a sonata...

The floating arpeggios of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" drift from the
grand piano under the restrained passion of her playing. After all these
years, it's still her favorite sonata to play. As she drifts into the
exposition, she hears the front door open.

"Hi, honey... oh, I'm sorry. I'll be quiet."

She smiles and quickly tilts her head in his direction, acknowledging his
presence, yet her attention is fully on the music. Her left hand tolls the
impending doom of the lower bass notes as her right hand continue to play
the gentle arpeggios and the theme.

A hand brushes her hair. She barely notices; her attention is still on the
music. The hand strokes the length of her long hair, then moves to touch her
neck. She feels warm breath slightly tickling her ear, and a voice whispers
in her ear from behind.

"Do keep playing, dear... don't mind me."

She briefly smiles, then grits her teeth to rise to his challenge. She feels
his hands touch her shoulders, running down her sides. The music is rising
to its development crescendo as her body begins to awaken to his touch. She
bites her lip and keeps playing, bringing the music down to a soft rumble
and trying to ignore the messages of her body. He chuckles, then playfully
nibbles on her right ear as she quietly recapitulates the theme. His hands
move downwards, to the tops of her thighs... lightly brushing her inner
thighs, then back up along the front of her body... coming to rest on her
breasts. His hands rest there, sending their warmth through her clothing and
feeding her desire. Her whole body moves against his hands as she brings the
music slowly to the climax. He moves his mouth down to her neck... kissing
her gently as his hands stroke the front of her body... moving them down to
the heat between her legs... stroking... stroking... The music reaches its
peak as she lets out an involuntary moan; she is shuddering and trying to
bring her body back under control. The music climbs down regretfully from
its passionate climax, yet her passion is blazing; his hands have worked
their way under her skirt and are now stroking the smooth skin of her inner
thigh. Stroke... touch... she finally brings the music to its rest and just
sits there for a moment, listening to the final strains fade away. Then she
turns around and looks at him... touches his thighs... and speaks...

"My turn... let's see how much control *you* have."