Moonlight Serenade

It had been a long day. Bailey was tense, worn, and couldn't sleep. She lay in bed listening to the sounds of the house. The whirring of the fan above her bed, the distant hum of the dish washer from the kitchen, and what sounded like a little storm beginning to rumble in from somewhere outside. She couldn't stop thinking about the day. She couldn't stop thinking about him. Maybe the day would have been okay if it hadn't been combined with mixed feelings about David.

Things had been going very well. They had even talked about moving in together. Inseparable for the past six months, the longest time in their three years of off and on relationship. Now a month without a word from him, she did not understand.

With David it was raw passion. He was like an addiction to her. One touch, one smile, one kiss—good God!

Bailey flipped onto her back ungracefully atop of her bed. The sheet falling off completely now exposing her naked body to the moonlight. She despised sleeping in clothes. Didn't like to feel anything around her body when she tossed and turned, unless it was David. She let out a loud groan. She wished he would just get out of her head. Giving up on sleep, she jumped out of bed.

The clock in the kitchen said 3am as she padded through on her way to the great room. She needed release. She needed relief from this dull lonely ache. He had been gone for a month. She heard he was back in Texas on a job. He hadn't told her, just left.

Bailey strode through the empty house, the lightening of the storm forming flashed outside through the French doors of the great room. A flash of smooth alabaster skin, a rounded curvature of large breasts bouncing gently with her steps, and the round of her bare ass as she strode across the room. There, off to itself, was her old friend. The black baby grand piano sitting unadorned at the end of her living room.

She smiled at the black monster, his white teeth flashing at her. A sense of release went through her, a slight flutter of a smile. She always played when she was lonely, angry, mad, scared...the ivory keys of the black beauty were the windows to her soul.

She caressed the black keys with the back of her long fingers as she sat down on the leather bench. It was a silent greeting between two friends. The storm picked up outside. She watched it a moment, seeing her reflection in the window in one flash. Her wavy brown hair down around her shoulders and breasts in a rare release from hair clips. Soft lips, full and turned down sadly reflecting the sadness in her eyes. She thought of David again. The way he felt sleeping beside her. The way he smiled after he kissed her. The last things he had said to her after making love in bed. The feel of him sliding inside of her in the early morning hours.

Her heart ached. She closed her eyes and touched the keys.

It had been easy to get lost in the music growing up. Not a classical musician, she wrote from the heart and played through her soul. She chose a chord that fit her mood, and began encouraging it to grow. Tinkling into a second progression, then a third, she felt a song coming on. A sad ballad she was playing, but it seemed to release those demons. She closed her eyes and began swaying with the music. Hair in her face, hips rocking as she pressed the peddle, rocking her body as she pounded out her troubles.

The chords became a medley in her head, and she began humming what would be a verse one day. She tuned out the storm, tuned out her racing mind, and let words come out into the open humid air in the empty house on a hot Southern night.

She didn't hear him come in. He was sure of it, she was still playing. David sat his keys down in the large overstuffed chair. He was soaking wet. Had been walking all night when the rains came. He was caught near her house in the down pour. He thought it a sign that he should come inside. Wasn't sure if he would be invited, but he had to try.

There she was at that piano. She would rarely play it for anyone, it was a private lover in her life. He had heard her only a few times. An intimate concert one time a year ago, before they had exchanged hard words and not spoken for 3 months.

He listened to her. Imagining her sitting there in one of her silk pajama suits she wore around the house. He was afraid to go in there, afraid she would stop and he wanted to just enjoy feeling her near for a little while. She was his anchor. He had fucked up this time and he knew it. He got scared, had a job offer in Texas, felt closed in here and had gone. He was always fucking up with her. It was a pattern in his life. But a pattern that he clung to nonetheless. She was always there, he always was somewhere, and he came back everytime. It scared the hell out of him that he needed her. He tried hard not to need anybody. But not this time. Silently he slipped off his shoes, his wet shirt and slipped inside the living room.

The sight that met him was hard to believe. There were no lights on in the house. Only the lights outside through the windows and the lightning flashing in the sky. From the other side of the room, there was Bailey playing that piano, but not like he had ever seen her play it before. She was playing a hard progression of chords, fingers moving lightening fast, one leg pumping the pedal below, the other flung across the side of the leather stool at a wide angle. She was rocking like a goddess riding a wild horse, and most alluring of all....she was completely naked.

