Martin/Katus Chapter One Seymour Katus 229 16th Street San Diego Ca, 92101 Word Count Music of A Farther Room By Cherry Martin Chapter One It was in the south of France, as I now recall, after my twenty-fifth birthday. In those days, there were times and places, sweet odors, unrealized potentials, inflammations of spirit, invoking whispers, beyond my immediate recognition. Then once persuaded, and some momentum was established the outcome was assured. He'd not for more than a moment left the cycle. Bent, perhaps, on the final reward, he would lean into the project, assured as it were. Turning dimension and perception into creations of more, as we say rounded form, while maintaining dignity was the man's occupation. In the eyes of propriety, women were, wind-blown vixens, high as silk, pulling the strings, of flying gliders suspended in the night clouds. So it appeared to me then. Men were louts cast into servitude and slavery. The soft transcendent motions of my body and limbs were graceful, fair and fine, like the tawny dear at a sweet bush of forest herb. Men were clumsy oafs, naturally encumbered, tripping about the room grasping for the moment, regrouping their disjointed limbs, plodding, set upon accomplishing some programmed goal, planted in their minds by, none less than, the Almighty Lord himself. They proceed indubitably toward the completion of some great invocation, they thought. They asked themselves three times if it was true, before the elementals in life were real. My beauty to them, was not more than fire or less than ice. Yet they braved my discrete dimensions more completely with each motion and disrobing gesture they conjured. They found me firm, no doubt and round, in their perceptions, as their hands would move about me, searching for the soft warmth of youthful flesh. I'd met John Pierre at a party. He was very handsome. We'd met before also at a painting exhibition. The large fingers of his right hand reached between the buttons of my blouse, while we sat beside each other on a love seat. A mutual friend as a trustworthy and respectable lady had introduced me. The softness of my smoother skin beneath his grasping palm awakened a conqueror's bearing, as I leaned the curve of my nose into the side of his neck. A moving conversation had brought us to this point in the dialogue. Our flesh pivoted upon the moment, wrapped in grace and eternal flame, that would burn as light, and kindle bright the starry elements, both day and night. It was as if he was set upon some distant goal again, some future construction of the fates and startled, suddenly I turned away. And I think he saw the heavens once again turned back upon their mundane paths, the new forever lost. Suddenly he began to curse aloud, and spit upon the ground like a careless beast. Then he turned into himself as if in prayer, deep within internal visions as if he intended to reintegrate the powers of Venus, so high in the heavens, to claim Jupiter and form a cosmic triad, joining with prophetic forces of the universe to form them upon his purpose. He uttered Hindu prayers and mantras, applying them to restore the stars, in the faltering vision of his prophetic eye. He did not think to offer alcohol at that time. Noticing my shapely legs, he cried, "your toes", and he grasped my foot in his hand. I admit I was intrigued. "What can I say?", he whispered, his attractive face hung against the crescent moon, in the window, his kneading fingers released anxiety, as he massaged the muscles of my foot. His mind was lost in the passage of Pluto, his fingers played upon the swells. "Your walk across the terraces, they have made your muscles tense." He said. "You are so lovely!" He whispered as he moved closer to me. Naturally my long feminine legs stretched even longer, as he kneaded the muscles in my calves and thighs and he restored the lost circulation in my limbs His attentions slowly claimed me. Meanwhile the tape player went off. I fell upon my knees on the floor beside him, upon the floor already and grasped for the manhood in his pants. Our constellations were compatible, yet he'd not offered me any wine. "My dear, you are so lovely!", he whispered again in my ear, as he squeezed my right breast with his left palm. "So firm and warm." My position shifted from my knees, to lie entirely upon the thickly carpeted floor. I straightened my long body and rested my torso upon his legs. He was caught beneath me, yet neither of us suffered discomfort. My arm reached to his chest unbuttoned his shirt and my fingers played with the hairs upon his chest. "You too, are very beautiful sir!", I intoned enchantingly in his ear, as I pressed my nails more deeply in his flesh. He reached desperately for my arm and cradled it within his own and said, "So human, so lovely. My body fragrant as June mingled with the warmth of his blood and kindled an enchantment that radiated from me. He extended his hand and continued his palm to my shoulder. "You are not sure?" I questioned. "Yes, I am sure!" Was his answer! "Not here, perhaps?" He looked about us, and replied, "It is beautiful here." "But the moment..." He was taken aback. "Please let us not talk.", he pleaded, as he drew closer to me extending his legs to make himself more comfortable. "I find you very appealing." "But you are not prepared."; I finished the statement he'd begun. He remembered the wine. "Ah, yes, the wine." He’d lost the moment. "But