Symphony of Desire Read online

  Symphony of Desire

  B. J. Hardy

  Copyright © 2018 By B.J. Hardy. Symphony of Desire. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronical or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical review and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright laws. This novel is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are solely from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people, living or dead are purely coincidental and not intended by the author. This book contains mature content and approved for anyone over the age of 18.

  Cover Photo by: Reggie Deanching of RplusMphoto.com

  Cover model: Scott Holliday

  Cover design by: Megyn Ward of MW Graphics

  Line and content editing: Amy Steinmetz of ManageMe Author Assistance, Promotions and Events

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Dedicated to:

  Lesa Krantz

  For your love of classical music, for being a great friend, and for everything you do to help promote me.

  Thank you!

  Chapter 1

  -Cassie-

  Music possesses my soul. I have loved music since as far back as I can remember. My mom has many videos of me singing and dancing, or wiggling, to different tunes from even when I was an infant. The songs we sing and the melodies we carry them on are nothing less than the essence of all that is humanity, the expression of passion of both the good and the bad which comprises the human soul. It is and will always be an integral part of my life, and not just that but without it I know I wouldn’t care to go on.

  I was in choir and band in high school, but college is where my love of music really changed my life. Reed instruments are what I practiced mainly, that and some piano as well. Though I never got extremely proficient, I did learn to appreciate the talent of those who do rise to a master’s level. These rare people draw me like a magnet. Most styles of music have some interest for me, at least the true artists of each do anyhow. However, some drudges that mix in with every crowd, I guess it’s inevitable. I was invariably attracted to some of the stars of the scene when I started watching music videos. My first musical crush was a boy band. Not just one of the members, I mean the whole stinking band. That period was later grade school and then middle school. Of course, classical music has been a staple since my mother paid for piano lessons for me, but the old masters don’t hold the same appeal for me as do the modern ones. I find the compositions of these great maestros more of an intellectual stimulant. Then in middle school, I discovered rock music. There is something about a hard-driving beat with a serious melody that drives me crazy. By crazy I mean that it makes me… well, horny as hell. That isn’t who I am though, or at least not how I portray myself anyhow. I am a good girl, that is I used to be one.

  My home town is Dublin, California, a quaint little mostly middle-class community in the Tri-Valley area just east of Oakland. My Mom was the majority bread winner of the family as my Dad was often between jobs, being in construction. She had a good job as manager of Human Resources at a big bank. We weren’t poor by any standard but then we certainly weren’t rich either, not like the snobs of Alamo were, as they seemed to always be prepared to remind us. I don’t have any siblings, but I wasn’t doted on as many only children were. No, my Mom was far too pragmatic to let that happen. She always tried to instill the necessity of self-reliance in me and I’d have to say that she did a pretty fair job. I wasn’t a popular girl growing up, but I did have a few good friends. Unfortunately, they either moved away before High School, or they went to another school after grade school. So, I was kind of a loner after that, which was okay by me as most of the other kids weren’t very interesting anyhow. They were almost all more concerned with stupid things like pecking order and social status than what I was interested in, that being true culture. Yeah, I guess I was a bit of an intellectual snob. Any conversation about who was crushing on who, or who had texted someone fell on dead ears with me but start mentioning art or music and I was on it like white on rice.

  In high school, I was pretty much a nerd, a band geek, but I did have my first boyfriend then. He was the first chair trumpet player, and I thought I was in love. He was so confident in himself, and such a good player. Plus, he wasn’t bad looking at all either. It turned out though that he was only interested in getting into my pants. That is all I was to him; a potential piece of ass. Sure, we made out and I even let him feel up my boobs, but when he tried to go downtown the light was red. He got frustrated rather quickly and dumped me for a silly slut who would fuck him. It hurt me, most especially my ego when he called me names at our breakup. I got over him rather quickly though because then I could see him for what he really was; a skinny little nerdy geek. A little boy with his pecker in his hand desperately asking for charity. Well my ass is not a donation, and I sure wasn’t going to write it off as one.

  I wasn’t a prude, I just wanted to have some semblance of standards. A real woman to me was someone who had confidence and drive, not just a fuck sack for boys to amuse themselves with. There was one thing that would make me weak in the knees though, and that was rock and roll music. My favorite rock group was the now-defunct Vulcan’s Forge. Their lead singer, who was also the lead guitar player, Rick Brookes, was my idol. He was my dream of everything I thought that I wanted in a man. Not only was he the most talented person on the planet, but he was so fucking hot and sexy, oh my god he made me wet! I lost my virginity after seeing them in concert the first and only time. I was a bit buzzed and so freaking horny it hurt! That was entirely Rick’s fault. The guy who got my cherry was a casual friend of mine, and it just happened. One too many beers and a joint did the trick. He desperately wanted me as his girlfriend after that, but I knew it had been a simple mistake. A horny oops. Then shortly after the concert, my fantasy man died from a drug overdose. My dream was shattered, I cried for Rick but mostly I cried for myself. He was so young and so totally talented. What a waste of brilliance, and a beautiful gift to the world that was suddenly rescinded.