His heart stopped, his breath stopped. It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. The tight pull in his wet pants told him that it was decidedly so. She was singing. A low soulful sound coming from her full lips. Her eyes were closed, and her head was tossed back, her long hair swishing down her back hiding the small tattoo of a clover he knew was on her right shoulder.

Suddenly she began singing louder a blues song, as she rocked to the music. David drew nearer to her. He had to touch her.

She was lost in the music, lost in a way he had only seen her be when they made love. He felt like he was watching her make love to that piano, and a possessive jealousy came into him. Her head bowed over the keys again, her song turning soft and slow again, the rhythm flowing easily. He reached and touched a lock of hair, curling it around his hand.

She was humming; it was hypnotic. He leaned in carefully, trying not to break the spell that she was weaving. Just close enough to feel her warmth, then he kissed her throat.

Bailey was playing her heart out, the pain she felt easing a little as she let it explode out in music. It wasn't helping though. She could still feel him. She could feel his lips on her throat, his hand in her hair. It felt so good. Another hand on her hip, she closed her eyes tighter and played hard again. This was madness, it was like he was there with her.

David licked and sucked along her neck, his hand stroking her cheek while the other caressed her hip. She was humming still, and he stifled a groan as he went down to his knees.

Bailey became aware she wasn't having a fantasy when she felt David's first kiss on her inner thigh. Her eyes flew open just as he planted himself between the bench and the piano between her thighs.

She looked down at him, his hands opening her wide, his tongue gliding along her inner thigh. She was too stunned to move. She had forgotten that he still had a key. Before her anger could turn on in her head over his last leave of absence, he closed off all common sense when he said, "Bailey don't stop."

Dumbfounded, and drugged by having exactly what she wanted suddenly there, she honored the request. She began playing again, as his tongue found her core and nuzzled in to taste her. He kissed her clit, like he was kissing her mouth, swirling around and drawing it inside his own lips. His hands kneading her ass checks on the leather of the bench.

Bailey closed her eyes and played. Her body rocking to the rhythm of the music and the rhythm that David was making inside of her. Such an intense combination, it made her feel mindless with pleasure.

The heartache that had her up at 3 am was being replaced by a confused fulfillment to the need she was feeling. She played on.

David held himself to her hips as she played. The passion he was building inside of her being expressed across the ivory keys. Her music was making his need of her stronger. He licked at her outer lips, as one hand moved to stroke her there. He moved his face lower, when she rocked back onto the seat. As she played a high section, he slid his tongue into her wet hot hole. He felt like he was finally coming home. Her taste sliding into his mouth, her scent surrounding him, he knew this time he would not let her go.

It was a sad song she was playing. It was about him, he could tell from the way she had sung before he had made himself known. He couldn't get enough of her at one time. He wanted to make her happy, wanted this song to have a loving tone.

They played on. Bailey gliding up and down the keys in musical expression, and David taking her into his mouth and sucking at her most intimate areas both trying to find a way of feeling whole.

Her humming became a gentle panting. She lifted her hips from the seat, and tried to hold the high part of the song. Small surges were sparking through her, building up tighter and tighter. She reached down with her left hand and touched his hair, his jaw. Her right hand playing a light melody when she felt the coil roll inside.

Opening her mouth, the release so strong, it held in her throat for the longest of time. She held a high note with her pinky, then cried out, when her left hand joined in again from the other side. She played strong chords as she climaxed, grinding her hips onto her lover's face as he drank from her until she had no more.

She fell over onto the keys, David moving to pull her into his arms.

She was catching her breath and trying to not cry. He held her face tenderly, and kissed her mouth, her taste mingling between their tongues.

He reflected how good it felt to be with her. He told her as much, with his head pressed between her breasts as she sat on that leather stool that night, him between her thighs. They talked into the morning, and made love on the leather bench as the storm cleared out of the sky. He held her, straddled around his lap, her head on his shoulder as they came together one more time. His naked angel. He would reflect one day on the moment that made things right, the moment he knew where he wanted to be. As an old man, he would still see the ghost of her naked in the moonlight, playing medleys with closed eyes.