No Strings Attached (16 page)

I leaned over to pick my water bottle off the walk, quickly draining it before tossing it in a nearby bin.

“How are you feeling? Still good to play?” Tabby asked, looking at me, then at Thayre.

“Definitely,” we both said in unison.

“Thanks for inviting us, Tabby.” Thayre ran a hand through his hair. “Damn, it's already hot, and it isn't even eleven o' clock.” He stood from his chair and set his viola down. “Watch that for me, Moyra?”

“Sure. Where are you headed?” I asked, pulling his chair closer to mine.

“To the car. Going to grab my shades. I have a hat if you want it.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Me? In a baseball cap? No thanks.”

“Tabby?”

“I'm good, thanks,” Tabby said, flashing me a wicked grin. “So, you think you'll be ready for Webster?”

Heat brushed my cheeks. “So long as it's this laid back, sure. But I have a feeling it's going to be crowded as hell.”

“I don't doubt that. If the crowds here are any indication, we're going to sell out if we haven't already. Has Thayre said anything?”

I shrugged. “Not that I know of. I think he's been so busy getting everyone ready that if he has news like that, we'll hear about it later. You know, once our nerves calm down.”

“Good luck. I haven't played a major show with them yet, but from what the other strings tell me, it can get pretty intense. Competitive too.”

“Competitive as in playing over each other?” I glanced at the violin in my hands and wondered if Thayre would allow me to play Angie until after the show.
Learning a new violin could be hard.

“Fortunately, no,” Tabby said. “Maybe competitive isn't the right word. I do know some of the smaller community groups have a strong eye on us, though.”

“Can't they join in?”

“No room,” Thayre said, picking the viola up out of the chair before sitting beside me. “If I could, I'd open our group up to others outside of the application process, but right now things are pretty tight. Aside from the position you're filling for us right now, Moyra, just about everything else is covered.”

I nodded. “Can't please everyone.”

“No, but those who truly want in will continue to apply, even when every position is full. I keep all of the applications until I have a use for that instrument. And for the applicants who are really good, I keep their paperwork indefinitely.”

“If you two are done gabbing,” Tabby began, hiding her face from Thayre when he scowled at her.

“Party pooper.”

“Pfft. Play now. Talk later.”

We laughed, and as the morning dwindled on, we continued to play until our stomachs couldn't hold out any longer. The crowds were starting to grow, and, not wanting to disappoint them, Tabby and I continued a fun duet while Thayre went off to find us some food.

Our songs had gone from what we played at practice to a few of the classics. But what made it unique were my high notes and the lower ones Tabby played.

“Guys. Guys,” Thayre called out, running up the sidewalk with bags of foodstuffs under either arm, a cell phone in his hand. “Look at this.”

He set the food down and shoved his cell in front of us. At first, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be looking at, but as soon as Thayre hit play on our town's YouTube channel, it clicked.

“We've gone viral,” Thayre said. “Someone from in town recorded a small clip from this morning and uploaded it. We've already got close to seven hundred likes, and the number keeps growing. And check out the comments!”

I took the cell and slowly scrolled through the visitor comments. Some of them were emojis or a simple, “Nice job.” But then the comments about booking a seat at Webster only to find it was sold out started to fill the screen.

On and on they went. One page. Two pages. Three.

I looked at Thayre with disbelief. “They're asking when we plan on playing here in town.”

Thayre nodded. “Not just in town. Look.” He pointed at one comment in particular that asked if we were going to play in Philly. Another in Chicago, and yet another in Boston. “Folks in town must be telling their families all over the country.”

I gawked at the phone. “Thayre, exactly how big of a deal are we?”

“Usually? A hundred or so people.”

“And now?”

“I have no fucking clue. I need to make a few calls to see if we can get a bigger room at Webster. It may be too late, but seeing as the interest is there...” He took back his phone and stepped away.

“You know what this means?” Tabby asked, almost squealing as she wiggled in her seat.

I smirked and raised my eyebrows at her. “Not really.”

“We're going to New York!”

I laughed. “But we already were.”

