Cello

Black lace, elegant, alluring. Your dress, buttoned loosely shows the soft skin of your shoulders and back. A curl falls gently in your eyes as you concentrate, trying to stay focused on the music. Your ear is pressed against the scroll of your cello. Your bow glides gracefully across the strings. You close your eyes and sway just a bit, moved. The curve of your body becomes the curve of the wood, one into the other and out again. Elegant. Sensuous. The deep voice of your cello, your flesh through the lace, the light casting a warm glow around you and I'm being drawn toward you. Leaving my body in the audience surrounded by strangers I move down the aisle, climb the stairs, cross the stage and I am behind you. I place my hands on your shoulders and move them across your skin, down your arms. I bury my face in your hair drawing in your scent. I kiss the softness behind your ear, under your chin. I feel the vibrations of the bow across the strings and into my soul and I become a part of the music, low, resonant, crying out with passion and desire.