The Embrace of Zephyrus

The man sat in the small, compacted room, scribbling down his thoughts, ideas: his emotions. Desperately, he tried to write down as much as he can, to fulfill the emptiness that resided in the inside of him for too long. His long, tapered fingers flew across the musical page, inserting notes here and there, whisking sharp and flat notes wherever it was appropriate. The conductor was so in depth of his work, that he didn't realize the aching heat of the weather. He merely yanked at his collar, undoing the buttons quickly and throwing it carelessly to the side. His messy obsidian hair flew at different corners of the room, creating the belief that anything can defy gravity.

His eyebrow twitched in annoyance. Wolf narrowed his eyes, continuing on his masterpiece that was going to bring him fame and success. This time his nose twitched. His dark eyes were flowering with irritation, not wanting to pull out of his world too soon.

But it was gone.

Wolf sat back in his chair, staring at the simple piece of paper on the table with dejectedness. He screamed and threw the pencil at the wall, relishing in the fact that it broke in half. Wolf had worked so hard to draw himself into the world of music, jotting down notes and scribbling ideas. But the outside world wouldn't allow him to stay in for so long.

It was because of the abomination he was living in.

The man stood, the planes of his chest shining slightly from what little energy the pathetic light bulb was projecting. The man stalked across the room, sliding the glass window to the side to allow the hot, humid breeze roll in. But that was not the only thing that entered his domain.

He cringed at the hip-hop music, the beats that seemed to be racing against time. The horrible trills and whiny voices made his ears ache with each tremor and shout.

And this is what he got for living at Las Vegas—what more can he expect?

His ebony eyes trailed away from the bright city, disgusted with the infidels howling at the night sky, releasing their inner demons and desires. Wolf snorted and walked away from the peeling plaster wall, hoping to find some kind of peace in the other two rooms.

He found none.

"What is the world coming to?" He muttered, furious with the disturbance that had erupted in the middle of his thinking. "Where had the world full of elegance and delicacy gone to?" Wolf sighed, shaking his head as he found no comfort. He was going to force himself to adapt to this area and force himself into the world of soft music. He had only four more days until his deadline.

Wolf sighed once more heavily and made way into the kitchen area. He found a new pencil in cabinet, sharpened it up a bit, and then threw himself on the chair. He sat there, staring at the piece of paper he had just written on, trying to delve himself in that world again.

A slit opened and he was in. Wolf was quickly reviewing at what he had written, getting the same momentum he was inside of. He placed the tip of the pencil on the sheet. Oh, such despair.

It allowed him to reside inside until a blaring loud noise practically blew his ear into smithereens.

His nostrils flared and eyes darkened with pure rage. "Oh, for fucks sake!" He cursed, snarling at the neighbor from across as the pencil in his hand snapped in half. Wolf stood up abruptly, causing his chair to fall backwards with a loud thud. He didn't care. He cared for nothing. The furious man stalked across the room and flung the window open. There was no screen to keep the night bugs out. He screamed with unadulterated hatred as he squashed a mosquito that dared enter his domain.

His dark eyes stared at the window from the opposite side of his room, curling his lip in fury as he watched the obscene woman dance to the music she had just cranked up. Her blond curls swished this way and that as the pathetic excuse for clothes exaggerated the shape of her body. Wolf scoffed in disgust, wondering why the hell women these days rather expose their skin than lavish it with silk and thread. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Excuse me!"

The woman didn't seem to hear him. She continued to dance seductively along with the music as if it were her lover. Wolf's eyes slanted, feeling his veins fill up with hot liquid. "EXCUSE ME!" He roared. She didn't even turn his way.

"God damn, you whore, look this way!" He bellowed. Sweat trickled down his temple, along the outline of his jaw and down the crevice of his neck. The bead made way down his chest.

Finally, the ridiculous woman noticed him. She walked to her radio and shut it off, cutting out the horrid music and allowing Wolf to be enveloped in the temporary moment of soft, serene quietness. The woman walked closer to the window. Wolf recognized the look on her face: she was pissed.

She curled her lip, causing Wolf to flinch back in shock as she reached up to her hair, removing the blond wig. Furious, she threw it across the room, allowing the short breeze to cool down her face.

Annie was livid. She was just enjoying her music, getting ready for work when this asshole who lived across from her screamed out his lungs. At first, she ignored him, needing to get into the rhythm of the music before she frolicked to work. The second time, she huffed and puffed, but nonetheless continued swaying along to the timed sounds. But now this time, she was pissed.