“No, you were. I was still on the fence. My folks were nervous about it, and Thayre hasn't actually asked since we have other cellists.”

“True, but he told me eons ago if you were ready, you'd be going with us in August.”

Now she did squeal. “Oh. My. God. But do you get what this means? The three of us. On freaking YouTube!”

She didn't say she was going with us, but seeing as we'd gone viral, folks wouldn't only want to see Tabby and me, but Thayre as well.
Thayre doesn't play for large audiences.
Looks like he was going to have to change his mind, and soon. But then, who was going to conduct on such short notice? There was no way they could learn the music or the players could learn the conductor in the month we had left.

We don't always need a conductor.
Sure, for practice we did, but by now, we all knew when to join in and when to taper off, so maybe—

“Got it,” Thayre said, taking his viola and flopping in his chair.

“Got what exactly?” Tabby asked.

“The Grand Ballroom. The guy on the phone said it can hold around fifteen hundred guests.”

“Okay, and where were we supposed to play before?”

“Marlin Room, which would seat five hundred guests. Once I explained our predicament and informed him we're a group of fifty players, he was able to shuffle things around. Apparently no one's snagged the Ballroom for anything else yet.”

“That's lucky.”

“Very fortunate indeed.”

“We should probably amplify the strings a bit. I'm going to call an emergency practice in the next week, that way I can record us playing all the violins. Double the sound a bit.”

“Sounds smart,” I said.

“I can still connect you to an amp, Moyra, but there aren't enough outlets to power all of our instruments. It probably won't matter much for most of what we have planned, but for your song, we're going to need all the sound we can get.”

“Once again, no pressure.”

Thayre and Tabby laughed, but hard as we tried, we couldn't get back into our music. Thayre had to stop every few minutes to answer his cell, and my hands shook too much to play without hitting the occasional sour note.

By two o' clock, we called it quits, apologized to the crowds, then invited them to join us up in New York. Thanks to a nearby store that allowed us to use their copier, we had flyers to spare. The CDs had run out right before lunch, but those who weren't able to watch us play could experience Transcendence through YouTube.

Just survive the next couple of weeks, Moyra. Is that too much to ask?

I certainly hoped not, but as the day transitioned into dusk, the excitement and the news of today settled into the pit of my stomach—where it would remain until after we played at Webster Hall.

W
ith two days to go before our gig in New York, I had a feeling my nerves wouldn't fade anytime soon. Not unless Thayre was willing to turn my flesh bright red. I wanted to be flogged—for Thayre to send me into that blissful oblivion, but the way he stood in front of me, I knew using a flogger wasn't in his plans for the evening. He wouldn't touch my back—he'd said as much before.

“I don't like the idea of you being too stiff and sore to play.”

While I appreciated the concern for my already tense muscles, the rest of my body felt otherwise.

Standing with my hands behind my back, I dropped my gaze and awaited my orders. It didn't matter how many times we'd danced like this in the last month—the apprehension was always there. Tingling at the front of my mind while my muscles tried to decide if they wanted to tense or if they should liquefy under his watchful eye.

Music practice was over. We'd worked every night this week, so for the next day or so, we were supposed to rest, and for Thayre and I, that meant some quiet time in his guestroom.

“Tell me your safe words,” Thayre said, his voice stern as he stepped in front of me. To my side. Behind me.

I shivered when his hands touched along my spine.
Stand up straight, Moyra.
I corrected my posture and cleared my throat. “Yellow to slow down. Red to stop, Sir.”

His hand left me, but his presence continued to consume me. “You already know I won't flog you this evening since we're leaving first thing in the morning. With that in mind, do you have any other limits?”

I wanted to say no. To ask for it all, but I also knew some other activities would leave me too sore to sit. “No anal or any pain play involving my butt, Sir.”

“Shame. Anal could unwind you a considerable amount, but I understand. Anything else?”

Granted, we'd never done anal, but given I was terribly inexperienced in that department, right now probably wasn't the best time to give it a shot. “No, Sir.”

