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The story proper starts, as Tom discovers Paris. Lots of characters to be met, so Part 1 is a bit slower building up.
Symphony of the Senses
Part 1: Paris, or the magnificent Laura
Chapter 1
I was resting on theterrasse of this Parisianbistrot, choosing to take it easy on this first day to avoid the effects of jet-lag. I smiled, hearing behind me certain of my younger colleagues (as in, would be too young to drink stateside) asking the waitress for refreshments, and satisfied to be served without being asked for an ID, which would have been improbably back home for 18 and 19 year-olds. Amused, I thought of what they’d look like the next morning in rehearsal after spending the first day and night getting drunk on top of the jet-lag. Not that I was surprised, admittedly: being experienced in such tours with this and other similar orchestras, I knew well that the coming weeks would be well-supplied in booze, and rich with unexpected anecdotes of all kinds. Letting 70 young adults aged 18 to 27 (I was that season the dean of the musicians) loose in foreign city, with little supervisions…one shouldn’t expect them to stay too reasonable.
Nonetheless, as a somewhat older musician, respected and with a certain leadership, I had to at least vaguely look over them, not as an authority figure but in a big-brotherly fashion, having already lived the experiences than some of them were about to have for the first time. I therefore got up and left my table, not without a hint of regret, to get closer to them. I recognized, sitting there, Nick, Jeremy and Simon, three members of the second violin section. They greeted me and invited me to join, offering a drink that I gratefully accepted, noticing it was of a very nice trappist beer. Those young men had good taste! I discussed with them the tour schedule. Some surprises had been kept for us, but we knew that overall, after a few days of rest and rehearsals, we would start this musical journey with a bang with a concert at the very prestigious Théâtre du Châtelet, before heading to Angers for a concert at the cathedral. Always westwards, we would then travel to the see, with a visit near La Rochelle. Finally, after two weeks in France, a (too long) bus ride to Italy, where another legendary venue awaited: La Scala in Milan. From there, our trip would bring us further to Belgium, the Netherlands, and Germany.
I was trying in fact not to look ahead too far, preferring to focus on the present. Indeed, I had gotten out of my long afternoon reflection with renewed energy, determined to forget my sorrow and enjoy every moment of this trip to its fullest. But that resolution would only come into effect the next day: fatigue was catching up on me despite the early hour, I therefore bid my colleagues good bye to find my bed.
“See you!” I said getting up. “Oh, and don’t drink *too* much, right? Rehearsal’s at 9AM tomorrow!”
“Heh heh, don’t you worry about us, we’ll be in top shape”, replied Nick with a wink.
“Wow, not even 24 hours in and *Mister* is already patronizing! Just let them be. Good for you that we don’t have videos from the tour five years ago, Tom, otherwise you’d lose any credibility you think you have!”
That, was Jessica. A bitch. Clarinetist. Pretty but petty, most of the time extremely rude. Especially with me. Yet we had been in good, even friendly terms in the past, but that was before I had an affair with her best friend. She had never forgiven me to have caused her friend pain (in my defence, her friend was completely crazy, and had caused me much more pain than I ever could). She also happened to be the oldest female musician in the group, only a few months younger. We had done our undergrad together.
“Hi Jessica, how are you?” I asked politely, ignoring her snideness.
“*I* won’t be telling the younger colleagues what to do. We’re here to have fun!” she said, ignoring my politeness.
“Absolutely. Have a good evening, Jess!”
I left for good, not disturbed by the scene. I was in a strangely good mood, breathing in fully the slightly chilled air of the early evening. I was particularly happy to have relaxed, and managed not to wallow over my grief for several hours. I even caught myself return to my old, bachelor-on-the-prowl (bad) habit: I crossed path with a very attractive blonde woman and instinctively turned to look at her beautiful ass. The breeze gently lifted the hem of her garment, and I could have sworn she wore nothing beneath her checkered skirt…
* * * * *
I was only steps away from the hotel when I was suddenly attacked, as someone threw themselves at me while screaming in joy. It took me half a second to realize it was Julie, my best friend, a trombonist in the orchestra and at my grad school. French (she came to study abroad), she had travelled ahead of the group to spend time in her family. Seeing her bag, I guessed she had just arrived in Paris and hadn’t yet checked into the hotel. I instantly forgot gorukle escort my fatigue and we headed to a bar a few streets over. Once sat at a table, conversation started as if we’d talked the day before. Julie was only 21, but she seemed to be four or five years older in terms of maturity and life experience. Of average height, very thin with boyish short blonde hair, small breasts and round, sculpted and visibly firm buttocks, she attracted looks, and not only from men. She was the daughter of a rich French industrial (who had incidentally gathered the funding for much of this tour), and, while never lacking money, she had been left to herself for much of her life, hence her precocious maturity. She was an obvious extrovert, and constantly in a good mood, laughing out loud at every turn of a conversation. She caught me up, and then came the unavoidable moment where she asked about my break-up. Used to talk very openly of my personal life (and my sexuality) with Julie, I told her in details about our last night together.
