Orchestral Manoeuvres
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artemisallen at Orchestral Manoeuvres
artemisallen at Orchestral ManoeuvresTitle: Orchestral Manoeuvres
Author: Artemis Allen
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Orlando/Viggo
Beta: Dearestgattodoro, but then I tinkered with it so all mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Discalimer: This is a work of fiction, unfortunately.
Dedication: This was written as a birthday gift for the incomparablegattodoro, who then not only encouraged me to post it but offered to beta. Thank you Darling for your unstinting support.
________________________________________________________
Orlando opened the boot of his car and hauled out his suit carrier and instrument case. He didn’t think he would need anything else but if he did he could come back for it after rehearsals. As he approached the imposing Edwardian edifice that was the venue for this evening’s concert he cast a critical eye over the building. He’d seen similar places, lots in fact, but at least this one was in England and also within, relatively, easy driving distance of his London apartment. It reputedly had very good acoustics and, more importantly, pretty decent dressing rooms, something that couldn’t be said for every venue.
People seemed to think that the life of a concert violinist was glamorous but it so wasn’t. Sure, he regularly spent his evenings in tails and a bow tie, which, he had to say looked really good on him, but a lot of the time he was just travelling or cooped up with other musicians, rehearsing or recording. It was perhaps better if you were part of an orchestra, at least you spent that time with the same people and could have regular relationships with your colleagues but Orlando was a soloist, he travelled alone. Occasionally he might do a full tour with an orchestra but that was rare, usually it was just him and his violin and every night a different hall in a different city with a different orchestra and a different conductor. This evening was the final concert on his current list of engagements, he’d been playing his way around Europe for a month now but tonight he would be able to sleep in his own bed and he was very much looking forward to it.
Orlando smiled to himself as he made his way to the stage door. It was a prerequisite of his profession of course, to be able to play with anyone, anywhere, but some gigs were easier than others. Tonight he would be appearing with one of the major London orchestras. He’d played with them several times before but never under this conductor. The conductor was an American, technically American Danish, with a formidable reputation. Orlando had seen him conduct of course, many, many times, the man was a legend, but this would be the first time Orlando had performed on the same stage with him and he was, just a little bit, nervous. Not that Viggo Mortensen was reputedly difficult to work with; quite the opposite in fact, the orchestras, soloists, choirs, all loved him. Behind the necessary outward display of authority his profession demanded, and the occasional display of artistic exasperation, he had a friendly, easy going nature. On balance Orlando was looking forward to this evening.
Most of the orchestra was already on stage rehearsing, he could hear them playing the overture, others were wandering through the backstage corridors which were something of an assault course, being crammed with instrument cases and catering boxes. Having been shown to his dressing room by a member of the house staff, Orlando unpacked his violin and ran through a few warm up exercises before heading for the stage.
“Ah Mr Bloom!” The conductor turned on his rostrum and peered sternly over his glasses as Orlando walked onto the stage. “Nice of you to finally join us.”
This wasn’t quite the reception Orlando had been expecting; nonplussed, he checked his watch and, now indignant, opened his mouth to protest that he wasn’t late, he’d arrived exactly when he was supposed to, but then he thought better of it, arguing with the conductor was not conducive to a good working relationship. While he was still wrestling with an appropriate response the Leader of the orchestra cut in laughing.
“Don’t harass the talent Vig, just because he’s young and pretty.”
Orlando glared at Richard, he knew the leader fairly well and he liked him, well he had liked him up until now.
“Hmmm,” the conductor grunted. “He’s not that pretty.”
There was a ripple of laughter from the orchestra and Orlando tried to will away the blush that rose to his cheeks. His mouth opened again, ready to express justifiable outrage, but he wasn’t quite sure what to say. Mortensen was still regarding him critically over the top of his glasses and the intense inspection was unfortunately making Orlando turn slightly weak at the knees.
Everyone dressed casually for rehearsals, Orlando himself sported a white T shirt and sweat pants. The conductor was wearing faded jeans and a similarly faded denim shirt, his sleeves were rolled back to the elbow and the unruly, slightly greying, light brown hair flopped across his face and curled over his collar. The advantage of being in the audience at a concert was that you had a splendid view of the conductor’s arse so Orlando had been able to appreciate Mortensen’s on many occasions and, he thought, it looked even better in the jeans.
