Chapter 115: Krispin
I'd been to the lounge before and knew the Bosendorfer Imperial waited for me. My fingers couldn't have Lydia's sub, so they craved the next best thing: making music on a beautiful instrument.
I was thankful there were few people in the lounge. The Bosendorfer called for Sinatra, as it so often did. My fingers ran across the keys and then I moved the seat to a more comfortable position. The music took over and my voice crooned the classic song using my voice to its best advantage. I lived for music. My personal ensemble consisted of the greatest sounds from every decade; from classical to rap, my gift was memorizing every chord and each word. I went from the baby Abigail induced "Ain't She Sweet" to "Everybody Loves Somebody." The faint applause at the end surprised me. I'd lost myself in the music again and my lips quirked. A waiter stood to the side and I looked at him inquisitively.
"Sir, there's a lady in the corner and I think you made her cry."
Well damn. My eyes went to the corner but I couldn't see anyone.
"She's in the last booth and I thought maybe you would be willing to play something a little more upbeat."
"I'm sure I can manage that. I'll ask the lady what she wants to hear."
The waiter gave me a look of relief. Men just weren't good with women's tears, it didn't matter our age.
I stood up from the piano and walked over to the corner.
Dreams really do come true.
Her food - or what might pass for food - had been pushed aside and her head rested on her arms. I wasn't sure she was crying but I reached down and placed my hand on her hair. It was as soft as I fantasized. Her head came up and water-filled eyes looked into mine.
She made a sound that was half-laugh, half-groan and put her head back on her arms.
I sat down and nudged her over with my hip. She scooted sideways and made room for me without looking up. I twisted my body in her direction and leaned over. I needed to smell the hair I'd just touched.
A soft muffled laugh came from her arms. "Did you just sniff me?"
"Guilty."
"Why?" she asked without lifting her head.
"Because I had to."
That got her attention and she sat up. The perfumed smell of her hair wafted past my nostrils stronger than when I leaned over. I inhaled.
Her lips tipped up on the sides. "You did it again."
I reached for the napkin lying by her plate and handed it to her. If I'd expected a delicate lady-like wiping of her nose, I was disappointed, because she blew her nose with a hearty snort.
Yet even such indelicate behavior didn't detract from her beauty one little bit. I was helpless to stop myself from staring.
Her body stiffened and she turned away. The back of the booth was obviously more appealing than looking at me.
"You have a way of making a man feel uncomfortable." I sighed.
She turned to look at me. Those cool emerald eyes snapped with a hint of anger.
"And you think I'm comfortable when you stare at me?"
"You're beautiful. It's impossible not to stare."
It was easy to read the disgust on her face. "You see the outside."
"I have trouble believing your beauty is only skin deep."
"But you'll never know." The sadness in those words overwhelmed me.
"Why not?"
She hesitated and I didn't think she would answer. "Bad boys are bad for me. I don't handle them well and they hurt me."
I couldn't lie. I was a bad boy. From drugs to orgies, I personified 'bad boy.' But, there was something in her that made me want to be good; as clean and pure as sunlight.
I was crazy. I had to be, or I wouldn't have let the next words come out of my mouth.
"Would you be interested in a date?"
"A date?"
"Yes, you know, when two people go out and get to know each other? Explore their likes and dislikes? Learn what makes the other tick? A date."
"Mistress Lydia will not allow me to date you."
My eyes traveled to her neck. "You're not wearing your collar now, we're not in the club, and I'm asking you, not Angela the sub, for a date."
"But I am Mistress Lydia's sub."
"I'm well aware of that but for one night, could you be my date?" My eyes traveled from the speeding pulse at her neck to her liquid green eyes. I could have drowned in their ocean; I was writing a really corny love song in my head.
"No, I'm sorry, but my mistress will not allow it."
"If I handle your mistress and gain her permission, will you go out with me?"
She gave me a pathetically sad excuse for a smile. "Yes."
"Why were you crying?"
She looked away, but then turned back. "My grandfather loved Sinatra, and I loved my grandfather."
"I'm sorry it made you cry."
"Eminem makes me cry too."
I laughed. It came from my gut and I fell just a little bit in love. My hand went to her hair and I slid my fingers through the loose strands before bringing a section to my nose.
"You're weird," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching.
"Thank you."
I stood up and walked back over to the piano. The Bosendorfer's makers were about to have a heart attack. I moved the bench further back and out of my way. I needed room.
It was time to show off my mad skills and I started the beat I needed first. Then I started rapping Lose Yourself.
I looked over to the back booth and saw a delighted smile peering at me. No tears, just a smile to die for. In my opinion, this was Eminem's best work and defined the artist's greatness. I knew every word and I set out to wow my future date.
I rapped while looking into her eyes but her grin slowly faded. Hope and longing replaced her smile. It hit me in the gut, but I never stumbled over the lyrics when she got up and walked out. When they ended, I knew I was in over my head but also knew if I could learn to swim, I might not drown.
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