Opus One

Chapter 2:  Offertory

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Irina Tertychnaya mostly thought in English now.  She wasn’t sure when the change had happened.  She found it amusing that in the twenty years or so that she had been at the Wexford Conservatory, she had changed her internal language, and yet her accent was as thick as the day she first stepped foot through the glass doors of the school.  Marrying an American artist probably helped the change; she no longer spoke Russian other than the occasional chat with Yuri, the principle bassoonist of the orchestra. 

There was not a significant Russian population in this city, and she was rather glad for it.  She didn’t need to be reminded of the horrors of her youth anymore.  She had lived them.  Once was enough.

She sighed.  Late to the first lesson. Not a good start for Mr. Mazzini.

“Come,” she said, leaving a few moments of silence between the rap on the door and her call.

A tall young man entered her studio.  He looked like he had just woken up, and his eyes were a bit red.

“Will this time not work for you, Mr. Mazzini?”

“I’m sorry?” he said.

“You are late.  If you prefer the afternoon, we can change.”

The man looked at his watch.

“I’m sorry.  Wasn’t the lesson at nine?”

“Yes, Mr. Mazzini.  It is two minutes after nine.”

He looked a bit taken aback.  Irina chuckled to herself.  He won’t be late again.

“I’m sorry, I was trying to find the alarm… I mean, I was trying to find the room, and my alarm…” he stammered.

Irina waved him silent.  “Play, Mr. Mazzini,” she said, gesturing to the bench sitting in front of the worn black piano.

He looked at her for another moment, and then set down his bag on the floor.  As he started taking out his music, she got his attention with a cough.

When he turned to her, she gave him a quick shake of the head, and gestured to the piano again.

He straightened up, and then sat on the bench.  Irina watched his large hands work the rollers to lower the bench.  He tried the height several times, finally getting the bench low enough.  She took note of the position so she could have it ready for him in the future.  It was the last time he would need to waste lesson time fussing with it.

He breathed loudly and deeply, and his hands shook slightly as he laid them on the piano.  Then he began.

Irina smiled a little as he pounded out the opening octaves of a Liszt piece, Après un lecture du Dante .  The piece was perhaps overly bombastic for starting his first lesson with, but he was young.  She wasn’t surprised at his choice.  She had given enough first lessons to know how eager students were to impress her. 

This time, she was impressed, although not by his choice of piece.  He was the first person to play something different than what he had played at his audition half a year earlier.  That pleased her; he had not stopped working after being accepted to the conservatory.

She listened carefully, and after a few minutes smiled again.  He has impressive technique, but still has much to learn about music, she thought. 

He stopped once, a glitch in memory, and then went on.  That didn’t bother her.  The piece was demonic in more ways than one.  He might not have been expecting to play without music, although he should have been prepared.

After he played a few minutes of the first slow section, Irina stood.  She watched his strong hands from over his shoulder, waiting for him to reach the return to the darker theme.  It would be cruel to stop him in the middle of the climactic build up, so she waited until the tremolo which signaled the end of the euphoric dolcissimo section.  She placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay, Mr. Mazzini.”

He stopped almost reluctantly, and sat stone-still, looking at the keys.

Irina returned to her chair, crossing her legs.  “Start again.”

He looked at her, face drawn, and then turned to the keys again.  After he played the first few bars, she stopped him again.

“Where is the melody?”

He thought for a moment, and then fingered the upper voice of the chords.

“I guess it’s that,” he said.

Irina stood and moved around to his left.  She reached in to the keys, and smiled slightly as he shied away from her body as it brushed his shoulder. 

Much to learn about life.

“What about this?” she said, playing the lower notes of the chords.  “Or this?”  She played the inner voice.  Each moved with a different feeling.

“Uh, I don’t know.  Those are part of the chords, I guess?”

“Mr. Mazzini, in music you cannot guess.  You cannot say, ‘I don’t know.’”

His complexion turned a little red. 

“Play that for me again.  Just the first phrase.”

He complied, but she stopped him after the first few notes.

“No, Mr. Mazzini.  Like you played before.  With authority.”

He took a breath and started again.

“Think about the melody you showed me,” she said softly near his ear.

He played through the chords as before.

