“He used to be an ordinary nerd, and today he is my hot fantasy. Witold can be… a virtuoso not only on stage ”- Taken from life

photo: Adobe Stock, motortion

Almost five months had passed since I broke up with Jasiek and I was ready for another date. Honestly, I was ready long before but not so much for a relationship as for sex dating. I even used an application for this once, but when I returned from the apartment of some handsome, self-fascinated narcissist who offered “divine sex without obligations,” I decided that I actually prefer commitments.

“I just think relationships are sexy,” I confided to my friend. – You know someone, he knows you, you know what you like. And after sex, I like to lie down and plan what we’re going to do tomorrow, in a week or five years. I already have it and what to do?

– Find a guy permanently – Ania advised soberly. – Look for someone?

I was terrified. It was enough for me that my mother still had some great candidate for me. And this is the son of a friend, and this is a cousin of a co-worker, and even an exceptionally polite and charming waiter, whom she told about her single daughter.

“You’ve never been on any date I arranged for you,” she complained when I was rejecting another Adonis in her collection. – And I went to see Maciej, and he was your friend’s father. So you owe me one blind date!

I sighed theatrically at such manipulation, because with that Maciej, now my stepfather, who is satisfied with his life, I arranged for my mother fifteen years earlier to join a girl from my class who came up with this idea. The idea burned out, the elders fell in love with each other, and this girl is Ania, my step-sister and best friend.

“Okay, I’ll go, but only for one date,” I grunted resignedly.

A week later, my mother had a candidate …

Except it wasn’t exactly a blind date, because I knew this guy. I went to elementary school with him. Witek was a class nerd, and he studied at a music school. I was in love then with bullies and sportsmen, but I only liked Witek.

True, he was always sitting alone, and at school academies he played Chopin on the piano, so he was a “freak” in the eyes of other kids, but he was always nice to me. Shy, clumsy, always red when he talked to girls, but he was liked.

And this is what Witek’s mother met somewhere, talked to him and found out that he had come to our town to give a piano concert as part of some cultural review. She showed me a flyer of this event, on which Witold’s name was in bold, as if he were some kind of star.

– He gave me a double ticket! Mom announced proudly. – We have a second row seat, right behind the mayor! I said that I have to run away right away, but that it would be wonderful if you went to Aunt Mariola’s restaurant. I said it’s our family restaurant and you’d be happy to take it there to thank you for the tickets.

I rolled my eyes, but I actually quite liked the idea. I thought I would dress smart, listen to a beautiful concert, take a close look at our mayor’s bald head, and then eat the best ravioli in five provinces. And if I know my aunt, we’ll still get a nice wine with dinner. And it’s free.

Just well … Witek … Well, I could dream up a better company for the evening in my elegant dress and mother’s pearls, but what to do … We entered the concert at the theater a bit stunned by the attendance. I think it was half the city, mostly high society. We took our seats, listened to a few officials and Witold S.

Only my friend Witek did not come on stage – a bit fat, shorter than me, with a chubby face – but a tall, thin blonde in a tuxedo, who confidently stepped up to the big black piano, bowed to the audience, waited out the applause, then sat on the stool.

“He has changed a little,” I muttered to my mother and saw her smile.

Well, “a little” is an understatement

Witek looked like… I don’t know, an angel or an elf! And how did he play! I don’t know when was the hour. I’ve been to some other world! I couldn’t take my eyes off Witold, and his music made me shiver! After the concert, my mother came over, pulling my hand to the pianist, congratulated me on the performance and announced that she had to go.

“Yyy … hello …” I muttered, looking up, because even in high heels I was much shorter than Witold.

“I’m glad you came,” he leaned in and kissed my cheek.

“I’ve been practicing for so many years with the thought that I was playing for you … and here you are,” he added.

– Yyy, what? What? I stammered idiotically.

– You did not know? – He laughed and gave me a shudder, but some damn nice. – I was in love with you from the fifth to eighth grade! And then still in high school, although we went to other schools. But we ran into each other a few times, remember? Well, that was no accident.

I was stunned by this confession. For me, Witek existed somewhere on the periphery of consciousness, and he was in love with me ?? However, we could not finish this intriguing conversation, because there was a queue of delighted music lovers to Witold.

He asked me to wait backstage until he had dealt with the devotees, but I preferred to sit in the chair and look at him. Because I realized that I don’t want to take my eyes off him for a second.

Witold had a stunning effect on me

He had admirers and fans, got loads of flowers, compliments and compliments, and I couldn’t help but think about how I felt when he kissed me and touched my shoulder. I had this fresh memory in my mind and … I was getting more and more excited. I couldn’t wait to have this extraordinary, charismatic man all to myself.

When the last admirers had left, Witold asked me for a moment more patience, as he was waiting for the tuner. The next day, he was due to give a second concert, and his absolute hearing caught the false sound. So we were left alone, only there were still people downstairs. We sat behind the curtain and talked. Witold had a stunning effect on me and I dreamed that his long, slender fingers would touch my skin. Suddenly we heard the sound of the key being turned.

– Hey, we’re here! The musician jumped up. – Man, they locked us up. Wait, I’ll call the concert organizer …

He reached for the phone, but my body reacted faster.

“We’ll call you in a minute,” I said, my voice muffled with excitement. – Now I want to do something else.

He didn’t have time to ask me what …

“Ooh,” he groaned as I tore my hot lips away from his. – God, this is really happening …? Did I just kiss Milena from the eighth A…?

I saw something familiar in his eyes. Yes, I remembered him looking at me like that! But then it was just a kid, a chubby weirdo and a loner, and now… The tall, crowd-adored artist I wanted like mad! I wasn’t too subtle. I dig into his mouth again.

“If you want to stop it now, because in a moment I won’t stand up for myself …” he whispered, clutching my breasts frantically.

“If you interrupt now, I’ll kill you,” I threatened and wasn’t kidding at all.

When we finished, I was almost unconscious

I didn’t care that at any moment someone might remember we stayed here and open the door. I let him get up and then sit on the already closed piano keyboard.

We made love face to face, softly and with an affection I didn’t even know from my relationships. Witold not only put his whole soul into the game. Having sex with him was an experience almost mystical … But let’s face it, when it moved within me, it was not only my soul that experienced ecstasy. Nobody has done me this well in my life!

When we finished, I was almost unconscious. Witold straightened my hair, wiped the mascara smeared from tears of ecstasy from under my eyes. Then he knelt beside me and hugged my knees. I started stroking his silky blond hair, thinking I couldn’t stand it, I didn’t want it to be just one time … He will leave and I will be left with this amazing feeling that just exploded in my chest.

Suddenly he looked up at me like he used to. And like a quarter of an hour ago.

“Milena … I know it’s stupid, but I’m an artist, so forgive me.” My heart guides me, not my mind. The point is, I want to be with you. Forever … And you … what do you want?

“Same thing,” I whispered.

And we heard a key screeching in the lock …

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