Heart pounding, stomach in knots, an immense desire between her legs, all increasing as the distance to the door decreases. Placing a hand on the door, she pauses, taking in a deep breath, she opens it. He had arrived the night before in order to be well rested and to set up for their romantic evening. Reservations at the finest restaurant, a slow walk through the city leading back to the hotel where there were a hundred candles set up. This was their plan. Plans do not always go as expected. Seeing her standing there, she looked as if she had just come out of a magazine. White form fitting dress ending at her knees, hair perfect as if she had just left the salon. Minimal make up on her face allowing her natural beauty to truly shine. He was astonished. Gazing upon one another one thing was clear, they would not be leaving this room for quite some time. No words were exchanged, both seemed frozen at the realization they are finally standing just feet from one another. He begins to. ”Barricelli paused for effect but Claudia only responded with a look of growing concern.At last she said, “Go on professore.”“Finally there is another transcription of a French 17 th century piece, this one originally written for viola da gamba. It is The Dreaming Girl by Marin Marais. Once again, beautifully played with uncommon sensitivity and tasteful ornamentation.”Barricelli then checked his tone and his enthusiasm; his voice returning to its casual mode. Claudia looked at him with a mixture of perplexity and relief. Part of her still believed that the whole thing was some elaborate practical joke. But the proof was there on her phone and now on the disc in the professor’s pc. As these thoughts entered her mind, Barricelli asked,“Do you happen to know the performer?” The transparency of this question suggested to Claudia that Barricelli possibly already knew the answer. A short but awkward silence followed as he cast his eye to the distant side of the courtyard.“No, I don’t.” She.
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