“No.  I do not hear it.  Play me the melody alone.”

He played the six notes singly.

“Again.  It must sing.  Do you know who Dante is?”

He nodded.  Again he played.  This time he stopped himself and tried again.

“Yes, better.  Now, play again, both hands.  I want to hear the melody.”

“Is that the way it should be phrased?” he asked.

“It does not matter right now.  Play it how you hear it to be.”

He started again.

“Again,” Irina chimed, as he reverted to chords.  “Melody!”

She smiled as he successfully transmitted the melody through the chords.

“Yes, that is good.”  Irina returned to her chair.  “Riccardo, you play well.”

He looked up at her, smiling ever so slightly.  Was it at her use of his real name, or from the praise, she didn’t know.  She could tell he didn’t think she was happy, but she didn’t press the issue.  She wouldn’t often be telling him how well he played.  Praise was a minimal motivator unless used judiciously.

“You play well, but you cannot guess,” she repeated.  “You must think about the music you play.  Every note is important, or we would leave it out.  But why is that note, or this note, important?  That is up to you to decide.  To interpret.”

Richard nodded.

“Now, let us look at the other notes in the chords.  Play the lower voice for me.”

He has great potential, Irina thought to herself.  Of course he does, or I wouldn’t have accepted him.  The things I can teach him…

“I think she doesn’t like me,” Richard said.

“Did she rip you a new one?” Emily asked.  She was sipping from a glass of fruit punch provided at the orientation session.  I’m glad he came over to talk to me, she thought.

“Maybe a few new ones.  I got there a minute late, literally, and she was all over me for that.”

“Well, first lesson...  I wouldn’t get too depressed yet.  There’s plenty of time for that, later.”

“Heh, right.  We spent an hour and a half on just two pages of one piece.  At this rate, I better start figuring out what’ll be on my senior recital!”

Emily laughed.  She was happy to have bumped into Richard the day before.  She knew a number of people attending the school, through music festivals and summer orchestra programs.  But pianists were not in that loop, being for the most part soloists.  It was refreshing to talk to someone who wasn’t constantly going on about how great Tanglewood had been, or what guest conductor had graced the stage at Spoleto.  Or talking about her father.  Richard had been gracious enough to let that go the night before, and she appreciated it.

“Where’s Sandra?” Richard asked.

Figures, she thought.  The pretty ones have it so easy.  She wondered if having Sandra as a roommate would make meeting guys hard.  Will she just suck them away from me as they approach?  But Emily liked Sandra enough that it wasn’t a problem.  For now, at least.

“She said she was going to be a few minutes late.  She likes to make an entrance.  Singers, you know…”

Richard chuckled.  “Yeah.  So what’s on our schedule, then?”  Richard studied the paper he had grabbed from the stack.

“A week of fun and games,” Emily said acerbically.

“Art museum should be cool though,” he said.

“True,” she agreed. 

“Dinner at the dean’s house, bus tour of the city, tour of Crantz Hall, and a bunch of meetings.  Fun.”

“Common sense meetings, I’m sure.”

“Yeah.  Dorm safety, crap like that.”

“All right, people!” cried the resident hall director.  “Sit, please!”

“Should have saved some seats,” Richard said, as the lounge couches and chairs quickly filled up.

The pair sat on the floor, leaning back against an end table.

“All right, let’s go around the room.  Introduce yourselves.  Say your name, your year, your instrument, and what was the highlight of your summer.  I’ll start.  My name is Joey.  I’m a second year masters student in the bassoon department, and your dorm director.”

Emily listened as the group of mostly first-years followed Joey’s example.  As expected, most tried to trump the previous speaker with their summer highlight.

“My summer highlight was attending a masterclass by Perlman…”

“I played a recital in the Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie…”

“Blah, blah, blah…”

“Emily Rathbourne, first year, French horn, and playing beach soccer every night was my summer highlight.”

A slight titter rippled through the crowd.  Richard looked at her with a grin and an approving nod.  She was sure some people expected her to mention her father.  Avoiding mentioning music altogether gave her some satisfaction.

