The Billionaire Band Director

Chapter 22

             Landry pulled out of the driveway and started driving towards the gates to leave George I Academy.  As they approached the main building they got stuck in a parade of luxury town cars that were also attempting to escape the school.

            “Parents,” Landry huffed.  “The worst part of teaching here.”

            Martha giggled.

            “It’s a boarding school.  How much do you really have to interact with parents?”

            “Oooi boy, ma chere,” he whistled. “You did not get a proper orientation.”

            “I got a tour and a handbook.  Is that not enough?” she asked innocently.

            Landry smirked at Martha.

            “Oh ma chere.  It’s a good thing we’ve got a long drive ahead.  You’ve got a lot to learn about the academy.”

            Landry told her about the wealthy families who sent their children to George I Academy to buy them a prestigious degree.

            “You mean a prestigious education,” said Martha.

            Landry shook his head.  “A degree.  Don’t get me wrong; the academic standards are very high.  These students will go to top universities all over the world.  It would be embarrassing for the school and the families if students came out of here being anything but the best.  But your main job is keeping the parents happy- actually teaching comes second.”

            While they drove, Landry did impressions of dissatisfied parents calling in to complain.

            “My Muffy got an A- in organic chemistry class- an A-!  All because she missed the midterm!  But of course she had to miss it- we had a regatta that week!” he mimicked in a high falsetto.  And in a sneering baritone, “How could Thaddeus possibly not make the polo team?  We donated the field!”

            Martha could not control her fits of giggles at Landry’s impressions.  From the bits and pieces of conversations she had heard as families walked past her office, his impressions were pretty accurate.  His stories about the students and the more uppity parents he had dealt with kept her laughing all the way until he pulled into a long driveway.

            “We’re here,” he announced.

            Martha could smell the ocean.  Directly in front of her was a large old-fashioned building with blue siding and white railings wrapping around it on all four stories.  Landry parked the car, got out and opened her door, and escorted her up a brick path to a white stairway leading up to a wrap around porch.

            “The Jefferson,” he announced.

            “Is it a hotel?”            she asked.  He had promised her more than kissing, but she was a little surprised he would take her directly to a hotel room without preamble.

            “A boutique hotel, yes,” he answered.  “But more of a restaurant and event space.”

            Practical choice, she thought.  She still didn’t know what he had planned, but having it occur with a hotel nearby gave her butterflies.

            They entered through white double doors.  Inside a sweeping rounded staircase in dark wood wrapped around a circular foyer.  There was a desk with a marble top near the staircase, with a man seated behind it.  When he saw them enter he rose from his chair and approached them.

            “Mr. LeBlanc!” he said.  “Welcome.  Everything is ready for you.  I will let the chef know that you have just arrived.  You know the way, I presume?”

            “Yes, thank you,” said Landry, nodding politely at the gentleman. 

            Landry guided Martha into a short hallway and through a set of double doors.  They entered a room with a long old-fashioned bar stretching across one wall opposite a wall of windows framed in white wood.  In between the bar and windows were low round tables surrounded by leather barrel chairs.  Frosted glass sconces gave off a warm, flickering glow, like candlelight.  No one else was in the room.

            “What is this place?” asked Martha.

            “The Hancock Lounge,” answered Landry, as if the name meant anything to Martha.  “Come on!”

            Landry excitedly grabbed Martha’s hand and pulled her across the room to a grand piano in the corner.  He sat down on the piano bench.  Martha sat next to him.

            “I’m not always the best with words,” said Landry.  “I just love hearing you talk.  You are so good at expressing yourself and evoking feelings through language.”

            Martha had never thought of herself as a particularly eloquent, evocative speaker, but when a man as sexy as Landry LeBlanc paid her a compliment she knew better than to protest.

            “I don’t have your talent for language, and words are not how I express myself best,” Landry continued.  “I express myself through music.  And I thought, maybe, since I’m not sure I’d be able to accurately share my feelings through words, I could try to express myself to you in a way that’s more natural for me.”

            He looked at Martha questioningly, as if waiting for her approval.  Martha, who had just been labeled as an accomplished speaker, did not know what to say.  She nodded at Landry, and that seemed to be sufficient for him to proceed.  A huge grin broke out over his face and he placed his hands on the piano keys.

            A soft melody filled the room.  It was slow, but driven forward.  It was sweet and lovely and made Martha think of sunlight filling a meadow.  A sultry, teasing undertone was added in beneath but the melody never lost its simple bright air.  Effervescent, thought Martha.  That’s a good word to describe it.  But complex, too, with those darker notes underneath.  Martha watched Landry’s hands, mesmerized, as they danced along the keyboard.  Fast, strong fingers, she noted.  The melody grew and stretched until it climaxed in a rush of sound, bringing the sweet airy melody and the more complex countermelody together. Martha, who had never before felt moved by a piece of music, felt something stirring in her core. 

            Landry’s right hand trilled out the final notes from the song as his left slow lifted away from the keyboard.  He turned to look at Martha.  His face was full of passion, as if all the emotion from the song had rushed back from the keyboard through his arms and into his body. Martha noticed she was panting.  She didn’t know why- all she’d been doing for the last five minutes was sitting on a piano bench.  But she was panting, and she unintentionally licked her lips.  That lick was all the invitation Landry seemed to need.

            Landry reached out and cradled Martha’s face in his hand.  He lowered his face to hers and tilted his head slightly to the side, then pressed his lips to Martha’s.  His lips were soft and warm and sweet.  Martha closed her eyes and let herself be lost in the feeling of his mouth.  His lips moved against hers, gently massaging them open. Martha willingly parted her lips, wanting to drink him in.  The tip of his tongue flickered lightly against her lips and then into her mouth.  He tastes sweet, thought Martha.  Landry wrapped an arm around Martha’s back.  It was a good thing he did, because Martha felt herself having trouble keeping upright with the intoxicating taste of Landry on her lips.  She let out a soft moan.

            Landry slowly pulled his mouth away but kept a hand on her face and an arm around Martha’s back.

            “Did you like the song?” he asked.

            What song? Martha wondered for a minute.  Then, she remember that time existed before Landry had kissed her. 

            “I loved it,” she answered honestly.  “What was it?  I’ve never heard anything like it before.”

            Landry shrugged sheepishly.  “It doesn’t have a name yet.”

            Martha’s jaw dropped as the realization hit her.

            “You wrote that?” she said.

            Landry nodded.  He brushed his thumb along the side of her face.

            “Just something I’ve been working on,” he said, as if writing music that made people tremble was as simple as mowing a lawn.

            Martha was, once again, at a loss for words.  Damn, he REALLY missed the mark when he said I’m good at expressing myself through language.  Not knowing what to say, she reached out and buried her fingers in his thick dark curls.  She pulled his face back towards her.

            Although the room was quiet, Martha heard Landry’s song echoing in her head as he kissed her again.