Passing Tones, Chapter 15

I must apologize for taking so long between chapters. It seems real life has been conspiring against me, severely limiting the time I have for writing of late. I do promise to continue, although probably not at the same pace as before.

Passing Tones
Chapter 15

by Jillian Marie

Three O’clock in the morning. That’s what the alarm clock at bedside said when I finally decided to take a look. I’d been laying there staring at the ceiling and listening to Cindy snore for over four hours and could see no end to my insomnia.

Fact is, my mind had been racing all evening and obviously had decided that a little thing like going to bed was no reason to stop. Yes, in part that was because of the impending sting operation I was planning for Dr. Wyler. It was also to do with the conflicting feelings I’d been having concerning my dressing.

I had of course promised Cindy that I’d only wear my women’s under things when I would be playing, but it didn’t take long for me to figure out the folly of that commitment. Fact is, instead of cutting back there was an increasingly powerful part of me that would like to actually expand on my cross-dressing. The battle that raged in my head over those opposing positions was causing my mind to jump about rather wildly.

At one point I was rehashing a conversation I’d had earlier with Sarah on the subject of my dressing:

“There is something else that’s been on my mind,” I quietly admitted to her at one point when Cindy had left the room.

“What’s that?” Sarah asked with great interest.

“Well, I’m having a bit of a problem. You may already know about my promise to Cindy that I was only going to wear my girl things when I played?”

“No, but what about it?”

“I’m not sure I can do that.”

She looked at me knowingly for a moment before asking, “And why’s that?”

It took me a while before I could actually make myself say, “Because I want to go further with it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure Cindy’ll have a major problem with that idea.”

“You may be right, but on the other hand…”

“You weren’t here when we had it out about this.”

“That’s true, but…”

“But nothing! She’s telling me she doesn’t want me to wear my things when I’m not playing and I’m feeling like I want to go in the other direction with things.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. Maybe…”

Just then Cindy rejoined us and I cut myself off before completing my thought.

As my thoughts continued to wander, I eventually found myself slipping back to that party we attended on New Year’s. At first it wasn’t even clear to me why it had jumped to the forefront of my thoughts, but then things began to crystallize.

First I started remembering playing for the assembled crowd, but then the memory of Cindy’s ex came flooding back, pushing everything else aside. Not only did I replay the entire conversation I’d had with him several times, but additionally I started remembering that as I had been playing I saw him with Cindy, getting entirely too chummy for my tastes.

Even though she had told me afterward that she no longer had feelings for that behemoth, a part of me couldn’t shake the pangs of jealousy that rose up in the pit of my stomach every time I remembered seeing them together. The more I told myself there was nothing for me to be jealous of, the more doubts crept into my head.

Was I sure about this relationship? I had thought so, but then once in a while I caught myself questioning not only if I were sure, but if Cindy was really as committed to it as I was?

My mind continued to spin from one subject to another, never staying on any one topic long enough to ever come up with any answers. It was a fertile field for doubts.

The internal debate carried on past Four, when I finally gave out due to simple exhaustion. The next thing I knew, the room was flooded with sunlight streaming in through the window and Cindy was padding around getting ready for the day. I sat up in bed and was soon treated to a good morning kiss.

“Come on, sleepyhead. Time to face the new day,” she said as she headed for the door.

“Coming,” I hollered at her back as she left the bedroom, then climbed out of bed myself and into the shower. After several mind clearing minutes under those jets of hot water I emerged refreshed and refocused on the intended task at hand.

Cindy walked back in the room just as I was fastening my bra and looked at me funny for a moment before exiting once again. I finished dressing and joined her in the kitchen for a bite of breakfast.

I was pretty sure this was not the time to discuss my desire to increase, rather than decrease, my dressing so I just reminded Cindy of my plans in reference to Dr. Wyler and went about my business. She did her best to avoid letting things become confrontational, but it was easy to see that something was bothering her. As much as that concerned me, I had to do this.

Later, as I was on my way toward my personal OK Corall, I happened to run into Dr. Caroll. She asked me into her office, where we talked.

“Are you sure about this?” Dr. Caroll asked me.

“I wouldn’t make something like this up, I assure you,” I responded. I had just informed her of what had really been going on between Dr. Wyler and myself. It had been difficult, but now that it was done I was waiting to find out if she was going to be an ally or an enemy.

She sat there dumbfounded for a moment before finally speaking again, “I knew he was showing a bit more interest in your development than was normal, but I just thought he was trying to mentor someone he saw as a rising star. It never occurred to me that he might have some less pure motive in mind.”

I sat unable to speak for a moment. At once I felt relieved to know that I had another ally and surprised that no one on the faculty had noticed anything. I had wondered if the conservatory had ever had this sort of problem with Dr. Wyler before, but then guessed from Dr. Caroll’s reaction that if they had, it had been kept quite hush-hush.

Since my arrival at the school, this woman had been my teacher, confidante, friend, and counselor, just to name a few of the hats she’d worn on my behalf. Here I was, more in need of guidance than at any time since I’d met her but as I looked as deeply into her eyes as I could, none was forthcoming.

When I did finally find my voice, it was weak and unsteady. “It’s been a difficult time of late. I was sure you knew about everything that was going on. That’s why I hadn’t said anything before,” I said. I could see shock in her face, which told me she really had no idea. At that point my position with regard to Dr. Caroll softened considerably. “I hope you can forgive me for ever thinking you knew what was going on.”

She reached over and placed her hand on mine as she said, “Kyle, I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I’ve been ignoring things for quite a while that I shouldn’t have.”

The relief that washed over me as this conversation continued was obvious enough that a blind deaf mute could have probably noticed. Of course, that didn’t really solve anything. It did, however, make me feel a little better about things for a while.

Following my chance meeting and soul bearing chat with Dr. Caroll, I found myself wandering the performing arts center’s corridors in search of answers that still weren’t coming. When I wandered into the student’s lounge, I bought myself a cup of coffee from the vending machine and took a seat, hoping that some sense of inner peace might somehow find me and bring with it that so desperately wanted satisfactory resolution.

Unfortunately, instead of the aforementioned peace and resolution I found myself once again being the subject of whispered comments and titters, as a few of my fellow students talked amongst themselves not quite out of earshot.

“There’s that guy who wears girls’ underwear,” one of them snickered to the other as they took what they thought were unnoticed glances in my direction from across the lounge.

“That’s just weird,” replied the other as they were both overtaken by an attack of uncontrollable laughter.

I’d had enough of being their personal punchline, so I got up from my seat at the table, took what was left of my coffee, and gulped it down before throwing the cup away on my way out of the student lounge. Again I found myself wandering the halls, hoping something might come to me that could bring this all to an end.

Eventually, I reached the conclusion that regardless of Dr. Caroll’s knowledge of recent events there was still this overriding problem hanging over my head and I was determined to make it go away, one way or another. With that thought in mind, I pulled out my MP3 player/recorder and double-checked the memory status. I had wiped it clean the previous night in preparation for what I was about to do, so I pulled up the recorder section and set it to start while sitting there so I wouldn’t have to worry about fumbling with the controls while sitting in the rehearsal hall as a hundred musicians plied their trade.

With each step I took toward what I was thinking of as my “showdown” my heart seemed to race just a little bit more, which in turn added to my discomfort level immeasurably. I entered the rehearsal hall as quietly as I could manage and found an out of the way spot. As I sat there listening to the orchestra rehearse Stravinsky’s Firebird, which was to be on the program just before my concerto, the previous evening’s conversation kept running through my head.

“How could you think…” Cindy ranted for the umpteenth time.

I looked closely into her eyes and saw fear. Fear that something bad was going to happen to me if my plan went wrong somehow. When I finally spoke again I was calm and measured. “If I don’t do something this is going to go on forever. I can’t do that. It’s driving me crazy.”

“I get that, but…”

“But nothing. The alternative is…” The frustration was obvious in my voice, “There isn’t one I can live with.”

Yes, it was Sarah who first offered up the suggestion that if I could get undeniable proof of what Dr. Wyler had been doing to me there would be a real chance of bringing it to an end. Actually putting that idea into practice fell upon me, which it turned out was more easily done than I at first expected.

“How will you get the proof you need without getting caught?” Sarah asked.

I held up my MP3 player that doubled as a digital audio recorder, smiled, and said, “This is how.”

I had been using the recording feature of my trusty Digital Jukebox since high school to record lectures in class, rehearsals, and pretty much anything else I might need to be able to refer back to at a later date. It was small, completely self-contained, and made good, clean recordings. Plus, with 15 gigs of storage, it could hold lots of audio at one time, so there would be no worrying about tapes running out before we got what we needed.

“I still don’t like it,” Cindy said for the millionth time.

I looked at her, took her hand, and replied, “I don’t like it all that much either. But I don’t see that there’s much of a choice.”

As I listened to Dr. Wyler shout at the viola section once again for some barely noticeable mistake, I unconsciously reached up to the jacket pocket which held my recorder and lightly touched its surface as if I was searching for some form of confirmation that it was still there and ready to perform the task at hand. When I realized what I was doing, I lowered my hand back to my lap as inconspicuously as I could manage while looking around the room in an effort to ascertain whether or not anyone had noticed my faux pas.

As the rehearsal ran on, I found myself feeling extremely aware of the bra and panties I had on. This was very unusual of late, as I had become so used to them that they seemed normal. That is, normal to me. At that moment however, the reason for wearing them was forcing me to think about their presence.

“I thought you’d decided not to wear the lingerie when you weren’t playing?” Cindy asked.

“I had,” I replied. “But this is different.”

“What do you mean, different?”

“You know,” I said feeling more than a little embarrassed that she was trying to force me to say it.

“No, I don’t,” Cindy countered. “You don’t have to wear them for this. You don’t have to let that old pervert see your bra and panties to get the proof.”

“I wish I were as sure as you on that point,” I finally said.

The French Horns were on the receiving end of a fairly severe tongue lashing for their inability to perform exactly as Dr. Wyler wanted, causing me to momentarily focus on someone else’s problems rather than my own. The respite was most welcome, but far too short-lived to allow any real relaxation. As a result, I quickly found myself back in the throws of my own issues.

Cindy interjected, “Do you have everything?”

“Yeah,” I replied.

Sarah looked at her watch and said, “It’s time.”

I gave Cindy a kiss and shook Sarah’s hand, saying, “Thanks for all your help. With a little luck this could all be over very soon.”

She released my hand then pulled me into a hug. “I hope so.”

I hoped the good doctor didn’t find it suspicious that I was here on a day when we weren’t even working on my piece. If he did happen to question my appearance, it could cause the whole plan to go up in smoke. I tried to force myself not to think about that possibility for fear I might not be able to go through with things. As is so often the case, that had the opposite effect and for a while I found myself dwelling on anything and everything that could possibly go wrong, from not being able to do it to being busted for the recorder.

As my thoughts continued to wander, I drifted away from the problem at hand and instead focused on other things. Specifically, I started remembering a recent event, which was representative of something that had become all too commonplace of late.

I was trying to focus on my studies, but was finding it increasingly difficult to do so sitting in the middle of the student union’s cafeteria. I’d probably read the same paragraph in the textbook open in front of me ten times, unable to go any further because of the distractions around me.

Chief among those distractions were the snide comments and less than funny jokes that my fellow classmates popped off with all around me. A few of them went so far as to say things directly to my face, but for the most part they just talked about me ‘behind my back’.

I sat there far longer than I probably should have, listening to the snide comments and jokes that flew around me at my expense. To think, I hadn’t even realized the bra was visible through my shirt! All the while, the ongoing commentary drove me deeper into a funk.

Needless to say, I was getting no studying done as a result. Fueled by embarrassment, I finally had heard enough. So I grabbed my books and tossed them back in my bag, heading for the exit as quickly as I could manage.

As I said, wearing a bra and panties felt normal to me, but that didn’t mean the rest of the world shared that position. Despite the negative nature of not only the aforementioned encounter, but numerous other incidents of late, I still found myself wondering about further exploring this whole femininity thing. I knew in the back of my head that would mean delving deeper into cross-dressing. While on one level that idea left me feeling rather unsettled, on another it was exciting beyond explanation. That confirmed for me more than anything else ever could the fact that I had become a real live cross-dresser.

“But I don’t want to be a cross-dresser,” I said quietly to myself before realizing that it wasn’t just in my head. Immediately, I began nervously looking around to figure out if anyone had heard me. While I didn’t think anyone had, that knowledge didn’t stop me from turning bright red from embarrassment.

I made an effort to tune back into the rehearsal and quickly decided that our fearless leader seemed to be in a rotten mood today. That was the only excuse I could think of for some of the things he was saying to the ensemble. It got so bad that I wouldn’t have been surprised if some of the kids just stood up and left rather than take the abuse. Was that how all conductors acted toward their ensembles? I seriously doubted it.

I was sitting in the lounge, listening in on a conversation that was taking place between several members of the Conservatory Orchestra. “What crawled up Wyler’s butt today?” asked someone I recognized as the concertmaster.

Her stand mate replied, “I don’t know. Maybe he’s on his period or something.”

That prompted a hearty round of laughter to ripple across the room. I couldn’t help but allow myself to join in.

As that initial peel of chuckling began to die down, the leader of the trumpet section added, “If that’s the case, I’ll chip in for the Pamprin if you guys think it would help.”

“Only problem with the period thing is, if that were the case his bitchiness would only last one week out of the month,” came the comment from someone in the cello section.

“Yeah, instead of four out of every four,” added the concertmaster.

I was trying not to laugh too loudly through all of this, but was finding that task near impossible. I finally gave up and let loose and nearly pee’d myself, I laughed so hard.

Every now and then Dr. Wyler would go off on one of his more animated tirades, providing me with a momentary respite from my inner turmoil. Unfortunately, those moments weren’t nearly long enough.

As practice was winding down the trepidation I’d been feeling over the prospect of what I intended to do began slipping away, to be replaced by a sense of purpose that drove me to carry on for the greater good.

When rehearsal ended, Dr. Wyler came over to me as the ensemble packed up their instruments. “Mr. Bronson, so nice to see you. I wasn’t expecting you until next Wednesday. What brings you by?” he asked as he once again pressed himself well within my personal space, causing me to feel a very uncomfortable.
I quelled the instinct to recoil from the invasion and in as calm a voice as I could manage said, “I just wanted to hear how things are going with the concert preparations.”

“Good, good,” he said as he began leading me once again toward his office. With each step I fought the urge to simply hit the man, knowing that what I had
planned would hurt him far more than simple physical pain.

Once inside his office, I began looking around at some of the pictures he had hanging on the walls. Among them were ensemble photos from each year he’d been at the Conservatory, as well as a myriad of standard shaking hands style posed shots with various soloists and dignitaries.

As I turned to face the good doctor, I found him so close to me that I was surprised I hadn’t felt his breath on the back of my neck. “Dr. Wyler,” I stammered.

“So what really brought you by today, Kyle?” he asked as he began trying to move even closer.

I stepped back, with him following suit until my back was against the wall and he was pressed up against me. I nearly tossed my lunch right there, but this time I managed to control the urge.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you missed me,” he said as that evil grin spread once again across his face.

“What would make you think that, sir?” I asked, hoping I could lead him into saying something incriminating.

“Well,” he said in an exaggeratedly drawn out fashion as he brushed my cheek with his hand, “You seemed rather disinterested in things, except for when you were looking right at me.”

“What an ego,” I thought before saying, “No, I was interested. I’m fascinated watching ensembles work. Maybe it’s because I never really spent any time in that kind of a setting before.”

“Perhaps you’d like to know a bit more about what I do,” he asked, I hoping to lead me into something that would require us to spend a lot more time together.

“Perhaps,” I replied, wondering if my response conveyed the total disinterest I felt or hid that truth well enough to fool Dr. Wyler.

He moved in even closer and whispered, “I’ve missed you, Kayla,” as his lips lightly touched mine. I nearly threw up in his mouth, but managed to control that reaction yet again by reminding myself that this was why I was there. What kept me going at that point was the hope that things were almost over.

“Please don’t do that again,” I managed to say after taking a moment to find my voice.

“But that’s what you wanted,” started Dr. Wyler.

“No, it’s what you wanted. Not what I wanted,” I countered. “The simple truth is I’m not interested in any kind of intimate relationship with you, sir.”

He pressed into me more forcefully as he said, “Why are you fighting me, Kayla?”

“Stop calling me that!” I shouted. Once my voice returned to a more normal level, I continued, “My name is Kyle and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t address me by any other one.”
For a moment as he looked at me I saw a flash of anger in his eyes. Then that evil grin again spread across his face as he said, “To the rest of the world you’re Kyle, but to me you’re Kayla.” He put his hands on my shoulders, gripping hard so he could force me into the position he wanted.

With all the strength I could muster, I grabbed his hand from my shoulders and threw them down at his sides as I twisted away from him. “No!” I shouted as forcefully as I could.

He looked momentarily taken aback, affording me the opportunity to create some distance between us by moving back toward the office door. When he attempted to once again close the distance I said, “Just stop right there! What part of ‘not interested’ are you missing?”

“Kayla, I’ve told you before, this is what it’s going to take to…”

Cutting him off I jumped in, “Keep my soloist opportunities? That’s extortion, and harassment, and…”

His office door suddenly swung open as one of his teaching assistants came into the office. Not wanting to allow him the chance to chase off the grad student before I could make my escape, I shot out the door as quickly as I could, practically leaving a vapor trail in my wake.

Igor Stravinsky, Firebird Suite (1919) — Real Audio Format
http://mfile3.akamai.com/14122/rm/muze.download.akamai.com/2...

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Concerto No.12 in A Major, kv.414
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-kv414-1-bko...

Ludwig von Beethoven, Concerto No.4 in G Major, Opus 58
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-1-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-58-2-3-h...

Sergei Prokofiev, Piano Concerto No.1, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-1-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-2-arm...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/prokofiev-10-3-arm...

Franz Liszt, Piano Concerto No.1 in E flat Major
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-pc1-1-2-hu.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-pc1-3-4-hu.mp3

Frederic Chopin, 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-1-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-2-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-3-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-4-breeme...

Sergei Rachmaninov, 2nd Sonata in Bb minor
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-1-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-2-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-3-g...

Frederic Chopin Concert Etudes, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-1-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-2-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-3-grant.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-4-sinadi...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-5-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-6-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-9-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-11-levin...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-12-kingm...