“My name is Riccardo Mazzini,” Richard said, dropping into rich Italian just for his name, “but people usually call me Richard.  I’m a first year piano student, and let’s see, I’m six-foot-two, so I would have to say my summer highlight was the long car ride here with my parents, stuffed in the backseat of an old Camry with all my junk.”

The room laughed for a moment, and then quieted as the next person started.

“My string quartet toured Europe…”

Fun’s over, Emily thought.

Sandra arrived, and after teasing her for being late, Joey made a show of inviting her into the circle.  He asked her to give her vitals.

“I’m Sandra d’Arcy, and I am in the vocal department.”

“First year?” Joey asked.

“Yes.”

“And your summer highlight?”

“My summer highlight?  Hmm…  A bunch of pigs got loose from our farm and went into town.  That was a fun afternoon.”

Some of the crowd laughed, while some others looked at Sandra a bit funny.

Emily was sure the image of Sandra in muddy overalls chasing pigs around was in everyone’s head at that moment.

She looked at the faces that weren’t laughing.  Some people need to lighten up, she thought.  She was glad to see Richard wearing a big grin.

“So you play soccer?” Richard asked Emily as they waited for Sandra to come down to the lounge.  It was a Domino’s night, they’d all agreed.

“Yeah,” Emily said. 

“Me too.  I saw a few people playing last night outside the dorm.  Did you notice?”

“Mm-hmm.  We should find out when they’re playing again.  I know a few of the people that were there, so I’ll ask them.”

“Cool, I’d be into that.  Let me know.”

Sandra arrived, late as usual.

“What’s up, farm girl?” Emily said as they walked.

“So you really live on a farm?” Richard asked.  He hoped he wasn’t prying too much.

“Yes, it’s true.  I know, opera and farms don’t go together much, but…”

“Well, why not?” he said.  “Although I admit I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Sandra just shrugged.

“What do your folks do?” Emily asked Richard. 

Richard hesitated slightly.  Her dad is Clark Rathbourne.  But then again, Sandra’s dad is a farmer, so what difference does it make?

“Uh, my mom does some office work, and my dad is a painter.”

“Is he famous too?” Sandra asked.

“No, he paints houses, not art.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Hey, we should ditch the bus tour tomorrow and go on our own tour,” Emily said.

“Do you have a car?” Richard asked.

“No, but we can steal one,” Emily said evenly.  “How about that one there? A convertible, that would be fun!”

Richard frowned at her for a moment.  Is she serious? he wondered. 

“Kidding, dude.  But we can take that train thing to get downtown.  Make our own city tour.  Do you like shopping at the mall, Richard?”

“I don’t have any money,” he reminded her.

“That’s fine, I don’t like shopping either.  Let’s just go hang out, see the sights, people watch, whatever.”

“I’d go for that,” Sandra said.  “Are we required to do all these orientation activities, though?”

“Supposedly,” Richard said.  Thoughts of his scholarship disappearing for missing a bus tour flashed through his head.

“Eh, so what?  What are they going to do?  Kick us out of school for missing the ‘How-to-tie-your-shoes’ meeting?  Ooh!” Emily said mockingly.

Richard and Sandra grinned.  “Yeah, you’re right.  Let’s do it,” he said.

They stopped outside of the pizza place doors.

“Do we have to eat pizza tonight?” Sandra whined. 

My thoughts exactly, but…, Richard thought.

“I have to,” Richard said glumly.  “I opened my bank account today, and I have to have twenty-five dollars minimum in it or they charge me like three bucks!  That means I have even less to work with.”

“Hey, I can spot you.  Seriously,” Emily offered.

Richard looked at her gratefully.  She’s an interesting mix of irreverent and caring, he thought.

“Thanks, but hopefully it won’t come to that.  Still, crappy pizza is on the menu, unless there’s something better for less.”

“I’m not eating at Burger King,” Emily said.

“There’s a Subway a few blocks that way,” Sandra pointed.  “But someone got food poisoning there last week, I heard.”

“Mm, let’s go there!” Emily chimed with fake excitement.  Then she got serious again.  “You know, we should buy some food and make a meal at the dorm.  Isn’t there a kitchen on the first floor?”

“Yeah, but it’s not working.  They were having problems with bugs.  People leaving food out…  I thought of it already and asked Joey,” Sandra said.