Before Orlando could construct a sufficiently smart reply to the conductor’s jibe, Richard had advanced from his chair and grasped him by the shoulder in a friendly greeting.
“Take no notice of Viggo,” he grinned. “He’s been cranky all morning. In fact if you can do anything to cheer him up, the rest of us would be vastly obliged.”
Orlando pursed his lips and tried not to laugh at Richards’s irreverent comments.
“I can hear you Armitage,” the conductor barked. “So, now that our soloist is actually here would you like to cut the chit chat and get down to some work.”
“See,” Richard winked and squeezed Orlando’s shoulder. “He’s a pussycat beneath the sarcastic exterior. Don’t let him scare you.”
Orlando nodded gratefully at Richard then, taking a deep breath, he marched defiantly forwards to take his place beside the rostrum.
“Good afternoon Sir,” he hazarded politely, looking up at the conductor with a contrite expression, well, more like a slight pout and wide, puppy dog eyes.
“Hmmm,” Viggo grunted again and raised his baton. "Shall we get on."
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, rehearsals were thorough and exhausting and Orlando was relieved to finally retire to his dressing room for some relaxation, leaving the body of the orchestra to their practise for the other pieces they were to play that evening. Refreshments were delivered by an attentive member of the backstage staff and he was asked if there was anything else he needed. Orlando appreciated that this was one of the advantages of being the soloist, he wasn’t the demanding prima donna type, but being able to get a chocolate bar and a coke without having to queue in the cafeteria was a definite bonus.
Food consumed he set the alarm on his phone and settled down on the capacious sofa for a nap. He was used to grabbing sleep whenever he could and a sofa this comfortable was a definite luxury. In just over an hour he would have to get up, dress and run through his warm up routines, but after all the travelling he’d done recently sleep was his current priority.
________________________________________________________
He wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. Certainly standing beside one of the sexiest conductors in the business, well in Orlando’s opinion anyway, for a couple of hours might have been a contributing factor. His subsequent dreams had certainly featured visions of faded denim and wildly tossed hair. Usually performance nerves overrode any other physical reactions, but seemingly not tonight. He could hear Beethoven’s Egremont overture being played in the auditorium, it would end soon and then he would be called to take the stage to play the violin concerto. He closed his eyes and tried to focus, it was too late for a cold shower.
The summoning knock came all too soon.
Orlando opened the door a crack and peaked out nervously.
“I have a bit of a problem.”
“What sort of a problem?” The conductor’s face registered more concern than annoyance.
Orlando opened the door wider and beckoned Mortensen inside.
“This sort of a problem!” Orlando gestured vaguely in the direction of his groin. He was wearing a white silk shirt, open at the neck, sleeves rolled up halfway to his elbows, a short black waistcoat and a pair of thigh hugging black pants, which did nothing to disguise his very prominent erection.
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” the conductor rolled his eyes. “You can’t go on stage like that!”
“Don’t you think I know that!” Orlando hissed “I’ve been trying to relax but it’s not working.”
“You don’t say,” Viggo snapped back. “How the hell did you let it happen in the first place?”
Orlando scowled. “Oh give me a break, I’ve been away on tour, I haven’t been laid in a while, this is what happens.”
Viggo frowned menacingly “I haven’t been laid in a while either but I have some self control.”
“Well bully for you.”
“And you couldn’t just have taken this in hand yourself?”
“I’m a violinist; I don’t want to risk straining my wrist.”
Viggo sighed dramatically and unfastened his own black jacket. He took it off and laid it over the back of a chair before pointing to the sofa.
“Sit!” he commanded.
“What?”
“Unzip and sit,” Viggo repeated.
“You’re not serious!” Orlando squeaked.
“Got a better idea?”
“Emmmm…”
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Viggo planted a hand on Orlando’s chest and pushed him backwards on to the sofa. “I knew I should have done this earlier, you were just begging for it all through rehearsals. You flashed those big brown eyes at me, your tongue flicking out indecently between those annoyingly perfect teeth.”
“I wasn’t,” Orlando protested fumbling with his fly. “Well maybe a bit but who can blame me. I’ve always thought you were fucking hot when you’re conducting.”