“She let you have her ass!” exclaimed Julie in her typical French accent without h’s, and loud enough for half the bar to hear.”Géant! Say, how was it?”
“Divine…”
“I too discovered this pleasure in the last weeks”, she confided
I did not immediately understand and must have made a face, because she burst out laughing and quickly added:
“Don’t worry, I am still a pure lesbian, you have nothing to fear! It’s a girl I met in Nantes.Sympa. After making me come two or three times with her tongue — very agile! — she took out a dildo…long like this”, she showed, her hands about 10 inches apart, “and she popped my anal cherry. Never felt anything as strong. Just for that, I saw her again five or six times.Ma foi…it’s SO good to get it deep in your ass!” she added, indifferent to the numerous heads turned towards her, to the looks of lust, and to those of disdain.
That is how Julie was; she gave no fucks about others’ opinion of her, she was extravagant with no fear of judgment or ridicule, and she conformed to the reputation of trombonists: heavy drinkers who crudely talk of girls, boobs, ass and their next conquest, always there where alcohol flows and always down for a good party. That’s exactly why I liked her so much: with her, everything was always light and fun.
She continued telling me about her recent affairs for long minutes where I enjoyed not having to speak of Mary again. A toast was given to my return to single life, then another to European women. Bets were taken on who between Italians, Belgians, Dutch or Germans would be the best in bed. In short, alcohol did very much flow…
We made our entry into the hotel zigzagging and supporting one another. Having not checked-in before we went out, she was looked out of her room and requisitioned half of my bed, where sleep found us instantly.
I walk slowly in the alleys of Paris, wandering aimlessly in the streets, walking past terrasses filled to the brim, all full of musicians from the orchestra. Nick, Jeremy and Simon are standing on a stage and teaching the other younger members of the group how to drink.
“Lesson no. 1: Always choose your drink with good taste!” cries out Nick. “Take, for example, this fantastic trappist beer…”
The rest is lost in the hubbub of conversations. I run into a much larger than nature Jessica.
“See how much fun they’re having! Let them be! Stop thinking yourself better than everyone!”
I choose to ignore her, but she pursues me, yelling. I start running and suddenly find myself in the middle of tonight’s bar, colliding with Julie. She’s holding a woman’s hand, who’s wearing a very short checkered skirt, and whose face is turned away towards the dance floor.
“BonsoirTom! You’re here just in time to meet my most recent conquest!”
When the woman turns towards us, I recognize Mary, my Mary. She looks at me, indifferent, without seeing me. Julie whispers in her ear. Mary suddenly seems to see me and gives me her naughtiest smile. She pushes me back onto the bed, as we now are in the hotel room. I am naked, and she kneels by me to swallow my throbbing cock into her hot little mouth. She sucks me, pumps me, devours me like she’s famished. She takes her top off and takes position on her hands and knees. I get behind her and lifts her skirt, to find out that she is wearing nothing underneath. She backs up and impales herself onto my hard cock. I take her doggy style, my groin slapping against her plump ass cheeks. I am quickly getting close to coming, when Julie, appearing out of nowhere, brandishes a long a slim dildo.
“Take it, it’s ideal for popping someone’s cherry”
I don’t understand what she’s saying. Why would I need this object, when I already have a dick. Maybe not as long as this obscene dildo, but a dick nonetheless! And anyway, I’ve already fucked all of Mary’s holes, so there’s certainly no cherry to pop. I still hold out my hand.
“Mais altıparmak eskort bayan non,it’s not for you, silly!”
Obediently, without being asked, I assume the position, and I hear Julie behind me strapping the phallus to Mary’s hips.