“Rejected,” Richard said glumly.

“I have an electric kettle in our room,” Sandra offered.  “We have boiling water at least.”

“Great, we’ll have tea for dinner.” Emily said. 

Richard sniggered.  “Or cup-a-soup,” he added.  “I lived on those for a while.”

“That’s cheap, yeah,” Emily agreed, “but I’m going to wake up hungry at two a.m. if all I’ve had is chicken broth and earl gray.”

“Fine, let’s just eat pizza,” Sandra conceded, pushing the door open while making a gagging sound.

“Is your roommate here yet?” Emily asked Richard.

“Yeah, he got here right after the meeting this afternoon.”

“What’s his name?”

“Jer.  Short for Jeremy, I guess.  Bass player,” Richard said.

“Don’t think I know him,” Emily said.

“He seemed cool, but I only saw him for a few minutes as he was starting to load in.”

“Could be worse.  You could have gotten a brass player roommate,” Sandra said evenly.

Emily elbowed her.  “Or a singer.  They drive you up the wall with their stupid warm-up noises.”

“Noises?”

“Yeah, noises.”

“Well at least I’m not drooling all over the place like your French horn does!”

“Ha, ha, very funny.  I’ll just make sure to sit on your bed from now on when I practice.”

“Next!” cried the guy behind the counter, as if they were across the street.

“Dude, we’re right here!  Do you have to yell?” Emily scolded.

The guy just gave her a look as the three of them put in their order.

“To go,” Emily said.  “Let’s eat at the park.  Meanwhile, let’s get something to go with it.”

Emily went outside and Richard and Sandra followed her to the store a few doors down.

“Wait outside, unless you have IDs,” Emily said.

Richard and Sandra shook their heads, and Emily went into the store alone.  Shoot, I can’t afford this, Richard thought.

“I guess we’re having wine again,” Sandra said.

“Cool, I’m not going to complain about that.  Except Emily’s going to bankrupt me!”

Sandra laughed.  “How was your lesson this morning?” she asked.

“Eh.  A little rough.  I’m not sure, actually.  She said I played well, but then went on to correct just about every note I played.”

“Is she really picky?”

“I guess.  But she did say a bunch of stuff I’d never even thought of before.”

“So you learned something, at least.”

“Yeah, but I’m still not sure that she likes me much.”

“Well, maybe you were just nervous.”

“I was,” he admitted.

Emily came out with a clinking brown paper bag.

“Right then.  Let’s see if the slices are ready.”

They were ready, and soon the three of them were set up in a secluded corner of the park that was near the dorm.  Emily pulled a bottle out of the bag, and handed it to Richard.

“Open it, will you?” she said.

“Uh, with what?”

“Don’t you carry an opener?”

“No?  Do you?”

She sighed.  “Gotta be prepared, man,” she said, as she pulled out her keys.  A little corkscrew came together out of a tube. 

“Here, let me see that,” she said, taking the bottle.  She made short work of the cork and then took a swig. 

She offered the bottle to Sandra.

“What, no cups?” Richard jibed.

“Who needs them?  Drink up.  Cheers!  Pizza’s good too.  For Domino’s, anyway.”

Despite wanting to hang out with Sandra and Emily, after eating Richard went back to his dorm room to see if Jer needed any help.  When he walked in, it looked like a bomb had gone off.  Laying on Richard’s bed like a pregnant whale was Jer’s contrabass in its black case.

“Hey, Jer,” Richard said, standing at the door.  “Looks like you’re settled in.”

“What’s up, Richard?  Sorry my shit’s all over the room.  My folks had to drop and run.  I should have it packed away in a few minutes.  You need your bed right now?  I can take my bass to the studio.  Just haven’t gotten to it yet.”

“Nah, that’s cool.  Need a hand with anything?”

“Um, well, if you want to help, let’s put the desk this way and slot the bed up like that,” Jer gestured.

“All right, let’s do it.”

After Jer threw some stuff out of the way, they moved the furniture to its new position.

“Cool, thanks.”

Richard sat in his chair and watched as Jer packed clothes into his closet.  He was tall, lanky, blond, and energetic.  And he had a ton of stuff. 

