Velvet Ribbon by Matthew Tomlin

The grand piano in the corner of the drawing room had the entire room’s attention. Lady Lorene was running her fingers along the immaculate white keys, the notes from the instrument melding into a rapturous composition. It was sultry. Her bare shoulders held the light from the chandelier, her porcelain skin glowing. They moved as much as her fingers did. She rocked back and forth, her lusty eyes sweeping across the room, her scarlet lips sliding into a smile as she noticed some low hanging jaws, wide eyes. Lady Lorene’s rich, curly hair cascaded down her back, swaying with her movements. It was difficult to tell what was more entertaining; the lady’s looks, or her mastery of the piano.

A deafening applause signalled the end of Lady Lorene’s performance. Slowly she walked back to her seat, drinking in the attention even as she swished her hair upon being seated. A low chatter filled the hall; who would be next?

Unexpectedly, a young woman stood up at the back of the audience. Nobody knew her. I didn’t know her. She was thin, dainty almost as she approached the grand piano. Cautiously she took her place, her plain black dress remaining motionless as she moved. It covered her shoulders, and her arms. I think I heard Lady Lorene sigh.

I studied her as she took some breaths. She was thin, slightly frail. Her fingers were almost like moths, flitting in the air as she flexed them. She seemed oddly pale. She wasn’t like Lady Lorene at all.

Her hair. It wasn’t suggestive at all. I thought it could have been luscious; it was quite long. It would have flowed nicely, billowed out across her back, like the wings of a swan. I spotted a velvet ribbon, the ends hanging down from the bow either side of the ponytail. I was transfixed. Little girls wore ribbons in their hair because they were pretty. Was she pretty? She wasn’t sexy. She’d made a choice not to be sexy. I wanted to pull it out, watch her hair fall; it was so long, so straight.

I was so distracted I didn’t realise she had started playing. A slow, high end melody that tickled my ears. Then a gradual journey down the piano, down to the lowest note I anticipated... but then she took off in a shower of swift, high notes, foreshadowed by the condemning tolls of the low notes. The ribbon floated as her head shook ever so slightly, her column of hair wiggling along her back. Her fingers moved so deftly, like butterflies courting. When I caught sight of her eyes, a rich turquoise that took me to thoughts of a warm, tropical ocean, I was lost.

As soon as the chime of the last note resonated along the strings, I was on my feet, my hands thundering applause, my heart suddenly racing. If I wasn’t so entranced by her turning towards me, her long hair swaying behind her as our eyes locked, I would have noticed Lady Lorene’s scowl boring into my skull.