The Blue Guitar

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by J. E. Wiseman




  THE BLUE GUITAR

  J.E. Wiseman

  Erotic Romance

  Secret Cravings Publishing

  www.secretcravingspublishing.com

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  A Secret Cravings Publishing Book

  Erotic Romance

  The Blue Guitar

  Copyright © 2014 J.E. Wiseman

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-63105-264-44

  First E-book Publication: July 2014

  Cover design by Dawné Dominique

  Edited by E.L. Felder

  Proofread by Amanda Ward

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2014 by Secret Cravings Publishing

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

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  www.secretcravingspublishing.com

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  Have you heard about the newest idea in ebooks, the ebook club? Secret Cravings Publishing has two ebook clubs, The Cravings Ebook Club or the Cravings Paranormal Ebook Club, and we invite you to become a member.

  As a new member, you will receive Trouble With a Cowboy* by Sandy Sullivan and Blood Kisses** by H.N. Sieverding FREE, just for joining!

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  *Trouble With a Cowboy, a western, erotic romance:

  18 wheels had her heart until one hard-up cowboy found her kickin' up her heels and propositions her to take his bull to Vegas.

  Jacie Hawkins drives big wheelers for a livin'. Something not a lot of women do. Littleton Oklahoma is just a dry stopover for a few hours of rest and relaxation at the nearest bar. Jacie needs to find a hot cowboy to release some of her pent up frustrations on for the night, but wannabe's aren't her style.

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  **Blood Kisses (Nightwalkers 1), paranormal erotic romance:

  Ashleigh Brown, the author of the popular Nightwalkers series, lives a quiet life free of the limelight. She keeps her real identity secret by writing under the pen name, Victoria Allure. She soon finds herself in a bind when she's kidnapped by a group of handsome vampires seeking Victoria. She then agrees to meet their Master, who's a huge fan of her books. But instead of meeting him, she accidentally crosses paths with her rock star crush. He is the sexy muse behind Nightwalkers and the man she based the hero in the series upon. She would do anything to meet him but little does she know her crush has a secret...

  We will try to match your books to your preferences, however, if you’re a major paranormal fan, we suggest you join the Cravings Paranormal Club. Everything is the same except that three of your four books will be paranormal. The remaining book will be of a different genre.

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  THE BLUE GUITAR

  Based on the Orpheus and Eurydice legend

  J.E. Wiseman

  Copyright © 2014

  While sweeping the hallway, or emptying the trash cans, or making sure the bathrooms had paper towels and toilet paper, Orrin thought about Emily. So what if I’m the janitor and she’s a lawyer’s personal assistant, I’m just as good as anyone who works at Ainsworth and Thelin…she'll see.

  Orin was determined to get up the nerve to ask her out. He believed that if she got to know him, she would see that he was a lot more than a janitor. He knew that if she heard his music she would see the depth of his spirit. If only she could hear me play, she would know who I am. But he had no way to make that happen.

  He always took his time and did an especially good job around her desk. When he dusted the filing cabinets and shelves, he carefully removed everything before spraying the cleaning solution. He found things to do in order to have more time around her. He watered the plants and wiped the glass and dusted the frames of the paintings. He’d take her coffee mug and rinse it out, then ask if she wanted more coffee. He liked it when she'd smile and look up from her computer and say, “Thanks, Orrin, I'm fine,” then get back to work.

  He hated how shy and nervous he was around her, but one day, before she came to work, Orrin prepared to surprise her with flowers he’d bought from the Save-way Supermarket. He had a vase in the storage closet so he filled it with water and put the small bouquet of daisies and zinnias in the middle of her desk and, wanting to be mysterious, did not leave a note. From the hall, he saw her surprise when she walked in and asked her assistant, Gloria, if she knew where the flowers came from. Gloria said, “I have no idea. They were here when I came in.”

  Later, when Orrin came back to the office, he put down his mop and bucket and asked, “How’d you like the flowers, Emily?”

  She had moved the vase to the side so she could work, but looked at them, then up at Orrin. “I love them. What a nice surprise, but I have no idea who gave them to me.” She looked at Orrin, tilted her head and smile
d. “Did you give them to me?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What do you mean sort of, Orrin? Either you gave them to me or you didn’t.”

  “Yes, I gave them to you. I thought they would make your desk pretty.”

  He wanted to ask her to go to the movies, or at least have a cup of coffee at the café down the street, but stood there like an idiot, afraid she’d say no, so instead he asked if she wanted a piece of gum.

  “Gum?”

  “Yes, it’s spearmint.” He pulled out a stick of gum from his pocket. “Do you want some?”

