The Violin


The soft rustle of immaculate fabrics on an open balcony danced with the night breeze. She watched him with passion, his persona a mystery reflected on the dancing candlelight. Her body feverish as his long slender fingers began delicately touching the strings that created the soothing music. The way his eyes closed during each interlude and how they bore into her when they are opened. His eyes dancing like the storm ravishing her with something unnamed as she quietly enjoyed the silky melodies he created. It was him and his violin.

He wished that the nights were longer; he would visit her each night just to play for her until she drifted to sleep. It all started when he was invited to her family banquet, their clan knew each other way even before. It was her eighteenth birthday and since he wasn’t able to give her a gift, he decided to play a song for her that night. The melody suddenly filled the noisy halls and everyone went quiet. She was dancing with someone else when she ceased. She turned around to find the source of music. There he was, majestically standing on the makeshift stage of their great hall. He was breathtaking; she flushed when he suddenly opened his eyes to look at her, the intensity of his stare – so powerful that she was the one who broke the eye contact.

He loved her ever since the night that he laid his eyes upon her; she was exceptional. One stormy night, he received a letter from her oldest sister; informing him that the girl was sick and was calling for him and his violin. When he arrived at the mansion, she was pale and breathing heavily. He started to play his violin when she opened her eyes.

She opened her eyes and saw the man who haunted her dreams for a year since her 18th birthday. He was drenched from the night rain, but to see him standing at the foot of her bed, violin in his hand, made her cry with rapture. That started it all, ever since that night, when she asked him to play for her when she told him of how he had haunted her dreams – how could he refuse – for she too haunted him.

He started playing the instrument again. It was painful because for three years he was there seated at the foot of her bed playing the violin. She can’t help it; she stood up to open another candle and uttered, “I wish I were your violin.”

He stopped when he heard her faint whisper. She’s a tempest in his eyes but still innocent and pure. He loved her ever since but he never admitted it to her. He used his violin—his music to capture her soul, and now he knew he has also won her heart.

“Do you want me to teach you how to play the violin?” He asked her. She turned to look at him, her hands holding on to the desk edge as she inwardly bit her tongue for being brazen; her eyes showed something attuned to him, something his eyes have given her ever since—passion and love.

He stood up and walk towards her, the flickering flames created their shadows on the walls dancing as he closed the distance between them, he gave her the violin, and she gingerly touched the instrument that made her fall in love with the man standing in front of her.

He delicately touched her neck and shoulders. The straps of her white nightgown slid from her shoulders as his long fingers swept over it, so soft and inviting to touch. He positioned himself behind her to aid her in the proper positioning of the violin.

She closed her eyes upon the contact of his fingers on her skin. Her back now felt warm upon his broad chest. She felt his fingers gingerly grasp both of her wrist, the violin on her left and the bow on her right. He slid his arm down to her belly as she positioned the violin on her left shoulder then his right hand guided her right to start with a do re mi. Her fingers shaking and cold, his warm breath fanned on her sensitive ear as he spoke of his instructions. She accidentally moaned as she listened to his voice and it broke his chained sensual restrain and control.

He snatched the violin and bow off her hands and gently placed them on the floor. He looked at her and saw the hurt in her eyes, hurt because of the sudden break of contact. She felt so ashamed for not controlling her emotions, just one touch from him made her melt and moan.

‘He must have thought now that I am a loose woman’ she said to herself. She struggled to fight back her tears. She looked up and saw how intense his eyes were as he looked at her. And without any warning, he claimed her lips and showered her mouth with possessive kisses. This time she could only hear the violin playing in her memory.

He heard her breathy sigh as he kissed her neck and shoulders. The violin lay still on the floor. He swept her off her feet and carried her back to the warm bed. She did her best to take off his clothes when he stopped her.

“Patience is a virtue, my love,” he whispered to her as he gently pulled the strings on her shoulder, like the delicate strings of his violin, her body created more excitement in him.

He allowed her shaky hands to release him of his clothing. Mesmerized by the innocence in her eyes, he unleashed his heart and the beast that has called to her for years. That night, he was the most beautiful creature she has ever seen. And as he laid her down, she gladly accepted him into her arms and the pain in her heart vanished.

That night, he became the master of the instrument of love. Expertly plucking the strings of her heart and soul like a violin. That night, she became music to him, her voice filled the emptiness in his heart. Like a violin, hers soared high up to the skies as he joined her in their music.

Light feathery touches brought her to wakefulness. She opened her eyes and right beside her is the man who made music with her. He looked at her, his face and smile bright as the welcoming sun to her.

“Please stay,” She pleaded.

He pulled her into a loving embrace, then he whispered.




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