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diabolus musica


"Diabolus in Musica"
copyright November, 2001
by Souvie
femNOSPACEecrivain at netdot dot com

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Written for (Happy Anniversary ASSTR!)...
my theme was "a piano."

"diabolus in musica" is a musical term that
translates to "the devil in music."

Please, no reposting without permission. You
want to give me feedback, it'll be gladly
accepted. You can e-mail me at the address
above or via the feedback form at my website.

If you're not of legal age to read erotica,
well, don't read it.

= = = = = = = = = =

"Diabolus in Musica"
by Souvie
The spacious condo was empty. The movers had come
earlier that day to get the last of the boxes. All
that remained was the piano.

Juliana walked slowly across the room, the sound of
her high-heels striking the hardwood floor echoing
around her. She ran her hand lovingly over the ebony
and ivory keys. As long as she could remember music
had been a part of her life, perhaps the most
important part.

Juliana sat down on the bench . . . and just stared
at the small Steinway. Carl had bought her the concert
piano as a wedding present. Instead of comforting her
and bringing her joy during their marriage, it had
been a constant reminder of the career -- of the life
that she'd left behind.

Her eyes closed, as her fingers lightly touched the
keys. Something nostalgic, she thought, to cleanse her
soul and banish the demons of her night.

Beethoven's Piano Sonata Op. 27, No. 2 came to life
as her fingers caressed the keys in a motion as
familiar to her as breathing. Dubbed the "Moonlight"
sonata, it brought to mind more than just moonlight.
Juliana played, the acoustics in the condo taking the
airborne notes and flitting them to every nook and
cranny until Juliana felt as though the music was
absorbing her, taking over her senses. She had almost
forgotten what it was like to get lost in something
you love.

Carl had loved this piece. It was the piece she
played the night they met. A huge concert hall in
Vienna, Juliana at the end of her European tour, Carl
looking so dashing and confident, the answer to all
her dreams.

When they married and he asked her to put her career
on hold so she could devote her time and attention to
him, to their marriage, she was so in love she agreed.
After all, she had the piano, she could play anytime
she wanted. She never counted on how much she would
miss the touring, meeting new people, traveling to new
places. And most of all, the quiet times with just
her and her music. Before Carl there would be days
when she would just sit in her loft and play . . .
play till her fingers were numb and she could barely
keep her eyes open. After Carl . . . well, those times
quickly became a fading memory.

Juliana couldn't deny her husband had been
controlling almost to the point of being a tyrant, but
they had had their share of good times, too. Like the
time he took her to dinner on her birthday and
surprised her with a carriage ride around the park.
The night had been so magical. They'd hurried back to
the condo and had barely closed the door before their
hands were all over each other. They'd made it as far
as the piano bench before their lust had overwhelmed
them. She'd made music on the piano that night, but
not the kind she'd tell anyone about.

Her fingers glided effortlessly across the keys,
almost before she could even think of the next note.
She segued from the adagio sostenuto into the
allegretto. The music was lighter, more airy in this
part, and Juliana's thoughts followed.

The night Carl had given her the piano had been their
wedding night. He'd tied a big red bow around it, and
she'd almost cried when she saw it. Of all the
presents he could have given her, a piano was the best
one. He'd urged her to play something for him. She'd
rushed over and sat down, still in a daze. She'd
chosen a waltz, something in keeping with the theme of
the day. It wasn't long before he'd taken her in his
arms to swing her around the room, dancing to the song
that was now in his head. The first time they'd made
love as man and wife had been on the floor next to the
piano. In the early days, their bed had little seen
little action other than sleep.

Carl! Juliana hiccupped and gave in to her tears. Her
fingers never faltered, though. The presto agitato was
starting, and her fingers were moving faster over the
smooth keys. Her eyes still closed, she replayed the
phone call from a week ago. *The* phone call. Carl .
. . gone . . . a heart attack during a morning Board
meeting. Still in a state of shock and disbelief two
days later when her old manager approached her about
interest in her "comeback"tour. It was like her life
stopped -- and started -- at the same time.

Juliana banged her hands down on the keyboard, the
discordant noise like cold water down her back. She
wiped her tears away, regret, anger and sorrow playing
across her face. She took a deep breath and placed her
fingers back against the keys. Grieg's "In the Hall of
the Mountain King" from his Peer Gynt Suite suited her
mood to a "T." Her fingers picked out the deep keys,
slowing building up to the primordial frenzy that was
characteristic of the piece.

Her piano was faithful. It would never try to control
her, or make her into something she was not. And it
would never trick her.

"I didn't trick you, I gave you exactly what you
asked for."

The voice came from the figure that suddenly appeared
on the other side of the piano.

Juliana kept playing, her concentration not faltering.

Dressed in robes of black and red, the man clapped
his hands in appreciation. "I must say, my dear,"
raising his voice to be heard over the thundering
music, "that you play marvelously."

Juliana slammed her hands down on the keys. "You
tricked me!"

"Tsk, tsk, we've already had this conversation." He
examined his nails, his dark hair turning blue-black
where the light hit it. "And it gets so old, so fast."

"I want him back, I want Carl back."

"Nope, sorry, no can do. Once it's done, I can't undo

Juliana clenched her fists as they lay on the
keyboard. "All I asked for was to play professionally
again. I did *not* ask for my husband to die!"

"Oh come on, Jules, he was an asshole. If he couldn't
control you he'd have tossed you out like yesterday's
garbage." His face was all sharp angles and dark
shadows. "I gave you exactly what I promised you --
your career back."

"You didn't tell me you were going to murder my
husband in the process!"

"Semantics. You wanted your wish and you got it. End
of story." He smiled but it never reached his eyes.
"And I'll get what I want."

Juliana shuddered. An image popped into her head. She
was handcuffed to a bed, naked, the sheets blood red satin underneath her. *He* was kneeling over her,
running his hands down her body, eliciting shivers
wherever his hands touched. She was repulsed and
titillated at the same time.

"Get out of my head!" she shouted, and the image
shattered into millions of pieces.

"I'm just giving you a taste of what it will be like,
my dear, sweet Juliana." He stepped next to the piano
bench and ran his hand across the shiny mahogany.
"Such a lovely piece." He leered at Juliana, moving
his hand to brush against her breast. "Such a lovely
piece, too."

She jerked back from his touch. "Fuck you!"

He laughed and walked away, his image getting more
and more faint with each step. "Remember, my sweet,
you can't drive down the freeway with the Devil and
not expect to pay a toll."

Juliana's sobs wracked her whole body, but there was
no one to share in her grief. It was her and the piano
-- the instrument of her salvation . . . and her
Under the Covers...with Souvie


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