Free The Conductor and the Muse by Veronika Myse Page A

tracks memorized.  I select track three and head back downstairs.  The foyer is empty and my erection is receding as the piano begin s to play in my ears .  I take a deep breath, exhale and run toward the lake trying to clear my mind of the beautiful muse now under my study and my skin.
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    The run was cleansing for both my mind and libido.  I close my eyes and tilt my head under the cascade of water falling from the shower.  No muse, no woman, has ever had the effect the Leena has had on me and in what?  Less than twenty minutes of being in her presence . I feel like the muse .
    “Leena,” I say her name aloud as I reach for my shampoo.  “Leena,” I moan.  I feel my appendage awaken once more.  It is throbbing with need as I rinse the suds and watch as they flow toward the drain.  I reach for the soap but I cannot ignore my own needs any longer.  I feel the steam surround me as I grip my own hardened length.   I pump, violently, holding my breath just waiting for its release.  Building, building, “Leena,” and I erupt into my own hand.
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    M s . Tanes is setting the dining room for two as I walk into the kitchen.  I reach for a wine glass and feel a strange presence.  I turn only to find Miss Winter standing in the doorway.  She is dressed is a white satin, form fitted gown that has a scoop neck.  Her breasts are trussed up and the tops are exposed.   The tiny straps lay softly on her shoulders.  Her hair is pinned back, with only a few tendrils touching her bare skin.  Either she is wearing rouge or she is flushed.
    “Would you like a glass?”  I hold out a wine glass and she accepts.  Her fingers brush against mine as she takes it from me.  I hear her breath hitch fr om the contact.  I turn quickly as I don’t want to embarrass her, or myself.  Her hand is noticeably shaking as I pour the white wine filling it half way before filling my own.    She follow s me into the dining room.
    M s . Tanes has lit seven candles and placed them in the center of the large table.  She has set the white linens and gray china at each place setting complet ed with water goblets filled with crystal liquid.  The glasses have begun to condense.
    I pull the chair and watch as Miss Winter sits, brushing her hand along her bottom to smooth the white satin.  I push the large chair gently and she takes the white napkin and drapes it across her legs.  She crosses her ankles and I catch a glimpse of her light blue stilettos.  They are strapped around her ankle, ending mid-calf, tied with a single bow.  She has a feather tucked into the bun on the back of her head in the same color as her shoes.
    The dining room is set as it always has been for the first dinner, however tonight it feels more romantic than professional.  I make my way over to the opposite side of the table and place my napkin on my lap.  I look up and see that she has her arms crossed protecting her chest.
    “Are you cold?”
    “A little,” she replies and places her arms at her side.  My eyes are diverted to her hardened nipples once again.  I stand and remove my jacket knowing I will be unable to control my thoughts if I don’t cover her.  I drape the tweed materia l over her shoulders just as M s . Tanes walks into the room with two salad plates.  I catch her glare as she places the plate in front of Miss Winter.
    “Conductor, shall I turn the heat up for your guest?”
    “Yes, please,” I respond firmly and take my seat.
    I watch Miss Winter pick up her salad fork and move the lettuce around the small gray plate.
    “Is there something wrong with your salad Miss Winter?”
    “No, no.  I am just, this is all new to me.  The salad is fine, thank you.”
    I watch as the color makes it s way to her face once again .  I am making her feel uncomfortable, and I don’t know how to stop.  I stare intently at my salad.   Piercing a few chunks of lettuce, I shove the fork into my mouth.  I keep my eyes on my plate