This Scene with Sergei and Clair

Clair walked ahead of him and opened her door. “Thanks for dinner by the way, it was lovely.” She threw over her shoulder.

“Don’t mention it.” She heard float from behind her as he followed her in.

“Drink?” Clair asked as she gestured towards her sofa.

“Yeah, a coffee would be nice.” As he instead seated himself at her baby grand.  Causing Clair to pause and stare for a moment to see what he was doing.  With the delicacy of a surgeon the man lifted the lid and placed his fingers over the keys.  Clair was about to yell at him she realized as he started playing Beethoven’s fifth in A minor.

Fascinated Clair stopped and watched as this handsome man closed his eyes and let his fingers glide over her keys.

“You tune her yourself don’t you?” he said under his breath.

Clair hadn’t realized that she had moved closer until she heard his voice which startled her out of her stunned fascination with his playing.

“Yes, I do.”

He nodded. “You like your tones a hair sharper than a tuner would leave it.”

Clair felt the tug in her heart, and terrified more than fascinated, she made her way swiftly into the kitchen and started the process of brewing coffee.

Clair realized that her hands were shaking as she placed the filter into the machine.  The sounds of his playing floating clearly into the kitchen.  His technique was nearly flawless, his form, the pressure of his fingers and the invisible nuances of playing an instrument as complex as the piano all in line with the intent and purpose of the piece.  Clair took a deep breath as the sounds of one of her favorite works moved over her ears and assailed her heart and soul.

It had been like that when Johnny would sing to her.  His voice would incite feelings of wonder, awe and joy.  But his voice wasn’t the instrument of her heart, not like the piano.  Listening to someone pay homage to her liege as Sergei was, raised her level of involvement to about three times of where it was when Johnny would sing to her.

‘Rapture as a noun meaning elation.  Elation as a noun meaning happiness, euphoria, glee, intoxication, jubilation which leads back to—‘

Clair’s eyes popped open as she realized what she was doing.

Shaking even harder she continued preparing the coffee.

When the task was done she walked into the living room and sat on her sofa and listened to him play, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.  She got to watch the play of his back muscles as he moved.  He sat ramrod straight. Edwina would love his form, she thought passively.  He kept his wrists firm and his fingers loose.  And he was playing as if he could see the music in his head.  Eyes closed.  Clair did that sometimes, but that was because of the sheer ecstasy she received from playing.  Biting her fingernails, Clair watched as he continued.  Then without thinking she got up and sat next to him on her bench.  There was barely enough room for her and she completed his melodic line with the under pairing for the piece.  Edwina used to do this for her all the time when she was trying to find her way through a piece.  It was akin to what women did to under lead a man while teaching ballroom dance.

Sergei’s eyes opened and he looked over at Clair as she played.  Her eyes were on the keys.  The look on her face as she played made his breath catch.  It was sublime, the pleasure she received from this instrument.  It wasn’t the right time or the right place but he couldn’t help what he did next.  He took her chin into his hand and leaned over to kiss her.

Other Posts on this book:

That Scene with Sergei and Clair

Sergei

Clair Fair

Love is Queen

So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar

Grab your copy of So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk Into a Bar

Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Smashwords

Sergei

Clair was admiring her shoes in the mirror when she heard the loud insistent knocking on the door.  She jumped and then started over to it.  His knock wasn’t quite a cop-knocking because it wasn’t the pounding normally associated with cops, but it was only a few notches down from that.  Clair opened the door and there stood one of the most attractive men she had ever seen.  He certainly hadn’t looked this dapper when they had first met. 

Sergei stood on the other side of the door with a single rose held against his chest, which was covered in a dark blue linen shirt that made his ice blue eyes really pop.  The slacks were also a linen it seemed and in the same shade.  His hair, which he wore just a touch long, was combed over and parted on the side.  It was such a nerd thing to do and it was one of the cutest things Clair had ever seen.  He stood ramrod straight, almost military straight as he let his eyes roam over her.  Clean shaven, his angular jaw line and ridiculous cheekbones were put on display framing his full lips as he softly smiled at her, finally meeting her eyes.

“Good evening Clair.” He drawled smoothly.

For a split second as she stared into his eyes as he smiled down at her, his deep voice caressing her, Clair did something she had never done before.  She went completely blank, no thought would cross her mind as she stared into his eyes.  She felt her mouth open but no words came out.  And that was when panic had started to set in.  Blinking rapidly she stood in the door facing him as her jaw flapped without voicing anything at all. 

Sergei arched a brow at her seemingly enjoying her display.  Mercifully he asked, “Can I come in?”

The question registered and Clair solemnly nodded and stepped aside so he could do just that. As he passed her, the frozen ‘deer in headlights’ feeling she had started to fade.  What in the hell was that, she frantically asked herself.  I acted like a deaf mute for a second there, he’s not that hot!! She could feel the last thought actually being yelled in her mind.  With a deep breath and a concert smile she turned to the large man that was standing in her living room.

