vast expanse of grass, the field ahead beyond the low-hanging car-park fence.
‘Follow me.’
Summer took her shoes off when they moved onto the grass. He was right: it was wet and spongy under her almost bare feet. Within minutes the sensation became pleasurable enough. Dominik led the way, past the ponds, across a small bridge facing the outdoor swimming area and up a path. Here she had to slip the shoes back on because of the wilderness of pebbles digging into her soles. The squelching sensation of soggy nylon against the unyielding leather felt awkward, but they soon reached an expanse of grass again and she was able to resume her stocking-footed progress behind him as he held a steady, determined pace, holding her shoes by the straps in one hand. She wondered where they were heading. This part of the heath was unknown to her, but there was something about Dominik she trusted. Gut instinct. She didn’t believe he was luring her into some dark cranny in the woods to take advantage of her. Not that the thought of such a fate was in any way disturbing.
For a few hundred yards, the canopy of trees hid the blue of the sky and the warmth of the sun, and then they emerged into the light. A circular field totally open to the sky. An infinity of green, like an island emerging from a busy sea, a slight inclination and, at the top of the mound, a bandstand. Old-fashioned Victorian wrought-iron columns, rusting in places, overlooking a blissfully empty field.
Summer gasped. This was beautiful, an absolutely perfect setting, oddly deserted and eerie. She now understood why he had chosen such an early time in the morning for them to come here. There would be no spectators, or at any rate very few, unless the sound of her playing began to attract some from further afield across the heath.
Dominik bowed, indicating the bandstand, which they had now reached.
‘Here we are.’ He handed her the violin case and she mounted the stone steps leading to the bandstand’s stage.
Dominik positioned himself in one corner, leaning casually against one of the supporting metal posts.
Summer, for a fleeting instant, experienced a pang of rebellion. Why was she obeying his damn orders, being so docile and obliging? Part of her wanted to put her foot down and just say, ‘No’, or, ‘No way’, but another part of her that she didn’t know had existed until recently seductively whispered in her ear to go along with the game. Say ‘Yes’.
She froze.
Then, composing herself, Summer moved to the centre of the stage and opened the violin case. The instrument looked exquisite, so much better than her old battered and now useless instrument. She caught his eyes as she greedily ran her fingers across the burnished wood, the neck, the strings.
‘This is just a temporary instrument,’ Dominik said. ‘Once matters are settled to our mutual satisfaction, I will procure you a permanent violin, a better quality one.’
Right now, Summer couldn’t imagine ever holding a finer instrument than this one. Its weight, its balance, its curves just seemed downright perfect.
‘Play for me,’ he commanded.
She slipped off Charlotte’s coat and allowed it to slide to the floor. By now, the morning cold on her uncovered shoulders was no more than a gentle breeze as she travelled into the zone, oblivious to the place where she stood, the unnatural and isolated situation, the undertones of the relationship – yes, she knew it was going to be a relationship – with this curious and dangerous man.
She leaned over to retrieve the bow from the case she had set down on the bandstand floor, allowing Dominik, she was aware, a brief glimpse of her breasts. She never wore a bra with the black dress.
Summer looked back at him as he stood there, patiently waiting, expressionless, and began to tune the violin. Its sound was so full and rich, it bounced across the bandstand, every note floating towards the roof and back again like a silent echo.
And began
‘Follow me.’
Summer took her shoes off when they moved onto the grass. He was right: it was wet and spongy under her almost bare feet. Within minutes the sensation became pleasurable enough. Dominik led the way, past the ponds, across a small bridge facing the outdoor swimming area and up a path. Here she had to slip the shoes back on because of the wilderness of pebbles digging into her soles. The squelching sensation of soggy nylon against the unyielding leather felt awkward, but they soon reached an expanse of grass again and she was able to resume her stocking-footed progress behind him as he held a steady, determined pace, holding her shoes by the straps in one hand. She wondered where they were heading. This part of the heath was unknown to her, but there was something about Dominik she trusted. Gut instinct. She didn’t believe he was luring her into some dark cranny in the woods to take advantage of her. Not that the thought of such a fate was in any way disturbing.
For a few hundred yards, the canopy of trees hid the blue of the sky and the warmth of the sun, and then they emerged into the light. A circular field totally open to the sky. An infinity of green, like an island emerging from a busy sea, a slight inclination and, at the top of the mound, a bandstand. Old-fashioned Victorian wrought-iron columns, rusting in places, overlooking a blissfully empty field.
Summer gasped. This was beautiful, an absolutely perfect setting, oddly deserted and eerie. She now understood why he had chosen such an early time in the morning for them to come here. There would be no spectators, or at any rate very few, unless the sound of her playing began to attract some from further afield across the heath.
Dominik bowed, indicating the bandstand, which they had now reached.
‘Here we are.’ He handed her the violin case and she mounted the stone steps leading to the bandstand’s stage.
Dominik positioned himself in one corner, leaning casually against one of the supporting metal posts.
Summer, for a fleeting instant, experienced a pang of rebellion. Why was she obeying his damn orders, being so docile and obliging? Part of her wanted to put her foot down and just say, ‘No’, or, ‘No way’, but another part of her that she didn’t know had existed until recently seductively whispered in her ear to go along with the game. Say ‘Yes’.
She froze.
Then, composing herself, Summer moved to the centre of the stage and opened the violin case. The instrument looked exquisite, so much better than her old battered and now useless instrument. She caught his eyes as she greedily ran her fingers across the burnished wood, the neck, the strings.
‘This is just a temporary instrument,’ Dominik said. ‘Once matters are settled to our mutual satisfaction, I will procure you a permanent violin, a better quality one.’
Right now, Summer couldn’t imagine ever holding a finer instrument than this one. Its weight, its balance, its curves just seemed downright perfect.
‘Play for me,’ he commanded.
She slipped off Charlotte’s coat and allowed it to slide to the floor. By now, the morning cold on her uncovered shoulders was no more than a gentle breeze as she travelled into the zone, oblivious to the place where she stood, the unnatural and isolated situation, the undertones of the relationship – yes, she knew it was going to be a relationship – with this curious and dangerous man.
She leaned over to retrieve the bow from the case she had set down on the bandstand floor, allowing Dominik, she was aware, a brief glimpse of her breasts. She never wore a bra with the black dress.
Summer looked back at him as he stood there, patiently waiting, expressionless, and began to tune the violin. Its sound was so full and rich, it bounced across the bandstand, every note floating towards the roof and back again like a silent echo.
And began
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