Blind Obsession

Chapter Fourteen ~ Acquiesce

Day 12

Acquiesce ~

It was a beautiful day today. We spent all morning down in the arbor.

Phillipe had asked me to come outside with him for a while, and he’d requested that I bring Diva with me.

“It’s the perfect time to pose for me. Penny won’t be back today so she won’t be shocked.”

“Shocked?” I asked with a small laugh.

“Yes, to be shocked.”

I felt him shift his weight as he leaned down over me where I was still lying in bed.

“Now, why would she be shocked if we’re outside in the arbor?”

He pressed his lips to mine, and I giggled as his hair fell forward, tickling my face.

“Because you won’t be wearing anything but the sun.”

“I won’t?”

His smile curved against my mouth. “No, you won’t, unless it’s me.”

As he moved away, I sat up, chasing his movement across the bed.

His hand touched my cheek as he invited, “Come with me, Chantel. Let’s go outside in the sun.”

The following morning, after reading through one of the entries, I close the journal and get up, making my way to bathroom. Looking myself over in the mirror, I realize that I’m having trouble recognizing the face that is staring back at me.

Before I arrived here in France at the chateau, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. I knew where I was going and exactly how I was planning to get there, and a few weeks ago, Phillipe Tibideau was just another part of that future progression toward my dream.

Now, I’m finding that the longer I stay here surrounded by memories of her and moments with him, I feel myself changing. Everything I thought I knew suddenly seems so unclear.

Originally, I came here intending to uncover Phillipe’s secrets.

Now that I’m here, I’m finding my feelings are changing, and I’m discovering that I’m not so eager to share.

Shaking my head, I reach up, running my hands through my hair. Pushing it away from my face, I hold it in a ponytail and turn my head, glancing at my side profile. I smile, trying to see what he sees when my face pulls a certain way when out of the corner of my eye, I swear that I see movement. Dropping my hands quickly, I turn but find nothing.

My heart is racing, and as I stand frozen in the small tiled room, I feel as though she is here. Ever since last night in his showroom, I’ve felt her more intensely than ever before. I look over to the space where I thought I saw something. Even though I know how ridiculous the notion is, I can’t help but wonder what she thinks of me.

Picking me up, he carried me down the stairs and led us outside into the warmth of the sun. We laughed the whole way, and he kissed my nose as I rested my head against his shoulder.

“So, what do you plan to do with all these paintings?” I asked.

He finally set me down on my feet. “I don’t know,” he replied, moving around me.

I turned in the direction where I thought he had moved. “What do you mean you don’t know? You told me you wanted to touch the world. What happened to that man?”

Warm palms pressed through the thin fabric of my shirt as he wrapped his arms around my waist. His lips nuzzled into my neck as he gently kissed it.

“He met you.”

Lifting my hands, I stroked my fingers through his silky hair. It was longer than usual, and I loved running my hands through it, feeling the soft texture against my fingertips.

“So, you met me and abandoned your dream? I don’t like the idea of that.”

“No, Chantel. I met you and decided that I didn’t need to touch the world.” He rested his stubbled cheek to mine. “I just need to touch you.”

Moving back out to the bed, I sit and pick up her journal again to continue where I have left off.

It’s clear she was in love with him. I can feel it in every entry she typed, but she had yet to say it.

I think she would be the kind of person who would type it over and over, but then it occurs to me that words weren’t her way. No, they’re mine. Music was her way of showing how she felt.

Reaching down, I pick up the photo album from my workbag and flip through it to the print copy of Acquiesce. At first glance, this painting of a young woman, marked only with two bold F-holes, sitting in the grass with a white sheet surrounding her appears the most simple.

Acquiesce means to submit or comply silently.

The label for this piece is so unusual that I’ve always wondered why he called it that, but again, she too used that same word for her journal entry. Perhaps it’s the fact that she willingly removed her clothes and posed in the sunlight, doing it all without protest.

They each give me such similar yet uniquely individual points of view. They merge together to harmonize in a symphony so evocative that I feel it altering my very soul with each separate movement being played.

“Here. Sit right here,” he told me, slowly leading me backward.

I felt a wooden bench of some kind touch the back of my legs. I smiled and asked, “When did you move this down here?”

“I just dragged it over this morning. It’s from the vineyard. The men use it during lunches, but it will work perfectly for today…until I’m ready to get you down in the grass,” he explained.

He lightly pushed on my shoulders, and I sat down without protest.