“Sorry about that.” She said briefly.

He shrugged casually. “About what, it’s a compliment to render a woman dumb, deaf and blind for a second.” He paused and thought about it some. “Or it’s very sad.” He frowned as he thought about the other end of that.

Other Posts on this book:

That Scene with Sergei and Clair

Sergei

Clair Fair

Love is Queen

So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar

Grab your copy of So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk Into a Bar

Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Smashwords

Clair Fair

 ‘Rapture.  As a noun meaning delight.’

Clair thought to herself as her fingers flew over the piano keys as if she didn’t guide them. 

‘Delight as a noun meaning enjoyment, ecstasy, enchantment, contentment, joyance, relish, which leads back to rapture.’ 

Since Clair discovered the piano and the joy inherit in this instrument that could whisper and yell, sigh and resonate, she spent her spare time trying to find the word that defined the sublime elation that filled her when she played.  She searched thesauruses, other languages, symbols, whatever she could get her hands on.  But not a single word alone described this feeling of release and bliss that she experienced while she played.  So her mind would string together all of these words to try and express what was being experienced.

‘Bliss, as a noun meaning ecstasy, euphoria, felicity, heaven, paradise, which leads back to rapture.’

She was playing Mozart’s piano concerto no. 20 in D minor.  It was one of her favorites to practice on at home and loosened her up when she was ready to compose her own works.  No. 20 in D minor was special to her.  This one had been the culmination piece of her first full concert at the age of 15 for a local arts festival.

After her Aunt Mary introduced Clair to the piano it had been the passion of her existence.  She had played throughout middle school with a mix of lessons with her Aunt Mary and whoever was available.  When she had entered high school, Clair had applied for a work-study program that allowed her to spend fewer hours at school and more time practicing her instrument.  Her dedication had been noticed by several of the local musicians as Aunt Mary had made it her job to find teachers that could operate at the level that Clair had reached and could carry her beyond.

That had been when she had met Edwina Powell.  Edwina was a large maternal woman with dubious ethnicity.  She was dark in coloring with her black hair and dark brown eyes.  But it was her tan skin tone that made it very hard to place her into any particular race. Edwina had been teaching pianoforte for 15 years in the small high school in Taos New Mexico.  It wasn’t until you went to her home for private lessons did you see the fruits of a 20 year long professional classical pianist career.  She had played everywhere, Carnegie Hall, the Kennedy Center, Sydney, Paris, Japan.  Her walls were lined with accolades and world championships.

The day Clair had met Edwina had changed the course of her life.  Before that day, Clair had believed that she would not be able to become a professional artist.  She was told by school counselors and most other adults that choosing to become a professional artist was foolish and would not support her well. Everyone agreed with exception of her Aunt Mary and her mother who had both encouraged Clair to follow her passion and to ignore the call of material wealth in lieu of happiness. Still Clair had been undecided until she had her first meeting with Edwina Powell.

The first meeting had been at Clair’s home with her mother and aunt.  Ms. Powell had walked in like a ruling queen.  Her stature had been perfect, her clothing, hair and makeup immaculate. She had asked for Aunt Mary to leave so that she and Clair could speak privately.

The woman had instructed Clair to sit at her piano and then circled her seemingly looking for deficiencies.

“Clair.” She stated clearly in a Spanish accented, deep feminine voice. “That is not your full name.”

The woman waited a moment or two and then continued. “Clair is short for something, what is your full name, as it is written on your birth certificate.”

Clair had hesitated, hating what she was about to say out loud. “It’s” she paused taking a long labored breath. “Clairvoyance”, she sighed, “Clairvoyance Olivia Warren.”

The woman only stared pointedly at Clair, “This shame’s you.” She stated. “It is empowerment, a characteristic that is unique only to you.  You should embrace this name of yours.”

Moving to stand next to Clair she stared pointedly at the instrument before them both. “Does this shame you as well?”

Clair turned to her quickly denial in her heart. “No, there’s nothing embarrassing about a piano, or playing it.”

The woman sat next to Clair at the bench. “What is this instrument to you?”

Clair thought about it long and hard staring at the instrument in question.  Softly she ran her fingers over a few keys and the day her Aunt Mary introduced her to it flashed starkly in her mind.  Her entire body was filled with the euphoria that had started that day.  Her Aunt’s words ringing in her ears, ‘this does not care what color you are, it only knows music, it only knows joy.’ With that fresh in her mind, Clair had answered Ms. Powell with the only word that had summed it all up for her.

“Freedom.”

Ms. Powell had nodded. “You’ll do Clairvoyance.”

Grab your copy of So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk Into a Bar
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Smashwords