First Chair

FIRST CHAIR

(A BBW Paranormal Vampire Romance)

By Nikki Hoff

Copyright 2014 A Pyramid Moon Romance. All Rights Reserved

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FIRST CHAIR

Christina stared at her voluptuous, naked body in the mirror. She tossed back her cherry-red, curls and ran a hand down her throat to skim the top of her perky, milky-white breasts. At twenty one years of age, her body was luscious, lush, and curvy in the right places. It would remain so for a long time. Her lips, pink and moist, sat well on the heart-shaped face that stared back at her. Her eyes, green as the morning grass, were almond-shaped, clear and full of life. She was beautiful, young, and thirsty for the success that would soon come her way.

Her mind wandered to the events that would unfold the next morning. A lot rode on the results of tomorrow’s audition.

“What are you thinking?” Sean came to stand behind her. Putting an arm around her waist, he pulled her hard against him, his hand resting on her bellybutton.

She leaned back against him, enjoying the sensations that engulfed her as her skin rubbed against his. The hard muscles of his arms bulged as he ran his fingers up her ribcage to cup one heavy breast. With the tip of his fingers, he touched her nipple, rubbed it slightly. She moaned in ecstasy, her eyes never leaving his face. Sean knew just the right spots. They had been having sex for over a year, and he knew just how to please her. 

“Tomorrow’s audition. I’m going to nail it, get that coveted first chair position.” She watched as his other hand slid down her belly and skimmed over the soft, red, curly hair. He inserted one finger in her vagina, and immediately beads of lubrication trickled down her thighs as desire glided deep inside her. Christina let out a loud gasp.

“You deserve it, baby!” His mouth brushed against her shoulders, his teeth digging in for a little nip as he brushed her clitoris with his thumb. In a practiced move, he moved his thumb in long, sensuous strokes over the soft nub, awakening within her a wild, lusty craving for release.  Her skin hummed, her blood boiled as she hung on the cusp of that rollercoaster wave that would take her over the edge.

Her eyes glazed as she arched her body back, enjoying the sensation as his finger moved in and out and his thumb pressed and kneaded. Yes, she did deserve it. Hadn’t she worked her butt off to earn the position of first chair at the old and prestigious Van Bower Hall Orchestra? Hadn’t she let go of her dream of being a ballet dancer to devote her time to the practice of cello? She’d worked night and day, taken classes, worked in groups and solo performances over the past three years to hone her craft and become the best player in her section.

This was her time to shine.

Putting her hand back, she gripped Sean’s hair as waves of intense pleasure coursed through her body, making her shudder with excitement. As always, the orgasm was swift and hard and left her breathless and panting for more. She gasped as her body vibrated with spent passion. Her body sagged into his waiting arms. Carrying her over to the bed, he lay her down. For a moment, his gaze skimmed over her, taking pleasure in the sensuous curves and the sheen of sweat on her smooth, creamy skin.  

He eased down, settling in between her legs, his penis plunging into her center with one sharp thrust. His head dipped as he sucked at her right nipple, sending shivers of delight to stream through her. She wrapped her legs around him, even as his hands settled under her hips, moving her so that he could dive in and out according to his own rhythm. Her nails dug into his shoulder blades and his back, as she urged him to pick up pace, to drive them both over the lip of insanity. The momentum built as she rode higher and higher, her breath coming out in pants. With a loud cry, she erupted under him – and he whispered her name as he emptied himself into her.

For a long, quiet moment, they lay still. Sex with Sean was always good. Better than good, actually. Her body felt loose and limber as she ran a hand down his back. He was a nice guy, a more than adequate lover, and a loyal friend. Of course, the fact that he was handsome was a plus. She liked their uncomplicated, straightforward relationship. 

He put his elbows on either side of her head and rose up. “What if you don’t get the job?”

She stretched, enjoying the sensation of having him inside her. “There is no chance of that happening, baby. I know I am good. Felix knows it too. When I play tomorrow and drive him crazy with my achingly lovely tunes, he is going to bend over backwards to offer me the first chair.”

Sean stood and walked away into the adjoining bathroom. Christina lazed for a bit, casting her thoughts back to the orchestra hall where she practiced daily or played with others. Tomorrow, Felix, the concertmaster, would announce her to be the first chair and she would be responsible for tuning her entire section, for making sure everyone was ready before each performance.  

What would it be like to have that honored position of first chair? How would she feel when she sat still, one hand holding the cello, the other drawing the bow over the strings as she gave birth to her solo symphony? The applause of the audience, the deep bow she would take – for a second, she was actually on that stage, experiencing the delight of that moment which would soon come.

