Beauty and the Baritone

BEGINNING

“Tell me why you’re here.”
She looked around the room, trying to find the man who asked the question. Trying to find him.
“David sent me.” Her voice trembled slightly. Of course she was nervous. However she wasn’t

scared. He’d intended her to be terrified but either she was a great actress or this situation didn’t
frighten her as much as he thought it should.

“David said he was sending me a gift.” Ah, he didn’t mean to tell her that. It was all right though,

she already knew. “You can place it on the chair and leave. I will thank David myself.”

She didn’t move. She sat on the chair by the fire, her red hair tied loosely in a ponytail. Her

shoulders were straight, her feet were sneakered and on the floor. Her hazel eyes were calm and
looking toward the credenza where he hid.

He imagined she saw the shadow by the large piece of furniture. She wouldn’t be able to see him,

just the darkness he cast as he hid where there was no light, no chance of being seen.

“Did he promise I would give you money for the delivery? Tell me how much and it will be

waiting for you by the door.”

“Senor Lopez, David didn’t send you a gift. He sent me.”
“Is this the humor?” The anger in his voice was obvious. He didn’t play child’s games and now

this woman sitting in his house, interrupting his life was playing some game initiated by a man he
hadn’t seen in over a year.

The woman was still nervous, he could see it in the way she swallowed, how her fingers twisted in

her lap.

“My name is Carolyn Gibbs. I was with the Met last season and I met David. At the end of the

season I was told my contract wouldn’t be renewed. I decided to go to Germany to audition for a
season but before I left I went to one of David’s private parties. Afterwards he suggested I come here
instead.”

In only a few sentences her world was laid bare. She was an opera singer without a job and

considering her attractiveness, her voice was average. She was rootless and David picked up on her.

David looked so all American; big, blond with a footballer’s physique. His sexual tastes were the

stuff of legend. Mateo had been to a few of David’s parties back before his world shattered and
although his tastes diverged from his friends, he had to admit the experiences had been heady.

“You like the things that David likes?”
“No. I didn’t care for the pain.”
She didn’t seem to have any pretense which was confusing. Why she was sitting in Mateo’s home,

saying she was from David? She’s gone to a party but she wasn’t into the same kinks David was. Yet,
she appeared on David’s suggestion at his home.

“What are you doing here?” She flinched from his words. His voice carried, he was a trained

baritone. He could be heard unamplified in an amphitheater. In his own home, he could bring the roof
down if he chose.

“I’m here for you.” There was finally uncertainty. She stood slowly, her body unfolding in

leanness. She was wearing jeans and a loose peasant blouse but he could see the shape of her full
breasts, the narrowness of her hips. She had long legs, an angular face.

She was prettier than he thought. If her hair was down, if she bothered with make-up and fine

clothes she would be a true beauty.

“I do not need you Miss Gibbs. Whatever you and David thought, you were wrong.”
“I don’t think you understand.” She looked where he was standing and he took a step back. She

couldn’t see him, he knew it. So why did he feel like she saw every flaw on his face?

“Senor,” she continued, “I didn’t like the pain but I discovered I like the belonging. I discovered

that I have a bent and wish to be enslaved to someone for sexual purposes. That’s why David told me
to come here, to you.”

His heartbeat thundered. The insanity of the moment screamed in his blood. Was this a joke? Some

sort of strange humor that David alone understood?

“Leave my home.”
“I’m expected to audition for the Hamburg State Opera in three weeks’ time.” She acted as though

he hadn’t spoken. “Until then I’m expected nowhere and have no one caring where I am. So I’m here.”

“I want you to leave.”
“David told me you became a recluse after the accident. He described your injuries to me and I

don’t care. I know you were once the greatest baritone in opera. Now you live here. David says he
doesn’t think you have sex with anyone, you have a dominant streak and you won’t hurt me. I’m here
Senor for you to fuck. Then I’ll be gone.”

She took the bottom of her blouse in her hands and in a single movement lifted it over her body,

dropping it on the floor. Her bra was a pale color and just as easily fell onto the discarded top.

Her breasts were full and without the bra, drooped slightly from the weight. He could imagine how

they’d feel in his hands: heavy but soft, the dusky nipples hard.

Her hands were on her jeans, undoing them.
“No. Stop.” His hand reached behind him and grasped the door knob.
“I have nowhere to be,” Carolyn said.
Mateo slipped from the room, into the hall. He drew his cape around him and moved toward the

large staircase.

“Sir?” He hadn’t heard Simon approach, but then, he never did.
“The woman,” Mateo said. “She can have the red room.”
“She’s staying?”
Mateo didn’t answer. He escaped up the stairs to his suite to try and decide what to do about this

new turn of events.

*** *** ***

The gentleman had called it the red room. Carolyn didn’t know if he was the butler, major domo or

just a British guy who liked scarred baritones. He hadn’t introduced himself; he’d just walked in as
she was putting her clothes back on and offered to show her to her room.

“My things are at the hotel,” Carolyn said.
“If you’ll give me the key,” he said, “I’ll have everything delivered here and settle the bill. Now

follow me.”

He was true to his word. Within an hour all her things were with her and she was now living in

Mateo Lopez’s home.

It was everything and nothing she wanted. Damn David and his dirty games.
No, it wasn’t David’s fault, Carolyn amended. She knew what kind of parties David gave and

she’d gone because she had nothing left to lose. Without the Met contract she was just a wandering
singer again. Europe would have opportunities, she hoped, and the unexpected chance to experience
what everyone in the opera world whispered about was just too exciting.

She hadn’t expected to like it.
Her pussy tingled remembering that night. It was, very simply, an orgy. But the women were bound

and there were paddles and other things in play. She hadn’t enjoyed all of it and simply saying no was
respected.

But when she’d been on her knees and a masked man stood in front of her, his penis the only

exposed part of him, she hadn’t hesitated. Nor had she minded being taken by a different man later,
spread open in front of others, eaten out by one man and then fucked by another.

She couldn’t feel shame from it.
David’s tales of Mateo Lopez were like Carolyn’s discovery of her desires: dark and tempting.

The beautiful man damaged in a car accident of which he was the only survivor. The tortured singer
who could no longer sing. Who would no longer sing.

“He’d love you.” David stroked her, his long fingers reaching deeper than she was used to being

touched. Carolyn strained toward him but she was fastened on his table, the shackles holding her tight.

“Mateo didn’t like the pain either,” David continued. He’d asked her to stay as people began to

leave. He had an idea, he said and although he’d led her to the table and fastened her to it, he really
did have a suggestion for her.

“Mateo was more old fashioned; he liked the wooing and claiming of a woman. But he had a wild

side too; he just didn’t indulge it that often. Like you, right here.” He stroked that place inside her that
made her shake. The pleasure David created was more than any man had brought from her before.

“Does he want a woman?” Carolyn asked, when she could speak.
“He’s playing the cripple in that house of his.” David’s face twisted in displeasure. “The best of

our generation and now he’s a waste. Fucker had it all, now he has nothing.”

“Oh my god.” He tapped high and hard and it was a turning in her body. More sensation than she

knew tumbling hard inside.

“You should see yourself,” David said smugly. “You’re so hot. What man wouldn’t want you?”
She’d been crazy. There was no other way to accept it.
Her suitcases were on the floor by the bed and Carolyn opened the larger one. A woman had an

arsenal of weapons against a man and her dresses were the beginning of her tricks.

