Virgin
2010-10-18
Playing in a pit orchestra isn’t all that much fun. You are too busy reading the music and following the conductor to pay much attention to what is happening on stage, and the laughter and gasps of the audience seem pretty much far away. It’s like you’re in your own little world – part of the performance and at the same time detached from it. The performance over, you put together your music, pack up your instrument, and head home.
I was playing in such an orchestra when, during a dress rehearsal the light happened to fall on a tall, blonde beautiful viola player,Heather. She looked absolutely the picture of loveliness, with the light shining off her crisp blonde hair, her instrument poised in her lap and her big wide eyes upon the conductor ready for her cue. I was so taken by the picture of complete loveliness that I missed my cue and earned myself a scowl from the conductor. It’s difficult when you play the double bass, you stand out a bit. However, throughout the performance I couldn’t get that picture out my mind.
When we were packing up, a bunch of us walked to the nearby station to get the train home. We walked in pairs and threes, as the road allowed, and I fell in with Heather. There’s always something to talk about if you’re a musician of course, and we discussed the performance and the hairy moments that had occurred. One thing that struck me during this conversation was how she spoke in full sentences, with a clipped English accent, almost far back in her mouth as she could go. She thought of what she should say then she said it, rather than pausing mid phrase like the rest of us, or using filler words.
It turned out she was going to the same station as me – she lived around the corner – and so we chatted amiably. She told me she grew up in Rhodesia and I was fascinated – this explained the accent of several decades past.
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However, we got to the station, and I asked where she lived – up the road she answered and then shyly whispered ‘good night’ and turned away.
I was in the library in my music college the next day when I felt a shadow over my desk. It was Heather, hanging over my desk.
‘Have you finished with these?’ she whispered, motioning to the pile of books by my elbow. ‘Uh, yes,’ I stammered and as she walked away I caught a glimpse of her waist, perfectly formed above her belt. It was slim, soft and seemed delicately made to be touched that I was half tempted. It ruined my concentration for the rest of the day. . . all I could do is think of this blonde delicate beauty with the crisp golden hair, green eyes and shy, downward eyes.
After the performance that night, on the train on the way back I managed to sit with her again and things began to get a little more friendly. I told her about my childhood and we shared our favourite stories. When we came to the station it seemed like there was a pause, as it seemed such a shame to stop talking. However, she turned away as usual and walked off into the night.
This time, however, she only got a few steps before she turned her head and saw me staring after her, smiled and waved.
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I felt so warm at this, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, standing there in the streetlights.
The next night was the final night of the week and we caught the train on the way back. We seemed to be getting on well again, and again, it seemed too painful to stop so I asked her whether she was interested in a drink that night and we crossed the road to a pub. We managed to get a table and the talk gradually turned to our past romantic experiences. However, when it came to the inevitable when-was-her-first-boyfriend, she turned away and stared fixedly at the floor.
‘Oh don’t worry,’ I said. ‘It’s none of my business, really. ’ She looked up and smiled shyly. ‘Well, you see, I’ve never really had a boyfriend, she whispered.
‘Oh don’t worry,’ I attempted to be breezy. ‘Plenty of people haven’t had a boyfriend by the time they’re twenty. ’
‘Well, you see Nick, I’m Eighteen. I came to music College early. ’
‘Well, there’s plenty of time for that,’ I volunteered. Think nothing of it.
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‘I’ve just never had the chance. We not until recently. ’
‘Why, what happened recently?’ I tried not to think. The eyes went down again, as she stared fixedly at the floor.
‘I met you,’ she whispered. There was a pause. I tried to think what to say. Here was this picture of loveliness, this beautiful pale creature volunteering an interest in me and I didn’t know what to say. She looked fraught.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and stood up. ‘No, please, stay’ I said, the words finally finding me. ‘I like you too. ’ She flushed, and the pink spread throughout her face and around her cheeks. She smiled.
We ordered another drink, and stood there chatting.
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Our talk grew freer as the alcohol became to take effect, and as the barman called time, we both stood up slightly uneasily on our feet. I reached out a hand to steady Heather and she held on to my hand tightly. With my arm around her we stumbled out of the pub and, without any word being exchanged, we began walking back to my place. Neither of us wanted the evening to end, we knew that.
Once home, I put on some jazz, and poured some wine. We sat side by side, with our arms around each other, stroking each other through our coats. Her hand moved upwards and found my face and she stroked it slowly. Our eyes met and we inched slowly forward, our lips locking. I ran my tongue along her lips, slowly sensuously, and they opening for an instance allowing the tip of my tongue to run between them. Her tongue came up, dancing lightly on the tip of mine and her breathing gradually deepened. Our kiss became closer and our arms became more tightly entwined around each other.
Her coat slipped from her shoulders and my hand explored her back. We kissed for what seemed an eternity, her breathing deepening throughout. I was in a quandary. Whereas my cock was fully hard at this beautiful creature in my arms, I didn’t know how far she wanted to go and how much further she wanted to take things tonight.
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As her hand brushed over my rod as it strained against the fabric of my jeans, however, there was an almost imperceptible start, almost as she realised what it was. Her hand brushed again, slowly, and then rested upon my crotch.
I took this as a sign that I could stop resisting the overwhelming urge to touch her breasts and rand my fingers up and down her chest. We still kissed, as though we didn’t want to lose the moment and her hand rubbed my cock through my trousers, making it demand freedom even more. I undid her top button, and waited for any sign of reluctance before slowly removing her other buttons pushing my hands in between the opening of her blouse.
Her body was perfect, her white bra containing the most beautifully formed pair of breasts I had ever seen, the tight nipples clearly visible through the fabric. I ran my hands down her chest and held her perfect waist in my hands. I then squeezed her perfect breasts in my hands, feeling her respond to the lightest of touches and feeling.
I suddenly felt a scrabbling at my belt as she pulled the loop out the buckle and undid it. The belt over, it was a matter of moments for her to undo the top button and the zip of my flies and then her hand was reaching in through my flies, holding my cock through my boxer shorts. I slip my trousers off part of the way to give her better purchase and she reached in through the flies of my boxer shorts, touching my cock for the first time. She gasped as she did so, running her hand up the length as much as she could, before holding it in her fist. I put my hand over hers and moved it up and down, giving her implicit instructions how to handle it and she followed them slowly, moving her hand up and down.
I ran my hand around her body and felt for the bra strap. Finally grabbing it in both hands I felt the satisfying click, and her breasts burst through.
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I took one in my mouth and sucked deeply on the nipple before moving to the other. She moaned and her hand worked my cock even more. I felt completely at her mercy, she was so perfect, her hand working my cock, my mouth around her tits. I was so turned on I felt I was going to explode. To be continued. . . .
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