Rhythmic Freedom

Chapter 13, Composing the Score

Against the backdrop of the twilight sky and breaking waves, the brunette and the cellist stood joined, hand in hand.  Tina’s eyes dropped to Bette’s full lips then returned to the gaze they shared.  Her thumb stroked the top of the brunette’s mocha hand then released it to capture Bette’s shapely hip.  The virtuoso’s tongue slip quickly across her lips as she leaned in with a slight tilt of her head.  Her heart, the percussionist, signaled the soul with a resounding beat to prepare for its mate had arrived. 

Bette’s free hand gently slid behind Tina’s neck, absorbing the touch of the warm ivory skin.  The blonde’s moan was lost in the breeze but its escape left her lips parted as she leaned into the brunette’s hand.  Bette moistened her lips with a slow, deliberate, swipe of her tongue; her eyes glazing at the sight of the virtuoso’s expression of desire that bowed to the sense of touch by closing her eyes.  The brunette stretched her thumb to the base of Tina’s jaw and gracefully stroked its line.  

The cellist opened her eyes for a moment as Bette’s drew shut with the forward motion of her head.  Their lips touched and this time the blonde’s moan cheated the wind as it was claimed by the senses of the brunette.  Tender, succulent kisses fed their hearts while they explored the feel of their lips.  Their bodies closed the gap of space between them and their arms secured their embrace.  The slow brushing of lips celebrated the eve of more… to come.

They kissed until twilight gave way to night and the moon heralded their fate.  Dinner nearby, lovely in ambiance and conversation, only served to frustrate the need to touch.  Returning to the shore, their dessert was lavish and sweet; kissing, petting, melting, and falling deep into one another’s hearts.

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Vancouver, Two nights later

Tina rushed into her dressing room at the Chan not willing to spare a moment of intermission that she hoped to spend talking to Bette.  The brunette had said she’d be home that evening and the cellist yearned to hear her voice.  Their date on the night before she left LA had played over and over and over in her mind during the first half of her performance.  She was trembling, her bow still in her hand; every morsel of her night with Bette had passed through the pernambuco bow and engendered new meaning to the masterpieces of her performance.   

The cellist gulped down a second glass of water, trying to calm the quake.  Breathing deep and controlling her exhale, Tina picked up her phone and dialed.

“Hey baby!”  came the greeting within two rings.

Tina’s shoulders relaxed and she eased into her chair.  Breathlessly she spoke,  “Hey babe, I miss you.”

“I miss you too… are you okay… hasn’t your concert started?”  Bette’s replied with concern.

“Yeah, I’m okay…” smiling to herself, “it’s intermission and I needed to hear your voice.” Tina blushed with her confession.

Bette smiled and teared, “I wish I were there with you… applauding you.”  She closed her eyes, “I miss you.”  Feeling love yet unable to say the word.

Tina reached out and rubbed the ribbon binding the bouquet from the brunette that was displayed prominently on her dressing table.  “I wish you were here too… the flowers are beautiful.”

Meanwhile

Rachel Kennard sat with Shane in awe of her daughter’s performance.  “God damn!  That was brilliant!  She never ceases to amaze me!” 

Shane looked over at mother Kennard and smiled at the compelling woman.  She wore Armani’s peony high collar wool jacket and black stretch flannel pants, her blonde hair pulled tight in an elegant bun.  Her figure and features much like her daughters only she stood two inches taller and towered in her stiletto heels.  The potent smile she wore tonight was of pride and the only sign of vulnerability evident was the tear she brushed away before sitting back down after the ovation.

“Has she been like this the whole tour?”  Rachel asked the slender brunette. 

Shane was equally blown away by the performance of her friend.  She was hesitant to say anything to Tina’s mother at first, but went with her instinct and introduced the change in the virtuoso.  “She’s in love.”