AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I inch forward in my seat as the spotlight illuminates the empty stage. The opening notes of the aria soar through the theater, and I close my eyes, letting the beauty of the music wash over me. Finally, blissful peace.
Soon, the soprano takes the stage, her very presence a mesmerizing overture to the performance. She stands there, bathed in a soft, ethereal spotlight, her silhouette outlined like a halo. As her voice soars, the first notes of ‘Casta Diva’ cascading from her lips, a hushed reverence settles over the audience, and my heart quickens its pace.
Her voice, a divine gift, flows with a delicate power that captivates me completely. Each word of the aria is a caress. When she sings'Tempra, o Diva, Tempra tu de' cori ardenti,' I wonder how she can ask such a thing of the goddess.
No one listening to a voice like hers could ever temper their ardent hearts, or calm their zealous passions. Tears spring to my eyes. Her timbre, as pure and crystalline as a mountain spring, dances upon my ears, weaving a story of passion and sacrifice.
I find myself falling in love. Not with the character, or the music, but with the enchantress herself. In this moment, I am not just a spectator, I am a devotee. Now sitting at the edge of my seat, I savor every second.
She hits the high notes, craning her neck towards the lights above, as her voice soars. I watch, mesmerized and for a few seconds, it feels like she's looking right at me. I have tunnel vision, forgetting where I am, forgetting my very existence.
She's captivating, her silk robes clinging to every curve as she moves. Everything else fades into the background until only she remains. Her skin glows under the lights, diamond droplets sparkling at her ears, neck, and wrists.
Her hair spills over her shoulders in lustrous waves, contrasting elegantly with the severe bun she's got with her mahogany hair half-up and half-down; a modern twist to an ancient Norma.
As she continues the haunting aria, her neck strains, veins delicately protruding. I imagine running my fingers over that long, graceful neck. Pulling her against me, my hands encircling her slender throat as I take her.
The neckline of her dress is daringly low, and two perfect half-moons stare up at me. When she sings, I can see her breasts heave. A current passes through my spine as I imagine shredding that corset off her, hiking up the layers of frills tumbling from her waist, and making her sing for me while I feel her from within.
The world around me disappears. There is only this siren, weaving her spell. I'm lost in the ebb and flow of her voice, the rise and fall of her chest as she sings. She is a goddess come to earth, and I am worshipping at her altar.
Too soon, the last quivering note fades. The spell breaks. For a long moment, I remain still, suspended in the lingering magic. Then, the applause thunders through the theater, jarring me back to reality.
I shudder out a deep breath, gripping the balcony railing to steady myself. When did I stand up? I stare down at the stage, imprinting every detail of her form in my mind. Who is this being?
The applause dies down and the interval begins. I blink, slowly coming back to my senses. Sarah is clutching the program and I lean towards her, desperate to catch a glimpse of the names. But Sarah's shrill voice cuts through my focus.
"Wasn't that just delightful, Philippe? But the second half will be pretty much the same as the first, won't it? Why don't we just ditch this scene and go straight to dinner? We’ve got so much catching up to do." With those words, she places her hand on my chest and gives me a suggestive look.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. This woman has been prattling on all evening, but I've hardly heard a word.
"No, Sarah," I reply curtly, my eyes returning to the stage below. "My driver will take you. Home. Something’s come up that needs my undivided attention."
Sarah gasps dramatically. "But Philippe, we were supposed to go to The Capital Grille after the opera! Where we could be seen together on our first date, I don't understand--"
"There's nothing to understand, dear. Our date – dinner – is done."
Sarah huffs through her fake pouty lips, gathering the fur coat around her shoulders in a petulant display. "Well, I never--"
I silence her with an icy stare. She wisely keeps her mouth shut after that, turning her attention back to the stage. But I feel her beside me, radiating silent resentment.
No matter. She'll be gone soon enough. And I will be one step closer to finding the goddess who has captured me so completely. I must know her name.
An idea forms in my head and I smile to myself – perfect. As Sarah continues to sulk next to me, I turn abruptly, snapping my fingers at Matteo, one of my men standing guard nearby. He comes over immediately, leaning down to hear my quiet instructions.
“Contact the night-shift manager atGiardino Dell Eden. I need him to…’ and I specify my wishes. My man nods without question, familiar with my aeroponics farm, and quickly makes his exit.
Beside me, Sarah huffs again, but I ignore her. The interval ends and my focus returns to the stage. The title role of Norma is considered one of the most demanding and challenging in the entire Italian repertoire. It is no wonder that our mysterious performer has the audience on the edge of our seats, enraptured.
The cast continues their rendering of the tragic story of love, betrayal and sacrifice. The performer hits an impossibly high note one after the next, each higher than the last, her voice soaring through the opera house. I'm barely breathing as she holds the note for what seems like an eternity.
As if written just for her, the arias showcase the soprano’s wide vocal range, expressive power, and dramatic skill. For whatever reason, pride swells within me. I'm vaguely aware of theaudience around me, enthralled and astonished by her talent. But no one is as captivated as I am at this moment.
The performer launches into the climax. Her voice soars, crystal clear and impassioned. The orchestra swells triumphantly beneath her. She holds the final note, pouring her soul into it. The sound rings through the opera house, resonating deep within me. I close my eyes.
When at last it softens and fades, the audience sits stunned in silence, unable to accept it's over. I jump up, the first man standing, and clap until my hands sting. People follow suit, grasping the reality of what we’ve just witnessed.
She has utterly bewitched me. I must know who she is. I want to taste her name on my lips.