David had opened the door. She hoped Mateo would take her to the other side of it.

*** *** ***

He never had guests. David had forced himself in on more than one occasion and Mateo had

accepted that he was unstoppable. But this woman, this Carolyn, was sitting at his table wearing a
dress of demure white lace, a dress made for a virgin to be worn with a chemise underneath. Not to
be worn as Carolyn wore it with nothing under, her skin playing peek-a-boo with the fabric.

She was a red headed devil sent by a man who probably sat at Satan’s right hand.
“Do not turn around.” Mateo entered the room from the doorway behind Carolyn. “I have

something I must say and you must promise to listen.”

“I promise.”
“I don’t believe you are here for why you say. I am not the man to keep a woman as a play-thing.

That is David. If you are here to steal from me, whether my money or my privacy, you will be

unsuccessful. If you plan to take advantage of me, it will be to your detriment.”

“I hear you,” Carolyn said. She rose and again the grace of her movements struck him.
Her hair was hanging loose and it swayed to the center of her back. He could see her ass through

the dress, the sweet curves of her cheeks, the hollow of her lower back and spread of her chest.

“I know about your accident, Senor, David told me. You don’t need to hide from me. Just as I don’t

intend to hide from you.”

She turned slowly, allowing him to see the fullness of her body below the lace. The slimness of her

waist, the triangle of red hair between her thighs.

She turned and faced him and he waited for her revulsion, her disgust.
“Will you be joining me for dinner?” she asked.

*** *** ***

He was ugly.
The pictures of Mateo Lopez before the accident were of a handsome man with a beautiful smile,

an olive complexion with flashing dark eyes. He had curly, black hair and with his beauty and his
voice, he no doubt captured the interest of any woman who interested him.

His face was no longer the flawless, Mediterranean perfection of the past. A scar twisted one side

of his mouth into a sneer. Another scar circled his left eye which drooped. His face had needed
massive reconstructive surgery and despite life saving measures and brilliant doctors, there was no
way to save his looks and his life.

He dragged his foot when he walked. Although he tried to hide it, he massaged his fingers after a

few minutes of using his utensils.

She didn’t know how to talk to him. With most men she could flirt or tease, compliment their suit or

play to their egos. Mateo ate slowly, his face turned away as often as he could. It was ridiculous and
if this was anything but her life, she’d be amused.

“Your house is beautiful.” It was a conversation starter.
“Thank you.” He bowed his head but didn’t look at her.
“I’m grateful that you’re letting me stay with you. I’m hopeful that you understand I’m sincere in

everything I’ve said.”

“Miss Gibbs, this is an impossible situation.”
“No Senor Lopez, it’s not.” She laid her cutlery down. “I’m not as good as a singer as I need to be.

I’m good but I’m not great. Great can’t be taught.”

Saying the words aloud hurt. Some things were true but acknowledging them took a piece of your

soul.

“I’ll get employed for a while because I’m beautiful and I can sing. But once I start to age I’ll stop

getting jobs. Then I either get married and live a life of quiet misery or I’ll teach young singers with
more talent than I ever had and live the rest of my life with envy and bitterness. Isn’t that a marvelous
choice?”

“There are other options,” Mateo said quietly. He had lifted his head and was looking at her.

Finally.

“You think? I don’t. I’m not going to become a doctor or movie star. I won’t discover a passion for

painting, I don’t think. All I ever wanted to do was sing and I just don’t do it well enough.”

“That’s not a good reason to be here.”
“That’s not my reason for being here. I’m here because David showed me that I have a penchant for

being tied up and used. But I’m not a whore. So how does a woman get the debasement she needs
without putting herself in danger?”

“You seek a cripple?”
“Your words are so bitter. Did the accident destroy your soul also?”
His fork hit the plate. “You come into my home and insult me?”
“I’ve laid myself bare for you.”
“I have no need of a woman. David thinks the world needs sex. He is mistaken. Just as you are.

What you seek is not to be found in a stranger’s bed.”

“You aren’t listening.” It was so frustrating trying to get him to listen. The scars on his face were

less limiting than those inside. “What I need I can only get from a stranger. Once you care about me as
a person then the fantasy dies.”

“There is no need for fantasy in this life.”
How could David have been so wrong? He seemed to see right into her soul but this isn’t what she

thought she’d find. It must have been an elaborate ruse.

“Of course there’s need for fantasy.” Carolyn took the napkin from her lap and threw it on the table.

“Look at the life you’re choosing to live. You hide in the English countryside in a manor house, you
have a staff who wait on you but are practically invisible and what do you do? Do you sit and stare at
yourself in a mirror loathing the sight? Are you bettering the world around you in some way? You
seem able to judge me, why don’t you judge yourself first?”

“Why did David send you?” Mateo was out of his chair quickly. He stood above her, his twisted

features distorted even further by anger. “Are you here to taunt the demon? Or is this the pity fuck?
Did David send you to me to assuage his own guilt?”

“No woman would fuck you out of pity, Senor. You have enough self-pity to fuck yourself.” She

rose. “I’ll gather my things. This was a mistake.”

“You wound me.” His voice was low enough to miss.
Carolyn stopped. She didn’t miss his words.
“How do I wound you when you’re the one throwing the daggers?”
“You are so beautiful. You know this. And I have become a man who lives with ugliness. I do not

face women as you anymore.”

“There isn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t choose to be with Mateo Lopez. You know that.”
“Not as I am.” She turned and looked at him; a table divided them. A world existed between them.

They might not be able to bridge the distance.

“You’re not as ugly as you think.”
He coughed a laugh. “You are a bad liar, Carolina. And you were right. I have chosen only to

better the world by removing myself from it.”

“I can’t reason with you.”
“What you ask of me makes no sense.”
“You can’t hear what I’m offering. Stop arguing with me and listen.”
He threw his hands up but she knew it was just a dramatic gesture on his part. “Even without the

women in my life, I am being bossed.”

She laughed. It might not have been much of a joke but it was a start.
“David said you’d gone to a few of his parties.” He was standing still and watching her. He

couldn’t keep himself from looking at her body; the dress was designed for nothing other. “He said
you never chose the paddle or to play with pain. You didn’t like to do that.”

“I am not happy making another hurt. Even if that person wishes the hurt.”

“I don’t care for it either.” The dress swayed as she moved and slowly she was coming closer. It

was like approaching a wild animal. I’m harmless, don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you.

“David’s occasions were an indulgence.” His eyes seemed to move from her thighs to her breasts

to her face and back down. He didn’t know where to look. His eyes were greedy.

“But you did indulge, Senor.”
“Si, I did. I am a man and there were women who wanted to have, I don’t know all the words.”
“They wanted what I want.”
“You called it by a word I dislike.”
“Debasement? There’s a certain truth to that. Do you want my armchair psychiatrist view?”
“I do not know what you mean.”
“My mother told me I was a whore when I lost my virginity to my high school boyfriend. I told her

because I thought I was pregnant. I wasn’t but when I found out it was too late. My mother had
unloaded all her hate on me and made me feel like my sexual feelings were nothing but my being a
slut and a horrible person.

“When I went to college I was raped at a frat party. The guy who did it told all his frat brothers that

I was begging for it. I got a reputation for being a slut when I was a victim. It destroyed me.”

“I am so sorry.”
“Thank you. I am also. I sometimes wonder if I might have been different, had a different life if I’d

only done something. What would have happened if I’d gone to the police after I was raped? What if
I’d gone to a school counselor?”

