Oops!Part 7: The concert
Walhydra goofed in June when she published “The seduction” as Part 7 of this story. She just discovered that she skipped an intervening chapter, “The concert.”
Here it is, continuing the revision of a serialized adventure Walhydra first published on The Crone Thread in 1996.
Walhydra followed Dr. Bob's voice into a living room overflowing with guests.
In a front corner sat a rugged old grand piano, its finish dappled with age but its sound remarkably solid—since, as Dr. Bob said, "I just tuned it myself."
"Is there anything he can’t do?" Walhydra wondered.
With a Leo’s characteristic eye for social ley lines, Hubby Jim had poised himself benignly in a throne-backed wicker chair in the corner, directly to the right of Dr. Bob's piano bench.
Across a discrete stretch of floor from this throne was a sofa. D. sat on one end next to Jim. R. sat casually close to D., in a way that might be read either as polite or interested.
Walhydra took the obvious Virgo position: cross-legged on the floor, midway between her man and her fantasies.
The first piece Dr. Bob played was DeBussy's "Claire de Lune."
Walhydra had never doubted Dr. Bob's Julliard-trained talents, yet what a surprise when he actually began to play!
Walhydra was well familiar with the early stages of a pot high, when perception shifts in only the most subtle of ways, a kind of fine tuning of what one normally notices.
She also knew the paradoxical nature of Sister Mary Jane, that she grants both intense focus of attention and, simultaneously, split-second distractibility.
In this case, the effect was that Walhydra would be as if riding on each note of Debussy one moment, then notice D.'s slender fingers on the sofa arm, then flush with "chicken lust," then remember Jim contritely and turn to him, then hear the next celestial phrase of music, then glance at R....
Dr. Bob came to an end and met the applause with grinning modesty.
"When I was at Julliard," he said, "My professor told me to hear these opening chords as a church bell tolling midnight...."
"Then to hear the moonlight drifting in on the clouds…."
Walhydra was captivated by the magic of these inspired visual. Of course! Those were the sensations she had felt.
Dr. Bob continued his concert, each piece masterful as a composition and masterfully played.
The sacred weed continued her work as well. Walhydra felt as if every glance or move she made was noticed by the entire room.
Each time Walhydra’s eyes roved toward D. and her blood stirred, she would make a show of returning to the music or of looking at Jim. She did not dare to glance as far as R., her real quarry and doom.
"This is absurd!" she complained to herself.
Each slightest shift of attention was followed at once by a Virgo x-ray examination of associated desires and intentions.
Followed by the critical judgments of the on-board Virgo ethicist.
Followed in turn by distress, repentance and resolve to become virgin again.
"Ooog!" thought Walhydra. "Virgo and Lutheran! At least I'm not straight!"
The gentle reader should, of course, understand that this inner inquisition did not prevent Walhydra from indulging in the sensual ecstasy of Dr. Bob's music.
When he started his last piece, Chopin's "Pollonnaise in A flat," Walhydra felt every atom marching. The grand chords constructed themselves as if Shiva were dancing them out at the most primal level.
In the silence which followed, the listeners only gradually noticed themselves applauding.
Dr. Bob stood, gave a silly bow and spun through the archway between living room and dining room to land at his harpsichord.
"A little Bach to change the mood," he said.
“Is there such a thing as a little Bach?” Walhydra wondered.
Several minutes later, Dr. Bob stopped and grinned again.
He stood, indicated a table loaded down with food and beverages, and announced, "Now I'm going to get drunk."
[to be continued]