In a Daze (Lesbian)

Chapter 7

*This may be long to some, but you'll thank me for it.*

At the end of two dismal, but entertaining, rounds of mini golf, Daisy came out the victor. Nonetheless, I'd throughly enjoyed myself. Even though I went out often, I rarely ever let my hair down and relished in the excitement of what was happening around me. Daisy was reminding me of a simpler life. While I'd slaved away in school, I did go out and have fun. I partied, danced, sang karaoke. I was normal. I was still normal, just wealthy.

Again, I asked myself, who was this woman? Had I not been such a bitch, I would have noticed that she exuded such good vibes. So down to earth. It was astounding how she found such amazement in the small things. I wanted to know more about her. Damn this crush.

We left the course and headed for her truck. As we pulled off, she asked if I'd like to pick the music. I shook my head. She pushed a few buttons, and another smooth jazz medley filled the truck. "Jelly Roll Morton. Black Bottom Stomp. One of his better known compositions," she stated. I nodded. "What kind of music do you enjoy? What's on your playlist right now?" I blushed, "Promise not to laugh?" She made a funny face, "Oh God. You hear what I listen to." I squinted my eyes at her. "Okay okay," She laughed, then crossed her heart for added measure. "I listen to movie compositions. Like, instrumentals of fight scenes and stuff." I looked over at her, she wore an unreadable expression, "What?" She shook her head, "Nothing. I didn't expect that." "Well, what did you think I listened to?" "Honestly? Regular old R&B, pop, Top 40's kind of music." I furrowed my brows, "That's a rarity. What I do know, I've only heard in the club." We both laughed. Somewhere during our laughter, her hand landed on mines. I glanced at her, she quickly moved it and mumbled sorry. I pulled her hand back, and intertwined our fingers, "Well, you look like you listen to ratchet stuff. Like Keyshia Cole ratchet." "Damn, that bad, hunh?"

After more great conversation, and a short while later, we arrived at my house. We unlatched hands so that she could open my door. "Do you want to come in for a while? I can make us some drinks." I could tell that she was trying not to show too much excitement. "Sure. Just let me make check my schedule." "Yes, I wouldn't want to make you miss your next date," I joked. She chuckled, "Jealous? No. Making sure I don't have to work." I nodded and headed towards the front door. "I'm gonna call, then I'll be in to let you know what's up."

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Fifteen minutes later, we were sipping on glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon, sitting in my family room. "So, how did you fall in love with jazz?" She smiled. The far away look in her eyes let me know that she was reminiscing. "My dad. He played the trumpet, saxophone, and piano. He was a brilliant composer. Every Friday, he would serenade me and my mom. Every Saturday, he played jazz cd's while he fixed whatever my mom needed fixed. And Sundays, he would come home from church, go into his studio, and just play. It didn't matter what, just whatever his soul was feeling in that moment. I would go sit and listen, he'd teach me a different string or key on whatever instrument was in his hand." "That's beautiful. Do you still play? I have a Cristofori G57L grand piano that hasn't been touched." "Do you?" "Mmhmm." "I still know a few things. I can't play for you though. My Momma told me to save that for the right woman." I burst into laughter, "You're kidding?! Why hide your talent?" She held up her hand, "Nope. Mother has spoken." "What if playing for a woman is what turns her into the right woman?" She looked me dead in the eyes, "Do you wanna be the right woman, Kella?" "I want you to play for me, Daisy." She shook her head, "You're a master of mystery, Kella Ashton. Where is it?"

I led her to what I called my 'classy room'. It was a circular room, with white marble from floor to ceiling. A white chaise sat in front of the angular window. The Cristofori stood in the middle of the room. It's mahogany finish was a stark, but beautiful, contrast to the surrounding white decor. Daisy walked to it, and took her place at the bench. She ran her fingers down the keys, closing her eyes, and remembering again. She placed her fingers in playing position. "It's been tuned," I stated. She played a few keys. "Hold on." I sauntered over to the chaise, and posed like I was having a portrait painted. I held my glass up, "Okay. I'm ready." She giggled. "What? This is why I bought this stuff. I want to sit back, sip wine, and have someone play the piano for me. You happen to be making my dreams come true." We laughed.