“But you did none of that?”
“No. None of that. Do you want me to take off the dress? I like how you look at me.”
“No, keep the dress on. I’m not ready for you, Carolina.”
“Then let me tell you more of my story. Because I started to go crazy in college. I drank, I took

drugs. And I fucked. I didn’t care about myself. I was too chicken to kill myself but too damaged not
to try to do it in other ways.

“I never said no to anyone. Get me a drink or a snort and I’d open my legs. I didn’t feel anything. I

was so numb I might have well been dead. I don’t know how I managed to graduate but I did. And I
got my Masters and then got a job and somehow I kept going.

“I slowly started climbing out of that pit. I stopped taking drugs. I stopped drinking. And I stopped

dating. I became a drone.”

“You lived the life then that I live now.”
“Yes. I continued not to feel. And then I met Gene. He was the musical director of an opera

company that employed me. He was married. He told me when we met that he was going to fuck me
but not fall in love with me. He was right on both counts.

“He wasn’t very nice to me but I didn’t mind that. In fact, secretly I liked it. I liked that he had a

wife and it tormented me. I lived for his attention and I rarely got it. Usually the only way I could get
him was by sex.”

“And you hated it?”
“I loved it. Deep down it was exactly what I wanted. He treated me terribly, used me and it made

me feel more alive than anything else.”

“This was not healthy.”
“I know. But my psyche is what it is. The only men that managed to get me were those who were

unavailable and uninterested emotionally. David helped me see that I didn’t have to turn to married
men to get what I wanted. I need a man who can use me.”

“I am not that man Carolina.”
“Can you fall in love with me?”
He hesitated. She saw it on his face. He hated the truth.
“No,” he slowly admitted, “I cannot.”
“Would you be able to tie me to your bed and use my body for your own pleasure?”
He couldn’t help himself. He looked at her breasts and his breathing quickened.
“Damn you and damn David too.”
That was answer enough.

*** *** ***

Once upon a time he had been Mateo Lopez. He hadn’t questioned why women were with him or

why he was with a woman. He was famous, he was celebrated and women wanted him. He had his
choice of women also and he indulged.

He’d been in love a few times but love was the same luxury as a vacation or a bottle of wine. It all

ended. Bottles were emptied, vacations were replaced by jobs and commitments. Love was brief and
forgotten in the next rush of celebrity or between the thighs of another.

“You are not the first woman since my accident.”
He hadn’t meant to say it.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
The woman was determined to confound him.
She was sitting on the edge of his bed, completely naked yet demure. Her feet were on the floor,

her hands folded on her lap.

He was still wearing his clothes. What was he supposed to do?
“Do you want me to undress you?”
He’d never questioned what to do with a woman before. She wanted to be used yet he had no idea

any longer how to use a woman. She would be disgusted with him. She might not have turned away
from his face but there were scars on his body that she’d see. Scars that shamed him.

He stood too long, indecisive and then she stood. She was beautiful in the most basic feminine

way. He wished he was the man he’d once been so he could take her without hesitation.

In her bare feet she was almost as tall as him. Her hands came to rest on his chest, feather light. He

felt her breath, warm and soft on his skin.

He’d been with a prostitute, he wanted to tell her. Not once but twice. There was no satisfaction

with them, no warmth, no passion. It had been his way to prove he was still a man. The shots his
doctor had to give him proved further he was capable of sex as well as stupidity.

His shirt was peeled off his shoulders and he watched her face as she examined his body. “My

leg,” he said and then stopped.

“You were hurt.” She traced the scar that puckered his shoulder. “So badly hurt.”
He thought she meant to kiss it as she leaned in but it was her tongue, tracing the line of it from his

shoulder to his chest. Scars crisscrossed his chest and her mouth traversed the path they created.

She was working her way down and he stood, his belt loosened and his trousers pulled down.
He couldn’t remember a time he’d ever been undressed by a lover. Not like this; completely

stripped and left standing and she used her mouth to caress those parts of him he despised.

She nuzzled around his penis, touching it with whispers of breath, a brief kiss, the silken touch of

her hair. She dragged desire up from him. He thought it had been broken also, destroyed with his body

but his penis hardened and his body quickened with need.

She was brave but not skilled. Carolyn told a story that drew her as a woman with more

experience, more technique than what she showed. Her kisses though brave were not bringing him to
the peak of desire. Her touches did not make him forget the soreness of his muscles.

Even when her mouth closed on his cock, when the soft, wet wonderland of her embraced and

sucked his hard flesh; his leg throbbed with ache. He’d stood too long; his muscles were bunched and
sore.

He fisted her hair and roughly drew her head back. Her face was rosy, her lips wet and slightly

swollen.

“Go to your room,” he said roughly.
“I don’t understand. I can make it better.”
“No more. Leave me now.”
He saw the shame that flushed her face. Her expression shuttered, brittled.
Standing she was still glorious. How he wished he could be the man he’d been. He might once

have satisfied her, But now he needed to sit, to get the weigh off his clenching muscle.

He sunk onto the bed as the door closed and pushed his fist into his leg. There was still so much

pain.

There would always be pain.

*** *** ***

There was a television hidden in a credenza. Her e-reader was fully charged as was her phone and

tablet. There were any number of distractions but Carolyn couldn’t be distracted by them.

There was only him.
It was her damned nature to see things from the world of opera, the vestiges of large emotions and

dramatic stories.

He was a hero worthy of the stage.
He couldn’t hide his discomfort and she cursed herself for not recognizing it. She should have had

him sit or lay down. There were other ways to have done it and not left him standing on his bum leg.

Damn David and his suggestion that she come here.
She turned her tablet on and pulled up a page she had looked at numerous times: the Wikipedia

page on Mateo Lopez. The picture at the top showed him before the accident; back when he was
headlining the best houses. Back when he was the greatest living star in opera.

He’d never look like that again. So much masculine attractiveness in the lines of his face, the depth

of his eyes. The mouth was lush and without the sardonic twist that a windshield had carved into his
face. Before his body was a roadmap of scars and puckers that would never fully heal.

He still had the presence of the greatness in him. He was commanding, despite his body he was

strong. She would have walked out but the way his shoulders were always held back, his chest
forward was a draw to her.

If he had been soft, the accident took it from him. He was the same as the carcass of the car he’d

been in: twisted and destroyed. But where the car became scrap, the man became a recluse.

She wanted him.
It was an impossible situation. He would never take her as she wished to be taken. It would take a

miracle.

Thankfully she still had a few planned.

*** *** ***

He was going to send her away. There really weren’t other options. She was a reminder of a past

he no longer knew, a future he couldn’t have.

He turned in his bed, his body unable to find comfort. There was no possibility of sleep, less even

of rest. He would start his day with exhaustion and pain. He hoped she wouldn’t cry.

It was just like David to send this woman into his world. David was the devil, damn him, and

always untouched by the destruction he wrought. Did he send this red-head knowing that she would
create such chaos in his quiet life? Did he plan yet another way to bring the baritone down?

A noise from the hallway froze him. He knew all the sounds of his house, from Simon’s footsteps to

the creak of the roof in a hard rain. He knew when a tree limb brushed a window or when a shingle
fell.

He knew it was her.
His door opened slowly and she appeared as if a vision. She wore something, he couldn’t see it

clearly but it didn’t matter; once the door closed behind her she dropped it from her shoulder and
down to the floor.

