October 11, 2011
I can hear them on the other side of the curtain. The hushed murmuring and shuffling of the patrons, The quiet buzzing of muted conversations as they wait. Closer to home I hear my partners around me, lightly scraping chairs, small metallic pings and twangs, and rasps.The low subtle hiss of breaths as lungs expand and contract in preparation. That low rushing hum is like a jolt of energy through my senses, Awakening me, energizing me, and making my senses unfold and tingle like the first rays of the warm sun on an unopened flower bud. I flex my fingers, the quiet popping and stretching adding the next subtle notes in the preparatory symphony occurring around me.
Reaching down, past the rustling silk of my skirt I wrap a hand around my love's neck and lift him up to me. My other hand gently caressing his curves, hearing the slightly rough scrape of my calloused hand over his smooth skin. Feeling his weight leaning against me as his neck nestles against mine, his voice softly whispers in my ear as I slide my fingers slowly down his throat. That soft depth never failing to set a tingle rushing down my spine, I smile as he speaks to me. Nearby I hear his little sisters speaking excitedly. Their higher voices muted in an attempt not to disturb those across the curtain. Behind me his big brother clears his throat, that deep voice every so often testing a note to make sure he is singing properly.
I bend my head slightly, giving a private smile to my own sweetheart, letting him know I favor his voice the most, halfway between his siblings with a smooth sweet tone. Rich as honey and nimble as a dancer. Deeper than his sisters, lighter than his brother. He wins my soul every time he sings for me. Bow in hand I gently coax him into form, making sure he is able to thrill the others as easily as he does me. Which is never a hard task for him. Despite his age, the years have only made his voice sweeter.
Across the curtain I know the lights have gone out by the hushing of the voices. A cough rings out, hastily subdued, and a last rushed patter of feet occurs somewhere. The conductor steps onto the stage, and the curtains open. As he takes the podium I nestle my love closer to my embrace, settling our bodies together more comfortably. The anticipation heightens as I watch the Maestro turn the pages. He lifts his baton and I raise my arm, the other hand caressing my darling's vocal cords. he brings his arm sweeping down, and I bring mine rushing across. Around me I can sense his siblings doing the same, while their cousins open their throats. And with that first note all the mounting excitement and anticipation bursts into euphoria, and I let his voice carry me away.