He called her a whore.

Her hands splayed on the window ledge, narrowing her green-grey eyes at the asshole. He continued to stare at her with an incredulous expression. Her hand swept up and pointed at his face, watching as he flinched back at her loud actions. "What the hell do you want?" Annie was practically spraying fire from her nose.

The man blinked a couple of times before speaking. "I was wondering if you are able to, perhaps, lower the music. It is distracting and a bit disturbing for the rest of us."

Annie snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. Who the hell does he think he is? Does he think he's the owner of the land? And what the hell's wrong with his bullshit of an accent: All British and well brought up, what not. She sneered at him, leaning out the window. "And why should I, asshole?"

Wolf sputtered, appalled at the lewd words spewing out of her mouth. But his shock was swarmed over by anger. He stabbed a finger her way, snarling at the woman who had just shattered his image of the female gender. Women were supposed to be soft and gentle, kind and accepting. Not like this demon from hell. "Your taste in music is inappropriate and revolting to the ears. You could at least respect the other resident's privacy and rights."

"Like how you're disturbing my rights?" She yelled back.

"Well, it's interfering with my rights!" He roared.

Wolf gaped in astonishment when she smirked at him, those devilish eyes of her sparkled with mischief and trouble. "Well, too bad," Her gaze swept down his torso and back up to his eyes, unimpressed and disgusted. "Your nakedness is quite disturbing as it is dirtying my presence, which is full of purity and vitality. You're disrespecting my rights even more than I am to you. How dare you show your half-naked body to my virgin eyes?" She mocked his accent.

He sputtered, the fresh wave of shock overriding him. "You whore!" He yelled, quickly combing his hair back with his fingers in frustration. There was NO woman on Earth who was able to make him scream such profanities: except for this one. Maybe the heat was getting to him. Furious and enraged, Wolf stepped away from the window and slammed it shut. He no longer cared if it was hot or cold. Wolf needed to concentrate on the music piece. He sneered at the woman and walked to the keyboard which was pushed against the wall and next to the window, ignoring the woman obscenities and threats that was heard through the window

Such a way to annihilate the definition of a woman.

Wolf let out a huge breath, sliding onto the small chair perched in front of the keyboard. He also sneered at the electronic device, his fingers itching to touch the wood of the glossy, expensive instrument he had back home. He couldn't bring his grand piano the Queen had bestowed upon him from England from one of his many concerts. It had been a blessing to receive such a gift from the Queen.

As he placed his fingers upon the wretched plastic keys, Wolf took in a deep breath. He was going to play one of Beethoven's most famous music pieces. To Wolf, this piece was something that helped clear his mind, allowing peace and tranquility to cloak upon the toughest stains. He was about to start when-

Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?

Ooh, Heaven is a place on Earth!

They say in Heaven love comes first!

We'll make Heaven a place on Earth!

Ooh, Heaven is a place on Earth!

His head snapped to the side, his nostrils flaring in pure wretched anger as the woman from across was sinuously smiling at him. There was a speaker that neatly fit inside of the exterior of the window she had been previously been yelling through. Her fingers cracked up the volume until the night was filled with the awful, screechy voice.

Letting out a yell, Wolf dashed into his room, grabbing the speaker he had in the closet and dumped it on the kitchen table. He ran for the cables, thrusting each wire into the appropriate place before plugging it into his keyboard. Wolf glared at the woman as he threw the window open. "Take this!"

Annie's eyes widened as she heard the music he was playing. And she had to say—he was awful. "Idiot, Moonlight Sonata isn't meant to be played loud." She sneered. The woman had to admit, his speakers were louder and clearer than the ones she had. She could hear every note stabbing the sky with such malicious intent.

Her green-grey eyes darted to the clock. She has a little more than two hours until she had to go to work. Annie turned off the music and slid on her coat, walking out the door.

Sweat raced down his body as he continued to plow the piano with his unintelligent fingers. Wolf finished had just finished the first movement when he heard a distinct noise coming from his door. Feeling a bit foolish, Wolf immediately stopped his child-like revenge and thought to himself, what the hell was he doing? He had stooped down to that woman's level!

"God damn it." He shook his head and pulled out the cables, wanting to bash his head to the nearest wall for his idiotic acts. He grabbed a nearby shirt and threw it on, immediately feeling the thin fabric clinging to his sweaty body. Wolf groaned and approached the door. "Yes?" If the weather weren't so humid and stuffy, his face would've turned white.

