Suite of Hours
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(Inspired by Darcy C.)
Let C be the major basis of your composition. There are notes to assemble. There are key signatures to add, slurs to cast, and trills and furbelows to embellish.
Your piece will be played by ear. You must harmonize. Now, take a deep breath. And listen.
You are at a recital. It is an informal recital; it is one where the listeners mingle with the musicians, where comments are generously given and meanly received, where the roughness of callused fingers belie the smooth flirtations of the players.
It is a steamy summer night, and the room is crowded with bodies, and the women twist their hair up off their slender necks as the men carelessly undo the buttons on their shirts, and everyone utters in rapid arpeggios to everyone else, so hot so hot it’s so hot.
Your first lover, C, the man who took your virginity on a similar night four years ago, is here now. He sits at the grand piano and taps out a little ditty as he smiles at D, a close friend of yours. She smiles back at C and tucks an errant lock of his ebony hair behind an ear. Your eye catches staccato glimpses of them through the crowd, quick and sharp, as your mind performs a return to the last time the two of you were alone, as his large strong hands gripped your hips and his mouth lightly touched your ear like a grace note, as he whispered that he loved you.
You are startled from that pause by a bark of discordant laughter from E, and you notice her husband of a year, F, standing beside her nervously as E’s tone becomes sharper and sharper. E has just seen D, once her rival for G, and as much as she despises her, E cannot bring herself to avoid D altogether, because they used to sleep together. G just happened to be the devil’s trill that ensnared their senses at the same time.
A bizarre love triangle, indeed.
And, as C turns to listen to A and B begin an impromptu cipher, D looks up and winks at F, whose visage flares a dull red just before he hastily gulps a mouthful of champagne. You then remember B’s melodious laughter as he recounted, in vivid detail, F’s fascination with D and her mysterious and irrepressibly erotic appeal. But you too know that D’s heart now belongs to A, who has never had any cause to doubt D’s fidelity and who indulgently fulfills her every whim because of her generous and loving nature.
Later, you will espy G on the other side of the room, sultry and sulky, as she dances sensuously to a beat that no one else seems to hear, drawing eager young men like moths to a flame. She notices you looking and smirks, slinking like a cat as she makes her way towards you and wraps an elegant arm around your waist. You inadvertently glance at C just as he looks straight at you and she sighs and removes her arm from your body, knowing that it yearns for only his touch, the rasp of his beard against your breasts, and the soft inhalation of his breath as you seduce him yet again with a twist of your hips.
And for one moment, everything else is at rest.
Later still, after everyone but C has left, he will come to you and watch you as you brush your hair at your vanity table. And he will kiss you as a prelude to thereafter and beyond.
Now, compose your piece with these in mind:
The chill of golden champagne on your tongue.
The heat in a lover’s gaze.
The chords of laughter.
The echo of desire.
The weaponry of words.
The slide of skin against naked skin.
The gleam of matching wedding bands.
The sigh of fulfillment.
Love.
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