“You know,” Richard said, eyeing the piles on both beds and the rapidly filling closet, “I don’t have much shit with me.  If you want you can stash stuff in my closet.  I won’t need the whole thing.”

“Serious?  I think I brought enough for the whole dorm.  My Ma was like ‘Here, take this, take that,’ but I don’t need most of this crap.  I can live with just a duffel bag of clothes and my bass.”

Richard laughed.  He thought the truth was likely somewhere in between.  “Well, I am serious.  Feel free to put stuff in there, or under my bed.  As long as it’s not on my bed, I’m cool.”

“Thanks, man.  I’ll see what I can fit in my half of the room first.  Feel free to use the stereo, by the way.  When I get it set up.”

Richard nodded, glancing at the unnecessarily large tower speakers lying on Jer’s bed.  He wondered where they were going to end up.

“What’d I miss in that meeting today?” Jer asked.

“Nothing much.  They gave out schedules and we went around the room introducing ourselves.”

“Ah, I hate that crap.  Glad I missed it.  What else are we doing this week?”

“Here,” Richard said, pulling the crumpled schedule out of his pocket and holding it out to Jer.

“Hmm.  Bus tour.  Better have AC on it.  Fu-uck!  Eight a.m.?  Who scheduled that?”

“Yeah, it sucks.”

Richard considered inviting him on the alternate city tour he was planning with the girls.  But he’s a bit spastic.  Plus, I kind of like the dynamic I have going with Emily and Sandra right now, he thought.  I’ll wait and see what happens.

“Art museum, eh, whatever,” Jer said as he continued scanning the schedule.  “Tour of Crantz Hall, that’s cool.  Have you been there?” 

“No.  Is that where the city’s orchestra plays?” Richard asked.

“Yeah.  Nice building.  Who’s Dean?”

Richard frowned and then realized what Jer was talking about.

“It’s the dean, you know?” Richard said.

“Oh shit, right... Misread it.  I was like, who the fuck is Dean, and why are we eating at his house?”

This guy’s a trip, Richard thought with a grin.

After about an hour, Jer finally finished stashing his stuff away throughout the room.  He was an expert packer, and in the end he only needed to place a box of CDs in Richard’s closet.  Still, Richard wondered how long it would take for everything that was tucked away to diffuse back out into the room.  As long as it’s not on my bed…

“I’m gonna wander the dorm,” Richard said, “Want to come?”

“Nah, I got a lesson tomorrow morning.  I’m gonna hit the bass studio and get some practice in.  I haven’t touched that bitch in a week.”

I guess his bass is female, Richard thought idly.  “All right.  See you later.”

“Later, man,” Jer said.

Richard took the stairs down to the second floor, and found Emily and Sandra in their room with the door open.  He hadn’t been to their room yet, but Sandra had told him the number at dinner.

“Hey, Richard,” Sandra greeted.  She was sitting on one of the beds.

“Look what Sandra has,” Emily sang from the closet.  She was rummaging through a box.

Richard looked at Sandra, who pointed to an appliance on the desk.

“What is it?” he asked.

“A steamer,” Emily said, emerging with some plastic wine glasses.

“Like for rice?”

“Yeah, I forgot I brought it,” Sandra said.

“So?” Richard asked.

“So, he asks,” said Emily, closing the door to the room.  “So no more nasty pizza this week!  Wine?”

“Uh, sure.  Okay, so now we have rice, tea, and cup-a-soup.  If you just had some salt shakers, we could open a restaurant.”

Sandra tittered.

“Funny,” Emily replied evenly.  “But the steamer will do more than rice.  Vegetables, couscous, probably fish.  Tomorrow we eat like queens,” she announced dramatically.

“And king,” Richard added, as he sprawled grandly in one of the desk chairs.

Emily scrunched up her nose and studied him for a moment.  “Nah, you’re too scruffy to be a king,” she said. 

“Oh really.”  Richard absently felt his stubble.

“Yeah.  Look at the way you’re sitting!  You’re more like… a stable boy.”

“Stable boy!  How’s that?” Richard protested, as he sat up straighter.

“Come on, that’s a compliment.  That’s where the real action is.  The stable boy gets all the action.”  She winked at Richard, leaving him slightly flustered.  Sandra just watched with a grin.

