Strung Along

         Diane Hjorth was a true musical genius. At thirty-four, she was both beautiful and gifted by the gods when it came to playing the violin. When she stroked her instrument with the bow it would sing its pure, clear notes like one of God's own angels. Simon Grassky was not a genius at all.

         He was a twenty-seven year old, second-rate violinist for a small orchestra and had been for six years since leaving the music academy. He was a competent musician, everyone said, but his music had no feeling - no soul. He was not great, and he suspected he never would be. However, he idolised Diane and he decided that the next time she toured his country he would meet her and shake her hand, in the vain hope that her talent could be transmitted by touch. He managed to sneak into her first concert and hide in the dark wings of the stage. She played solo, the sweet voice of her Stradivarius holding the audience and Simon spellbound. He realised then that no one could compare to her, and that he could never possess her ability.

         As she left the stage and headed for her dressing room, Simon approached and grabbed her free hand. He gazed at her through his tear-filled eyes and tried to explain what her music meant to him, but his words came out a babble. At first she seemed angry; her round, youthful face wrinkled in a frown, but then she laughed. Her deep, chocolate eyes studied his body appreciatively, and when they returned to his face she licked her lips.
         "I also play the violin," he spluttered nervously, not expecting his idol to so openly admire his physique.
         She smiled. "Then come down to my dressing-room and tell me more, young man."   
         As soon as they were in her room she dusted and wiped her instrument, loosened her bowstrings, and gently rested the Stradivarius in its case. Then she removed her clothes, allowing Simon to see that she had other attractions beside music. He did not think of his new wife as he made love to his idol.

         For the next few months Simon met Diane nearly every day at her apartment suite for sex and violin lessons. The sex was nice, Simon decided, but the music was ecstasy. He would play his violin and she hers, though it was only hers he heard. A number of violinists owned and used a Stradivarius, but only hers seemed to have the quality that made those instruments famous. Twice she allowed Simon to play it, and the beauty of it was like a drug to him. Every day he begged her to allow him to use it again. Everyday she refused.
         Simon's wife became pregnant, but he hardly cared. Diane also became pregnant, despite taking the pill, but he didn't care about that either. He was a slave to Diane's violin. Her body now held little excitement for him - the music became everything. Simon lived and breathed only to hear that soulful Stradivarius again. Its sound captured and tormented him at the same time, for he knew that his violin would never produce sounds of such quality no matter how his playing improved.

         The months passed and soon the concert season was over. Diane had to move to another country. As she played in her suite for Simon that final night together, he began weeping. He explained that her music was his heaven, and that without it his life would be a vacuum without sound or joy. His violin was such a poor imitation of hers; it was an insult now to listen to it. Diane nodded understandingly then kissed his forehead gently. Overcome by sudden despair, he grabbed her about the waist and hugged her tight. It was only then that he realised she was thinner than she had been recently.
         "Are you still pregnant?" he asked bluntly.
         She smiled and shook her head. "No. I had an abortion recently."
         He did not know what to say or how to react. He knew she had never wanted the pregnancy because he had seen her take her pill religiously each morning, but somehow he had figured that after so many weeks she had decided to keep it. He had no say in the matter, he believed, but there was a twinge of disappointment in his heart. Not only was he losing the music, but also a child.
         Diane stared into his eyes, eventually reaching a decision. "You've been good to me," she said tenderly, "better than some I have chosen in the past. You truly seem to care. And you are a violinist... Simon, I want to offer you one more lesson. I want to share with you my secret. Not a violin lesson, but a lesson in stringing one. It will make your violin the equal to my own. Are you interested?"
         He hugged her again, tears of gratitude glistening on his cheeks. "Yes. Oh, yes. But how...?"

         She led him by the hand to her second bathroom. Inside, the over-head light and solar lamps were burning brightly. A square, wooden rack stood in the bathtub, and the lamp shone warmly on the strips of thin, red ribbon that was wound onto the frame and stretched taut under the light.
         "I make my own strings," Diane said, lightly strumming the gut. Already Simon could hear the beginnings of that superb sound that was so adored. When he stepped closer to admire her creativity, he saw what lay in the bottom of the bath. A foetus, not yet a baby, sat like a bloody, deflated balloon beside the drain. He could see the slit expertly cut in its front from chin to groin, it's little flipper feet pulled back from the wound. Tiny organs, like the giblets of a chicken, peeked out from the incision.
         Simon retched and he became aware he was making a strange sobbing noise. Diane strummed the taut intestines again. His horror left him. The beauty of the sound from the strings made the dead foetus pale into insignificance.
         Diane spoke gently. "It wasn't a life, Simon. If it was, I couldn't have had it legally aborted. I always make sure I have a constant supply of strings when I'm on a tour. If it weren't for the fertility pills, I'd have to sleep with so many men I'd never have time to practice. You've been a big help, Simon." She took his hand and led him from the room and her suite. The next day she was gone.

         Simon's wife had an unfortunate reaction to her sleeping pills - she miscarried. He saved her unnecessary grief by disposing of the baby's body. They hope to have another child soon, as Simon's solo career is booming and there is talk of a tour.






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