Carolyn approached the bed and Mateo lay still, pretending to sleep.
She was made of shadows and light. Her hair was black in the moonlight, framing a face he could

only see glimpses of. The shape of her body, fluid as the dappled darkness, teased him.

The bed sighed under her weight as she climbed in next to him. He tried to appear sleeping but

knew that the quickness in him would be apparent to anyone. His breath was shallower, his heart was
drumming, his pulse dancing in his throat.

His cock stirred below the duvet. He could see the peak of a hard nipple as she bent over, on her

hands and knees, doing something next to him that he couldn’t see. Only by letting her know that he
was awake could he watch what she did.

Instead through slit eyes he saw the nipple, the curve of her stomach, the shadow between her legs.
She moved again so that she was turned onto her back, and she manipulated herself and he opened

his eyes wider to see if she was doing what he figured she was. And indeed, she was.

It might have been the tie from her wrapper or a tie abandoned by an ex-lover that she bound

herself to his bed with. She had tied one hand and then looped a knot that she fastened by pulling her
other hand through. She was naked and bound on his bed, her offer so complete that momentarily he
was humbled.

She didn’t speak and he couldn’t think of a word to say.
He was going to send her away. Let David deal with the living and he, Mateo, would return to the

dead. He didn’t need a woman next to him, he didn’t need to try and understand someone else’s
twisting roads.

This wasn’t for him, he wanted to say. It didn’t matter that he wanted to touch her, to feel her flesh.

Her temptation was easy to ignore.

She moved and her leg, above the cover, touched his below.
The need to touch her was stronger than the need to prove he could resist. He’d curse later; despise

his body for yet another reason.

She made no sound as he skimmed his hand over her heat. He touched for no reason except to feel

her flesh.

She was hot, her body burned darkness.
He couldn’t imagine tenderness and he offered none. As he felt the hard edge of her nipple he

tightened his fingers over it. If he intended to cause pain, he was unsure. He wanted to feel her. Damn
it, he wanted to remember the joy of female flesh. Remember the pleasure of sex.

She arched and a sigh escaped into the night around them. It was a catalyst, an open door, an

invitation that screamed to be heard.

Mateo shifted so that his weight was off his side and more on his arms and stomach. Her body was

his for the using and he was determined to try and ignore the woman and only enjoy her flesh.

He squeezed her breast, pulled the nipple. It was a beacon and he needed to taste, to swallow the

light.

She was more than he dreamed of asking for. She was a mythical creature come to him who would

fade into the darkness when she was through. She was Venus, she was Medusa, she was Persephone
trapped in Hell.

And he was in Hell with her.
He wanted to taste and he did. Moving his body up, he took a breast in his mouth and suckled it.

She arched into his mouth, her breathing louder and quicker. He was giving her what they both
wanted.

He didn’t want to deny himself the pleasure of her body. It was so warm and lush, her breast filled

his hand and the hard nipple jutted to his mouth. Few women had bodies made for such pleasure, they
starved themselves to bones and men were supposed to find that exciting.

She was lean and he would have her softer but she had the softness in her breast and belly that he

craved. Her long legs parted as invitation and he could smell her musk as he drew her other nipple to
his mouth.

She wasn’t lying when she said she knew what she wanted.
He wasn’t worried about gentleness when he touched her. He wanted to feel her wet and she was,

beautifully and delightedly warm and wet in her core.

His leg twinged, the muscle was already straining. If he fucked her the way he wanted to, he would

be in pain. She was the kind of woman who should be taken hard, who needed virility and ferocity in
her fuck.

He was so hard, he didn’t know how he could possibly stop. The pain would be formidable but the

pleasure even more so.

He touched her as deeply as he could, his fingers delving inside, reaching for that place where she

would stop thinking. Reaching to find where she might not care that it was him in the bed with her and
not a whole man, an uninjured lover.

She tensed and cried out, her voice sharp and clear. She’d been so silent but at that moment he felt

how willing she was to be lost in the moment. Her entire body poised for more pleasure, more taking.

It was time to stop thinking and to allow himself whatever his body could take.
She was tight and wet and although his muscles strained to hold him atop her, he didn’t care of

anything but the warm wet that surrounded him and tightened around his aching cock. Thrusting into
her, hearing the soft exhalation of breath, the tiny whimper of pleasure and he was lost to everything.

His body no longer had limits. Aches disappeared, muscles remembered themselves and for that

moment, gave him back the man he used to be.

The world became just him and her. Two bodies moving together, two people seeking to find

something in the other that they lacked when alone. He wanted to hear her climax, to know he was
still a man who could bring a woman such pleasure.

He wasn’t a cripple as she tightened around him. He wasn’t broken as she trembled in excitement.

He was the man he was before the accident, before the body failed him and his mind became doubting

and unsure. When she cried out in climax, he was Mateo Lopez once again.

The feel of her orgasm on his cock was all he needed to bring his own climax. He’d stood on the

cliff’s edge and finally he fell down, that glorious fall into release.

*** *** ***

“If your leg hurts we can sit.”
She’d been woken by Mateo untying her arms. She’d fallen asleep still bound to his bed and her

arms had been sore as hell upon awakening. Mateo moved stiffly and Carolyn figured that the pain in
her arms might match that in his leg. If so, he’d be miserable.

He said he needed to walk the pain away and although he hadn’t invited her, she quickly dressed

and joined him.

The garden was beautiful. The landscaping was as beautiful as the interior of his home, the

baritone obviously spent a lot of money to keep his castle maintained. Unfortunately he seemed to be
lacking the same upkeep his home had.

Mateo was walking stiffly, his leg dragging just a little more. Carolyn knew she was the cause but

that was okay with her. He hadn’t given her what she needed, not really, but he’d used her body and
she liked that.

“I need exercise.” His manner was as stiff as his leg.
“I really like your home. It’s all so beautiful. Picture perfect.”
“Unlike the man who lives in it.”
She stopped walking and looked at him. “You must enjoy being miserable.”
He stopped and turned slightly. His eyebrow lifted slightly.
“It’s just that we usually seem to choose what makes us happy. Singing makes me happy so I try to

sing. Being fucked is a smiling event. I like wine and good food. I don’t really get into misery.”

“You believe yourself too clever,” Mateo said. He walked to a nearby bench and sunk down on it.

The tiredness on his features hurt her heart. However the look on his face had a different effect. He
looked at her in a way that seemed to sear into her soul.

“Sing,” he demanded.
She would have stripped at that moment if he asked her to and taken him in her mouth at his whim.

She could have offered herself in any way and felt a glorious humiliation in it. But this was something
that stripped at her soul.

“I can’t.”
“And in this you are unsure?” His voice mocked. “You who can lay my soul bare cannot share your

voice in another way? Sing for me Carolina. Let me hear what you hide.”

Damn his soul straight to Hell. And damn the fear that coiled inside her like a snake ready to strike.
She sang. She hated the quaver in her voice, hated the uncertainty that infused the melody and

stained the notes.

She wasn’t good enough and he could hear it. She would never reach greatness, never be someone

that the world needed to hear.

She didn’t even finish the song. The words died in her throat, the notes refused to be sung. She was

humiliated and hurt as his face remained completely passive although the accident caused sneer
seemed to be so apt.

He opened his mouth to speak and she felt shame in a way she hadn’t before. She turned away and

ran toward the house.

