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I was not looking forward to the ensuing week. As interesting as Portland can be, there are just so many tourist attractions. I jog quite a bit and belong to a gym, but she was not athletic and seemed put out if I left her alone while I went for a run. My other pursuit, writing poetry, is rather solitary. When she asked to read my stuff, it was largely a lost cause, because I needed to explain too much of the language, to say nothing of the nuances.
On Tuesday after a long run down to Atlantic Ave and back again, I fully expected her to be in a snit, like a puppy that gets angry when deprived of human company and chews up shoes or chair legs. Instead I found her at my computer surfing the web.
“Do you like this for turning on?”
She was on a sexy lingerie site — crotchless panties, filmy pajamas, etc. I gave it a look and raised an eyebrow at the prices.
“Naked is fine by me.”
“Just negged?” Her pronunciation of anything with a “k” needed getting used to.
“That’s about as kinky as I get.” I knew “kinky” was the wrong word the minute I uttered it. “I mean strange or weird.”
She told me about a friend in a chamber music group, Yuki, whose boyfriend liked his toes sucked. “He was always wanting his “chachi” (Korean for penis) rubbed between her feet.” She found her own anecdote amusing and, covering her mouth, made that little tittering laugh I thought was cute the first time she did it.
“Actually, I do have a little sexual fantasy, but it’s probably too strange.”
“No, no.” She jumped up and put her arms around my neck, as sweaty as it was from my run. “I make happiness for you.”
“You might think it’s too weird.”
She kissed me. “You no too weird for Soon Rae.”
“Well, I never knew how sexy it was to watch a woman play the cello until I met you. So, sometimes, I imagine how it would be if you were naked while playing a serious piece.”
She stepped back. “You thinking cello sexy?”
“A cello with a nice looking naked lady playing it, yes.”
“That so easy. I practice all time but never negged. I could do now even.”
She was off into the bedroom. As if from a box canyon she yelled, “You want here or couch room?”
“Wherever.”
She came out with the cello, pulled a straight chair from the dinette set and pitched camp in front of the TV.
“Stripping?”
I nodded. She togged off her sweat pants and tee shirt before theatrically removing her bra and panties.
“I will play for you Bach. You know him?”
“Intimately.”
~~~
I would suggest that at this narrative point one go to the internet and type in the Bach Cello Suite # 1: The Prelude. You will find any number of “hits” by several artists, amateur and professional, on You Tube. Yo-Yo Ma has a version. The “Prelude” is three minutes long. Listen to it. Hit refresh and listen again, but this time imagine that you are sitting six feet away from a pretty woman. She may be your wife, significant other or a co-worker two cubicles down from you. That woman is stark naked, has a cello clenched tightly between her knees. Soon Rae has tea cup breasts which play peak-a-boo with her upper arms as she throws herself into the piece. She sways, bends forward to extra-hear the tones. Her fingers fly up and down the neck of the instrument. Her eyes are tightly shut. At the two-minute mark the piece slows momentarily before speeding up to a crescendo. DONE! She throws herself back into the chair almost to the tipping point. The cello is pushed aside. Her straight pubic hair, matted down like a crop circle, glistens with dew. There is an audible sigh. Your animal urges want her. But the tableaux has you frozen.
Soon Rae sits up. “I never play so good. All time many, many notes miss. Not this time. I play it good, no?”
“It was — it was terrific.”
She got up, came over to the couch and knelt by my side. “You only say with niceness and wanting for sexy?”
“No, I really meant it. I could listen to it over and over with or without clothes.”
She kissed me. “I feel free, like flying bird from nest.” She jumped up and performed some spritely ballet moves. “I think maybe I practice Dvorak now.” She looked at me. “Unless you want hanky panky?”
“No, I need a shower from my run, and then I’ll do some editing. I’ll work in the bedroom so you can play out here.”
“You can be peeking out if looking is pleasuring for you. When I play I concentrate much. Block out whole world.”
“I may take you up on that.”
~~~
About D.E. Fredd
