Melodic RedemptionChapter 5
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Melodic RedemptionChapter 36 free porn video
Still Johanna:
Semester's over. Christmas break. And this was new. Ever since I started school, Christmas break was with Mom and Dad, even in college. Well, this year, people, it's different. Little Johanna Elise Solheim is now Mrs. Randall Jackson and with that status comes a whole new life. Christmas dinner.
"Do you think we can manage something close to a Christmas dinner, Stoney?"
He smiled. "Yeah, I think we can do that, in a restrained fashion."
"Turkey. Little one. With dressing. Those mashed potatoes you do. I like 'em. Mom and Dad will. Something vegetably. Something saladish. And a pie or two. We both do it. I take the credit," I giggled.
"I'll let you," he said.
A tree. "Real tree," I said. "Did you do one last year?"
My Stoney shook his head in the negative. "No. Not just for me."
"It doesn't have to be a big tree, but can we?" Why is it that THIS guy makes me wanna go all Normal Rockwell or Currier and Ives?
My guy smiled. "Little Christmas tree it is..."
So here's my little home, complete with husband and Christmas tree and somebody donated a cookbook so the air one evening was filled with the sweet spicy aroma of gingerbread. Of course, the gingerbread was constructed by my husband as I serenaded him on my flute.
The counterpoint to that one day is me making cornbread while he played banjo. "Cornbread and banjo music go together," he told me.
"But we're having it with red beans and rice. That's a Louisiana thing. Shouldn't you be playing the accordion?"
"All I got's a banjo. You get a banjo."
Giggle. "No, I got a Stoney. He happens to have a banjo." While the cornbread was baking we played duets. That's life now. Duets. Sure, we're both perfectly capable of solos, but duets are where the real action is. I voiced that opinion to Stoney.
"Uh, redhead, somebody could take that very much wrong."
I smiled. "Those people can take it any way they want to take it. It's true in so many ways."
"Well, I don't mind solo banjo, and solo reading, and solo bathing, but there's one thing that I just don't think I'll ever resort to a solo again."
Okay, Jo. Put the flute down. Go attack Stoney.
Stoney likes being attacked. Attacks right back. The battle is epic. We both end up dead. But that wasn't while I had cornbread in the oven.
One of these days I'm gonna get off the Pill and I'll have something else in the oven. We've talked. We want at least one child, maybe two. Stoney wants one like me and I want one like him and Mom says she doesn't care, either or both would be just fine but the line of Solheim should go on, even if the name ends with me. In the meantime, Stoney and I have a lot of fun practicing.
Practicing? Oh, we're dead serious about it, lovemaking, I mean. It's like a lot of music: infinite variations on themes. I never imagined that I'm this interested in the male physique. I, after listening to my classmates, had determined that I could manage passable enthusiasm. I didn't count on being in love with Stoney and the fire that flew when we kissed and touched.
Now it's something I daydream about. And get all warm and sticky and then when I get home I sometimes wonder what Stoney thinks I'm doing when I grab his hand and pull him towards the bedroom. Or the living room. Or the kitchen. Or the laundry room.
He doesn't complain, though.
Phone call. Not a number I recognize. "Hi! This Johanna!"
Soft, young female voice. "I have this number for Rara Avis. Am I correct?"
"Yes, you are. What can I do for you?"
"Did I say it right?"
"You did."
"You're here in the city?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"How busy is your schedule? Would a one-week notice be too short?"
"Excuse me, but may I ask who you are?"
Little squeal. "Sorry. I don't do this. I saw you and Stoney at the last concert for the university orchestra. And somebody told me about Rara Avis. They did say you might have been just kidding." She took a deep breath. "I'm Kara Sevinsky. I study music. High school. A bunch of us are sort of serious about it."
"And what is it that you'd like to do? I mean, you called..."
"We'd like to know how much to get you to play for a couple of hours..."
"Wait a second," I said. "You're with a bunch of high school musicians and you want us to play for you. And you want to know what that costs?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Please don't call me 'ma'am', Kara. I'm your age, almost."
"Sorry if I bothered you. I thought it might be a stretch. Calling, I mean."
"You haven't bothered me, Kara. I'm sort of intrigued. You wanted me and Stoney to play?"
"Yes. I thought it was spectacular, the way you two interacted, that he could play Mozart on a banjo and that you just sort of melded with him. Our group is interested in what else you two may do with music."
"How many of your group were there?"
"Me and three others."
"Where would you be asking us to perform?"
"You'd have to tell us what size of a venue you require," Kara said. "We will provide it."
"You ... How were you planning on paying for this?"
"Dad and Mom owe me a Christmas present. I turned down a new car. They can afford it."
"Wow!" I squeaked.
"Dad's a pretty significant trial lawyer," Kara said. "You might've heard of him." She said a name.
Yes, I know the name. And there's a face to go with it, because he does TV and billboard advertisements. Stoney and I were watching TV one night when one of those commercials came on.
