by J. Sherwood
(01/20/10)
Sometimes when Melissa was being eaten out she heard organ music in her head, usually early eighteen-century works like Johann Sebastian Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. She liked that one in particular because of the long and elaborate fugue that climaxed along with her in a few massive chords.
Melissa had traveled widely when working on her Doctorate in Music. She had played on the finest organs in Europe, including some of the largest, like the one in the Royal Albert Hall in London with its almost 10,000 pipes. Melissa also was proud to acknowledge that she was a member in good standing of the Organ Historical Society. Music was her life.
Tonight the young Chinese violin master, on her first American tour, knelt between Melissa's finely structured thighs. Melissa could feel a surge she had not felt before, like huge pipes pounding up out of her past, so hard that she was submerged into some almost forbidden ecstasy of unfamiliar music. Those delicate fingers and that soft tongue touched deeply the many hidden octaves of Melissa's body.
Her name was Luli..."dewy jasmine."
Now Melissa was confused, because she herself had become the organ that she had studied so long. It was she who was the music...and not remembered music only. Her hips kept time to Luli's tongue, pressing forward, retreating, pressing forward, until the steady final crescendo burst into chords that broke all polyphonic longing loose. Her love gushed forth.
Melissa knew that she was falling, for the first time, into love. She knew her own body was the world-class organ she had always searched for, and Luli, now the master organist, had pressed her most secret pedals.
Tonight, after jasmine tea, she would tell Luli she would love her forever.
