A Hurried Pianist and His Mistress Upon Horse

I know not why I feel the never-ending need for introduction.  So many times we read things that require no introduction.  But I, for reasons unknown, need the introduction.  I suppose I enjoy narration more than actual writing of stories.  Perhaps I get off on being someone else for a short time, while writing the introduction–speaking in different accents in my head as I write and the such.  Perhaps I enjoy the idea of rambling such as currently only to take up space upon paper.  But I’d fancy to think that the reason is nothing all that shallow.  Maybe I just enjoy writing introductions, and that is that.  Yes.  That is that.  Anywise, I do indeed have a story to share and share I shall.  Do enjoy.1

There drove upon a route driven only by nocturnal beings and creatures of sin, a middle-aged gent by the name of Angus Audrey.  He looked straight ahead at the red porch light in the distance then glanced at his left hand.  A glint of light temporarily blinded him when the moon emerged from the clouds and reflected off of his wedding ring.  He did not know whether to view this as a sign, and if so, he knew not what it meant.  He drove steadily and with a keen eye.  He didn’t believe in slowing down for anything or anyone.  He was a naturally hurried individual, and this showed in his driving.  Though, through all his years of motor-vehicle operation, he had never had an accident.2

The red light became closer by the second.  He began to tremble and his stomach came to life with spastic delight.  The moon again emerged.  Out of his right eye he saw a figure.  It came quickly and low.  Onto the road, now.  Angus swerved to miss the object and at that point regained sight in his left eye.  A black dog trotted off as if he had not nearly been mutilated by a four-wheeled monster.  Angus had never seen the moon this bright.  He was pleased that it spent most of the evening behind the clouds; for he could not could not have bared the glint of gold in his left eye the whole trip.  3

Angus slowed to a stop in the gravel parking lot and got out nervously.  From the house came a couple–an elderly man helped along by a giggling, young, scantily-clad girl.  He felt his stomach become excited again.  As he entered the two-story building, he heard a piano blaring from another room.  He stepped up to a long bar and sat down on the tall stool, resting his elbows upon the counter.  A young woman approached from behind the bar.  4

“How can I help y’?” asked the pretty blonde-haired woman.5

“I–“ this was the first time Angus had spoken aloud since he left his home that afternoon.  “I–I’d like a lady,” he stuttered shyly.  6

“I believe we c’n help y’out.  Lydia!  Lydia!  There’s a customer!” the woman shouted down the bar.7

“Thank ye,” said Angus as a short, dark-haired girl slipped her arm into his.8

“Right th’s way,” smiled the girl.  She walked gracefully through the crowded bar-room as Angus followed stumbling over every foot on the floor.  He made eye contact with the pianist and smiled bashfully.  After they had made their way up the stair case, the girl pulled a key ring from under her skirt.  “This’ll take just a second,” she said as she tried each key in the lock.  She paused at the attempt of one particular key and jiggled vigorously.  The door creaked open.9

As she stepped inside, Angus followed and sat nervously upon the unmade straw mattress.10

“Well, what’ll it be, darlin’?” asked the young woman.  The moon crept through the curtains.  His ring glared.  Lydia looked at him with anticipation and impatience. 11

“I can’t do this.  I hate to waste y’ time, but I just can’t,” said Angus.  He hurried down the stairs at his usual pace, leaving Lydia behind on the bed.  He tipped his hat, once more acknowledging the pianist and walked out to his car.  Angus punished himself mentally all the way home.  Once he arrived at his home of fourteen years, he got out of the car and rushed toward the house to confess.  He pulled a key ring from his jacket pocket and searched each key for the right marks.  Once he found it, he slid it into the lock and jiggled.  Finally the door creaked open.  “Darlin’!  Darlin!  I’m home, are you all right?!” he verbally searched the house.  A sudden eeriness came over him.  “Hun?  You in here?  Oh, no!”  He pushed open their bedroom door slowly.  “Sweet mother of Jesus on a pogo stick!” exclaimed Angus, surprising himself.  He was more disappointed than sad to find his wife beaten to a pulp in a crimson pool.  “Damnit!  Why this?!  My whole life, I make it a habit to be on time and in a hurry, and then this goes and happens!” he shouted to himself.  Well...after all.  She just didn’t have what I needed in a woman anymore, so I suppose I’m glad they got here before I stopped them.  That is the reason I hired them in the first place, he thought to himself justifying his mistake.  He thought to himself in a different voice than he spoke.  His conscience had much better grammar than he did.  12

Angus wandered slowly into the living room and sat on a bench.  He pulled the bench up to the piano and began to play.  For hours, until the light, he stroked out Beethoven, Bach, and Frederick Shopehan.  The dawn came and turned into late morning, and he got up from the bench.  He walked out of the house uncharacteristically slowly, and got into his car.  As he backed out of his driveway with a blank look upon his face, dust flew into the air.  He started down the road quickly as usual.  13

As he pulled into a ranch about ten miles from his house, his look remained blank.  He got out of the car and shut the door sternly, walking upon a man standing grooming a horse.14

“Hello.  My name is Angus Audrey, and I’d like to purchase a horse.  This one looks nice as a matter of fact.  How much?”15

“This horse ain’t fer sale,” said the man.16

“It is to me,” he pulled out a roll of cash he’d forgotten about hiding inside his piano until the night before.  17

“Yes’ir.  Yes it is for sale.  I’ll take that right there for ‘im.”18

“Thank you.  And a saddle, I assume is included.”19

“‘Course it is.  Pleasure doin’ business with y’,” said the man.20

“What’s its name?”21

“Ludwig.  Feller named him before I got ‘hold of ‘im; I got bought him at five months.  He’s four, now,”  22

“Perfect,” concluded Angus as he climbed into the English-style saddle.  He kicked the horses side with his boots and rode off, leaving his car.  23

That evening he trotted up to a two-story house with a red porch light.  He got off of Ludwig slowly and walked into the house.  The piano blared still, and he made eye contact with the pianist–this time smiling with more confidence.24

“Lydia, please,” he asked of the blonde lady at the bar.25

“Just a sec,” she answered.  She strolled to the opposite end of the bar and returned with a short, dark-haired girl.  26

“Yes?” said Lydia seeming unfamiliar with Angus.  Angus leaned and whispered into Lydia’s ear and backed away to see her reaction.  She smiled.  27

“I’ll be just a second,” she said.  She went into a door behind the bar and returned with a handbag.  She placed her arm in his as she had done the night before, and they strolled into the parking lot.  Angus mounted his horse and reached down to pull Lydia up.  She looked at him with worry in her eyes, and he looked back as if to say “Fear not.”  She put her foot in the stirrup and pulled up onto the back of the horse.  28

“His name’s Ludwig,” Angus introduced her.  He again kicked his heels and yelled, causing the horse to spring forth in excitement.  The stern look returned to his face as they rode toward the south.29