“He’s in a bestial mood, there’s no need to take it easy on him”, Julie says. “You’ll see, it’s SO good to take it hard and deep in your ass!” she adds to my attention.
As I feel the head of the dildo pressing against me, I hear Jessica’s voice.
“Too bad I can’t make a video of this, Tom, otherwise you’d lose any credibility you think you have!”
I was awakened with a start by Julie.
“Merde alors! We have rehearsal in 15 minutes!
Chapter 2
“All right, I only eat a bite, then I think I go have a nap”, sighed Julie as she sat down across from me.
I approvingly signified my intentions to do just the same. It was lunchtime, and we had just walked out of the tour’s first rehearsal. I had noticed many wrong notes in the second violins…Julie and I being used to play and stay focused despite our rehearsal or concert eve carousals, had not been too incapacitated, but tiredness was nonetheless felt.
“Hey, so you left in a hurry after rehearsal, something’s up?” asked my friend, suddenly worried.
I discreetly nodded in the direction of a table a couple dozen feet behind Julie. Forgetting all subtlety, she turned around, scanned the room, then turned back to me. We exchanged a knowing look.
“She knows? How?”
“Dunno…Someone must have told her”, I answered.
“She”, was Caroline, the orchestra’s concertmaster, also an old flame of mine. She was awesome to be around, and a lot of fun in the bedroom, but also quite invasive and emotionally dependent. Without necessarily being in love with me, she’d wanted a lot more a lot faster, despite our agreeing to keep things slow. We remained on excellent terms, and I could even consider her a good friend, but I kept a certain distance since then, knowing she had not had a real boyfriend since we had been involved, and also that she wasn’t the best at respecting boundaries.
Now, I had felt her gaze on me somewhat too often during rehearsal, and almost every time I looked up to the conductor, our eyes had met. That could only mean one thing: she had heard of my break-up and was testing the waters, no doubt wondering if her time had come. I had thus quickly disappeared as soon as the last notes had sounded.
“She was a good lover,non? A little tour fling…that wouldn’t do you any harm…”
I looked up from above my glasses, without lifting my head, making it clear with my look that it was a bad idea.
“Enfin…it’s up to you”, Julie shrugged. “Anyway, if you decide to pass, I’d be thrilled to provide her a distraction from you!”, she added, her eyes suddenly burning.
One had to admit that Caro was not devoid of charms, far from it. Truth be told, she was without question both one of the prettiest girls in the orchestra, and probably the smartest. She was kind, affectionate, funny, and brilliant. Physically, she was not the slimmest, some idiots might even say she carried a bit of extra weight, but I would rather say she had curves in all the right places. And what curves… Always dressed in style, her affection for pantsuits, pencil and split skirts, lacy garments and other elegant clothes always gave her an aura of class, and contributed to highlight (if not show off) her natural assets. Her black curly hair framed her charming face and slid down her shoulders, stopping just short of her very generous breasts. I knew she wore 38DD, And being (very well) acquainted with these two voluminous orbs, I knew that even naked, they were incomparably firm and seemed to defy gravity. Caro also had thighs and an ass to give even the most impotent man the hardest of erections. In short, she was both cute and beautiful, sexy and elegant, the most approachable and seemingly the most unattainable.
In response to Julie’s insinuation, a furtive vision crossed my mind of Caro in ecstasy kneading her breasts, her thighs open wide to make room for my best friend’s blonde head. I pushed the lewd thought aside, repressing my growing hard-on. I was slightly troubled to realize it was the second time in only a few hours that I imagined Julie in a, let’s say…inappropriate context. I had to pull myself together. As if to pour salt into the wound, Jessica stopped by on her way to the buffet.
“I saw the two of you coming out of the same room this morning…” she said, her tone heavy with innuendo. “Good thing that Julie is lesbian, otherwise some might have wondered…”
“What a bitch”, groaned Julie as Jessica walked away with a spring in her step.