  I went to community college to get many of my core classes out of the way as cheaply as possible, fortunately then I made it to the University. It had taken me three long hard years to accomplish this, mainly because I was working full time to save every penny I could for Berkeley. They had the best music programs around. My first days in there were a wild awakening. I had finally received an academic scholarship which was only paltry, meaning that I had to move into the dorms. There was so much partying going on, and sex that it absolutely shocked me. I wanted to crawl into a hole and just make it all go away. In high school there had been a party crowd, but nothing like the crop of crazies at the University. Of course, I had absolutely no inclination to join in the insanity as I’d determined that I was not going to be an alcoholic slut. There were far bigger plans I had, like laying the groundwork for my career, my whole future. Being a skank-hoe-bitch just didn’t fit in with the program. My dream was to become a recording producer. This way I would personally know all the talented ro
ck musicians, and they would love what I brought to the table. Yes, I still had the teenage fantasy of being a rock superstar’s woman. It’s not so crazy, I mean who the fuck wouldn’t want that?

  Rock and roll wasn’t the only music I loved, but it was the one genre which would set my panties on fire. I liked classical as well and studied it in depth. At least I sure thought I had learned its nuances to a high degree. Then I took Advanced Classical Music Theory in my freshman year at the University. The course description promised that students would learn how the great masters had purposefully worked their magic as it were. It stated that they weren’t merely genius savants who just had an innate knack for music, but that they had all studied and understood how to manipulate listeners’ emotions by hard-won knowledge and much effort.

  My professor was quite a handsome man who I would guess was in his late thirties or early forties. Thick horned rimmed glasses framed his chiseled features, his blue eyes were deep, clear, and spoke of great intelligence. His name was Mister Riachuelo, but he wanted us to call him either Professor Riachuelo, or Maestro. The later sure made of few of us laugh, but never in his presence. He was a quite serious man, and music was his profession. The first day in class he made it quite clear to me that I didn’t know shit about musical theory. I wasn’t the only one who had an awakening of truth that day, it was obvious from all the shocked wide eyes in the class. He had simply walked into the lecture room, written his name on the board, and then made sure we knew how to properly address him. After which he handed out a quiz sheet.

  “I will play some pieces for you and you are to answer the questions on the quiz corresponding to each piece. This is so I can get a baseline of where we are with all of you.” He’d instructed.

  Next, he put an old-fashioned CD in a boom box and hit the play button.

  “First piece.” He announced.

  A composition began to play which I’d never heard before. Of course, the first question for each numbered piece was ‘Name the work and the composer.’

  I knew I was in trouble right away. I couldn’t begin to answer that first question, so I had to honestly write ‘I don’t know.’

  The next question was to identify the time measure of the example. That was tricky as it wasn’t obvious at all. I could only guess. When I read the third question, I thought to myself, ‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding!’

  It was ‘Which geometric or algebraic equation best suits this work?’

  I didn’t even have time to scratch my head as Professor Riachuelo then announced, “Second piece.”

  Another totally foreign composition began to play, and there were identical questions for it as had been for the first. The thought crossed my mind that I needed to drop this fucking class, and right away! I am so glad I didn’t though.

  Fortunately, the Professor explained as we handed the quiz sheets in that it was not to be graded, it was just for him to use to see where to start with the class as a whole. Then we got a brief lecture from him concerning equating emotions with mathematics.

  “When you begin to understand that music is merely an extension of our emotions, then you will see that your deepest feelings can be expressed mathematically.”

  I was blown away by this, and my hand instantly shot up.

  “Question?” he nodded at me.

  “Professor, wouldn’t that mean that our deepest feelings are nothing more than random numbers?”

  “There is nothing random about the mathematics of music, nor with our emotions. Unless of course you are throwing a conniption fit, then that might well qualify as random. Or if you have a hack guitarist running through the scales haphazardly just to make your ears bleed.” He chuckled.

  That incensed me, and I found myself just blurting out, “I take it that you aren’t a fan of rock and roll music then.”

  “A fan? No. I am not.”

  I sighed and shook my head. He was a damned classical prude alright. I liked classical music well enough, but how could anyone not like rock and roll?

  “However, even though most rock musicians are by nature… hacks, there are a few talented musicians amongst the rabble.” He went on. “Although even these rare individuals have been known to make ears bleed.” Again, he chuckled.

  “I love rock and roll!” I defended.

  He retorted instantly, “Well, there is no accounting for taste.”