*** *** ***

Her bedroom looked like she’d never been in it. The unmade bed she left was made, its bedspread

a bright flag flown over her sloppiness. Her clothes that had been strewn about the room were folded
and sat on the bench at the edge of the bed. Her electronics were gathered and neatly placed on the
night table.

It would be easy to leave. She dragged her suitcase from the closet and threw it on the bed.

Somebody had unpacked everything and whereas it felt like luxury when she’d first discovered it, it
felt like another embarrassing bearing of her soul now that she felt weak.

This was how they operated, those men with the power. They never took what you offered but

rather took pieces of you that you couldn’t bear to lose.

“I did not think that you would run.”
His voice made her jump, she hadn’t heard his approach. She didn’t want to face him, didn’t want

him to see her out of control.

“So the truth is of a different stripe, si? That your wish is to control and what you cannot, you run

away from?”

“You don’t know anything about me.” She turned to him, knowing her skin would be red and

mottled, that she would look as ugly as she felt. Let him see her as she truly was. He would discover
what a beast she truly was.

“I know much.” He nodded at the bed. “I must sit. I walked quickly to catch you and it causes an

ache.”

She took her suitcase and placed it on the ground. Mateo sank onto the bed where her case had

been. His fingers dug into the sore muscle and his face tightened in pain.

She wanted to sink on the floor and beg forgiveness. It was humiliating in the worst way. All it

would take was one wrong word and she would shatter to never be whole again.

“You are not as bad as you think,” Mateo said, his attention on his leg. “You are right that you are

never going to be a star but you have the solids foundation. If you are willing, you will be a singer for
many years.”

“I have been a singer,” she said, ashamed of the tremor in her voice. “I’m now an unemployed

singer.”

“You do not do the necessary work, do not deny it.” He looked up and matched her gaze. “You get

the job and then do the laziness. It is in your voice. If you had the desire, you could make yourself
more.”

“Gene said I was a mediocre singer with a pretty face. Even David said that.”
“And these are men that show you respect? No. This is your problem. You have said you like the

men who use you but you are not separating in what ways you are used.”

“You don’t understand.”
“You think not? I think that maybe you have the story and the lie but the truth is missing. You do the

hiding because you are afraid you might be better than you want to be. Take off your clothes.”

“I don’t think I want to.”
“I am not asking what you want. I am telling you.”
She was shaking. It was a tremble that came from deep inside. He was daring her to face her own

lie: that she enjoyed debasement. What was the truth? It scared her more that a man of such notorious
talent said she had ability than other men telling her she was nothing more than a great fuck.

It hurt. Having her lies taken away was more humiliating than anything another man had asked of

her.

Her fingers were unsteady as she pulled her clothes off. Her skin was cold, her bones felt brittle.

He could break her if he wished and she wouldn’t be able to stop him.

Her clothes piled on the floor and she stood naked and shivering.
He reached his hands out and took her hands. She was pulled to the bed, sitting next to Mateo.
“You have let too many people into your head,” Mateo said quietly. “You must chase them out.”
“How are you the man to give advice?”
“Ah Carolina.” The back of his fingers skimmed her cheek. “There are many things I know. I might

not always know the best for myself but I know the best for you.”

It was wrong. Nobody knew what was best for her except her. But his hand continued moving to

cup her breast and play with her nipple, bringing it to a hard peak despite the dissention in her head.

She could learn to hate her body, its eager betrayal. His touch opened her, unfurled the sigh under

her skin.

He touched her gently, touched her in a way she hated. She wanted to be taken, to be forced to open

herself. She needed a touch that demanded, not one that coaxed. If permission was to be asked then it
would be denied. She wanted to be disregarded.

He refused her all she wanted as he trailed fingertips whisper soft over her. He blew on her and

she fell, he whispered and her body tightened.

She cried out when his mouth touched her. If there was any act that seemed depraved to her, it was

the one he did to her. To be so opened to a man, to be tasted and teased, to be the focus of his desire
was too difficult to bear.

She twisted but he caught her thighs in his hands and held her still. He didn’t bother to look at her

face or even beyond the juncture of her thighs. She wanted to hide her face, not let him ever see her or
her embarrassment.

He’d discover quickly what little this act did for her. Carolyn laid her arm over her face, hiding

her eyes. She would lay still, stone cold until he stopped, his mouth wetting her and his fingers
delving for sensation they’d never find. She wasn’t built that way.

It humiliated her to be like this. If he used her, if he tried to shame her, there would be nothing but

pleasure. He should be able to see that, she thought. He should see how little she enjoyed what he did.

She couldn’t believe he remained unaware of her coldness. His tongue continued to lick, his mouth

continued to move. His fingers delved inside and touched, seeking that place where she would jolt
and find her pleasure.

Mateo was aware.
Never had he been with a woman who remained so closed, so unable to feel. She was a fighter,

there was no question, but it seemed that she fought herself more than she fought the world.

Her body was fighting also. He knew how to bring a woman bliss but she fought the feelings. She

twisted under his mouth, moved away from his fingers.

He didn’t believe her any more. She came into his life saying she wanted, no she needed, to be

treated with disdain but the truth was slipperier than that. She wanted to be used but only if it matched
some story she had scripted in her head.

He should have just let her go but for the first time in a long time he felt challenged. No doubt

David sent Carolyn to him for sexual fun but there was so much more to her than that. There was so
much more to how he felt when he was with her.

He pushed his fingers up to caress higher inside her and she moved suddenly. It was what he

sought. There was feeling inside her, joy to be found and had.

It was just like Carolyn to be the kind of woman whose stimulation would be hard to reach. High

and long. He almost chuckled. His fingers returned to the spot and stroked over it as he licked her clit
with a flattened tongue.

She spread her legs farther, excitement finally blossoming inside her. Mateo suckled her clit, his

own enjoyment growing as she stopped fighting and opened herself to him.

He suckled and stroked, pressed with tongue and fingers until she cried out and shuddered under

him.

It was better than he imagined.

*** *** ***

The bed moved under his weight as he shifted onto his back.
“You are not being good for my aches.” His voice was rich with humor and satisfaction.
Carolyn shifted away from his body. There was nothing to cover herself with; her suitcase was on

the floor. Unthinking her hand covered her pubis.

“I think it’s best if I travel on to Germany early,” she said. “There’s no question I’m not doing you

any good. As you just said.”

“I think you are wrong. And you are running. Do you often run away, Carolina?” He turned to his

side to look at her. “You are the complicated one, I think.”

“I’m not complicated, I’m very basic.” She sat and turned away from him. “I have other things I

should be doing. Places I should go.”

“And two days ago you said you had no place to be. I think you are running from me just as I am

starting to fall under your charms.”

He sounded too happy and she didn’t like it. There was a burning in her gut, it was uncomfortable

and she wanted to move, to move quickly.

“I have no charms,” she muttered getting off the bed and kneeling by her suitcase. She grabbed a

simple dress and quickly shimmied it down her body.

“So you will run then?”
“I need to leave.”
“Then you will not stay to hear my proposition?”
She’d turned to collect her things from the bathroom but is words interested her. She slowly turned

toward him and wanted to curse the sight. He was still dressed, laying on his side and looking so
damned happy she wanted to scratch his eyes out.

His cock was pressing his trousers, his free hand was near it but not touching. The liveliness in his

eyes and on his face was stunning. It was the happiest she’d seen him.