“Will you play while I set up?”

I placed my violin case beside me. “Of course. What would you like me to play?”

“Anything,” he replied as his fingers traced the line of my jaw.

I reached over to my case and unsnapped the locks. Feeling around the familiar silk, I found Diva’s neck and gripped her firmly before lifting her to my shoulder. Time to show him what we can do, I thought as I lifted her to my shoulder, getting ready to start playing.

“Wait.”

His voice halted me, and I lowered her from my shoulder.

“What are you going to play?”

Smiling confidently, I knew this piece was one that often shocked people with its slow and, at times, methodical vibe, but then there was that moment—that amazing shift when Diva would take control and at a hellacious speed, the piece would turn to cool arctic fury.

Standing, I raised my violin once more to my shoulder. “Vivaldi ‘Winter.’ It’s from—”

“The Four Seasons,” he finished for me.

“Yes. You know it?”

“I do, and I would love to hear you play.”

I closed my eyes and began.

Winter, The Four Seasons ~ Vivaldi

Link: http://blindobsessionbook.com/winter-vivaldi-four-seasons/

I know Vivaldi. I know I’ve heard this piece, but now, I find myself searching for it. When I locate it online, I hit play and move to the window in my room. Looking down below to the vineyards and the arbor, I close my eyes as the music begins softly.

I picture her standing there under the large trees among the grass, her hair gently blowing in the breeze, as she serenades Phillipe in the sunlight.

That moment was her I love you. It didn’t matter if she never told him. Every time she stood in front of him and shared a piece of her soul, she also offered up a piece of her heart.

Two passionate people, two insanely talented people, were so consumed in their own world that they couldn’t understand that the world around them would not fathom such a union. For those moments in time, it didn’t matter. For this moment, when she stood down there under the trees and played for him, I knew he had to be in complete awe of her.

I have only heard her play through recordings, and I am always moved and enamored by her at the end of each piece. To have her standing in front of me, eyes closed with fingers swift and sure, I can’t even begin to comprehend the feelings she would have evoked.

She is the mystery that is wrapped tightly around the man I am trying so desperately to unravel.

As I finished the piece, I could feel my heartbeat thunder through my chest. It was always this way after I had performed, but knowing Phillipe was standing somewhere close by made the experience even more arousing and somehow more exhilarating.

“Phenomenal,” he said from behind me.

Turning around from where I now stood, I felt his hands on my face. “You are absolutely without question surreal, like a dream.”

As his breath washed over my face, he entreated, “God, don’t ever let me wake.” Right before his mouth crashed down on mine, and I opened to him immediately.

I could feel the desperate and soul-consuming passion he was holding on to as he reached down to my hand, taking Diva from me. I relinquished my hold, and when his lips left mine, I waited. He moved a little, presumably to place her down, and then he was back.

He straddled the bench I was on and took my mouth with his own. His tongue slid between my lips, and as it rubbed up against mine, I moaned and reached up to clutch his shoulders. He angled his head as his hands smoothed down my sides to move under the bottom of my shirt.

I smiled against his hungry lips. “Is this where you take off all my clothes?”

His shoulders relaxed, and he laughed, the intensity of the moment now eased. “I don’t think I will get anything done, but I’m going to try. I want to wrap a white sheet around your waist and add the F-holes again.”

His fingers gripped the edge of my shirt. “Lift your arms.”

Without question, I acquiesced as he removed my top.

Standing, he moved away from the bench. “I wish you could see all that I do. Then, you could tell by my face just how much I love you. You take my breath away.”

I removed my pants and panties, and stood before him proudly. My breasts rose, like an oblation to him, as I replied with my heart in my hands, “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and, therefore, is winged cupid blind. I don’t need to see you, Phillipe, to know you feel as I do.”

I close my eyes as the final strands of Winter float over me, and I find that I have tears running down my cheeks. Reaching up, I brush them away and wonder at myself.

Last night, I wanted Phillipe with a hunger that I never knew. I felt like he was right there with me. But is he? Or is he always with her?

I’m finding it increasingly harder to believe that anyone would come between the two of them, yet last night, I felt as though he invited me in. As he laid down with me in the gallery, he took me with such force and passion that I felt him hours after.

The most disturbing realization to come from last night is that now I can feel her, too.

Lying in his bed, Phillipe closes his eyes and lets the smooth sounds of the violin float over and calm him. His mind keeps running over last night with Gemma, and no matter which way he looks at it, his continual surrender to his lust feels like betrayal. His betrayal is so deep and painful that it aches like an open wound.