“Don’t you give her any attention. It’s after me she’s trying to go”
Having finished eating, we could finally go catch up on our sleep. We were waiting for the elevator when nilüfer eskort bayan Julie suddenly slipped away, jabbering an intelligible excuse. I shrugged, entered and pressed the button for my floor, but just as the door was starting to close, someone stepped into the cramped space. My eyes fell onto a gorgeous chest, highlighted by a cleavage that was deep, yet not vulgar. This sight, helped by the classic fantasy of the broken elevator, caused my sex to violently swell. Realizing that by staring insistingly at these breasts for now several seconds already I was breaking the most elementary rules of politeness, I quickly lifted my eyes. I froze when I saw it was Caro, and looked away blushing. She pretended to have not noticed, but her smirk betrayed that she had definitely caught me staring.
“Hello!” I blurted awkwardly loud, still blushing.
“Hey! How’s life?”
It was her turn to blush, as she seemed to regret her question. She visibly thought I had to be completely destroyed by my break-up
“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that…I heard about Mary and you…”
“Oh, but things are pretty good! I’m happy to be on this trip, and I’m staying in Europe all summer. And, well…Life is life!”
“Happy to see you’re taking things with good spirits!” she replied, relieved. “Listen…I wanted to talk to you, to make certain things clear.”
“Oh? Yeah?” I asked, pretending not to see where she was going with this.
“Tom, don’t take me for a fool, you know very well what I’m talking about”, she said a bit more roughly. “I saw you were avoiding me this morning. It was pretty obvious…Listen,” she added on a softer tone, “I know I messed things up with you, and I got clingy and too attached too soon and weird. I want you to know that’s over. I’m not entertaining hopes to take Mary’s place and be your girlfriend or anything.”
“Ok…hum…that’s good”, I stammered, not knowing what to respond.
“There, it’s said. Now…That doesn’t take away from the fact that I find you fucking hot,” she added without missing a beat and suddenly stepping very close to me, “and I know you still feel the same about me”, she added as she put her hands on the crutch of my pants, which was ostentatiously tented. “So, if you ever feel a bit lonely…don’t hesitate to come knock at my room…my door will always be open for you”, she finished, with a wink.
Clearly, by “door” she did not mean the plank of wood that closed to access to a room…She pressed herself against me to plant a kiss just next to my earlobe, her hand caressing for a second my hard cock.
*Ding*
“Oops…that’s my floor”, she whispered in my ear.
She walked out of the elevator, and I couldn’t help but to follow the sensual sway of her hips as she crossed the hallway to her room. She was right. There was no way I’d be able to resist sleeping with her again on this trip. She tapped her keycard at the moment where the elevator doors closed. I could swear I had seen her turn her head towards me, as if to make sure I had seen which room was hers.
Once in my room, my cock was still rock hard, and I could not clear my mind of the image of this cleavage offered to my gaze. Slipping into the shower, I imagined how the situation might have evolved had our hotel had 40 or 50 floors rather than 10, or had the elevator broken. I closed my eyes and allowed myself the fantasy. I imagined naughty Caroline’s fleshy lips taking mine. I remembered she tasted sweet, almost fruity. I could feel her languorous, passionate kiss growing more and more intense, our tongues dancing a fast and breathless ballet. My hand went to my cock, slowly starting to stroke it. In the elevator, Caro freed herself from our embrace and, moving her torso back a little, reached for her bust with her hands. Shooting me a sustained and intense look, she undid the first buttons of her blouse and pull down her black lace bra, making her perfect breasts spill over. Instinctively, my hands began the ascent of the two mountains, topped with nipples that brazenly stuck out in the middle of their small, dark pink aureolas. Caro sighed, biting her lip. Her hands slid to my torso, my stomach, undoing my belt.
The water flowed against my skin, the air was heavy with the warm vapours from the shower; both contributed to my growing excitement. In a seemingly interminable descent, my lover knelt down before me, dragging my pant and underwear with her. Her eyes fixed on mine, her hands supporting her heavy breasts, she placed her lips on the head of my sex, and, very slowly, slid it into her mouth, one millimetre after the other, until the full length of my stake was inside her warmth, the head lodged in her welcoming throat. Equally slowly, she slid back, and repeating this maneuver over and over again, tortured me endlessly. My stroking gained speed, pleasure slowly but surely growing. Caro played with my balls with one hand, will the other assisted her lips that were avidly sucking my cock, which seemed to grow even harder if that is possible. Slurping and suction sounds filled the cramped space of the elevator cabin, accompanied by moans on both parts, mine underlining each well-placed tongue stroke, hers creating a delicious vibration in her throat, which only amplified my pleasure.
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