“What proposition?”
“You have little time until you audition for Hamburg, si? And you wish the employment? I will

mentor you starting today. You will have the master’s class from a famous baritone and in return I
will have you to enjoy as I wish.”

Her heart was beating so strongly it was almost painful. She’d offered herself to him but now he

wanted to choose how he’d take her. And she knew, she understood, that he wouldn’t treat her
disrespectfully and that wasn’t what she had come seeking.

On the other hand, his voice was legend and to be his student even if it was only for such a short

time, would be a gift unparalleled.

“A rock and a hard place,” Carolyn said.

“Indeed,” Mateo agreed.
If David was a demon then this man was the devil himself. His offer was a sure fall from comfort,

a complete end to all she knew and a beginning to a place she wasn’t sure she could go.

“I agree.” She was destined to discover a new version of hell.

*** *** ***

“You have no confidence, Carolina.”
He was sprawled in a chair in the library, his bad leg fully extended. He was relaxed. There was a

blandness to his features that she didn’t trust. He was many things and all of them dangerous. This
easy going Mateo was not a reality she trusted.

“Not in front of you.” She looked down at her feet. “I feel too raw doing this.”
“But I do not scare you. I’m just a broken man.”
She gasped a laugh. “That’s your mask, isn’t it?”
“I wear no mask.”
“Not the truth, Senor, is it?” She cocked her hip and instantly was the seductress. “I believe your

masks are as varied as mine.”

“So you admit. This is delightful.” He leaned forward, his face lit with humor. Carolyn was

surprised to recognize that not only was this the happiest she might have ever seen Mateo, but he also
looked less the beast at that moment and more the brilliant baritone.

“I should probably admit nothing when near you.”
“Ah Carolina, this is where it begins. When we say we have the masks then we have the

opportunity to strip them away. And what will we see?”

She had no answer. He seemed quite happy with that.

*** *** ***

They drank. There had been wine at dinner and after, there was brandy in the library. When Simon

brought coffee, Mateo liberally added whiskey into the mugs.

Carolyn felt unsteady. There was a change between them; Mateo didn’t have his sullen self on.

There was an ease in him that set her on edge.

It made no sense that a content Mateo created a chaotic Carolyn. But it did. She was edgy; agitated

in different ways. Her legs wobbled, her pussy clenched, her breasts were tight. Her breathing, which
Mateo had told her, was too shallow, caught in her lungs.

He was restless, and it made her even more uneasy. The alcohol was making everything slow

motion and jerky.

“Come to me,” he said and she started. He was sitting on the leather chair where he’d sat while she

sang but this time he wasn’t casual and unfurled, but rather upright and tight. His shoulders were
soldier straight and his hand outstretched toward her.

She hesitated but took an uncertain step to him. His hand closed over hers and she was pulled

down to his lap.

“What game shall we play tonight?” he asked. His voice was low. “Do you want to sing for me and

I can punish you across my lap after? Would you like to be the bad student to the dirty professor? Or
shall I treat you as an innocent virgin and run my hand up your leg, like so? Will you squirm away?”

She almost did and stopped at his words. He was getting in her head and she didn’t like it. She had

no control over him, there was nothing he didn’t seem able to see through.

She could play the game too.
“I like that game,” Carolyn said, “but maybe even more, the school girl who’s the seductress.

Would you like me to seduce you, Senor?”

“But you have been, Carolina.” He sounded amused.
It was hard to coordinate her limbs, the alcohol making her muddy. But she was able to turn and

straddle his lap.

“You haven’t seen what I can do,” she bragged. She was going to show him what she was made of,

show him that her games were more effective than his.

She fumbled the buttons on his shirt, opening only the top buttons. That was enough. She put her

hand down his shirt and felt his chest, her fingers skimming over scar and chest hair. He was so warm
and hard. His skin was a path from soft and downy to hard and corded. There were puckers formed
by scars and the tiny nubs of his nipples.

He felt like no one else. He sounded, tasted, acted like no man before him. He made her falter

when she had been so sure.

Her hand stilled and she looked up into his face.
The handsome man from the photos was still in the face looking back at her. The aristocratic nose,

the dark eyebrows, the warm hazel eyes. His hand hooked the back of her head and he brought her
face down.

“I will meet you Carolina, the half way. Does that sound acceptable?”
He didn’t give her a chance to answer, his mouth covered hers.
It wasn’t lost on her that this was their first kiss. The first time their lips met and parted. The first

time their breath mingled. The first time she felt tenderness melt the exterior of her heart.

She would have pulled away but his hand was strong on her neck, holding her to him.
His tongue slipped past her lips and tasted her mouth. It was an intrusion she wanted to protest. She

didn’t want his kiss. She didn’t want any semblance of romance or care. She didn’t want to feel the
soft, the sweet press of his lips on hers.

Her body pressed into his and he kept one hand cupping her head while the other wandered from

her back to her butt and then back again.

When his mouth released hers, Carolyn was strangely saddened. She felt his cock straining in his

trousers, felt the tension in his body yet it was strangely unmoving. His mouth descended once more
but his lips skimmed by her mouth and nuzzled the soft skin of her cheek.

He kissed under her eyes, along her cheekbones. His body was aroused but his kisses were sweet.

It was disconcerting. It was something she wanted more of. She needed it to end.

She reached down and pulled at the zipper of his trousers. He was rock hard. It was hard to

coordinate her fingers to release him while he bit her earlobe and kissed down her neck.

His cock was hot in her hand. “Carolina,” he murmured against her neck.
“Fuck me,” she answered.
He helped her lift up and he fit himself to her. She slid over his cock, dropping her head back. It

felt good, he was deep in her. He leaned forward and kissed the hollow of her throat.

“Carolina,” he said again and his tongue tasted her.
“Mateo,” she said and worked herself hard on his cock.

*** *** ***

“You are going to sing well for your audition.”
Carolyn felt his words warm her inside. It was no longer difficult to sing in front of Mateo. He was

helpful, not as autocratic as she assumed he’d be.

As a teacher he truly wanted her to do well. He was relaxed and easy, very much not the man she’d

met only a week and a half before. There was a difference between both, an ease they found together.

Germany was looming but for the first time, she was beginning to think that perhaps she would be

able to do what she wished to and not for the reasons others said. She could sing, she understood that.
She heard the difference every day as Mateo helped her craft her confidence.

“You have always been the singer, Carolina,” he told her. “It was the other voices that you listened

to that stopped you. To sing is to believe. To sing is to know that in a moment your voice goes into the
world and changes it. You never believed and so you allowed the other voices to silence yours. Now
you will refuse to be silenced.”

She believed him and she sang. She understood, she felt it deep inside and her voice gained tone,

her voice began to be true.

“I’ve never felt it so deeply.”
They were sitting at dinner, both enjoying the fragrant soup before them.
“That is what the singing should do, si? It should echo first in your heart and then you can bring it to

others. If you do not do the believing, then why would anyone else believe?”

“You should teach, Mateo. You have an innate ability to bring out the best and make it make

sense.”

He snorted. “Is that the excuse that those who cannot, teach?”
“Nobody said you can’t.”
He shook his head. “Nobody would pay money to see me. Not unless they wished the freak show.

My days are over.”

“Was your voice damaged?”
He didn’t answer. The tightness in his face said enough. He closed himself down effectively. When

Mateo wanted no one in, then no one could find entrance.