it is so sad." My enchantment provided. "Yes, he replied. And it was. "I have a young friend; she is much smaller than I am." I committed to the discourse. "And she sent you here to work for her." "No, my love, I would not." "Then you spend all your days with a mop and a pail, to look after the household." He held the bottle up to the light and let his fantasies play with its contents, while he conjured. I must admit it looked extremely inviting. "But my dear..." "My sweet Cherry, you are so lovely." He repeated. "Thank you but let me have my wine," was my reply. He was not a very heavy fellow, dark hair, sun darkened skin, perhaps 139 pounds, 5 feet 9 inches and rather agile. By then he'd poured two rich glassfuls of his most expensive Cordon. "I chilled it for this occasion. "See now you are happy." I replied through tears in my eyes, "no, but it will be much better after we drink." We'd just started drinking our wine when the phone rang. It was from Pierre's uncle. “Pierre...” He said very loudly in his nephew’s ear as Pierre answered the call. "Pierre, he calls me Pierre. “It is my uncle, excuse me Cherry ... Hello uncle.” He turned away from me to continue his conversation with his uncle. "How are you... good ... good?" I could here what he said as he spoke into the receiver. "Yes I have uncle." He continued. Meanwhile moving very gracefully for a tall woman, I took off my outside jacket and hung it upon a stiff wooden chair that stood nearby. "If we can make the deal ... it is all right ... no?" John Pierre was intensely involved now with his call. His uncle, I learned later, had brought up the very tricky issue of his brother’s inheritance. "It is just the coincidence of Mercury and Saturn on this day, Cherry; I'll be but a moment!" He said comfortingly and turned his attention back to his phone call. "It was poetry ... yes it was ... his wife and children?" They spoke about a recent funeral. His uncle must have been whispering. "Can you speak louder uncle?" He asked the receiver as he raised his voice. Meanwhile I knocked off my shoes to stretch out upon the bed. I was 25 years old, blond, 5 foot 10inches, 36C 26 36, and 120 pounds. I wore red and orange sheer cotton dress. He admired my long well proportioned thighs, legs and shapely bosom, as my head lay upon the upper portion of my left arm, while I lay stretched upon his bed. Then I raised my head placing it in the palm of my left hand as my elbow rested on the bed. After some moments I felt more at home upon his bed. Then I lay upon my back, staring up at a mirror-paneled ceiling. I was told eventually that they were plastic mirrors not glass. I had a thought what might happen if a truck exploded nearby and I had to ask about them. The room was richly painted with a red ceiling where there were no mirrors. The woodwork was pink. The mirrors above added more dimensional quality to the room and reflected light and colors from below. The bed cover was also pink. The rug was a deep maroon. The phone was also pink. The furniture was painted pink with white trim and there was a large full-length dresser mirror in one corner of the room. At the other corner by a closet door that also sported a full-length mirror, where he now stood was a desk and large red leather chair that now welcomed him, to a more comfortable position for his phone conversation. I pretended to fall asleep from the wine. "Well yes uncle...but you must see that...You will have to excuse me uncle I have company...Yes...Yes. All this time? Very good...Yes...Goodbye now.” He hung up the phone. I suppose he couldn't believe his eyes, as they were filled with the waters of tears having to discuss such a subject, naturally. I lay stretched across his quilts apparently in somber dreams. The natural beauty I was filled his senses. I suppose he did not wish to waste time, as he lay the phone upon the cradle. He filled another glass of wine and drank it in a drought. He removed his suit jacket his tie and shoes then came across the thick pile rug to his bed. What he found in his Cherry was love. He had a burning desire for companionship. He wished to share life with another soul, to unburden himself of the weight of the suffering in the sinful life as a mere mortal he was forced to endure, alone. My breasts contained a comforting wealth, voluptuous as I was and he watched them as I turned upon the bed apparently in a bit of a drunken stupor, from the little wine I’d had. He lay his head upon a pillow, next to my right breast and placed his right arm around my waist. His eyes were still filled with tears. The wine was strong. He fell asleep. When John Pierre woke his underwear was wet. Merde I came in my underwear he said aloud as he awoke and noticed. He’d slept an hour. I lay there as if asleep. Jean Pierre took of his clothes and went into the shower. While Jean Pierre was in the shower I stood up from the bed and undressed then climbed in to his bed under the covers. When Jean Pierre came from the shower he noticed my clothes hung upon the chair. He saw me under the covers of his bed. He came across the thick carpet. He checked the room for ventilation adjusting a bit of a crack in the window. He lowered the lights then after taking off his shower robe, climbed wearing only his birthday suit into bed with I, the bare naked Cheri. He made himself comfortable sliding into the contours of the bed. He had a war injury. His spine was