“So tomorrow,” Emily continued, “we’ll go to Times Market and get some real food.”

“Where’s that?” Richard asked.

“Just a few blocks past the Domino’s, where we can laugh in their window as we pass.  Times Market is an all-natural hyper-healthy food store.  You know, they even have organic aluminum foil.”

Richard and Sandra laughed. 

“How do you know all this?” Richard asked her.

“I’ve been here for over a week.  I got here early and stayed with my teacher until the dorms opened up.  A few times I got tired of practicing and wandered here and there.”

“How’s your roommate, Richard?” Sandra asked.

“He seems cool.  A bit of a spaz, but cool.”

“Is he coming on our city tour?” Emily asked.

“I didn’t ask him yet.  Should I?”

“He’s your roommate.  Do whatever you want,” Emily offered.  “I think I’m going to invite mine.  Sometimes she smells like pigs, though, so maybe not.”

“Emily, what the fuck?”  Sandra grabbed a pillow and smacked Emily on the back.

“Look, you made me spill my wine!” Emily exclaimed.  She was frozen in place, frowning at the red spot on the white rug. 

“Oops,” said Sandra, though she obviously wasn’t too sorry.  Her face tried desperately to conceal its smile.

Emily quickly put down her wine and grabbed the pillow from the other bed.  For a minute there were shrieks and yells, and then Emily called truce.  The girls composed themselves, making faces at each other.

“What are you looking at, stable boy?” Emily suddenly said to Richard.

“Wh-what?”

“Put your tongue back in your mouth.  Haven’t you ever seen two girls have a pillow fight?”

“Um…”

“Didn’t think so,” Emily said.  “Next time don’t be such a wuss.  Pick sides and join in.  Spectators need not apply here.”

“Um, all right.”

“So, let’s leave for the city tomorrow at eight,” Emily said, fixing the wisps of her hair that had been displaced.

“Eight?” Sandra groaned.  “Why so early?”

“I want to go to the art museum in the afternoon.”

“We can just do that on our own too,” Richard suggested.

“Nah, then we have to pay admission.  Let’s get in with the group and then we’ll do whatever we want.”

Richard conceded the point.  “All right, that makes sense.”

“Actually, let’s meet over at Buck’s coffee shop at eight, otherwise we’ll be seen.  We don’t want to get dragged on the real tour by Joey.  Then we can catch some breakfast and head out.”

“Cool,” Sandra said.

Emily refilled their wine glasses.  “Scrabble, anyone?” she asked.

“Scrabble?  What is this, a library?” Richard asked.

“Trust me, it’s much more fun when you are drinking.”

“If you say so.”

Emily got the box out of her closet and spread the game out. 

“Lowest letter goes first.”

Emily won with an F.  Everyone drew letters.  Then Emily let out an evil laugh and put two fists in the air.  She put down P-U-M-P-I-N-G. 

“Oh, I forgot to say, double points if the word is naughty.  Let’s see, six, seven, ten, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, seventeen, double word score for the center square is thirty-four, double for a naughty word is sixty-eight, and fifty for the bingo is one-eighteen!”

For a moment Richard and Sandra just stared.  They were still fussing with their letters, and already they were over a hundred points in the hole.

“Wait, how is that naughty?” Richard protested.

“Richard, if you have to ask, then maybe you shouldn’t be playing,” Emily said with arched brow.

“But then anything can be naughty!”

“Um, no, I don’t think… ‘piano’ is naughty, for example.”  She gave Richard a challenging look.

“Why not?  You can do it on one,” Richard said.  Oops, maybe I shouldn’t have said that.

“Oh really?  Is this from personal experience?” Sandra prodded.

“No.”  Richard felt his face heating up.

“Okay, okay.  Here are the rules,” Emily said.  “If you claim double score and the word is questionable, you need to explain how it’s naughty.  In the case of ‘piano,’ I’d say you will need to have personally used a piano in a way it wasn’t necessarily meant to be used.”

“All right, fine.”

There was a pause. Then Emily spoke again.

“Do I need to explain ‘pumping’ to – ”

“No, I’m good,” Richard said quickly.  “Sandra, your turn,”

Emily grinned.