However, Carolyn didn’t feel like letting him do that this time.
“You haven’t let me hide, so why are you? Answer me, can you sing?”
“I do not sing anymore.”
There were thunderclouds in his expression.
“Do not or cannot?”
“This is not the conversation we have at my table, Carolina.”
“Then I’ll stand. Or if you wish, I can crouch between your legs. But the question remains, can you

sing still?”

His spoon clattered in the bowl. “I have lost my appetite.”
His chair scraped back and her heart seemed to lodge in her throat. But still she understood

something; it was what he’d been teaching her. As he pushed onto his feet she placed her spoon down
and asked again: “Can you sing? You’re proving you can run but can you sing?”

If he had been a man who answered with his fists she would have been battered. But he turned his

back, his shoulders so straight, always so military in his bearing and slowly he walked toward the
door.

“Yes,” he said softly, “I can sing. But who would wish to see me do so?”
She stood. “I would. Oh my God, I would.”
His face was no longer that of a monster or a broken man. He was just Mateo as she’d gotten to

know him and the face he turned to her was raw and filled with regret. So much pain in his eyes she
could feel it fill the space between them. He had lost so much and for the first time, seeing the racking
sorrow on his features, she began to understand how bad it truly was.

“Would you sing for me, Mateo?”
It was the wrong thing to ask but she knew she needed to. She wanted to hear him, she wanted to

see him, she wanted to understand him.

And when she thought that she had finally gone too far, something crossed over his expression,

fleeting and then gone.

And he sang.
Ave Maria, gratia plena.
Maria, gratia plena
Maria, gratia plena
Ave, ave dominus,
Dominus tecum.
Benedicta tu in mulieribus,
Et benedictus
Et benedictus fructus ventris,
Ventris tui, Jesus.
Ave Maria.
When the last note ended, Mateo turned and walked out of the room.
Carolyn was stunned.

*** *** ***

She found him sitting in his bedroom. A fire burned in the fireplace and he sat in a leather

wingback chair, his hands empty, his countenance troubled.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked but oh my God, Mateo, you sing so beautifully. You’re the

reason so many of us want to try and make similar beauty. A voice like yours is a celebration.”

He shook his head. “It is too much pain. To sing. To not sing. Whatever choice is made causes pain

so I stay here and there is less. So much less and I can go on.”

“I don’t understand.”
She was the student, it seemed, always and so she folded herself gracefully to sit at his feet. The

fire warmed her back while the sorrow on his face chilled her heart.

“Do you wish to know how much clay is created between us? How angry David is and how he

used you to torture me?”

“That makes no sense.” She felt tight in her chest. This wasn’t what she expected to hear.
“The night it all ended,” Mateo said. “Nobody knows what the truth was except David and myself.

How he had a party and we were all drunk, all stoned, all of us out of our minds and all provided by
the great Devil of the Metropolitan Opera. And it was David who was supposed to take us to
Connecticut the next day. But we were addle minded and he thought it was so funny. So damned
funny.”

“Mateo,” she whispered but he went on.
“He got the car and suggested we leave that night. We were all still gone in the heads and he said

that Urs should drive, he could do it. We never should have gone but we did. There was Urs and his
girlfriend Terri. My friend Samuel was in the car and there was a soprano named Imelda. We were

supposed to sing the next night for a private fund raising party. We could have gotten there the next
day when we were sane. When drink and drugs weren’t messing out minds. We could have been there
and lived.”

“You don’t think David did it on purpose?”
“Would he not be capable?”
God, she didn’t know. David seemed like many different people sometimes but capable of sending

his friends into a dangerous situation for no reason at all? It didn’t sound right.

“Why would he send me here? What’s he doing?”
Mateo shrugged. Then he looked down and seemed to really see Carolyn sitting there. He reached

down and touched her cheek gently.

“I don’t know if it’s guilt or just more games. David killed four people that night. Had I died he

might have been able to live with it but I live and so he cannot appease the guilt or knowledge. Or
perhaps it does not matter to him.”

“It matters to me,” Carolyn said. “If he did this, used me to try and hurt you…”
“Hush Carolina.” He stroked her cheek. “What happened cannot be fixed with anger and no matter

how I have been broken, there is no changing what is. But tonight you reminded me that I am a singer
and here,” he put his fist over his heart, “here, I find I am conflicted.”

“You should return to the stage.”
He drew away from her. Flames reflected in his gaze. “Shall I play Quasimoto? Perhaps Grendel?”
“You could have some plastic surgery to repair your looks if you wish.”
She winced after she said it but Mateo barked a humorless laugh. “I could have a face that perhaps

would not frighten children but my body cannot be fixed, Do you know how many surgeries I have had
just to be in this much pain?”

“Your voice should be heard.”
He held his hand out to her and she took it. He pulled her up and she came to him, carefully

arranging herself on his lap.

“You will sing Carolina. You will sing and in you my voice will be heard again.”
“That’s not good enough,” she whispered.
“It is all I can do.” His face was warm as he laid it against hers. “It is enough.”

*** *** ***

Their time together was coming to an end.
Carolyn continued to sing for Mateo and her limited master class with him was intense but

worthwhile.

“I’m already better,” she said one afternoon. “You’re truly a good teacher. Have you ever

considered?”

Mateo was sitting at the piano and he casually picked out a few notes. “Si, I have considered. It

would be a pleasure to be useful again but I cannot decide. There is time still.”

“What you’ve already given the world through your voice can’t be ignored.” She walked over to

him and put her hands on his shoulders. “But what you could give through teaching would be
extraordinary.”

“You are good for me Carolina.” He turned slightly. “You are beautiful, you are smart and you

think I am wonderful. What a lucky man I am.”

“I don’t think you’re that wonderful,” she teased.

“Ah, it is in your eyes. I have sung and you have now become my fan.”
“Oh no Senor.” She put her knee on the piano bench and leaned into him. “Not a fan. I’m a

groupie.”

He laughed and she brought her mouth to his and swallowed his laughter. She liked kissing him.

Mateo loved to cup her head and hold her still while he tasted her mouth and she discovered that sort
of acquiescence was of a greater pleasure than any she’d known before.

They seemed to be done with the games. Their kisses were wet but gentle. He loved to kiss the skin

under her eyes and to nuzzle her earlobe until she purred. She loved how he played her. He was a
maestro in her arms.

She wore dresses that he found easy to remove. Silken straps that fell from her shoulders, full skirts

that could be pushed up. She welcomed him and didn’t hide it. He took what she offered and showed
appreciation.

He closed the piano lid and moved her to it. The positioning was awkward but he could use the

piano as support and stand as he fucked her.

She loved feeling him deep in her, loved the push and the give. There was no longer a question of

hurt and they kissed eagerly as their bodies joined. If it was a music they created it was one of soft
grunts and bodies slapping a rhythm together.

She came hard around him and he took her mouth hard as he climaxed inside her. His tongue

thrusting into the wetness of her mouth as he spilled his seed and the tension left him spent and still
within her soft body.

Her forehead was damp as he laid it on hers. “I have instructed Simon to arrange a car tomorrow to

get you to the airport. And I hope you will accept my hospitality a little further I have arranged a hotel
for you while in Hamburg. If you are accepted into the company they will help you find a place to
live. If not, you can come back here to decide what you wish to do next.”

“That’s very generous of you.” It was and she was thankful that he was making her life easier. But

it hurt. Somehow his words hurt.

“You will be amazing, Carolina.” He pulled out of her and carefully laid her skirt down to cover

her. “Herr Smith,” the musical director, “will love you.”

