than it used to be, still held everyone in awe. She was not a real fan, but she appreciated his talent and of course the money he was paying her.

It was already past her working time, although she had not been able to define her working hours yet. No one really cared when she was working, as long as she did her job. Food had to be on the tables, nothing else mattered. And it was one heck of a job, trying to make sure everyone had their favourite stuff served, and that nothing was off. Feeding hundreds of people would not be difficult, she used to think. Now she knew better. Still, she loved it. She had to bubble with activity non-stop, and she made personal contact with everyone- that was the best part. She knew everyone from the janitor to the fancy suit-persons, and there was no one she could not get along with.

Passing the large studio on her way out fragments of a soft, haunting melody reached her. She stopped instinctively to listen for a little while. It was late, and it was dark. From the other building came the banging of workers, and occasional laughter from the end of the hall. Someone passed once a while, but in general, the evening was solitary. She stood there in the hall, feeling silly, but loving the eerie atmosphere of the song she was hearing. Through the closed door only muffled sounds came, but her open soul appreciated the scattered piano notes more than anything. Just what she needed, soothing music after a long day.

Suddenly there was a loud, cacophonous banging of the piano, and something else, which she judged to be a human being’s disillusioned moan.

Then complete silence.

She eavesdropped for a little more time, but there was nothing to be heard. She knew he was working in there, as she had taken his lunch to that studio a mere few hours before. She wondered if she should just let him be to work it out by himself- but something prompted her to softly knock on the door. There was no reply, and after the third knock she decided to simply go in.

She tried to be silent, and yet, when she entered the still space of the studio she halted. Her breathing stopped short and she stood there rooted, feeling her heartbeat scare the hell out of her.

There was only scant lighting in the room, hardly making the piano and the lonely human figure sitting at it visible. He was silent and motionless, his head on the black and white keys. From where she entered she could only see the top of his curls, and his feet on the floor. She moved her bag from her left hand to the right one, and was just opening her mouth to break the silence when his left hand rose and his fingers grabbed his hair in desperation. She heard a low sound, then another. A sigh, maybe a moan. Her heart leaped as she felt his sorrow- and from that moment on he was not superstar Josh Groban any more. He was a man who had problems and pain and sorrow, like everyone else.

Like herself.

She gently placed her bag and coat on the nearest object, never checking what that was. The stranger’s obvious dejection made her heart ache and her soul open up to him. She did not care it wasn’t her place. He needed someone in that moment, and she was there.

As she edged closer to him, careful not to break the spell with her breathing, she felt happy and lightheaded, as a young girl who had drank wine for the first time, and her intoxication had taken her one step above ground. She watched his beautiful wrist arch across his curls, his fingers slowly easing up on their hold, his other land resting limply on his thigh. She was by now standing next to him, and she was amazed that he had not noticed her enter, let alone get so close. He seemed small and fragile, and she loved him whole heartedly.

Her hand reached out-

-touched his hand-

He looked up startled, and looked bewildered at her.

-Wh… what are you doing here?

She swallowed and blushed under the soft dusk of the studio.

-I- I heard- uhm…

-Please leave me alone –he said quietly, turning his gaze back to the keys of the piano. His hands interlaced in his lap, his fingers helpless and edgy, wanting to compose, yet unable to. She could sense the tension that came across his body; it was fierce and relentless, and she wished she could do something, anything to help him.

As she stared at his profile, she swore she saw his curls tremble. His long sigh filled the studio, and cracked her heart right open.

She knew she could not walk away. Not now. Not ever.

-I want to help you. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it –she said simply, bravely. Risking his wrath, his mocking. Her pride. And her heart.

He looked up at her, the same look on his face, a mixture of confusion and craving. He so needed her in that moment that she felt her knees go weak.

-What is this selfless sacrifice issue with you women? If I told you to kill somebody, would you do it? –he asked mockingly, intrigue veiling his sorrow.

She swallowed again, her lips parting to reply, but she decided against words. She could not have said anything to make him understand what went on in her. Just as she did not know what he felt. But she knew he wanted to be understood, so she stepped behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. He did not budge, and his muscles felt like rocks under her inexperienced fingers. She started gently massaging his shoulders, and under her light pressure his torso leaned back and forth, slowly. His head was hung and his hands were in his lap, and her loving hands broke a sigh from his exhausted spirit.

Shit, shit, shit, she cursed inwardly. She loved the moment, she loved the fact that he did not push her away, she loved the feel of his slowly releasing muscles under her touch. She wondered if he could hear her heart race like crazy- she certainly did. She felt her throat dry and her legs slightly shaky at the soft warmth eradiating from his back to her. He was so not someone she had any right to love or care about, but the moment almost prompted her to swing her arms around his neck and just hold him.

