exploring sexuality | camren

epilogue

As the pianist continued playing a tune of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and the improv. opera singer sang the line, "the most beautiful girl in the city," the brown haired girl could feel as the dark haired girl ever so gently pressed her leg against hers.

They had been avoiding touch, but even so, they could feel the heat of their skin near each others. The brunette could listen to the dark haired girl's breath quicken. Recognize her lovely scent. Hear her throat hitch. She could even taste her on the tip of her tongue.

By "accident," the dark haired girl's hand brushed against the brown haired girl for a second and the brunette could feel the hot white flashes pass through as the girl's pinky finger slightly touched her own.

It was an electrifying moment and she needed not to face her to know that the other woman had a smile tugging on her lips. She knew she was looking at her, because she could feel the heat of her eyes stare upon her cheek. She always knew.

The melody of the piano continued, but they were no longer paying attention.

The dark haired girl shifted her body towards the brown haired girl and barely leaned in her direction. It didn't go unnoticed that the brunette's breath had suddenly stopped even though they still had no skin contact to linger on.

To any bystanders watching, they looked like old lovers who's flame had been lit, but it was more than that. So much more than that. It was more like the flames had engulfed so madly that it began licking thousands of acres in wild fire.

The pianist's played the final note and the two woman joined in on the applause. They couldn't help but notice how similar the applause sounded to the beat of their thumping and racing hearts just because they were besides each other.

Immediately as the applause died down, the pianist placed his fingertips on the key notes and began to play another piece. This one by the dark haired girl's favorite composer, Claude Debussy. The brown haired girl noticed immediately and felt her ears perk up at the familiar notes.

It was a piece that the dark haired girl always played for her as they laid naked in bed.

Clair De Lune.

They'd be breathless, sweaty, and madly in love while listening.

The dark haired girl would always catch her breath, play the vinyl and lay by her side, letting the piano notes consume the air around them.

Sometimes they'd close their eyes and just listen, sometimes they hummed in unison, sometimes the green eyed girl played the piece for her on the Steinway & Sons black maple piano (the piano the brown haired girl surprised her with on their two year anniversary that sat in the living room of their loft), and sometimes, they just began to make love again.

Forgetting their little game of no touching, the brunette was overcome with emotion and reached over for the green eyed woman who already had her arm extended with a smile, ready for her touch.

As they embraced and held on softly, the brown haired girl rubbed the dark haired girl's elbow with her fingertips. The dark haired girl took her hand in hers and made sure to stroke all the girl's fingers with her thumb.

With her other free hand, the dark haired girl laid her fingertips on the brown haired girl's bare thigh. Each note the pianist played, the dark haired girl also pretended to play on the other girls leg as if it were a piano.

She didn't miss a note to her favorite piece that she had memorized, and it was as if she was playing music with the brunettes body. It made brown haired girl feel like a musical masterpiece.

Once that final piece ended and the pianist rose to take a bow, it was those two women who gave a standing ovation, smiled the most, and clapped the loudest out of the audience.