Playing the Melody
She was entranced, enthralled as his fingers moved skilfully across the keyboard, his dark hair tied back away from his tanned, beautiful face. It was never a word she would have thought would suit a man, but he was so different, unique, and beautiful really was the only way to describe him. Every thing about him was beautiful; his long slender fingers, his wavy dark hair, his chiselled jaw line that was slightly feminine but in a very attractive way.
It was hard to imagine him walking down a street without every female head turning to watch him, perhaps a few male heads too. He radiated charm and confidence and power, not to mention beauty, and she was sure that every woman felt that own beauty in them when standing beside him. With most good looking men, a woman could feel inferior, ugly, as though they did not deserve him. But he managed, with just one look, to make a woman feel amazing, feel beautiful and confident.
His voice broke into her thoughts, the soft silky voice that wrapped itself around you like a warm blanket. Hearing her name from his lips was like tasting the best chocolate you'd ever had.
"Am I boring you?"
She smiled gently at him, sitting up straighter in her chair. "Never." She replied; glad to see his perfect, beautiful smile stretch across his face. The thought of him ever boring her was ridiculous, everything he did, she loved to watch.
His every wish was her command; silently she stood and moved towards the stool, sliding down beside him. He smiled at her, his fingers resting on the keys.
"Sing for me?"
"Oh no." She protested, shaking her head, the blonde locks falling over her shoulders. "I can't...you sing. You're much better than me."
"I don't want to listen to my own voice." He lifted one of his graceful hands, brushing a strand of her hair back behind one ear. "Please, my sweet Rose."
She watched his fingers moving across the keys, smiled as they began to play, and finally opened her mouth. His gentle smile stretched as she sang 'Let it Be', the words floating around the room, entwining with the perfect melody emitting from the piano. He stopped playing and she cut off, smiling sheepishly at him, a light blush across her pale cheeks. He reached out and drew her towards him, planting a kiss on her lips.
Her hand hooked into his hair, pulling him closer. A warm rush flowed through her body as she felt his arm around her waist, their bodies pushing together.
They broke away, foreheads resting against each other, his smile soft.
"I'm going to bed." He whispered, and she knew it wasn't a sleazy invitation or innuendo; he was tired, and she loved him even more for it. He was too good for sleazy invitations.
"OK." She replied. "I'll be there soon." He nodded and slid off the stool, turning around and moving towards the stair case. She watched him go with a sad smile, before turning back to the piano and pressing a few keys, singing along.
In my hour of darkness,
She is standing right in front of me...
He stared at the ceiling, hands behind his head, a soft smile on his lips.
There will be an answer let it be...
The music drifted up the stairs, her voice as beautiful as it always had been. She was perfect, always, utterly perfect. His eyes closed as the music drifted away.
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be
Her voice disappeared with it, he turned over his bed, eyes closed, tears leaking freely over his cheeks.
I wake up to the sound of music, mother Mary come to me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
She was gone. He knew that. But still, still he saw her there, saw her pretty face whenever he played her favourite song, saw her protests about singing....
She never did sing for him.