Harmony and Dissonance

Lars swam to her and pressed her back against the pier. He reached around her and unbuttoned the straps of the bathing suit were they were attached at the base of her spine and pulled the top down to her waist. He had her waist encircled with one arm and his other hand pushed down the front of her bathing suit, with his thumb working her clit and his fingers invading her cunt. His lips and teeth were working her exposed breasts. Panting and mewing and moaning, Somsri's arms encircled Lars' neck and her thighs were hooked on his hips. Water lapped against the pier in small waves that had their bodies naturally undulating against each other with no purposeful movement of either one.

Her bathing suit was pushed down to mid thigh, as was his. The bulb of his cock presented at her cunt and pressed in, only the bulb inside her entrance. She had already exploded in an orgasm and was clutching his shoulder blades with her fingers, her fingernails digging into his flesh. She was making little growling noises deep in her throat. He gave her two inches of the cock, which caused her to tense and cry out, "Oh, my god!"

"What's the matter? Am I hurting you?" he whispered into the hair on the side of her head.

"Please. Please, you must go slow. I've . . . I've never . . ."

"You are a virgin?" he asked in surprise.

"Yes, yes. I'm so sorry but . . ."

Lars roared with laughter. "Yes, yes, of course you're still a virgin. It's all part of the harmony of the musical fantasy you and your husband make. But you do want me to fuck you, don't you?"

"Yes, oh yes."

"I will go slowly then. But I will have you fully."

And have her fully, he did. And, slowly but surely, she had all of him inside her, bringing on explosion after explosion until he too had ejaculated. After he was done, they held there, him still inside her, letting the gentle action of the lapping of the waves on the pillar move their bodies against each other and his cock inside her, until he had reengorged and fucked her again, pumping her hard and with abandon this time.

As they were cooling off from that, they heard the patter of feet above them on the pier. Krit returning to the hut—the room he shared with Somsri.

Embarrassed and returning to reality now, Somsri pushed Lars gently away from her.

"I must go now. We shouldn't have. It isn't right. Krit."

"But I will have you again, won't I?"

"Any time we can manage it," she whispered in a strangled voice, giving him a look of consternation laced with want.

He held her at arms' length as she readjusted her swim suit and then let her swim away to make whatever entrance and excuses she could in the hut above Lars' head where Krit now waited.

When Krit went to the piano the next afternoon—the day before the royal court was to arrive for the Chopin concert that evening—to practice his etudes, he found an unsigned note on the piano that Somsri needed to see him in their hut. Amnad was off in the front-section traditional Thai-style wing, helping the servants decorate the ceremonial pavilions for the arrival for the king. Krit didn't know where Lars was. He hadn't seen the German engineer since the hour after dinner the previous evening when it had been Krit who suggested that Somsri practice her lieder again with Amnad playing and, when they were gone, had begged Lars to fuck him again, which was accomplished again in the outrigger-style boat in the storage area under the middle wing of the palace.

Heinrich had been right. Once he had taken Lars' cock inside him, Krit was insatiable.

Once again Lars had told Krit that he would come back to Germany with him to resume his service in Heinrich Heller's bed, and once again Krit had answered that he valued his music and his new life, no matter how much a lie it was, too much to give into that. And once more Lars said, "We'll see about that."

As Lars had planned in his introduction of dissonance into the harmony Krit insisted to pretend to live, when Krit arrived at his hut on the platform over the waters of the cove, he found a naked Lars on his back on the bed, holding Somsri's waist between his hands, as she straddled his hips and rode his cock.

Somsri hadn't seen Krit arrive and then quickly depart, and it didn't suit Lars' plans at that point for her to know Krit had seen them. As they continued to fuck, their movement naturally fell into the rhythm of Krit's playing of Chopin's etudes across the water of the cove, which sounded more hushed, more mournful, than he'd ever played them before.

That evening, after dinner, when Somsri arrived at the side of the grand piano and before Amnad arrived, it was her turn to find a note urging her to return to her room.

There she found Krit on all fours on the bed and Lars crouched over his hips and fucking him like a dog and growling commands for Krit to bark if he wanted Lars to stroke, which Krit did. He barked like a dog and begged Lars to resume fucking him.

This Lars wanted Somsri to see. He wanted her to see Krit in total subjugation and humiliation, begging for the fuck from a man. And he made sure to turn Krit's face toward the door when Somsri gasped and let out a little cry and turned and fled down the pier. Lars didn't stop, though. He continued to fuck Krit to the sound of Amnad playing Chopin's sonatas—Somsri singing the lieder no longer being on the menu for the evening.