As she was massaging his shoulders, his hands reached back to hers and grabbed them gently. His fingers were warm and clinging, and the sight of them interlaced through hers was so beautiful that she bit her lip. He seemed undecided whether to push her away, or hold onto her- she saw the struggle in his fingers, she heard the muffled breath travel in and out of him, and the emotions welling up in her threatened to make her collapse. She had to prop herself up on his torso, and ushering away his reluctant hands kept massaging the shoulders that slowly, gradually, relaxed under her touch, and started a hardly perceptible dance in synch with her gentle rhythm. She relished the sight of his incredible curls and the muscles of the neck, which were just visible under his hair.

Sensing that he started to relax, her movements became braver. Wetting her dry lips, she swallowed her heart that was jumping up and down in her throat, and her palms slid downwards on his limp arms, feeling the muscles go tense under his skin. As she was gently rubbing his arms, reaching as far as his wrist, her lips came into contact with his hair, and she sniffed his scent in, intoxicated by the mixture of toil, disappointment and craving she thought she smelled on his curls. Carressing his arms she wondered what he must be thinking; does he think I’m a hooker, that I want to seduce him for money? That I want his scalp, a precious piece of prey in my collection of males won and then discarded? That I’m just intrigued by his fame and vulnerability, and want to take advantage? He must be thinking all of these, she thought, but as she reached his hands with hers in the gentle dance of hand-waves and wrist-rocks and his head leaned back on her shoulder in helpless abandon, the air stopped in her lungs. His cheek was pressed to hers, and his eyelashes were fluttering over closed lids, tickling her skin. His lips were slightly parted, warmth travelling forth, and slightly cajoling her mouth on the way. She had to fight to stay on her feet, and press her hands on, but her original wish, to help him relax was becoming more and more blurred by the mad desire to kiss him and drag him to the floor.

Her hands left his arms, and travelled to his waist, then his chest, her palms sliding across his T-shirt, sensing perfectly clearly how his nipples reacted to her touch. Oh my god, this is going to go into unplanned directions, she thought, and almost giggled. Heatwaves grabbed hold of her body, as his torso was leaning towards her, until his back was pressed tight to her breasts, hard and hurting at the contact. Her fingers scrambled across his abdomen and reaching the edge of the T-shirt, slid under it to touch velvety skin. His ab muscles contracted and he emitted a long sigh, his hands reaching up and back to take a gentle hold of her head. As he ruffled her hair, deft fingers massaging her scalp, she had to suppress a moan, struggling to keep her hands from shaking. She could not get enough of him, his chest hair softly interlocking with her fingers, his skin taut above muscles that never stopped moving under her touch. He kept massaging her scalp and she pressed her lips to his hair, blowing warmth into the curls, making his movements become more demanding. Her palms slid up across his chest, stroking his neck, her hands embracing it tightly and strongly for just one second, feeling his adam’s apple hard, moving up and down as he swallowed. She gently but resolutely bent his head backwards and she looked at him staring up at her, his lips parted, begging to be kissed. She did just that, and the incredible softness of his lips sent undeniable tremors to her loin. His mouth moved under hers at first gropingly, his taste filling up her senses, while he grabbed hold of her with his arms and held her in a gripping embrace. She was shaking and she was thankful for his shoulders once more, but just as she thought she had found stability, his tongue lashed out from behind trembling, wet lips and declared possession of her own. A deep moan broke the silence, at first she thought it was his, but as another ensued, deeper, fuller and more powerful she realized her desire was finding ways to manifest itself, and by now she was beyond caring or thinking. Judging from his groping hands he was in a place where he could not, and would not turn back.

She had to break free, to take a few deep breaths and steady herself. His eyes looking up at her were dark and lustful, pupils completely dilated from desire, a drop of saliva shining on his full lower lip. Oh, what was she doing? Satisfying herself, or him? What would he think of her? What would she think of herself after she left him, spent and limp in the dark? Who was going to get hurt more? Someone was, she knew for certain, and she wished, she hoped it would be her. He was so beautiful, so willing and fragile in her power, yet demanding, she felt she would not live if she ever hurt him in any way. She stared into his eyes and was overwhelmed by the sincerity of his glance; his back was pressing into her, her hands resting on his shoulder, his fingers grabbing hers once more. It was as if he was telling her, I need you, don’t go.

She was lost in her thoughts, wondering about the moment which seemed to have locked them together, and everything else that would follow after it. She never noticed that he had turned on his piano stool, and by the time she came back to reality he sat facing her, his hands reaching out for hers. His eyes spoke to her in ways she never thought a person’s eyes could speak, and she started when his mouth opened.

-Why are you doing this? –he asked a perfectly simple question. His voice was raucous from obvious desire, yet very tender and patient. She instinctively knew he would be an amazing lover, just like he had proved countless of times what a great friend, a good boy to his parents, and a caring shepherd he was to his fans.

-Because you need to be loved right now –she replied, blushing at the candidness of her words. –And because you drive me crazy –she added, giggling shily, enjoying the sparkle in his eyes and the smile stretching on his lips. –Shit, Josh, do you have any idea what an effect you have on women?! –she asked laughing, her hands carressing his cheek.

-I have noticed something –he replied, his eyes smiling their way right to her heart. –But right now I think other women can go to hell –he continued, and stood up.

