Melody awoke around 9:45 on Friday morning. Based on Mike's wish the night before, she was able to tell that waking him at 10:00 would allow him the perfect amount of rest, while still giving him plenty of time for an unhurried morning routine before heading to work. She lay in bed a few minutes more, gently stretching her body awake. As the clock hit 9:55, she began the task of awakening him in such a way that would perfectly relax him for the day ahead, which, according to his subconscious, was a handjob. Conjuring up a bottle of lube, she prepared her hands and quietly exposed his morning wood.
Kneeling beside him on their huge bed, she began gently massaging the underside of his cock, spreading the thick lube over his length. Once he was properly slick, she then wrapped him in her hand, stroking him at a slow to moderate pace with a perfect amount of pressure applied. As his breathing deepened, indicating his enjoyment, she then deployed part two of her plan.
Gazing at his alarm clock, she flashed her eyes and started up one of his favorite pieces of music, the finale to The Firebird. The music began ever so softly, the horns entering at barely a whisper. Through his subconscious, she knew exactly where the first big climax of the piece was, resolving to bring him to orgasm right at that moment. Varying her strokes perfectly, she increased her pace and applied just the right amount of pressure, all while keeping him asleep.
As she stroked, she used her powers to gradually build his orgasm within him, releasing his eruption just as the music changed to the final up-tempo section. Mike moaned in pleasure, his cum spewing from his cock and coating his abdomen as he slowly awoke. Now empty of his seed, Melody gently laid on her stomach on top of him, savoring his cum as he began rubbing his eyes awake.
"Geez, girl. When I make a wish, you sure as hell deliver," he said sleepily.
Licking the last of his cum from his stomach, she giggled and sweetly kissed his belly button. "Sleep well?"
"Absolutely," he marveled, sitting up in bed.
"Excellent. It's 10:00, so that gives you plenty of time for a relaxing shower, a leisurely warm-up, and some lunch and mental preparation before we head downtown for your audition."
Kissing her sweetly as she crawled over his body to his face, he said, "You just think of everything."
Showering alone for once, Mike whistled through all the audition pieces as he shaved and cleaned up, occasionally moving his hands to the proper fingerings to make sure he had everything down. Exiting the shower and drying off, he combed his hair before looking through his closet, deciding on the appropriate audition attire. As this was basically a job interview, complete with his hero in attendance, Mike wanted to ensure he made a good impression. Deciding on a deep red wine dress shirt and a nice pair of dark blue jeans, he then slipped on his brown loafers and a belt to complete the ensemble.
Letting Melody know that he was done, he watched her shapely ass bounce as she strutted to the shower, seductively glancing over her shoulder before closing the door to the bathroom. He walked out to his practice studio, unpacking his C trumpet and warming up slowly, adjusting himself to each note he played as if he were entering a swimming pool one step at a time. After finishing his scales, breathing exercises, and acrobatic warm-ups, he returned to their bedroom to find Melody posing in front of the floor mirror, magically trying on different outfit combinations for the day.
With her lover back in the room, Melody now began modeling her outfit ideas for Mike. Several of these were hardly appropriate to see the light of the outside world, being little more than lingerie. Finally deciding on a pair of form-fitting black shorts and a tight canary yellow tank top, the latter of which accentuated her incredible cleavage beautifully, Melody completed her outfit with a pair of red casual sneakers. As Mike whistled his approval, she drew him close and kissed him sensually, moaning in delight.
"You don't look so bad yourself," she commented.
After a playful slap on her ass, the duo headed to the kitchen to scrounge for food. Mike opted for a simple turkey sandwich on wheat bread and a bottle of water, his traditional pre-audition meal. Melody made herself a peanut butter and banana sandwich. As they ate, Mike played around on his iPad, listening to his audition music all the while. Melody worked on his laptop, tweaking the photos of her website slightly to try and attract more clients. As the time neared 1:30, Mike packed up his equipment and music and the pair began the drive downtown to symphony hall.
Arriving in the employee parking deck a few minutes past 2:00, Melody turned to him and asked, "Can I come in with you to the audition? Invisibly, of course."