When Lars was done, he pushed Krit over on his side, and growled. "There, so much for the harmony of your little musical world. You didn't flinch when Somsri saw us. You want the cock more than you want your music—more than you want the perfectly harmonious world of your piano playing and Somsri's singing. Now are you ready to return to Germany with me?"

"I've told you I can't come with you, that my world is here now, with my music and Somsri." Krit was panting, but he also was pawing at Lars, trying to bring the big German down on top of him again, raising his legs and squeezing Lars' waist with them. "Somsri knows. She knows I lie under men. She wants this world as much as I do. We have created something special. It's more important than sex."

"Oh, I don't know," Lars said with a leer. "Even now you want my cock back inside you. Even now my cock is more important to you than your music or your perfect world with Somsri. Tell me you don't want the cock again."

"I want the cock again. Fuck me, fuck me again, please," Krit whined.

Lars rolled over on top of him and gave him his wish.

Afterward, back to the program, hammering at the program. "Are you ready to come back to Germany with me?"

"No, I can't. My world is here now."

"Shit." Lars rolled off the bed and went back to his own room.

* * * *

The morning after the concert, Amnad's chauffeured Mercedes pulled up into the forecourt of the Hua Hin palace. Lars handed Amnad into the backseat and Amnad slid over as the chauffeur put their luggage in the trunk. They were going back to resume the work on the staging for the Rigoletto performances at the Bangkok Opera before Lars returned to Germany.

Other than viewing them from afar during a triumphant Chopin concert the previous evening, Lars hadn't been close to or talked to either Krit or Somsri since the last sexual encounter in their hut. He'd given the previous night to Amnad, who was dancing on the clouds from the success of the concert, and whom Lars rewarded by fucking him in four different positions of the male Kama Sutra, something that Amnad, totally unaware of the sexual tension drama that had been storming around him, indeed considered a reward. As far as Amnad was concerned, Lars had been there solely for him.

As Lars was about to fold himself into the backseat of the Mercedes beside Amnad, he hesitated, seeing Somsri rushing at him from across the expanse of grass in front of the palace's Thai-style wing. He walked away from the car and met her several paces onto the grass. He grabbed her waist and held her at arms' length as she approached to prevent her from flying into his arms and becoming a spectacle for speculation by Amnad, who was bending down and peering at them from inside the Mercedes.

Somsri had been crying, and she was in a state of dishabille—which, Lars had to admit, was quite sexy for anyone moved by a beautiful woman in distress.

"Lars, I don't care, I—"

"Shush," Lars muttered. "Keep your voice down, or I'll have to go back to the car instantly."

"Lars, I don't care," she repeated in sotto voce, with a sob, "I don't care what you and Krit do. I don't care what Krit does. I want to be with you. Don't leave me."

"I'm only going back to Bangkok," he answered, his mind cranking at high speed, seeing a glimmer of hope for his mission. If dissonance didn't work on Krit's clutching at harmony, how centered would he be in this musical fantasy of Somsri and him if Somsri wasn't there? If, for instance, she was in Germany until Krit gave in and appeared there too?

"Just to Bangkok," he repeated. "I will be there for a couple of weeks, working on Rigoletto. We needn't stop seeing each other, if you want."

After placating her, Lars entered the Mercedes far happier and more confident that he'd been last night. He waved to Somsri, now smiling and her eyes gleaming through teardrops, and looked past her and across to the steps up to the Thai-style pavilions, where Krit now stood.

As the car pulled out of the forecourt, Lars looked back and his confidence took a little hit. Krit had come down the steps and encircled Somsri in his arms from behind, and she'd leaned her head back into his shoulder—looking entirely too content for Lars' liking.

When the Mercedes had pulled out into the road, Lars leaned over toward Amnad, encircled him with an arm and turned Amnad's face to his for a kiss-while his other hand found Amnad's basket. The chauffeur eyed them through the rear-view mirror. Lars was well aware of both men, choosing the refined approach with Amnad and something far rougher with the chauffeur. Both seemed to enjoy what they got, though. It was just this versatility in a smashing package that had prompted Heinrich Heller to send Lars to Thailand in the first place.

Coming out of the kiss, Lars said to Amnad, "I've been thinking of your offer to move to your house while we work on Rigoletto. I think it would be better for me to keep my hotel room. Our encounters then could be so much more arousing and sensual—illicitly delicious."

Putty in his hands, Amnad innocently moaned his agreement. The chauffeur smiled and returned his attention to the road. No, he thought, that's not a man who wants to be pinned down too much by one man. Truly a man of dissonance rather than harmony.