Annie stood there in front of his door, tapping her converse on the cement in a gentle rhythm as she arched an elegant brow. "Moonlight Sonata isn't supposed to be played like that, you know." She curled his lip at him.

Wolf crossed his arms over his chest. "And what do you know about music?" He was greatly offended by her words, because as a composer, he is to act like a gentleman and listen for mistakes as if he had the ears of God.

"I know a lot more than you do." She snorted, placing her hands on her hips as she leaned towards him. "Just now, that sounded worse than a child playing messing around with a baby grand." Annie snorted. "Especially in G Minor. Who plays Moonlight Sonata in G Minor? Are you an idiot?"

Wolf sneered at her. "So you know a bit of music, how brash." He rolled his eyes and was about to close the door when she stuck her foot in the crevice of it. "What the hell?" He pulled the door open and snarled. "Get your dirty foot out of the door's way."

Annie merely cocked a brow. "No." She said.

The next thing he knew, the woman pushed the door and he went stumbling back. Wolf gained his balance, stared appallingly at the woman as she swished around the room.

"Meh, not bad for a lonely man." Annie commented as she glanced around. Honestly, she didn't think of less. Here was a stuck up, 'British' man who lives with alone with his piano. Pursing her lips, she narrowed her eyes and moved around slowly like a hawk circling around its prey. She approached a bookcase, pressed her index finger on it and slid it across. A grimace appeared on her face as she rubbed her index finger and thumb together. "Not as clean as I thought it would be."

"Oh, as if my bookcase contains more germs and diseases than you," Wolf snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're literally a walking STD."

Annie rolled her eyes, unaffected by his harsh words. "And you're a failed musician."

"I'm a pianist!" He yelled.

She sneered at him, walking away from his dirty bookcase. In front of his eyes, she rubbed her soiled fingers on his tablecloth, leaving a bit of dust that collected on her fingertips onto his furniture. "A failed pianist, then." Rolling her eyes, Annie continued off and eyed his piano.

Wolf saw that look and stiffened. He immediately ventured close and blocked Annie's gaze from the piano. "Don't touch it."

In a defiant manner, she slipped her arm along his waist and touched the piano. "Oops."

He blubbered, shaking his head from side to side as he fought to control himself.

Annie rolled her eyes and stepped around him. She sat down on the piano stool, adjusting her bum to make it more comfortable. "Ahh, I always hated the wooden stools, why didn't you get one with cushion? Ah, never mind. A hardass unimaginably has a hardass."

A bubble of anger sprouted from his very being, bursting and growing as his skin warmed with rage. "Why you, ignorant fool. As if you know anything about music. That very stool you are placing your diseased 'ass' on was given by the Duke in England. And it gives off a well-done, good posture," his nostrils flared with more anger, eyes narrowing with hate. "a good posture makes the music flow-" his eyes widened when he was interrupted not with words, but with sounds.

Annie's fingers played over the keys, lightly pressing down as she moved her upper body in and out to feel the music. "Posture isn't shit when it comes to the piano. Even a 'pianist' should know." Her fingers continued to play along, her bones filled with tender sorrow and melancholy. Her body swayed forward and back as she continued to let her fingers flit over the keys. "Look, I'm moving and I can still play wonderfully."

Wolf gaped openly at the image of a stripper playing one of Beethoven's respected compositions.

What…what was this? How did the world come this way?

Suddenly, the woman shifted her fingers and she changed minors.

His eyes then bulged right there and then.

"D minor is harder to master than C minor, right?" Annie laughed as she continued to play. The look on the man's face was priceless. "What's with the face, honey? Why don't you relax?"

"What…what's going on? Am I hallucinating?" Wolf staggered backwards and onto a chair from the kitchen. His eyes were still wide as he stared at her play.

"What's the matter? Anyone can play the piano." Annie chuckled.

"But…but…" But not like that! The way this woman was playing the piano was like comparing a child prodigy (cough Mozart!), a child prodigy with matured fingers and aging wisdom. Wolf slumped in the chair, mesmerized with the image before him. Annie, as she called herself, had a fuzzy purple robe wrapped around her frame. Matching fuzzy slippers adorned her feet as her hair was tightly pulled up in a bun for the wig. Her fuzzy slippers moved along the floor, gently pressing down the pedals as she continued to play.

