After an unexpected transfer in her career, a young singer is swept into a whirlwind of life-changing events surrounding new romance, intergenerational friendships, and the music that intertwines it all.
Inspired by true events.
(( COMPLETED )...
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CON FUOCO
With Fire
The warm, enticing fragrance of jasmine candles filled the room as the mellow, seductive sounds of Miles Davis' So What flowed out of Yoongi's sound system. I was leaning against the armrest of the rehearsal room couch, legs tucked up under me, as Yoongi and Hobi came into the room carrying some liquor bottles and glasses.
The snifter glasses clinked on the glass-top table as Yoongi set them down, and Hobi started opening a bottle of Hennessy XO.
"So, how'd you feel about your performance tonight?" Hobi turned his head towards me, but kept his eyes on the glass of cognac he was pouring. I reached out and took the glass from his hand as I replied.
"I felt good about it. I feel like I still don't sound like a jazz singer, but I suppose I can work on that over time." I stood up and crossed the floor to lean against the piano.
"You can, but I think you're illuminating your real problem, without even meaning to," Yoongi interjected. Both Hobi and I turned to look at him as he took a sip out of his glass and continued.
"You want to work at it. Perfect it. Fix something. You're searching for something to fix when it's you who needs to fix yourself."
I'm the problem?
"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice. I felt put on the spot by him in this conversation, and I was beginning to feel like there was something wrong with me.
Yoongi stalked towards me, glass in hand, as Hobi sat down on the sofa, watching us. As he got up to me and was standing face to face with me, Yoongi extended his index finger and pressed it into my stomach.
"You are getting in your own way," he paused, finger still pressed into me, "You aren't connecting with the music because you're not allowing yourself to feel it."
Hope stood up and walked over to us, cognac in-hand, and reached up with his free hand to pat Yoongi's back.
"I'm gonna go shower. I'll see you two back in the bedroom in a little bit." he said, kissing my forehead before disappearing out the door, leaving Yoongi and I completely alone with just Miles Davis, cognac, and each other.
"Show me," I whispered close to Yoongi's face, and he set his glass on the piano behind me. We wrapped our arms around each other, pulling each other close.
His hands glided down my back to my hips, tugging at the embroidered fabric of my dress as he pulled my hips into his.
"Show you what?" he whispered back, pausing to leave a soft, single, sustained kiss on my lips.
"Show me how to let go. Show me how to feel," I asked, looking into his eyes with sincerity. This wasn't just a sexual game. I wanted to learn how to become a better performer. A better lover. I wanted to feel more comfortable in my own skin, and Yoongi seemed eager to show me the way.
"Mmmmm..." a low, barely audible purr emitted from his tight little smirk as he nuzzled his nose into my neck, "I would love to show you all kinds of things..."
His teasing tone was sending goosebumps down my arms, and I was breathing in his scent, running my fingers through his hair as he started kissing my neck. He took my hips and gently started to sway our bodies together to the rhythm of the music, following John Coltrane's seductive sax solos, running his fingers up and down my arms like he was playing a piano.
I closed my eyes, leaning into his kiss as we danced, our bodies wrapped around each other, letting the music carry us far, far away from the room we were in. He crept his fingers up my arm, lightly tapping along to the drum beat on my shoulder with his fingertips. His fingers found the rhythm so naturally, tapping along with unbelievable accuracy.
"I could hold you like this all night," he confessed, quietly murmuring into my neck as he stroked the back of my hair, holding me close.
A satisfied smile spread across my lips and I sighed, taking it all in for a moment before responding.
"I hope you do..." I whispered.
We continued to dance, absorbing every second of our time alone together, only stopping when we heard the bathroom door close down the hall.
We made our way into the bedroom and Hobi was walking around, hair dripping, with a towel around his waist, lighting candles along the bureau-top.
That night, they made love to me. It was different than a few nights prior. They were gentle, sensual, and sweet this time - caressing my body, kissing me tenderly, stroking my hair out of my eyes as they blanketed themselves around me.
Hobi was laying on his side behind me, gently entering me from behind as Yoongi lie facing me, running his palms over my nipples, kissing me passionately. Their hands followed all the curves of my body as I arched back into Hobi's thrusts. After Hobi was finished, he rolled over and Yoongi climbed on top of me, sensually grinding his hips into me as he fucked me in long, smooth strokes. I tipped my head back as he looked down into my eyes, a small, warm smile creeping onto his lips before he started thrusting faster, deeper into me, nearing his own climax.
Hobi watched my face as I moaned, lips parted, eyes starting to flutter; and he leaned in to kiss me, brushing my hair out of my face, as Yoongi finished inside me. Their bodies felt so wonderful, twisted around mine, as we all curled up to fall asleep for the night. Up until that night, no one had ever made love to me like the way they just had. All I could think about was how incredibly lucky I was to have both of them holding me, loving me that way, and I never wanted it to end.
