So, you bored with tales of the World's Least Sober Militia yet? Should I make with the disturbing shit again?
Yeah, I thought so.
I've been building up this elaborate sexual fantasy lately about a piece of music.
It is in the "third girl" fantasy book; one of the thickest chapters of mine, naturally. Such is the nature of my perversion that thinking about even mundane romantic bits like the wedding ceremony or just cuddling together watching a movie in a tangle is deeply arousing. Usually the girl is unspecified (well, there have been a few common daydream candidates) but she is mostly a collection of nebulous fantasy qualities.
Anyway, the fantasy in question is that we are dating a musically gifted student, who is playing at the Musical Arts Center at IU, in an early stage of our overall romantic involvement. So we drop her off there and get all dressed up to go to the show, and she is out there in the orchestra, a neat little dark haired chick whose punk rock leanings are concealed carefully beneath a black turtleneck (her piercing is out too) and she starts to play. Anyway, it comes time for her string solo (she plays the cello, mandolin and a few other insturments) she goes to the front of the orchestra and prepares her cello.
She doesn't dedicate it to us exactly, but her eyes find us in the crowd, dressed up and holding hands, and this small, secret smile appears on her face. Manda and I are almost overwhelmed by that potent, shared secret rush-and fantasy chick starts cooking off a slow, tender solo that becomes swelling, passionate and complex, and finishes with a sort of Chopin like rising Crescendo. She caps it off with a little coquettish bow at the end where her eyes search us out again, and takes her place in the Pit again.
It ends there, although I have a feeling this girl gets fucked in a backseat before the after party while Tchaikovsky's 1812 overture rattles the windows-and covers the squealing. But that occurs offscreen, though anticipation of it enriches the actual scene, giving it a sexual charge.
Yeah, I'm that fucked up. That shit just turns my motherfucking crank, man.
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