"My mother was a piano teacher," she explained to the stun-stricken man. "She taught me everything and even entered me in competitions. Of course, I did well in them." She smirked and threw a smile at the unguarded man who flinched. "But our love didn't last long, for the piano and I." With quick fiddles of the fingers, Annie quickly ended the song in a light tune. She turned her head his way and smirked at him.

Wolf didn't know what to say. "How…" He tilted his head to the side. "Why are you here instead of performing?"

"I told you, because my love with the piano didn't last." Annie shrugged, a soft smile on her face as she fingered the keys lightly.

"Obviously, it is still lasting." Wolf commented as he scrutinized her face. "You still have the fire in your eyes for the piano. I can see it."

Annie threw her head back and let out a throaty laughter. "Don't go all gay on me, Englishman."

He frowned. "Being poetic and romantic is nothing close to homosexuality."

"Yeah, but you should listen to the way you're speaking." She snorted and played a quick tune of I Will Survive by Cher.

Wolf's face enflamed with color. "I should not have to repeat myself, woman. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that song is a classic, isn't it? It is not only favored by the homosexuals."

"It's a gay song, dude." She rolled her eyes, throwing her hands in the air. "You English people are just…just-"

"Just?" He narrowed his eyes, feeling offended.

"Pompous bastards." She mocked in an English accent.

"Oh, please, like you Americans aren't. America's an obese country, full of little round children and wrinkly, morbidly obese families." He shuddered at the mental imagine conjured in his mind. "Just breathing in the air is deadly."

Annie sighed and shook her head. "Then why are you here?"

Wolf narrowed his eyes. "It's none of your business." He stood from the chair, pacing around the room with an annoyed expression. "And shouldn't you go to work? I'm sure there are lines of men waiting for you."

"I'm a stripper, not a slut." Annie growled.

"Oh, the difference!" He sarcastically muttered as he went into the kitchen. His hand went into the cupboard and took out an empty glass to fill with water.

"I'm not a slut." The furious woman stood up from her chair, glaring at him as she walked towards him with deadly intent.

"You look like a slut." He stated calmly, sipping at his water as the stripper curled her lip in fury. He didn't even feel shock from seeing a different side of the woman he never thought they had. His views of women were completely different from the woman standing in front of him.

Instead of blowing off her head, Annie arched her eyebrow, pursed her lips as her arms crossed over her chest. "Yeah? Well, your music sounds like shit. It doesn't even come close to what I played."

The conductor choked on his spit, placing the glass of water on the counter before he dropped it. Wolf held a hand his chest as he coughed. Veins protruded from his neck as his face flushed with color. "Do you-" His words were cut off from a furious cough. "Do you know who I am?"

"A pianist?" Annie asked emotionlessly.

"I'm Wolfgang Robinson!"

She blinked slowly, staring at him for a long time before opening her mouth. "And?"

"What do you mean 'and'?" He screamed. "I'm Wolfgang Robinson! I'm a famous pianist worldwide, I…I should be known even in America."

"And I'm Marie Antoinette Adams." Annie rolled her eyes. "Have you heard of me?"

"Oh, goodness." Wolf closed his eyes as his hand enclosed around his face in dread. "Your mother named you after the Queen of France, Archduchess of Austria and Queen of Navarre?"

Annie laughed and shook her head, stepping away from the fallen pianist. "My mother was a romantic…historic in a way. She loved to keep history going, if you know what I mean. But here, I ain't 'Marie Antoinette', I'm Annie." She quoted in the air like a doofus.

Wolf shook his head. "Your mother must be so proud of you."

"I wouldn't know."

"I'm sure of it." Wolf stepped around Annie and walked to the front door. "I'm sure you enjoyed your stay, but I must ask of you to leave now." He opened the door and gestured to the opening with a desperate wave of his hand. "Please, you wouldn't want to be late to your station, now do you?"

Annie rolled her eyes. And with a smile, she slowly walked towards the door with a grace that would've rivaled the Queen's. She lifted her hand to his face, lightly caressing it with a touch of a dove's wing. "Don't worry, Wolfgang. I'm sure that I'll be leaving a special dance just for you." With a small laugh, she sashayed out of the apartment.

Wolf stood there, staring after her as his hand unconsciously went to his face. A light blush flowered, causing the Englishman to mutter before closing the door.

To the night, the sounds of Moonlight Sonata glided through the darkness, pausing every few moments as it continued with correction to match the sound the woman had played on the piano.

And though he hated to admit it, she was right.

D minor is harder to master than C minor, even for a famous pianist.

The End