"Sure," Mike replied, shrugging. "Just no distractions. I'm in the zone, after all."
"Absolutely." A quick, sweet kiss on his cheek, and she vanished. Good luck baby. You'll do brilliantly.
Walking into symphony hall, Mike made his way to the green room, designated as the warm-up area for the candidates auditioning. Alone with his thoughts, just as he liked it, Mike unpacked his music and the three trumpets he would need for the audition. Before beginning to play, he recited his typical prayer before such situations: Alan Shepard's prayer.
"Oh, Lord, please do not let me screw up. Amen."
He began by playing some easy scales on each horn, keeping warm air flowing through each of them so as to keep the metal inside at an optimal temperature. Continuing his slow, easy warm-ups until the audition time neared, he was soon greeted by Janice, the music librarian for the ASO.
"Mike, good to see you. The audition panel is ready for you. I'll help you bring your equipment in, if you like," she said warmly.
"Thanks, Janice. That'll be great. You can take my music and C trumpet; I'll grab the E-flat and piccolo." Normally, Mike didn't trust anyone other than himself to carry his equipment, but Janice was a French horn player, and also had training as an instrument repair technician. He knew she could be trusted to handle it with care.
Entering the main stage in symphony hall, Mike set his equipment down on a table just off-center stage and turned to greet the panel, seated near the backstage line. The trio rose to greet him. First was Jessica Miller, the principal violinist and concertmaster. Her elegant beauty always struck Mike, with her full lips, lightly tanned white skin, and flowing brown hair. Her true beauty, however, shone through every time she played. Never in his life had Mike seen such joy and passion in the face or mannerisms of any musician like he did in Jessica. He could watch her with no sound whatsoever and still be completely entranced. Though she was only a year older than Mike, Jessica had been a musical prodigy since elementary school, winning her first symphony job two months before her high school graduation, and had been the Maestro's second-in-command for nearly five years now.
Maestro Robert Spano was next, extending his hand in welcome. The balding man in his mid-fifties was typically quite introverted, but always got very excited when it came to auditions. He relished the opportunity to evaluate talent, and was constantly imagining which pieces in the orchestral repertoire would sound perfect with a certain player's sound. He shook Mike's hand firmly, and turned to introduce him to the third panelist.
Philip Smith greeted Mike with his trademark warm personality. His soft-spoken demeanor belied the immense talent and musicianship that lay beneath; Mike knew he was in the presence of a living legend.
Focus, Braxton. He's just a man, after all.
Though he was now in his mid-sixties, Philip never passed up an opportunity to further his skills and better himself. A year previous, he surprisingly resigned his job as principal trumpet of the New York Philharmonic, easily the best orchestra in the nation, to become a college professor at the University of Georgia. His reasons were simple: To spend more time with his family, assist the next generation of musicians on a more personal level, and to reconnect with God. In a move that reporters had hailed as cowardly and meaningless, Mike had gained more respect for the man than in any musical performance he could ever give.
"Mike, welcome," Philip said. "For this audition, we will begin with the concerto you have prepared before moving into the orchestral excerpts. Following that, we will do a short interview with you to close out. Are we ready?"
"Completely," Mike said, adding just the right amount of confidence to his voice.
Picking up his E-flat trumpet, Mike began his solo concerto, Johann Hummel's Trumpet Concerto in E-flat, Movement III. The quick, lively finale had always been a favorite of Mike's, the notes dancing over a comfortable range on the horn. Reaching the final strain, which featured a long, extended trill, Mike shaped the note beautifully, causing Robert to lean over and whisper to Jessica in approval, to which she smiled widely.
Raising his eyebrows as Mike finished, Philip simply said, "You sound like you could be shaken out of a sound sleep and still play that thing beautifully."
"You're not far wrong," Mike replied casually.
"I'm the same way. Anyway, let's move on to the excerpts. Of the five you have prepared, we will allow you to pick the first and last ones you play; the order of the other three will be chosen by us. What shall we start with?" Philip asked.