It would be bloody good, she decided. She’d earned the honor, and she intended to do full justice to it when the time arose.

~~~

At three in the afternoon, she marched up the steps of the stage, her cello in her hand. For the audition, she’d decided to dress in a conservative black skirt and a white, full sleeved shirt. Her hair was tied in a neat bun behind the back of her head. Silver hoop earrings were the only accessory she wore, apart from her Cartier watch.

This was the defining moment of her life. Christina imagined there would many moments such as this in her future. As the first chair cellist she would be required to do all solo performances whenever the orchestra performed – and she just knew how grand, satisfying, and awe-inspiring such performances could be.

Christina took her place on the chair, adjusted the cello, and held the bow in her firm grip. Her heart pounded as she cast a glance at Felix, the concertmaster, who was seated on the front row with the orchestra manager. The short, slight paunchy man would decide her fate. She reminded herself that her destiny was in her own hands. She had worked long and hard, and nothing could stop her for making it to the top.

Without preamble, she burst into the song, the notes rising and falling with each small movement of the bow and her hand that manipulated the strings. The sound she created was both pure and strong. Her hands remained steady as she delved into the core of the music, her entire being vibrating with the beauty of the warm, high notes. It was fast and furious, with a few soft sounds as the song dipped and then built to a final crescendo. Finally, she removed the bow and took a bow.

Her heart thumped with fear. For a second into the song, her hand had slipped. One note that went wrong, but then she had picked up the pace. Had the concertmaster noted the slight error? His impassive face told her nothing. Picking up her cello, she walked down the steps and back to the waiting rooms.

With deliberate care, she put the cello in the case and flopped on the chair. Her body quietly vibrated with the sound of the song that she’d played. Music was her first love, the reason for her living. Christina didn’t just enjoy the high of playing on the stage, she relished the practice time, the learning of a new symphony, and the pride that burned deep in the heart once she mastered a new song. She could imagine doing this her entire life, devoting her time to becoming better at her craft with each passing day – and today would be the first step in the right direction. Soon, she would be doing solo performances for presidents, kings and queens. She wanted the best.

And she would get it too.

The door opened slightly, and concertmaster Felix Yeomans walked in. His black, thinning hair was parted on the side to give the illusion of a head of thick hair. She stood, and towered over him. His head came up to her chest, and many a times during rehearsals, she had caught him staring at her breasts while she was talking to him. She didn’t mind men ogling her. After all, she was a beautiful and desirable woman.

Today, he looked at her face, his eyes boring into hers with intensity. “That was well-played, Christina.”

“Thank you.” She longed to hear the next words that would escape his lips. Oh! How she yearned to be given the honor of being first chair. Her breath came out in small gasps as she waited for him to deliver the precious words.

“You’ve been working hard,” he said. “And it’s truly a delight to work with someone who is as dedicated and committed as you are. I can see a bright future ahead of you.”

“It’s an honor to be in your orchestra.” And it would be an even bigger honor to be the first chair. She imagined taking her position at the head of the cello section. The exciting moment when the spotlight would fall upon her as she would perform a solo number; it would be glorious beyond belief.

“You did good today on the stage but there was a moment, a slight tremor of your hand that betrayed you, Christina.”

The fall to reality was fast, hard and painful.  She couldn’t deny it. “It was a mistake that I immediately rectified.”

He nodded. “Nonetheless, Christina. I can’t imagine giving over the first chair to someone who isn’t quite ready yet. Apart from that one mistake, I find you didn’t play with your heart.” He waved his hand, his stubby fingers moving as if he was conducting a symphony. “There is a fire inside you, but it’s not passionate enough. You need to find that passion, Christina.”

“What are you saying?” She hated the slight tremor in her voice.

“I’m afraid you’re not ready to shoulder the responsibility of the first chair as yet, Christina. I’m going to hire Roger. You remember him? He played as guest cellist two months ago. He is willing to take on the job.”

“You can’t…” She took in a deep breath even as her world came crashing around. She felt faint, lightheaded. This was a nightmare. “I want another chance. Give me another audition. I will bring out that fire, that passion you want, Felix.”

“That wouldn’t be fair, Christina.” He licked his bottom lip as his gaze drifted to her breasts. “You’ve had your chance.”

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for this position, Felix.” Tears pooled into her eyes. “I’ve worked hard for so long and now you’re saying…”

Putting his hand on her arm, he patted her as one would do to a child. “There, there, dear! Don’t cry now. You’ll get your chance next year. You can try again for this position.”

A year? She couldn’t wait for a year. She was ready now. This was supposed to be her moment, her foray into success. Felix walked out, and she crashed on the chair. This couldn’t be happening to her. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she sobbed, her heart broken, crushed into dust.

How could this have happened? What had she done to deserve such a devastating failure? What was she going to do now? Had she made the wrong career choice? Should she have carried on with her dance? Perhaps she would have fared better at it. It was too late now. She’d made the choice long ago – and there was nothing else to do but to stick to her guns.

For there was one thing Christina didn’t know, and that was to give up. If there was a way to get that coveted position, she would find a way to get it.

~~~

As she rang the bell for Felix’s apartment in the evening, Christina wondered if she had indeed lost her mind. What made her think she would be able to convince him to give her another chance? But she needed to try. She wasn’t the sort to just sit and accept defeat without fighting all the way through.

Felix opened the door. His face registered surprise upon seeing her. “Christina, what are you doing here?”

“I would like a moment of your time, please.” She was determined to not beg and plead, but instead be dignified and persistent.

“Alright, come in.” He opened the door all the way through and gestured for her to come inside. She’d never been to his apartment. Since Felix was twenty years older, they had different social circles. The foyer opened into a rectangular, large living space. Done in all white, it was extremely clean and without character. Much like his personality, she decided with a pretty pout.  “Please sit.”

Dressed in navy pants and a white causal shirt, he looked very different from the man she was used to seeing in the concert hall. Christina made her way to the couch and sat. Now that she was here, she didn’t know what she would say and how she would begin.

Thankfully, he took the choice out of her hands. “Wine?” he asked.

“Sure.” A glass of wine would slide down well, and probably give her the courage to broach the subject with a little more ease. “Do you live alone?”

He wasn’t married as far as she recalled, but there had been a girlfriend a few months ago. A tall brunette, with a wide smile and hazel eyes; what happened to her?

Barefoot, he walked over to the bar that was set against one wall and poured wine in two glasses. He brought her a glass and stood watching her, the other glass in his hand. Unnerved by his steely gaze, she gulped half a glass down.

“Yes, I live alone.” He sat next to her on the couch, turning so that his knees bumped hers. “May I ask what you’re doing here, Christina? Not that I mind having an unscheduled visit from a beautiful woman, of course.” His gaze drifted to the smooth skin of her cleavage.