“And you are just sex on legs Mr Bloom. The respectable grey haired matrons sitting in the front row will all have their tongues hanging out tonight. Even if you play out of tune they won’t give a damn.”
Viggo’s tirade ended in a sharp intake of breath as the zip finally came down and Orlando’s cock sprang free.
“I see you ran out of clean underwear on tour.”
“Spoils the line of my pants,” Orlando grinned.
“Poser,” Viggo smiled sinking to his knees.
“Holy fuck!” Orlando exclaimed as Viggo’s mouth immediately engulfed his cock.
It didn’t take long, the hot, wet heat of Viggo’s mouth and the exquisite sensation of his tongue exploring was accompanied by deft fingers squeezing his balls. Orlando tried not to scream as he came, hard and intense, his essence pumping relentlessly into Viggo’s throat and Viggo swallowing and licking until Orlando was totally spent.
“Fuuuuck…” Orlando slurred as Viggo finally released him.
The conductor rose to his feet and reached for his jacket.
“Now put that away and let’s get moving,” he suggested to the young man sprawled, sated and boneless on the sofa.
Just as he spoke there was a sharp knock on the door.
“Orlando?” It was Richard’s voice, obviously disconcerted. “Are you in there? Is Viggo with you?”
“Yes I’m here,” Viggo replied curtly.
“Only the audience is getting a bit restless out here. Is everything okay?”
Orlando zipped up his pants, hauled himself onto his feet and smoothed down his clothes. Viggo buttoned up his jacket and opened the door.
“Just dealing with a small problem,” he informed Richard. “We’ll be there directly.”
“Small?” Orlando quipped with a smirk.
Viggo scowled at him “Now that you’ve kept everybody waiting you’d better play like a fucking angel out there tonight.”
“No pressure then.” Orlando took a deep breath and picked up his violin.
“None at all,” Viggo replied airily as they left the dressing room.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
It was nearly midnight and Orlando was relaxing on the sofa in his apartment, happy to be home, for a while at least, and even happier because he was expecting his lover home too.
His performance that evening had gone well, exceedingly well. The conductor had actually hugged him in celebration, or maybe it was relief, given the unforgivable delay in the programme. Richard too had embraced him and offered enthusiastic congratulations. The applause had forced him to return to the stage four times, he and Mortensen raising their joined hands in triumph, it had felt good, it had felt very good. Admittedly the Bruch violin concerto was always a favourite, but a discerning audience would certainly express their displeasure if you weren’t up to scratch. Tonight the audience had been well satisfied, the audience had been euphoric and Orlando was still floating on the cloud of their adulation.
He shivered in anticipation as the click of a key in the front door and the sound of bags being dumped in the hall made butterflies tango in his stomach, he’d missed his lover while he’d been away on tour, he’d missed him a lot.
“Orlando?”
“In here.”
Orlando poured some wine into the waiting glass.
“So what kept you?” he grinned as his lover opened the door of the sitting room, and he offered him the glass of wine.
The other man accepted the glass with a grin and clinked it against Orlando’s.
“Some of us had to stay and play the symphony. Unlike you bloody soloists we have to put in a full night.”
“Well I hope you’re not tired because I’d really like you to play with me now.”
“You are incorrigible,” Viggo laughed as he slumped down on the sofa beside his lover and leant in for a quick kiss.
“God I’ve missed you,” Orlando moaned as Viggo drew away.
“I’ve missed you too,” Viggo echoed brushing his lips over Orlando’s again. “How long are you home for this time?”
Orlando shrugged “Couple of weeks before I do the South American tour. What about you? When do you leave for the States?”
“Ten days,” Viggo grimaced. “But I have to do a couple of performances at the Royal Festival Hall next week.”
Orlando sighed and snuggled closer to his lover. “We really should look at working together more often.”
“No way!” Viggo responded emphatically.
“What! Why not?” Orlando sat up straight and regarded his partner indignantly. “I thought tonight went really well.”
Viggo leaned back and regarded his lover incredulously.
“Are you insane! I never want to work with you again! It was far too distracting!”
“The audience loved us,” Orlando protested.
“The audience didn’t have to suck you off in the dressing room.”
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Orlando giggled. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Oh I was banking on it,” Viggo grinned playfully. “I’m expecting a virtuoso performance in the bedroom tonight Mr Bloom.”