“I’ve been taught by the best.” She pulled the bodice of her dress up and tried to feel nothing as he

readjusted himself.

He looked at her and she thought there was something there but what it was she didn’t know. What

she wanted and what life always gave her was never the same thing.

“You have stopped listening to the bad voices,” he said, touching her face gently.
“And you, Mateo? Can you stop hearing the voices that limit you?”
He kissed her briefly and gently. That was all the answer he gave.

ENDING

>/p>
Sometimes it seemed as if it had never really happened.
Three weeks in England, three week living with a world famous baritone and then it was over.
She had gone to him thinking she would live a fantasy but instead she discovered that what was and

what might have been were not the same thing. Mateo had been a broken man and when she left, parts
of him were still broken.

Parts of her had been broken also. But together they’d also found a healing. It was small and it was

just the beginning of a journey they would both take, but it had begun.

Germany was exquisite and lonely. Carolyn had auditioned and been accepted into the opera

company immediately. What Mateo had begun, she continued. Another soprano told her of a teacher
and Carolyn had begun retraining.

Those voices that told her she wouldn’t be good enough, were finally being silenced.
One or two men with the company had asked her out but she was uninterested. For the first time she

was sleeping alone every night and happy to be doing so.

She missed him.
It was hard to accept at first, hard to truly understand but she missed being with him. They hadn’t

been together long enough to really create a relationship but in a short time they had carved a place
together that began to feel safe.

He hadn’t asked her to stay.
“Perhaps you might visit me in Germany one day,” she had said lightly, before leaving.
“I do not do much traveling anymore.” He held her hand as they stood by the door. Simon had taken

her suitcases to the waiting car and she felt like it was unfinished. She had come for one thing and
was leaving with nothing expected. He had given to her but the gift hadn’t yet been fully unwrapped.
She wanted more.

“Not even for me?” She fluttered her eyelids, trying to seduce.
“If there were anyone that I would try for, it would be you Carolina.”
“But you won’t try, will you?”
He didn’t answer. He picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to the cool skin.
“When you came you said you were a gift from David. You have been a gift, Carolina. I will miss

you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”
She lifted her face for a kiss and he didn’t disappoint. He kissed her softly, his mouth holding hers

and his tongue tracing the seam of her lips. She felt a tear sting the inside of her eyelid.

“Travel safe,” he whispered.
She found a flat that she shared with another singer, Stefanie. Stef had a boyfriend and was often

gone which suited Carolyn well. She wasn’t interested in a social life, she was allowing her life to
narrow to opera, to discovering the world around her and to finally stop battling her demons and start
truly understanding them.

No longer did she feel the wish to be used. She felt no desire for anyone and only wished to be

heard.

She wanted to sing.
She wanted something else also.
Her mind turned often to a man in England. A hot blooded Spaniard who could sing the angels

down from heaven but carried his own demons in his soul. She missed him. She missed his high
handed manner, his scowl, his warmth and his voice. She missed being in his bed. She missed being
with a man who was unable to use her as she thought she had wanted to be used but rather who helped
her begin to understand the limits she placed on herself.

She sometimes even missed her old limitations.
They were preparing a Christmas concert and Carolyn was excited to be one of three sopranos

featured in the song, I Heard the Bell on Christmas Day. It was her first featured performance ever.
She knew why.

She’d been so tempted to write Mateo and extend an invitation. She wanted him to know that it

might only have been three weeks but it was three of the most important weeks of her life.

“Will you go to a party with me?” Stef asked as they applied make-up before the show. “And

before you say no, as always, think that it’s Christmas Eve. Don’t spend tonight alone also.”

“I don’t really party anymore.”
“You come and be social for a short time. Then you go back to the flat and eat your ham and miss

the man you claim you don’t miss.”

“Yes.” It was time to stop brooding. And it was time to try to move on from a man who had

probably already forgotten her.

Stef smiled, her round face almost cherubic. “Excellent. Maybe we can find you a happy holiday

Carolyn. Whoever he is can just miss out.”

“There isn’t anyone,” Carolyn answered but her heart hurt even trying to lie.
Stef shook her head. “There is someone and he’s deep inside you. But you don’t have to stop living

for him. You have to start living for yourself.”

“Just my luck,” Carolyn muttered, “my roommate is a German Yoda.”
Stef laughed. “First time anyone ever said that to me. Now do your warm-ups. Tonight a star will

be born.”

**
The concert went well. She wasn’t going to be discovered as the world’s next Maria Callas but her

voice had been true and she had felt a confidence she hadn’t known before.

The voices in her head were silenced and shamed by the applause. She might regret allowing them

so much attention but not now. Not this night, the eve before Christmas. Not when the applause
warmed her and a brighter future looked promising.

She dressed quickly and warmly to join Stef and the others. The party would be starting at

Wurstküche, a favorite restaurant and then move to someone’s home. Carolyn planned only to join the
others at the restaurant and then move on alone to her own flat.

Baby steps, she told herself. New lives begin with baby steps.
The night was cold and Stef had left moments before. “You will be there,” she warned.
“I’ll be there,” Carolyn promised.
There were roses from the Opera Director and a small bouquet from her teacher. She wanted to

take them, to brighten her home and remind her of a successful night. And as she held them close to
her body as she left the theater, she also acknowledged that she wanted to have that moment where
she felt like a true star: clutching flowers, leaving the theater after a performance, knowing she’d
done well; these were some of the joys of her life.

She almost didn’t see the man that waited by the wall. He was again in a shadow but when she

stopped, roses loose in her grasp and her body suddenly yearning for who she’d missed so dearly, he
stepped into the light and her heart exploded with joy.

“Carolina,” he said and she stumbled toward him.
“You came.” Her voice which had been so strong in concert was now brittle and weak. “I dreamed

but I didn’t expect.”

His hand cupped her cheek and she was looking once again into the face that had gotten past her

defenses. The man who changed her and the man she loved.

“I didn’t want to come to you,” he said softly. “You deserve better than a broken man.”
“You deserve better than me. But if you’re here I won’t be stupid enough to turn away. I’ve missed

you so much.”

His arms circled her and he drew her close. “I thought I knew emptiness,” he murmured into her

hair, “but after you left, I discovered what true emptiness is. I do not think my life can know any kind
of happiness if you are not in it, my Carolina.”

He took her mouth the in a kiss that was far from gentle. His hunger for her was living in that kiss.

She melted into his arms.

It was so good to taste his mouth again. So good to be with him.
He took her face between his hands and pulled away, looking into her eyes. “You have changed,

yes?”

“I have more confidence. You gave that to me, Mateo.”
“Have you room for a broken baritone in your new world?”
“Not a broken baritone, no.” His face shuttered, the warmth in his eyes chilling. “Oh Mateo, you

aren’t broken. You have injuries but nothing more. But that’s something I’ll need to teach you, yes?”

He saw the humor in her eyes and the love. Her face was tilted to him and he understood that she

offered him everything she had to give.

“Only a fool would say no, Carolina. And I am no longer willing to be the fool.”
He brought his mouth to hers and they shared a kiss that was warm with promise and spiced by a

passion only they knew.

“Merry Christmas Carolina,” he whispered when her mouth left his.
She tucked herself under his arm. The roses were crushed and some broken but she didn’t notice.

Everything she needed she now had and together they leaned on each other as they walked into the
night and their future.

The End