dislodged and he was hospitalized and sent home but he still cursed a bit in those days. These accompanied some very pathetic groans, as a rule. He soon forgot his pains though, as he became enraptured with his Cheri. He lay facing my back that was to him and his padudi grown long as he stiffened touched me behind. I rolled over to face him. I put my left arm and leg over his body, as he rolled over on his back while I turned upon him. My perfume enticed his senses. The odor of my hair, like a new moon in the ever cosmic sky, shed new hope, for tomorrow, brought illumination, so often found in love that is destined to bloom. I bent my left knee and raised my thigh across his thigh. My hands felt the hairs upon his chest. There is comfort for a man in a woman. Jeanne Pierre’s pains left him at peace. I stroked his chest and with my palm and fingers of my left hand. I felt the design of the muscles in his abdomen. His staff grown hard grew still, as I worked my hands lower on his torso and on to his manhood. I suppose it was that old war wound but he grew stiff in the back as his joints loosened under my caress. I heard the sound of music from a farther room. Tonto Mio...Tonto mio. Tonto...desa... mi amore. It was a radio or a disc player left on near an open window in a nearby flat. Mio Mio Si Oh Si Oh.... I don’t pretend to understand Spanish very well and perhaps I’ve gotten the words wrong but it was something like that. Para Mio... Para Mio I yo mio para mio I found the music enchanting as I made love to Jeanne Pierre. Donde Donde Seh... Como esta Esta Ves... En la noche donde va.. Bien con mi amour.. It went on and being such a poor linguist I probably got it all wrong I’ll continue with the story instead of the song. I could feel my body melting and reforming in Jeanne’s encircling arms. He was feeling my skin, enraptured with the textures of my body. Our eyes became more used to the darkness and we could see each other fairly well already. The music stopped. The chirping birds now filled the night with lyrical refrains. I made myself more comfortable by adjusting my body to a closer relationship with Jeanne’s body. He lifted himself away to look at me more fully, as he straightened his spine. As you know I was allot of woman and under the proper circumstances such as this this could prove a very positive asset. I think that my companion thought so at this time as from his expression it would be what I would believe. He was ten years my senior and this had me feeling young and I enjoyed this feeling from a man I was with. I think Jeanne Pierre had a thought for his dead brother as he told me later when he explained why he had begun to shiver some. A neighbor turned on some music. It was Vivaldi. Perhaps it was Bach or even Teleman. In any case Jeanne Pierre turned his back upon me and began to sob in his pillow. I caressed his body and entwined my legs with his. I stroked his chest his abdomen and then held his scrotum in my hand running my thumb over his elongated member. I wrapped my fingers around it and held it firm. I brought my head over his lower regions and my breasts lay upon his thighs. As I began to draw his member between my lips I could feel him moving turning his body as if to embrace my hips. He told me he had a longing to embrace in that way then. Meanwhile there had been a bit of a commotion outside. There was the sound of cars and car doors and peoples voices but we gave them little mind. We heard more clearly the sound of Vivaldi or the Birds in the night air. “Pierre...Jeanne Pierre” A mans voice called from outside. Meanwhile I’d begun sucking, licking and generally enjoying his erected manhood. He had just gotten to grab hold of my ass, when the voice became quite loud. I raised my head from my preoccupation as if to enquire. What was to be done! He whispered that I should not mind them they would go away. But the fellow would not go away. “It is Roman he knows I’m at home.” Jeanne Pierre said then. “He will not go away till he wakes the neighbors and the landlord will be after me. I must answer him Cheri.” He spoke quietly comforting me as he rose from the bed and put on the robe he’d laid aside when he came to bed. Then he stepped to the door where Roman had set up camp. He opened the door slowly and spoke. “Roman...what are you doing here at this hour? Roman don’t you know what time it is?” Roman spoke with Jeanne Pierre quietly for some minutes at the door, so not to wake the neighbors. He closed the door then and slowly returned to the bedroom. Then he said, “My dear, there is going to be a strike at the store.... You know where I work...The union has called an emergency meeting...I am the union president so I must attend.” He assembled a suit and tie for himself and pulled a fresh shirt from the drawer. “You have to understand it about the lively hood of many workers, some with children, you understand. They are like of my very loins I love the little monsters so much. I have to go.” “I’m very sorry I certainly would not have chosen such a thing to happen at this time.” As he dressed he spoke. “You stay here,” he said as he prepared to leave, “I will return, my Cheri” I comforted his fears for me as by, “I will be okay, everything will be okay, do what you must!” As he left through the door I wanted to say, “but you didn’t finish.” I didn’t say it though. I was sure that was one thing he was well aware of. End of Chapter One