Sandra put down P-I-G-S-T-Y.  “Twenty-four.”

“I really hope you don’t claim double score on that,” Emily said.

“Eew, that’s gross, Emily.”

“Richard.  There’s still an open P if you want to put down ‘piano.’”

Richard rolled his eyes and then turned them back to his letters.

He thought for a while.  Actually, he had a word, easily naughty but low scoring.  But dare I put it down? he wondered.

Finally he threw caution to the wind.  P-E-N-I-S.

“Eight, and double for naughty is sixteen.  Do I need to explain it?” Richard asked sarcastically.

“Sure,” Sandra said.

“Heh, heh, Dick put down penis!” Emily giggled.

Richard and Sandra groaned.

“Okay, check this out.”  Emily put down S-U-C-K on the end of P-E-N-I-S.

“Eleven times two is twenty-two.”

Richard laughed and downed the rest of his wine.  The game was already out of reach, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to be fun playing it.

Emily cleaned up with 430 points, including another impossible bingo by attaching N-I-C-A-T-E-S to the end of F-O-R.  Richard and Sandra both vehemently rejected Emily’s request for another game.  Sandra instead turned the overhead lights off and switched on a dim lamp in the corner.

“This wine is harsh, sorry.  My head is all tight,” Emily moaned.

“Really?  I thought it was pretty good,” Sandra said, as she plopped down on her bed.

“Yeah, maybe it’s all right,” Emily said.  “I probably got dehydrated practicing today, though.  These practice rooms suck the moisture right out of you.”

“Come here,” Richard said to Emily.

“What?”

“Lean back against the chair.  I’ll give you a head massage; it’ll make your head feel better.”

Emily shrugged and scooted over to sit back between his legs.  His fingers worked through her hair, gently moving her scalp back and forth.  After a few minutes, she began to feel waves of pleasure radiating from her head down through her body.

“Sandra, you have to try this!  Richard’s amazing.  Must be the piano hands.”

“Or all that work in the stables,” he said.

Emily turned and looked up at him with a pleased grin as Sandra laughed loudly on the bed.

“Okay, I’m next,” Sandra said.

Richard worked on Emily for a good while, leaving off with some delicate touches.

“Mmm, thanks.  I’m ready to sleep now.”

Emily crawled away and climbed into her bed as Sandra came over and sat in front of Richard.  He began the same routine he had given Emily.

“Isn’t he great?” Emily asked.

“Yeah, this is great, Richard.  You shouldn’t have done this; now you’re just going to be giving me and Emily head massages the rest of the year.”

“I could think of worse things,” Richard said softly.

Sandra patted his leg at the compliment.

There was a deep quiet for a while as Richard worked on Sandra.  He focused his body energy into his fingers and caressed them through her thick hair. 

“That was really nice, Richard,” Sandra said, as he trailed off.  “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Emily was right.  I’m ready to sleep now too.”

“I’m getting tired myself,” Richard admitted, although he didn’t want the evening to end.

Sandra got up and stretched.  Then she grinned and pointed at Emily, nudging Richard.  Emily was breathing deeply with eyes closed, curled up on her covers.

Richard smiled, and then whispered to Sandra.  “See you at eight at Buck’s.  Goodnight!”

“Goodnight!”

He climbed the stairs to his room, feeling tired, but elated.  Jer was sleeping when Richard went in, so he pulled his night clothes and necessaries from his closet, and got ready in the bathroom. 

He was just pulling the covers off his bed as Jer stirred.

“Oh, hey man,” Jer said groggily.

“Hey, just getting back in.”

“What time is it?”

“One-thirty.”

“Cool.  What were you up to?”

“Just hanging out.”

“Yeah, me too.  Met up with an old friend and she had some bud.  It was cool, but I’m fucking dead tired from the car ride today.”

“Yeah, nothing like sitting in the backseat of a vehicle for hours,” Richard agreed.

“True.”

“Hey, me and a couple of girls are going to skip on the tour tomorrow and go downtown on our own.  You want to come?”

“Uh, sure, what time?” Jer asked.

“Eight.”

“All right, wake me up,” Jer said.

“Cool.  See you in the morning.”

Richard didn’t fall asleep for a while that night.

Forward to Chapter 3

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