The Piano by Gwen Masters
The hardwood floors were silent under my feet as I made my way through the dark house. I had awakened in the middle of the night and found Aaron's side of our four-poster bed empty, with only the disappearing warmth of his body left to keep me company against the December cold. For so many months I had missed him, during those long months when life took too high a toll on us, when we had decided a break from each other would be a good idea. I had awakened to that empty bed with a sense of panic, until I felt the lingering warmth, a reminder that those lonely days were behind us. My Aaron was home.
Now I padded across our townhouse flat, an old and tattered quilt wrapped about my bare shoulders. I knew where I would find him.
I stepped into the music room and paused just inside the arched doorway. Aaron was sitting at the piano, lightly caressing the keys but not playing the instrument, obviously deep in thought. I rubbed my eyes and studied him in the circular pool of light that spilled down from the old oil lamp he had lit on top of the shiny Baldwin. He wore only brown lounge pants with a drawstring to hold them up. His feet were bare and tapped lightly on the floor, one of his usual quirks.
Aaron's body was tanned from hours in the sun, and I watched the contrast of his darkened hands on the white keys, noticing for the first time how the tiny lines in them had become deeper, more pronounced. He was on the dark side of thirty, but Aaron was more fit than he had been at twenty. I moved silently to stand behind him as he pressed a key, slowly, so that no sound resounded from under the closed hood of the baby grand. When I ran my fingers along his shoulder he didn't flinch. He already knew I was there. I watched our reflections in the gleaming black veneer as his eyes drifted closed and a smile curled his lips.
"What are you doing up at four in the morning?" I whispered into the hush of the room.
My hands trailed down Aaron's shoulder to his strong arms, my fingers testing the taut muscles and softness of his skin before moving back up to tangle in the hair that was now salted with strands of gray. His head fell forward into my touch and I raked my nails through his hair, beginning at his temples and working back, pulling gently with each trail my fingers made through the soft strands. He swayed lightly with the motion, his body relaxing by slow degrees under my touch.
"I had a song in my head that wouldn't be quiet," he whispered in time.
"Did you get it down?"
Aaron sighed. "No, not yet. I have part of it running through my head but the rest just won't come out."
I slid my nails down to the back of his neck and trailed the tips down, watching the skin there turn pale, then slightly red as I moved my hand away. Aaron shivered once and I smiled. "Play what you've got," I requested softly.
Aaron's hands moved to the keys. I watched as he thought for a long moment and then the sounds flowed through him, from his mind to his hands and out to the ivory that gave voice to the emotion inside him. Aaron's eyes drifted closed as the music swelled. My eyes closed too and I began to rock from side to side, letting my body respond to the music in whatever way it chose. Suddenly the tempo began to slow and gently disappeared into nothing. I opened my eyes in disappointment and stared at Aaron, who was gazing forlornly at the keys.
"See? That's as far as I can get. It's been running around in my head for weeks."
I gently bumped my hip against his shoulder. He obliged by moving over and giving me room on the leather-topped bench. Settling in beside him, I pulled the quilt more tightly around me, then pressed a key with one finger. "Maybe you shouldn't push it so hard," I said in time. "It will come. It always does. Remember how you used to do something to clear your mind, and you forgot about the song for a while? Then when you sat down again, it all came back to you. Can you try that? Can I help you?"
Aaron sat very still for a long moment. Slowly one broad hand settled under my hair, caressing my back with small circular motions. I smiled and played a little melody. Aaron's breath was warm against my ear and I giggled when he gently blew on my earlobe, sending shivers through me despite the warm quilt. His teeth nibbled gently on my jaw and I giggled again at the warm rush that ran through my body. Aaron laughed quietly, sliding one hand under the quilt to find my bare thigh. I squealed in earnest then.
"Your hands are cold as ice!" I gasped, twisting away from him. Aaron chuckled and buried his face into my neck, giving me a pleasant whiff of cotton, lamp oil and warm skin.
"Then warm them up ... what did you expect, wandering around here wearing nothing but that old quilt. Don't you know how damn sexy that is?" Aaron's cool hand slid between my thighs and I clamped them tight, shivering as the coldness of his skin ran through me. We both breathed a sigh of relief as his hand began to warm with my own body heat.
Aaron's lips found my ear and he murmured nonsense words, things I didn't understand and didn't ask him to repeat. I gently lifted the quilt from between us and threw it around his shoulders too, pulling him closer to me, even though my body rebelled at first with the shock of his coolness against me. I pressed my mouth to his chest and sampled him with my tongue, tasting clean skin and the slight tang of clean-smelling soap. Aaron's hands tangled in my hair and he pushed my head harder into his chest. My teeth found purchase on one flat, hard nipple and he chuckled low in his throat, the sound filled with lazy anticipation.
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