September 3, 2008

Strings

Posted in stories tagged at 1:16 am by littlesubmissions

“Take your shirt off.”

“OK…” She was standing in front of him, hiding something behind her back. Making it a point to look stern, succeeding except for the grin that kept tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“On your knees, here. Lean on the couch.” She kicked his knees back a little further, until he was leaning forward and supporting his weight with his arms, still not letting him see what she was holding. “Good boy. Did you know I was a band geek?”

“No.” He shook his head while she used one hand to tussle his hair.

“Oh yeah, seven years of violin, all through junior high and high school, made first chair my junior year. Didn’t know I liked hurting boys then. Too bad really, I could have had some great ‘This one time at band camp’ stories…”

She watched his body contort as she pulled him back by his hair and then let his head drop. “I wonder how much I remember.”

She laid the tight string of the bow across his far shoulder. “Let’s see, the first piece I ever played was The Elephant Parachutist. Not much of a challenge, but the basics are good to warm up with. The thing about this piece is, you play a long slow G, but you have to keep the string from skipping.”

The bow slowly moved up his arm, dragging the string across his skin. Tightly wound hair warmed his flesh, leaving a burning trail behind. “Then once you’re out of bow…” The string left his skin and the bow arced slowly over his head. “You just make a circle and hit that G note again. The trick is hitting that far G string every time. You’ve got to put the bow in exactly the right place.”

The string slid onto the red line on his skin and dragged its way across it again, slowly and steadily. “Don’t tremble. Hold still. You’ll make me skip.”

He swallowed hard and made himself keep his arm still until the end of the bow slid away and she started another arc. “How many times do you think it will take until I draw blood?”

His hand grabbed hard onto the cushion and his elbow and shoulder locked, trying to keep still.

“Or do you think it will just blister instead? I’m kind of curious myself.” The bow pulled across his skin again, and remembered music accompanied by his whispered pain filled her ears. “I like this piece more than I thought I did.”

She let the music wash over her, and felt the vibrations from his trembling move through the bow into her hand. “Fingering is also important, of course.” Her hand found his skin and pulled it tight, digging into the muscle and rolling until their was no movement left. The string dug in immediately and pulled salt sweat into the groove it was cutting.

“Of course, different parts of the instrument produce different sounds.” She rolled the bow over in her hand and reached under him to drag it across the soft flesh of his stomach. “And some instruments can take rougher treatment than others.” The tip dug into the joint of his jaw, forcing into the hinge until his mouth hung open. “Keep your mouth like that. I like it when you can’t stop yourself from drooling.”

Her hand found his belt buckle, worked it loose. The button and zipper of his pants followed, and she shoved them down to the floor. One leg stepped over him, and she held his chin while she twirled the bow in front of his eyes with her other hand. “The best bows are made from pernambuco wood, and cost a small fortune. They say that playing with them is like a religious experience. This is fiberglass, and probably cost all of fifty bucks, but it has its advantages. For example, I wouldn’t dream of beating someone with a pernambuco bow.”

She stood up, and dried her hands carefully. “I hope you like music, because we’re going to play Name That Tune. And if you can’t name that tune? Well, I loved my violin, but to tell the truth, I think I always had a tiny crush on the percussion section.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

3 Comments »

  1. mike said,

    ooooh ! sweet !

  2. littlesubmissions said,

    Thanks Mike.

  3. Wendy Blackheart said,

    HA! Name that tune. I love it!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: