Passing Tones, Chapter 6

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The day of Kyle's solo recital arrives at last. Will all go according to plan?
Passing Tones
Chapter 6

by Jillian Marie


 
Before the doors were opened allowing the audience in, I was on stage doing a last minute check of the piano. When the piano tech had asked me earlier which one I wanted for the recital I didn’t even have to think about. I told him I’d rather have the extended range Bosendorfer because I prefer it’s darker tone to the brightness of the Steinway.

Everything was as ready as it would ever be, so I nodded to the stage manager as I made my way backstage. He picked up the house phone and called the ushers office, telling them they could open the doors and let patrons in. Moments later, sounds started filtering through the curtains from the gallery as the crowd found seats and began chatting in anticipation of the upcoming performance.

Standing around backstage I looked over at Cindy. Suddenly it occurred to me why she’d suggested polishing my fingernails. That clear lacquer had been enough to keep my mind distracted all day, thus preventing me from letting my nerves completely freak me out like they were inclined to do at that moment.

“Are you ready?” asked Dr. Caroll. I didn’t see or hear her approach and thus was a bit startled by the sudden intrusion.

After taking a second to bring myself back to reality I replied, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good. You go on in about five minutes,” she told me before wandering off to say hello to some other members of the piano faculty.

Cindy came up beside me and stood close, putting her arm through mine. “Relax! You’re going to do great,” she said, trying to reassure me.

“I hope you’re right,” I replied. “So do you want to go sit out front? Or stay back here?”

“Wherever you want me to be,” she said just before she kissed me on the cheek.

“Well, there’s really no reason for you to stay back here. Why don’t you go out front?”

“Okay,” she said before kissing me on the cheek again. I turned my face toward her and she kissed me yet again, this time on the lips before releasing her grasp on my arm and leaving the backstage area to go find a seat out front.

Those last few moments standing there alone, I became acutely aware of all things feminine on my person. With each breath, I could feel the tautness of the bra around my chest. And every time I moved one of my legs or feet, I felt the panty hose under my slacks, not to mention the panties as they caressed my groin area.

I looked down at my fingernails…such a point of distraction all day long…and caught myself admiring just how feminine they appeared. I suppressed the desire to hold my hands out and admire the manicure in more detail.

The faint sound of who knows how many conversations drifting up from the seats to the backstage area continued to serve as the backdrop for my musings, right up until the house lights dimmed signaling that it was time to begin. The sound faded almost as quickly as the light, and with that it was time for me to go on.

I started out on stage and was greeted by an ovation of much greater intensity than I was expecting. I glanced out at the audience and though it was too dark to tell for certain, it appeared there was a substantial crowd on hand…much more so than I had anticipated.

Standing by the keyboard facing the audience, I bowed in recognition of the hearty welcome I had received and as the applause died down I sat at the piano and made some last minute adjustments to the bench height and position.

Once I was finally satisfied that I was in the best possible position to begin playing I raised my hands and held them hovering just above the keys while I took one last deep breath to calm my nerves before beginning.

First on the program was the Rachmaninov sonata, and I felt confident from the very beginning that I would be able to play it well. I began it bold and brash, relying mostly on my power before finally bringing in the more graceful elements, as the music demanded it. All the while, despite the fact that I was trying to remain focused on my performance, I couldn’t seem to prevent my mind from wandering now and then.

I’d be playing along and move in such a way that I felt a bra strap tug against my shoulder, or look down at my hands and see the stage lights glint off of the nail polish. Whatever the distraction might be, I was conscious enough of what I was doing to realize that this was proving to be an outstanding performance, but not so much that I would begin to over-analyze every aspect of my playing until it began to sound mechanical and dull.

As strong and brash as the first movement was, the second movement was far more introspective and I took advantage of that by letting all the grace and fluidity I could muster flow freely from my fingers. With each passing moment I became more certain that I would be more than satisfied with my performance. That is, right up until I hit my first major wrong note.

About halfway through that second movement, I flubbed a couple of very exposed notes in the middle of a big run. Even though I knew that other than myself chances were nobody else would realize my mistake, it took me several measures to calm my nerves back down and during that time I was terrified that I’d make another, far bigger and more noticeable mistake. Fortunately I escaped that fate and made my way through the remainder of the movement unscathed.

The third and final movement of the sonata could very easily sound like crap if you tried to rely too heavily on just playing fast and loud, so it was really right up my alley, you could say. I took the power of the first movement and combined that with the fluidity of the second, and set out to give the finest performance possible.

Again, I had some flubbed note problems, but they were hidden well enough that even the piano faculty, who were judging my performance for my semester grade, would have been hard pressed to find them. In the end I was nowhere near satisfied with how I’d done, but then I knew that the audience was going to eat up this performance.

I pounded the final chord, held it for a moment while the sound faded, and then held my breath for a moment waiting for the response from the crowd. I didn’t have long to wait and as the Rachmaninov drifted into nothingness the audience exploded with applause. I jumped to my feet and took a bow, then another, and finally a third as the ovation continued. I had the option of leaving the stage in between selections, but decided that was a little more pretentious than I wanted to be, so once the crowd began to settle back into it’s silence I returned to the bench so I could prepare to play the Chopin Mazurkas.

I had felt pretty good about my performance earlier in the semester when I played these the first time, but with the additional progress I’d made over the course of the term I believed tonight’s rendition would put that performance to shame.

Unlike the Rachmaninov, I actually managed to get through the entire collection without a major mess up. It’s nearly impossible to play something that advanced without making some mistakes, so the goal is to minimize their impact on the audience’s enjoyment of the performance. I’d like to think I’d managed to do just that.

As I played the Mazurkas I started to feel a comfort level with being in front of so many people that I’d never really felt before. I even stole a couple of glances out into the audience, catching Cindy’s eyes and smiling at her.

A development of the less positive variety was that my mind started wandering to things like “What should I get Cindy for Christmas?” Okay, this wasn’t the first time such errant thoughts started creeping through my mind as I played, but this seemed like a truly strange time and place for such a thing to happen.

I did eventually get my head back under control and managed to avoid any major difficulties for the remainder of the composition. When I finished with the Chopin, I swear the applause that roused me from my little world seemed even more enthusiastic than it had been after the Rachmaninov. Before the applause died down this time, I made sure I was already back in position to begin the next selection on the program, which just happened to be the Mozart sonata.

During the Mozart I continued to relax. Before that there had still been this tenseness in my shoulders that didn’t seem to want to go away. I know if I’d been able to get rid of that feeling more quickly things would have sounded that much better, but as it was the Mozart sonata is where I finally began to feel truly good about my performance.

Of course, with the more relaxed feelings came more ‘distractions’. My mind flashed back to that first shopping expedition with Cindy, when she helped me pick out my panties. I felt certain that if anyone looked at me close enough they’d be able to see me blushing as the memory played back in my mind.

As the memories continued to swirl, the montage left me so distracted that at one point in the second movement if I hadn’t been playing basically on autopilot I’m sure I would have gotten lost. Fortunately, I knew the piece so well that didn’t happen, and I soon got myself back under control enough to remain focused for the remainder of the piece.

Again the audience response left me feeling somewhat unworthy of such adulation, but in the end I knew better than to turn down the appreciation they were showing me. It had the effect of pushing me to do even better on the Liszt sonata.

Fortunately the Liszt was more forgiving, as far as the graceful execution of the performance was concerned, because while my performance contained ample power and technical skill, it lacked the kind of feminine touch that the rest of the program had contained. I’m sure there weren’t half a dozen people in the audience…most of them professors at the conservatory…who could identify the weakness in my rendition, but I knew and that was enough.

When I reached the end, I vowed to work twice as hard for next semester to make up for what I perceived to be my failure. Of course, the audience didn’t seem to mind that I’d botched my interpretation, as the applause seemed just as loud as it had been before. That didn’t mean I felt like I deserved it.

Since the Chopin etudes take so long to play in their entirety, I opted to leave the stage for a moment before returning to play them. I could probably make up something about wanting to allow the audience a moment to cleanse their ears before beginning, but the truth was I was dying of thirst so I went backstage to get a drink of water before continuing.

It was during my couple of minutes backstage that I once again became acutely aware of my feminine attire. First, when I reached for the bottle of water I had left there for just this contingency I felt the bra pinch just a bit into my side, then felt the strap tug across my shoulder. Then, as if that weren’t enough I shifted my position and felt the satin of my panties rub my privates in a delightfully distracting way.

One last sip of water and I was heading back on stage to play the Chopin opus 10 etudes. I headed straight for the piano and before the applause that once again greeted me had begun to die down I was ready to play.

I knew from my previous performance of these etudes just how easily they could degenerate in a pool of testosterone where the true beauty of the compositions would be lost. With that in mind, I decided to exaggerate the dynamics, thereby ensuring that there was no way they could be described as mechanical. Of course, I also found myself continually fascinated by the light that was making my fingernails shine, thanks in no small part to the ‘hardener’ Cindy had applied.

Once my nails again distracted my mind, I played the rest of the etudes without putting much conscious thought into the performance. That’s not to say that I played them without emotion. On the contrary, my performance was a veritable roller coaster of emotional expression. I just wasn’t thinking about every single note I played.

It seemed like it took forever to reach the end of the twelfth etude, but reach it I eventually did. While I was playing I had slipped into my own little world where I wasn’t even aware of the audience’s presence, but as soon as I played that final chord the sound of the crowd erupting into applause roused me from my musings and left me a little bewildered. After all, I had played pretty well, but nowhere near good enough to warrant the reaction I got.

After a few minutes, I left the stage expecting the ovation to die away, but much to my surprise, it didn’t. If anything the sound became even stronger. So out I went once again to take a bow I didn’t really think I deserved.

Standing beside the piano looking out on the audience, I started to grasp for the first time how many people were there, and they were all there to hear me. Talk about overwhelming!

The applause went on for several minutes, with me standing there soaking it all in. Finally things began to settle down and after a couple of more bows I left the stage once again. The ovation began to die down, replaced by the sounds of shuffling feet, rustling coats, and chitchat. As I stood just behind the curtain I listened in to see if I could get some idea of what my audience really thought of the performance.

For the most part the comments I could make out were extremely positive, which gave my ego a healthy boost to be sure. As I stood there eavesdropping Cindy surprised me, as she snuck up on me while I was distracted and gave me a kiss before I even knew she was there.

“So are you ready to greet your adoring public?” she asked as she took my hand and started leading me toward the door.

“What are you talking about?” As was so often the case where Cindy and I were concerned, I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.

As she pulled me through the stage door and down the hallway toward the lobby, I could hear quite a few people milling about. As we passed through the doors into the lobby, we were greeted by yet another ovation from the crowd.

Eventually the applause died back down, replaced once again by the sounds of people enjoying themselves. After a while I just looked at her somewhat bewildered. By way of reply she said, “Come on, silly. Why so surprised? We planned this for you weeks ago. I can’t believe you weren’t expecting it.”

Feeling quite flabbergasted I said as we reached the lobby area, “I didn’t have a clue.”

Cindy opened her mouth to respond to me but we were interrupted by some of Dr. Caroll’s other students who wanted to chat for a moment. While they started out asking me about my interpretation of the Chopin Mazurkas, the conversation quickly degenerated into a somewhat heated debate about whether Chopin was a better composer than Liszt.

It didn’t take me long to lose interest in their discussion and fairly quickly my attention began to wander. I started perusing the crowd looking for Cindy; much to my surprise I found her chatting with my parents. I had no idea they were planning on coming into town for the recital and was thrilled to see them again, so I quickly excused myself from the great writer debate and made a beeline for Mom and Dad, not to mention Cindy.

Dad was the first to see me approaching and said, “Excellent performance son. You really wowed them.” The pride was evident in his facial expressions as well as the tone of his voice as he continued, “Now what say we all celebrate a little.”

My mom didn’t say anything, but instead just looked me in the eye before pulling me into a bone-crushing hug. The warmth that spread through me could have melted an iceberg, so I felt pretty sure I had to be blushing furiously by the end of the hug. My blushing was only accentuated by the fact that as she released the hug I could see this strange look in her eyes telling me we needed to talk later.

Suddenly what had just happened hit me. She must have felt my bra when she was squeezing me and that’s what she wanted to talk about later. If it were possible, I turned an even brighter shade of red.

Finally mom broke the relative silence that had enveloped us. “You played brilliantly, Kyle!”

My dad then added, “Absolutely! I don’t think anyone could have done better.”

“You’re right about that, Mr. Bronson,” Dr. Caroll came up behind me and added. “Kyle is fast becoming the best pianist in the school. Has he told you about his appearance with the orchestra in two weeks? He’ll be the soloist playing one of the Mozart concerti.” My teacher seemed to glow with almost as much pride as my parents at the news.

“That’s wonderful!” my mom exclaimed. “Kyle, why hadn’t you told us?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was expecting you to make all these trips into town, so I figured if I didn’t tell you, you’d be less likely to feel like you needed to come running so often.”

Dad jumped into the conversation, “Nonsense, son. You didn’t think we’d miss tonight for anything, did you? Of course we wouldn’t miss your recital, just like we won’t miss your featured performance as a soloist with the orchestra.”

Mom finished for him, “Oh, we’ll be back for that concert, I guarantee it.”

Eventually Cindy drifted back over by me. I’m not sure why, but my mom gave her what appeared to be a half-hearted plastic smile. I couldn’t help but wonder if the two of them would ever just get along? While I didn’t have an answer myself, I hoped they might eventually manage to be civil.

As the evening dragged on I spent my time shaking hands, answering questions that ranged from thought provoking to mind numbing, and generally hoping this silly reception would end soon. About an hour into it I wandered over to the punch bowl and as I was getting myself something to drink, Dr. Caroll came over with another professor in tow.

“Kyle, have you met our conductor, Dr. Wyler?”

“I can’t say that I have,” I said as I extended my hand to shake his. “Kyle Bronson, sir.”

He reached out and took my hand in his and as he was shaking it he replied, “A pleasure, Mr. Bronson, a pleasure indeed. I was most impressed this evening.”

“Where were you?” I quipped.

As he laughed, he said, “You’re obviously not one of these completely self absorbed, ultra serious performers we seem to grow on trees around here. That’s good. It should make work on the Mozart much more enjoyable.”

“I’m looking forward to it, sir.”

“Well then I’ll see you Monday afternoon at rehearsal.” He shook my hand one last time, then he and Dr. Caroll left.

As I looked around the lobby to see who else was still on hand, I saw Cindy off in a corner talking with someone I didn’t recognize. Curious, I headed their way. Just as I got close enough for subdued conversation, Cindy’s friend looked my way then asked her, “So is this the guy from your research project?”

I wasn’t entirely sure why, but my head began to spin uncontrollably. I gruffly excused myself and left the performing arts center, making my way back to my apartment, tears streaming down my face the whole way.

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 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...

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Sonata, k.330
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-330-1-kopp.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/mozart-330-2-3-kop...

Franz Liszt, Piano Sonata in B minor, s.178
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-sonata-Bmino...

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-kopp.mp3

Notes:

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To Be Continued...
 

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Comments

Tones

Jillian very well done again. I am enjoying this series emensly.

Interesting after comment that was stated, about being a research guy. Very crass on the part of the person who said it.

I fear that the love between the two Cindy and Kyle, just took a major hit, and cindy is going to have all kinds of problems trying to win his trust again.

What are the parents going to think when they finally catch up to him in his dorm room? I mean they wanted to take him out to celebrate and here he left with out even telling them.

Will Cindy follow? will Cindy try to patch it up, Does cindy tell the person who made the comment some choice words, then run after Kyle? Will She be able to get Kyle to open up to her again?

What will mom say now that she realizes that it is Kyle who is wearing all that lingerie that was in his room?

Waiting to see your next installment Jillian, well done.

Music at it's best

You've done a great job portraying the feminine aspects of the character though music. I have enjoyed all of these chapters and now that the long suspect "research" is on the table we have to wait and see what happens with Cindy! Wonderful Jillian!
Hugs!
grover

An excellent chapter

Just this morning, I'd been wondering when a new update to this story was coming out.
Here it is, and it didn't disappoint. Brava!

I hope Kyle's reaction to Cindy isn't a purge.

The "research project"

The "research project" comment could have any number of reasons since we havent been told what cindy is up to away from kyle.
From.. a paper on him... disaster in the making
to ... she didn't want to date some other guy... could be good for kyle to know.

Kyle does not appear to be about to wear dresses but that all depends on the writers view.

I'm looking forward to more of that view, wherever it leads.

I knew

that was coming. But I bet it doesn't end there, I suspect that it started with a Psych experiment, but it became much more than that.