When He Plays Piano in the Dark - Sex Stories

When He Plays Piano in the Dark

When you love an artist, sometimes you feel as if you are loving alone. The love they have for their art wells up inside of them, expands and nothing else can remain. That is what makes them what they are, extraordinary, with gifts that only God can hand out. Then there are times when the love they have for you becomes focused. It is overwhelmingly beautiful and beyond the imagination. When an artist loves, he loves so deeply and profoundly. They can touch you or just look at you in such a way that is so distinctively their own that you catch fire from the spark of need they create within you. You are floating among the stars, so close that you can almost reach out and touch them. The way you look even changes. You are beyond whatever you were before they claimed you. But, sometimes an empty coldness sweeps through that is so bitingly bitter that to curl in on yourself, holding yourself tightly, offers no warmth. You feel as if you are destitute, alone—even in a room full of people. When you love an artist, they hold all that controls you in the palm of their hands or at the ends of their fingers. You merely wait, holding your breath, hoping today that they focus, if not for just a moment, on you before turning away. No one knew this more than Pairen. She was tired of holding her breath. Sometimes it caused her to forget how to breathe alone. She was tired of hoping. It only caused her to lose faith in herself. But she could never deny that she loved him and would most ...

... likely never love someone else so deeply for as long as she lived. She had to leave, force herself to go away and deny the deeply engrained urge to be with him. He had become her addiction. Pairen knew that he had already come to the realization of what she was about to do. It was his sixth sense, to know her better than she knew herself. She could tell in the sadness of his eyes, by the extra love he attempted to lavish on her as well as his increased physical presence. Even his touch was a plea. But, she had to do this. She was dying inside. She was becoming nothing but him. When he left her, not just in body or mind, but in soul—even for a moment, she became nothing. And, she had done this willingly, without thinking, only loving. What else do you have to give a man after you have given your all and he is still not yours? This is what she thought, when she opened her eyes and reached out her arm. His space in their bed was cold and empty. Pairen could hear his fingers gracing the keys, filling the air with the most elegant sounds of music. That was what the world craved, paid and cried for in his presence. Creativity, sadness or stress were the only things that would not allow him to sleep. She knew which it was and it pulled at her heart. Naked, she followed the sounds to find him. In the low light of a night with a full moon, he sat at the piano in his own nakedness. He played with his eyes closed, head slightly tilted to the side as if feeling every chord. It reminded Pairen ...