"You know why lawyers always wear ties?" Stoney asked me.
"No," I said. Sometimes I'm soooo innocent.
"To keep the foreskins from sliding up over their faces."
Snorted cocoa through my nose. "Stoney! Really!"
I'd feel a whole lot worse about making that joke if you weren't trying to stifle a giggle," he said.
Okay, so Kara is THAT lawyer's daughter. Sins of the father, and all that. She sounds nice, so we'll see where it goes.
"I've heard of him, Kara," I said. "But I wasn't thinking about charging for this. Why don't we just get together and play? Do you ... where do you and your friends meet?"
"My house or Linnie's house. She's, like, on the same block. We both have BIG rec rooms."
"I need to talk to Stoney." I paused. "Would you be interested in having an oboist, too?"
"That black girl? She was standing with you after the concert?"
"Yeah. Key! Keshia, actually. She might want to come along."
"Cool!" Kara said.
"Are you all serious musicians?" I questioned.
"We're in high school, but yes, I am and I think you could say the rest of us are. This is sort of exploration."
"Well, let me run it past Stoney, okay?"
"Okay. Can I call you back tomorrow? And if he's okay, we can talk about when and where."
"'Kay, Kara," I said.
"Oh, thank you, Johanna," she said. "Bye."
I was mulling this over as I puttered around the kitchen waiting for Stoney to get home. Kara. Daddy's a big-time attorney. I have a picture of how HE would be, but I know better than to prejudge. She, on the other hand, sounded almost fragile. It wouldn't be the first time that I worked with high school students. Occasionally the orchestra did community outreach but this was the first time that I was ever asked on my own to perform. Well actually they asked the two of us to perform.
I was thinking that we wouldn't just perform, that we would try and interact. After all if Kara and her friends were that into music then they probably wanted to play. I think it would be a lot of fun to work with them exploring what they knew and what we knew and we can see what we could synthesize out of all that.
Stoney called me as soon as he got out of the office and on the street headed home.
"Hi baby."
"Hello there, cute little redheaded girl."
"Something interesting happened today," I said.
"Good interesting. Or bad interesting?"
"I think it's good interesting. I got a phone call asking about Rara Avis."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really."
"Hollywood? Nashville? Austin? The New York Philharmonic?"
"That would be something, wouldn't it? But it was a high school kid. Wants to know if we will play for her and her friends."
"And they want to pay us?" he asked.
"I don't know if I'll want to get paid. I mean, it's high school kids. They are into music. I don't want take advantage of them."
"But they called with the intention of paying, didn't they? And did you get a name?"
"Of course! And you're gonna love it."
"Oh, boy," he laughed. "This is probably good!"
"Remember that lawyer you made the foreskin joke about?"
"Uh, yeahhhhh."
"His daughter."
"I'm in traffic," he said. "We'll talk when I get home."
"Luvya, Stoney," I said.
"Luvya, babe," he replied and the phone clicked.
I made a final check. A lasagna was in the oven, timed to be just right when he came in the door. I put a loaf of fresh bread on the table, a couple of green salads, two wine glasses, a bottle of wine was open, breathing. Some days I just want it to LOOK special.
When he came through the door, the first thing he did was wrap me up in his arms, kissed me through my squeals.
"Look! I've been all domestic an' stuff," I squealed when he finally released me.
"Wow! Better Homes & Gardens," he said. "What's the occasion?"
"I found myself married to this guy I want to impress."
"You've already impressed the daylights out of him," Stoney smiled.
"Go wash up. I'll put the plates on the table," I said.
It was all very genteel, sitting across the table from one another, talking.
About the phone call, of course.
"So what you're saying is that we get together and do a jam session."
"Sort of," I said. "Kara says she loved how we looked at the concert."
"I knew that getting on stage was gonna end up bad," he said. Of course he was smiling. "What makes you think this is a good idea?"
"First, she called and asked. Second, I dunno, Stoney. She sounded like she was trying to grasp at something."
Stoney smiled softly. "You're not looking for a kitten, are you?"
"Noooo," I said. "Let's just see what transpires. Maybe she and her friends will be a fun bunch to play music with."
"Like that bunch that we play with..."
"Maybe that's it. Lets see what there is to it. Worst happens, we find something we don't want to deal with. From there it goes uphill."
"Optimistic little thing, aren't you?"
"Only because I know what happens after the dishes and the practice session..."
The next day I was just out of my afternoon class when my phone rang. Looked. Kara Sevinsky. "Hi, Kara," I said.
"Hi, Johanna," she said. "Did you talk with your husband?"
"Sure did," I said. "He's okay with it."
Happy sound. "Great! Now when?"
"Mondays don't work for us. That's MY practice night with my gang. Other than that ... I guess Fridays aren't good for you."
"Why?" she asked.
"Isn't that that like a big date night?"
"For some people, maybe." She sounded a bit sad.
"Look, Kara, if YOU want to come over any night, I'll give you our address. Come visit. What instrument do you play?"
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