He knows his desire for Gemma is growing. It will likely continue that way, but he can’t seem to shake the overwhelming need he still holds for Chantel. She is still everywhere, and no matter what his body is craving, his mind cannot and would not deny her.

In the studio is where he feels her the most, but that’s expected.

That was their world. No one touched them there. No one tried to come between them.

Up in his studio, there is just him, and there is just her.

“I know you’re watching me,” Chantel mumbled.

He smiled as her gray eyes slowly opened.

“And how would you know that?”

“Because I can feel you,” she told him.

She shifted, so she was lying on her side, just like he was as he watched her.

“I’ve always been able to feel you, right from the beginning.”

He reached out and ran a hand down her hair. “I remember. You looked right up at me. I thought you were beautiful. I needed to talk to you.”

She raised her hand, and he reached for it, bringing it up to rest palm open on his chest.

“You feel my heartbeat?” he asked.

She nodded and tapped her finger. “It’s so strong that I could use this like a metronome and keep time when I play.”

“It beats for you.”

“As mine does for you.”

He reached across the bed, pulling her closer to his side under the sheets, until their legs were entwined and their noses brushed.

“I want you to tell me everything, and I want to tell you everything,” he expressed as eager as a child.

She grinned against his mouth as her eyes shut, and she brought her free hand up to trace her fingers down over his cheek and jaw.

“Everything?” she questioned, and kissed his mouth.

“Yes, everything,” he implored.

“I love you. That is the beginning, and that is the end. That is everything.”

He rolled her over, so she was lying on her back. He followed until he was above her, hands on both sides of her dark hair. He touched the strands gently and looked down into the loving eyes peering up at him. Her eyes were so beautiful that they stole his breath.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her reverently. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and he felt her thighs part slowly, allowing him to slide sensually between her legs. When his cock brushed up against her warm mound, her mouth parted against his lips as she sighed.

Her breath was becoming his, their souls becoming one.

“You, Chantel. You are everything,” he told her as he brushed his fingertips across her lowered lids. He closed his eyes and rocked his hips, pressing himself lovingly against her.

“Your lips,” he whispered. “Your eyes, your talented fingers, and your perfect soul. All of that is everything I want, and everything I need.”

Bringing one hand down her body, he traced her warm hip as she lifted up, allowing his hand to move under to her curvy ass. Squeezing it gently, he raised her hips and pushed against her.

“Let me inside.” Gently biting her bottom lip, he pleaded, “Let me inside, and never let me go.”

She arched up, her body wrapped in sunlight, and her thighs squeezed his hips tight while she pushed her wet folds against his pulsating desire. Rocking against her, he felt her juices as they coated the tip of his hard cock. She was so ready, and her body was so needy that she cried out as he teased her with a gentle push, only giving her an inch before sliding back out of her completely.

Her ripe lips parted on a sigh as she arched up once more, pleading silently with her body. So, again, he slid inside her heat. This time, he pushed a little deeper and a little harder. As he retreated from her body, he felt her greedy pussy gripping him tightly.

Her neck strained back on his pillow, and the sheer eroticism of the moment crashed down over him.

“Phillipe,” she moaned.

He couldn’t help but bring his free hand up to her face, tracing her parted lips with his fingers, while his other hand lifted her hips, tilting them and once again positioning them for his smooth slide inside her tight warm center.

She gently sucked his finger into her mouth and swirled her tongue around his fingertip, teasing him, much like his cock was teasing her body. She bit down and raised her hips, letting him know that she was done playing.

Removing his finger, he placed his hand by her head, palm flat on the soft mattress, and he squeezed her ass where his other hand was holding her.

Leaning down, he kissed her mouth. He told her, “I love you,” right before he thrust his cock deep inside her, feeling her warmth as it flooded over his hard, sensitive skin.

Bracing himself, he slowly moved inside of her, slowly, like the beginning of a beautiful orchestral piece. He started out steady and calm. As her mouth parted and her thighs tightened around his waist, his hips moved faster, and the fury was upon them as they crashed down to earth.

Each entwined in one another, and each bathed in the other’s love.

No, he thinks as he stands and moves to the window, looking out at the arbor.

He can’t keep Gemma. To pretend otherwise would not be fair. While she is here though, while she is here with them, maybe they can share her for just a little longer.