“Absolutely Sir,” Orlando purred. “Just waiting for you to raise your baton.”
----&-----
Author: Artemis Allen
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Orlando/Viggo
Beta: Dearest
gattodoro, but then I tinkered with it so all mistakes are mine and mine alone.Discalimer: This is a work of fiction, unfortunately.
Dedication: This was written as a birthday gift for the incomparable
gattodoro, who then not only encouraged me to post it but offered to beta. Thank you Darling for your unstinting support.________________________________________________________
Orlando opened the boot of his car and hauled out his suit carrier and instrument case. He didn’t think he would need anything else but if he did he could come back for it after rehearsals. As he approached the imposing Edwardian edifice that was the venue for this evening’s concert he cast a critical eye over the building. He’d seen similar places, lots in fact, but at least this one was in England and also within, relatively, easy driving distance of his London apartment. It reputedly had very good acoustics and, more importantly, pretty decent dressing rooms, something that couldn’t be said for every venue.
People seemed to think that the life of a concert violinist was glamorous but it so wasn’t. Sure, he regularly spent his evenings in tails and a bow tie, which, he had to say looked really good on him, but a lot of the time he was just travelling or cooped up with other musicians, rehearsing or recording. It was perhaps better if you were part of an orchestra, at least you spent that time with the same people and could have regular relationships with your colleagues but Orlando was a soloist, he travelled alone. Occasionally he might do a full tour with an orchestra but that was rare, usually it was just him and his violin and every night a different hall in a different city with a different orchestra and a different conductor. This evening was the final concert on his current list of engagements, he’d been playing his way around Europe for a month now but tonight he would be able to sleep in his own bed and he was very much looking forward to it.
Orlando smiled to himself as he made his way to the stage door. It was a prerequisite of his profession of course, to be able to play with anyone, anywhere, but some gigs were easier than others. Tonight he would be appearing with one of the major London orchestras. He’d played with them several times before but never under this conductor. The conductor was an American, technically American Danish, with a formidable reputation. Orlando had seen him conduct of course, many, many times, the man was a legend, but this would be the first time Orlando had performed on the same stage with him and he was, just a little bit, nervous. Not that Viggo Mortensen was reputedly difficult to work with; quite the opposite in fact, the orchestras, soloists, choirs, all loved him. Behind the necessary outward display of authority his profession demanded, and the occasional display of artistic exasperation, he had a friendly, easy going nature. On balance Orlando was looking forward to this evening.
Most of the orchestra was already on stage rehearsing, he could hear them playing the overture, others were wandering through the backstage corridors which were something of an assault course, being crammed with instrument cases and catering boxes. Having been shown to his dressing room by a member of the house staff, Orlando unpacked his violin and ran through a few warm up exercises before heading for the stage.
“Ah Mr Bloom!” The conductor turned on his rostrum and peered sternly over his glasses as Orlando walked onto the stage. “Nice of you to finally join us.”
This wasn’t quite the reception Orlando had been expecting; nonplussed, he checked his watch and, now indignant, opened his mouth to protest that he wasn’t late, he’d arrived exactly when he was supposed to, but then he thought better of it, arguing with the conductor was not conducive to a good working relationship. While he was still wrestling with an appropriate response the Leader of the orchestra cut in laughing.
“Don’t harass the talent Vig, just because he’s young and pretty.”
Orlando glared at Richard, he knew the leader fairly well and he liked him, well he had liked him up until now.
“Hmmm,” the conductor grunted. “He’s not that pretty.”
There was a ripple of laughter from the orchestra and Orlando tried to will away the blush that rose to his cheeks. His mouth opened again, ready to express justifiable outrage, but he wasn’t quite sure what to say. Mortensen was still regarding him critically over the top of his glasses and the intense inspection was unfortunately making Orlando turn slightly weak at the knees.
Everyone dressed casually for rehearsals, Orlando himself sported a white T shirt and sweat pants. The conductor was wearing faded jeans and a similarly faded denim shirt, his sleeves were rolled back to the elbow and the unruly, slightly greying, light brown hair flopped across his face and curled over his collar. The advantage of being in the audience at a concert was that you had a splendid view of the conductor’s arse so Orlando had been able to appreciate Mortensen’s on many occasions and, he thought, it looked even better in the jeans.