  It infuriated me, and I am sure that my face became three shades redder. I know he saw this, and it obviously amused him by the smug look he grew.

  After we were dismissed, a girl who was in the class approached me in the quad.

  “Hi, I’m Lara. I loved how you stood up for yourself with Professor tight-ass there. That was great. Oh, and I love rock and roll too!”

  “Hi Lara, I’m Cassie. That old prudish bastard sure lit me up. I couldn’t help myself.”

  “I loved it!” She laughed. “So, what’s your favorite rock band anyway?”

  “Vulcan’s Forge!”

  “Oh my god! I loved them! I cried when Rick died!”

  I nodded, and a tear tried to escape my eye. “Me too!”

  “What is your favorite song of theirs? Mine is Descent into Oblivion.”

  I noticed she could sure talk fast. So just to pace things I paused a moment before I answered, “I love Descent too, but mine is Educating Gin.”

  “Oh yeah! I love the hidden BDSM theme in that one!” Lara’s eyes sparkled.

  “BDSM?”

  She cocked her head at me. “You know.”

  I shook my head.

  “Bondage… Degradation… oh come on! It’s so obvious.”

  “What the fuck? Bondage and Degradation?”

  “Yeah and don’t forget Sadomasochism too.” She laughed.

  “Oh my god!” I was shocked. I had no idea… about any of that!

  “They were kinkier than you knew, I guess.”

  I could only shake my head. “No way. They weren’t talking about that… BD… whatever.”

  “BDSM! Now you had to have heard of that before, right?”

  Again I shook my head.

  “Well I don’t know a lot about it, but what I do know is pretty fucking hot!”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for that discussion, but since you are a fan of Vulcan’s Forge I know you’re cool.” I tried to give her a friendly smile, but my mind was still reeling.

  “We should hang out sometime, Cassie. Don’t worry, I’m not a party slut like most of the other idiots here. I have a plan.” Lara grinned.

  With a nod, I agreed.

  “Cool, I’ll see you around then.” Lara said with a cute smile and she went off, presumably to her next class.

  Chapter 2

  -Maestro-

  It had been a long while since a woman had drawn my attention as this new student had. It was her outright defiance to what I had insinuated about her obviously beloved rock and roll which lit my fire. I am a pretty damned good judge of character, even on first impressions, and right away I had her pegged. She was intelligent and had a genuine, honest passion in her soul, but she was far out of her comfort zone with what I had to offer.

  ‘Maybe I should press on her envelope and see if she can withstand the load without folding.’ I smiled to myself.

  That was one of my favorite pastimes, to apply pressure to a woman who might just benefit from such intrusion. Call it a hobby, but that is what floated my boat at that time. The consequences could be devastating but then in a rare case, the rewards could be mind-blowing.

  I had experienced so much, anything I wanted before, and those experiences had made me become much more discriminating with what it was I really desired. This ultimate desire was still a bit elusive to my mind and my soul, but I knew how to weed out the posers and fake fucking sluts by then. Pressure was the key. The University gave me ample opportunity to run through the fields of flowers as it were, and to pick only the hardiest most vibrant specimens. In my younger years, I was… well a complete man-
whore, a dude-slut beyond belief. I had to learn the hard way that such a life brought no long-lasting pleasure. That is how I had learned what I desired, and what I absolutely needed. Only a special woman who could withstand intense pressure would be capable of such. Someone who could not only survive the hard ride through all of life’s turmoil, but who would thrive from it all. I had found a few who did well at first, but then they ultimately had realized that they wanted many more cocks than I could offer as I only have the one. Later one who did fit the bill seemingly perfectly had found something even worse. Yes, there is a Catch Twenty-two to this business of unbridled lust and fulfillment. It drove me crazy as I knew that I had to find her goddamnit! I had to find the one! The one who could shake it, make it and almost break it! Then come begging back for more. She had to be not only of an honest heart and mind, but quite stout in them as well.

  I really didn’t have much hope for my ultimate desires with this new girl in class, but I did have to put her through the wringer, just to make sure. After all, she had challenged me, and I am never one to shy away from a challenge. I mean she was by and far pretty enough, and her body was plentiful of ripe curves. It was her fiery spirit that attracted me most though. What the hell, I figured she would get the treatment.

  The second class with her a week later I determined to really lean on her mentally. It started out with me playing a snippet of one of my favorite classical works; Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh. I didn’t play the whole suite, though I wanted to. Every time I played it, I wanted it all!

  After the snippet ended, I demanded, “Name the composer, and then tell me why this moved your emotions, or why it did not.”

  Several hands shot in the air, but Cassie Holt’s was not one of them. I was disappointed, but when I saw the trace of a tear drop from her eye, then I knew without any doubt that she indeed did have a vibrant soul and an honest heart.