He leaned in close to me. “I will get to claim your ass one of these days.” The caramel tone he used made my breath catch. “Now, get on your knees and be a good Songbird.”

I couldn't help smiling at the pet name which had become so much more than that. He never used it outside my submission, but somehow it offered me a sense of comfort, and slowly, I started to relax. I let my mind go blank and dropped onto my knees, using the towel as a bit of padding between myself and the hard floor.

Clothes weren't an issue. After taking a long shower, Thayre demanded I wear a towel—the very same one he had me fold and place in front of my feet once I entered the room.

Damp hair swept from the middle of my back, over one shoulder and onto my breast as Thayre guided it across my otherwise warm skin. Goosebumps pricked on my arms and legs, and my nipples hardened from the burning cold tendrils of fire that managed to reach them.

I took a shaky breath, trying my best to stay alert as the room tilted to one side. I'm not sure when it happened, but I'd closed my eyes, and after weeks of wearing a blindfold, I knew better than to open them to see where we were. We were still in the guest room, but as Thayre caressed my left cheek, stepped in front of me, then away, my sense of direction vanished.

I felt more than heard Thayre's footsteps as he moved across the room. Drawers opened, and my spine straightened at the sound of chains jingling together. I breathed in through my nose. Held it. Let it out slowly. He wouldn't gag me. There was no need when I wasn't on the cross. And yet, I still whimpered loud enough for him to hear as he turned toward me.

“Not all pain lands on your back,”
he'd said at one time.
“Sometimes it isn't pain at all.”

Hot and cold. Hard and soft. They had completely different meanings when I was on my knees as opposed to whatever we did outside this room.

I lifted my head, trying to track Thayre as I'd lost mental sight of him again. The air around me was warm. Still. A droplet of water freed itself from my hair, and I focused on that single drop of moisture as it traveled past my breast, around my navel, and finally stopped above my bikini line.

I wanted to brush it away. To pull my hair up and wring it out while Thayre wasn't looking. I unclasped my hands from behind my back and slowly—

“Don't make me cuff you,” Thayre said, his voice equal parts playful and demanding.

I put my hands back in place, lowered my gaze and smiled. At least now, I knew where he was—still across the room, getting closer. Something opened and closed again.
The fridge.
I shuddered. Either he was getting out our water bottles, or—

Crack. Crack. Pop.

I winced.
Ice.

Footsteps again. Toward me. He stepped off to my side, setting the ice down with a gentle thud so close to my feet I could feel the cold coming off the tray.

“Are you okay?” Thayre asked somewhere behind me.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Are you uncomfortable?”

I shifted my weight from one knee to the other and nodded. “A little, but I'm okay, Sir.”

“Let me know if it gets to be too much.”

His warm touch trailed along my right cheek to my neck. My collarbone. Slowly, very slowly trailing his fingertips closer to my breast. He stopped centimeters from my nipple.

“I love it when you're like this,” he said, his hand still.

“And how is that, Sir?”

“When you have no idea what's to come and end up expecting it all. So many different opportunities. So many ways to make you—”

“Oh God!” I yelped as a cube of ice fell onto the center of my back.

Thayre's laugh made me shiver even more than the ice had. He was great at tormenting me, and tonight would be no different. The ice burned my skin as Thayre moved it alongside my spine. I jumped when the cube suddenly disappeared, reappearing at the very same moment on the backs of my legs.

It was the worst kind of mind game. While my body still registered the cold of the cube in one place, Thayre could easily surprise me by moving it somewhere else. Without warning.

His hot-as-fire lips kissed the frozen flesh at the same moment he moved the ice to trace the side of my breast. Down my ribs. Along my hip.

I whimpered. Tried to draw away from the cold, but was then touched on my other side with the ice. The cube was shrinking, but it wasn't small enough. Just like the single drop of water that had freed itself from my hair and trickled down to my bikini line, the cold cube was superimposed in my mind.

He kissed my neck as the ice cube slithered up the inside of my thigh. Touched my clit. I arched my back. Tried to clamp my legs shut, but Thayre's hands stopped me.