Before Orlando could construct a sufficiently smart reply to the conductor’s jibe, Richard had advanced from his chair and grasped him by the shoulder in a friendly greeting.
“Take no notice of Viggo,” he grinned. “He’s been cranky all morning. In fact if you can do anything to cheer him up, the rest of us would be vastly obliged.”
Orlando pursed his lips and tried not to laugh at Richards’s irreverent comments.
“I can hear you Armitage,” the conductor barked. “So, now that our soloist is actually here would you like to cut the chit chat and get down to some work.”
“See,” Richard winked and squeezed Orlando’s shoulder. “He’s a pussycat beneath the sarcastic exterior. Don’t let him scare you.”
Orlando nodded gratefully at Richard then, taking a deep breath, he marched defiantly forwards to take his place beside the rostrum.
“Good afternoon Sir,” he hazarded politely, looking up at the conductor with a contrite expression, well, more like a slight pout and wide, puppy dog eyes.
“Hmmm,” Viggo grunted again and raised his baton. "Shall we get on."
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, rehearsals were thorough and exhausting and Orlando was relieved to finally retire to his dressing room for some relaxation, leaving the body of the orchestra to their practise for the other pieces they were to play that evening. Refreshments were delivered by an attentive member of the backstage staff and he was asked if there was anything else he needed. Orlando appreciated that this was one of the advantages of being the soloist, he wasn’t the demanding prima donna type, but being able to get a chocolate bar and a coke without having to queue in the cafeteria was a definite bonus.
Food consumed he set the alarm on his phone and settled down on the capacious sofa for a nap. He was used to grabbing sleep whenever he could and a sofa this comfortable was a definite luxury. In just over an hour he would have to get up, dress and run through his warm up routines, but after all the travelling he’d done recently sleep was his current priority.
________________________________________________________
He wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. Certainly standing beside one of the sexiest conductors in the business, well in Orlando’s opinion anyway, for a couple of hours might have been a contributing factor. His subsequent dreams had certainly featured visions of faded denim and wildly tossed hair. Usually performance nerves overrode any other physical reactions, but seemingly not tonight. He could hear Beethoven’s Egremont overture being played in the auditorium, it would end soon and then he would be called to take the stage to play the violin concerto. He closed his eyes and tried to focus, it was too late for a cold shower.
The summoning knock came all too soon.
Orlando opened the door a crack and peaked out nervously.
“I have a bit of a problem.”
“What sort of a problem?” The conductor’s face registered more concern than annoyance.
Orlando opened the door wider and beckoned Mortensen inside.
“This sort of a problem!” Orlando gestured vaguely in the direction of his groin. He was wearing a white silk shirt, open at the neck, sleeves rolled up halfway to his elbows, a short black waistcoat and a pair of thigh hugging black pants, which did nothing to disguise his very prominent erection.
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” the conductor rolled his eyes. “You can’t go on stage like that!”
“Don’t you think I know that!” Orlando hissed “I’ve been trying to relax but it’s not working.”
“You don’t say,” Viggo snapped back. “How the hell did you let it happen in the first place?”
Orlando scowled. “Oh give me a break, I’ve been away on tour, I haven’t been laid in a while, this is what happens.”
Viggo frowned menacingly “I haven’t been laid in a while either but I have some self control.”
“Well bully for you.”
“And you couldn’t just have taken this in hand yourself?”
“I’m a violinist; I don’t want to risk straining my wrist.”
Viggo sighed dramatically and unfastened his own black jacket. He took it off and laid it over the back of a chair before pointing to the sofa.
“Sit!” he commanded.
“What?”
“Unzip and sit,” Viggo repeated.
“You’re not serious!” Orlando squeaked.
“Got a better idea?”
“Emmmm…”
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Viggo planted a hand on Orlando’s chest and pushed him backwards on to the sofa. “I knew I should have done this earlier, you were just begging for it all through rehearsals. You flashed those big brown eyes at me, your tongue flicking out indecently between those annoyingly perfect teeth.”
“I wasn’t,” Orlando protested fumbling with his fly. “Well maybe a bit but who can blame me. I’ve always thought you were fucking hot when you’re conducting.”
“And you are just sex on legs Mr Bloom. The respectable grey haired matrons sitting in the front row will all have their tongues hanging out tonight. Even if you play out of tune they won’t give a damn.”