Before she could utter a word, his arms were around her and his lips sealed on hers, tight and relentless. His tongue pushed its way into her mouth and circled around hers. His lips followed the shape of her mouth to form such perfection that she was losing all her willpower, and she felt she was turning into a ragdoll in no time. Luckily, his arms held her strongly, and while he gently sucked at her lower lip, his hands started their maddening exploration across her back, down to her waist and hips, lightly sweeping over her buttocks. He kissed her like his life would depend on it, and she knew hers was: she just couldn’t stop kissing him back, letting him swallow her whole, rubbing her lips raw, his tongue never ceasing to lick and push and dance around with hers.

She heard a slight sound of something small hitting the keys of the piano, and a second later he was tearing her buttonless blouse off of her. She slid her hands under his T-shirt and stroked his chest, careful to lightly touch his nipples each time she returned to his shoulders. He moaned into her mouth in reward, each time, and she felt herself soaked with desire, and almost ashamed of the fact. His quick fingers unhooked her bra and as he embraced her naked torso, he pushed her to the piano. As her bottom hit the keys, strident notes stabbed silence in the back, and she gasped. Would anyone hear them? What if someone came in? Apparently he was beyond all fear, as he distanced himself from her slightly, only to cup her breasts with his hands. He looked into her eyes, and he looked right into her as his fingers started massaging her soft moulds. Her breathing was irregular and loud, and it stopped altogether when he stooped to place a wet kiss on her right nipple. His mouth was a perfect circle on her hard button, his tongue licking it with unnerving slowness. Her hands needed a stable place and she pressed her fingers onto the black and white keys, sending intricate notes soaring with the noises of desire. Would he ever stop, she wondered, and from beneath her closed lids she saw amazing patterns form and disappear into the void, giving way to others, manifestations of her craving and her satisfaction. He did stop, and her nipple, wet and cold after his warm lips, hardened instantly under the pressure of his chest. He kissed her again and her mouth felt sore by now, but would not have stopped for anything. His hands grabbed her behind and pulled her hips close to his, right to his bulging desire. He was so hard it hurt, and under his luscious kiss she started whimpering.

With her last strength she pushed him away a little, resting her shaky body on the piano and her hands on his waist. Without looking up she undid his jeans. As her hand slid inside his underpants, his abdomen becoming even tauter to allow her free entry, she looked at him. His eyes were piercing hers and as she grabbed him, his mouth formed a perfect moan and sent it forth, a herald of his satisfaction. His lids dropped and his heavy breathing followed her rhythmical movements on his length. She felt she had to kiss him, and she did, feeling his helplessness as his lips did not manage to overpower her anymore. It was him propping himself on her this time; he was shaking and completely out of control, and she loved it. She let go of him and with one quick move she got rid of her panties. She pulled him close to herself and kissed him wildly; he kissed her back ferociously and pushed her to the piano once more. His right hand reached under her skirt and found its way easily to her wet entrance. He only touched her fleetingly, his index gently probing into her, sending shivers up her spine and making her moan loud. She pushed his jeans down impatiently, and parted her legs. As he stepped closer, she embraced his hips with her legs, and when he slid into her, the effortless and deliciously soft move caused her to to start shaking. He looked at her when he pulled out and then pushed himself back again, with slow and deliberate thrusts that felt undescribable to her. He felt large and potent, yet so gentle; his eyes were hung on hers, his lips occasionally fleeting across hers, his tongue taking up the rhythm of his hips, entering her mouth as he entered her over and over again. His left hand was fondling her back and her thigh under the skirt, grabbing to pull her closer, but that was not possible; his right hand was trying to keep both of them steady, propped on the piano’s shiny surface.

She looked up into his eyes and wished she could die- nothing would ever feel so perfect again. She held him in her arms and stroked his bare buttocks, making his muscles tense and ease up. He felt so good, so unbelievably wonderful, safe and perfect, and as his thrusts reached inside her, deeper and deeper she felt, her vision of all things visible started to blur, and she saw who she was, she knew what her purpose was, planned by the divinities, she saw happiness approach, relentless and perfect happiness; she heard his voice shoot through her in gratitude and love, and he released his power into her as his every muscle contracted and his throat emitted a long, deep moan of delight. While he was trying to prolongue his pleasure she felt her body tremble and as she reached the peaks of extasy, she fell into his open arms, completely spent. He was powerless himself, and his endeavours to embrace her failed so miserably that he laughed. She allowed her shaky legs to drop on the floor and hugged his trembling body.

Time went, wanting to leave the moment behind, with their fingers and thoughts interlaced in it. When she saw their helpless figures standing there, glued together in the dark, she smiled and decided to float on wings of nothingness for a while. She watched them embrace, not showing any signs of wanting to let go of each other, and thought she would take a short nap.

While she did, they hugged happily, thankful that their mere willpower had stopped time. Carressing her hair he felt at peace, and listening to his regular breathing she felt complete.

And time slept on…