Viggo’s tirade ended in a sharp intake of breath as the zip finally came down and Orlando’s cock sprang free.
“I see you ran out of clean underwear on tour.”
“Spoils the line of my pants,” Orlando grinned.
“Poser,” Viggo smiled sinking to his knees.
“Holy fuck!” Orlando exclaimed as Viggo’s mouth immediately engulfed his cock.
It didn’t take long, the hot, wet heat of Viggo’s mouth and the exquisite sensation of his tongue exploring was accompanied by deft fingers squeezing his balls. Orlando tried not to scream as he came, hard and intense, his essence pumping relentlessly into Viggo’s throat and Viggo swallowing and licking until Orlando was totally spent.
“Fuuuuck…” Orlando slurred as Viggo finally released him.
The conductor rose to his feet and reached for his jacket.
“Now put that away and let’s get moving,” he suggested to the young man sprawled, sated and boneless on the sofa.
Just as he spoke there was a sharp knock on the door.
“Orlando?” It was Richard’s voice, obviously disconcerted. “Are you in there? Is Viggo with you?”
“Yes I’m here,” Viggo replied curtly.
“Only the audience is getting a bit restless out here. Is everything okay?”
Orlando zipped up his pants, hauled himself onto his feet and smoothed down his clothes. Viggo buttoned up his jacket and opened the door.
“Just dealing with a small problem,” he informed Richard. “We’ll be there directly.”
“Small?” Orlando quipped with a smirk.
Viggo scowled at him “Now that you’ve kept everybody waiting you’d better play like a fucking angel out there tonight.”
“No pressure then.” Orlando took a deep breath and picked up his violin.
“None at all,” Viggo replied airily as they left the dressing room.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
It was nearly midnight and Orlando was relaxing on the sofa in his apartment, happy to be home, for a while at least, and even happier because he was expecting his lover home too.
His performance that evening had gone well, exceedingly well. The conductor had actually hugged him in celebration, or maybe it was relief, given the unforgivable delay in the programme. Richard too had embraced him and offered enthusiastic congratulations. The applause had forced him to return to the stage four times, he and Mortensen raising their joined hands in triumph, it had felt good, it had felt very good. Admittedly the Bruch violin concerto was always a favourite, but a discerning audience would certainly express their displeasure if you weren’t up to scratch. Tonight the audience had been well satisfied, the audience had been euphoric and Orlando was still floating on the cloud of their adulation.
He shivered in anticipation as the click of a key in the front door and the sound of bags being dumped in the hall made butterflies tango in his stomach, he’d missed his lover while he’d been away on tour, he’d missed him a lot.
“Orlando?”
“In here.”
Orlando poured some wine into the waiting glass.
“So what kept you?” he grinned as his lover opened the door of the sitting room, and he offered him the glass of wine.
The other man accepted the glass with a grin and clinked it against Orlando’s.
“Some of us had to stay and play the symphony. Unlike you bloody soloists we have to put in a full night.”
“Well I hope you’re not tired because I’d really like you to play with me now.”
“You are incorrigible,” Viggo laughed as he slumped down on the sofa beside his lover and leant in for a quick kiss.
“God I’ve missed you,” Orlando moaned as Viggo drew away.
“I’ve missed you too,” Viggo echoed brushing his lips over Orlando’s again. “How long are you home for this time?”
Orlando shrugged “Couple of weeks before I do the South American tour. What about you? When do you leave for the States?”
“Ten days,” Viggo grimaced. “But I have to do a couple of performances at the Royal Festival Hall next week.”
Orlando sighed and snuggled closer to his lover. “We really should look at working together more often.”
“No way!” Viggo responded emphatically.
“What! Why not?” Orlando sat up straight and regarded his partner indignantly. “I thought tonight went really well.”
Viggo leaned back and regarded his lover incredulously.
“Are you insane! I never want to work with you again! It was far too distracting!”
“The audience loved us,” Orlando protested.
“The audience didn’t have to suck you off in the dressing room.”
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Orlando giggled. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Oh I was banking on it,” Viggo grinned playfully. “I’m expecting a virtuoso performance in the bedroom tonight Mr Bloom.”
“Absolutely Sir,” Orlando purred. “Just waiting for you to raise your baton.”
----&-----
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