  Before she could respond, the telephone rang and she put up her finger indicating he should wait for one minute. Orrin watched her writing down a message and number and thought how beautiful she looked with long dark hair that fell below her shoulders, blue-green eyes, radiant face with little makeup, and glossed lips which made him think of kissing her. He loved the way she dressed, usually in blouses or colorful sweaters that made it difficult for him to not look at her breasts. She wore short tight skirts, or slacks, and always had on long dangling earrings. She was petite, probably just over five feet tall, and Orrin thought she was not only pretty, but sexy. He often had fantasies about her where, after a movie, she’d hold his hand, or hook her arm around his elbow, and they’d go someplace for coffee and she’d gaze into his eyes, then invite him to her apartment where she'd push him up against the door and they’d kiss before making wild passionate love on the floor.

  Orrin stood in front of her desk with the piece of gum in his hand and waited for her to hang up, and when she did, he asked her again, “So, do you want some gum?”

  “No, thanks.” Emily turned back to her computer. “I’ve got to get to work now, Orrin.”

  “Me, too.” He picked up his mop and bucket. “Enjoy the flowers.”

  “I will.” She smiled, leaning over to sniff them. “That was sweet of you.”

  Orrin really wanted to ask her out and kept walking past her office, trying to get up the nerve to ask her. While he worked, he practiced what he wanted to say. “How about dinner and a movie, Emily?”

  He repeated the question over and over and tried to sound confident and suave. He practiced it while mopping the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. “How about dinner and a movie, Emily?” He kept saying it in different ways. He'd put his hands in his jeans pockets. He cocked his head to the side and smiled, then, in a deep voice, asked, “How about dinner and a movie, Emily?” He wanted to sound like George Clooney even though he felt like Woody Allen.

  After repeating the question a half a dozen times, he took a deep breath and closed his disgusted eyes and shook his head from side to side. I wish I wasn't so damn shy and stupid.

  When he opened his eyes, he noticed a fleck of dirt on his faded denim shirt and brushed it off. He was determined to walk into Emily’s office and ask her out. I've just got to do it. He combed his long, dark, curly hair before leaving the bathroom.

  Orrin had let his hair grow long after he got back from Iraq. The army had cut it short when he signed up, but when he was discharged two years ago, he let it grow long. Sometimes he wore in it a ponytail, but usually it just curled down to just above his shoulders. He liked how thick, curly and wild-looking it was. He had high cheekbones with a sharp nose and wondered if he looked like the father he hadn’t seen since he was three. His mom said he was half Native American, and he could see a little of that in the mirror.

  He moved his face closer and looked into his blue eyes. Orrin, you can do this. You can win her heart. You’re a good-looking guy, smart, talented. She will fall in love with you once she knows who you are. Once again he thought, if only she could hear my music.

  Orrin stood outside her office, and repeated the question once more. Finally, he took a deep breath and walked into the office. Emily was working on the computer with her back to the door. He walked up to her desk, took a deep breath and just as he opened his mouth and said, “How about…” the telephone rang. She looked up at him, lifting her finger again, then answered the phone. “Oh, hello dear. I’m so glad to hear your voice.”

  Orrin stood there and pretended he wasn’t listening to Emily’s happy voice, “Of course, I’d love to have dinner with you and go to see that movie. I heard that Julia Roberts is great in it.” She paused. “See you at six. I love you, too.”

  When she hung up she looked at Orrin with that smile that made his heart leap. “Were you getting ready to ask me something?”

  “No. I was just wanted to see if the flowers were okay.”

  “Well, I think they’re fine, Orrin.” She nodded and went back to working on her computer.

  Orrin stood at the edge of her desk and looked at the yellow daisies and the red zinnias, then at Emily. He stood there with his hands in his pocket. After a minute, she turned to face him. “What’s wrong, Orrin?”

  “Nothing, Emily. Nothing’s wrong.”

  He glanced over at Gloria standing at the filing cabinet. She turned and looked at Orrin, and then at Emily. Orrin took a deep breath and stood there wishing he could think of something to say, but he couldn't. His mind was clay. Emily turned back to her computer and continued what she was doing.

  Orrin hated how shy and awkward he was around her. He knew it was stupid to ask her if she wanted gum, but he never knew what to say. If only I could get her to hear my music she would know who I am. He knew that his music was special. He didn’t know why, or how he had come to love playing the guitar, but it changed his life. Something comes over me when I play, and I can say through my music what I can’t say in words.

  He remembered the day his life changed and often thought how things happen that impact your life in ways you can't explain. When Orrin was twelve, they moved to Roxboro because of a man his mom had met on the internet. They had just moved the week before. His mom and dad split when he was three and Orrin barely remembered him. They were never married and she had Orrin when she was nineteen, so it was just Orrin and her.

  He didn’t know any of the kids at school since they all had cliques and he was so shy. It was a Saturday and Orrin had decided to explore the town and was walking down Ridge Avenue past different stores when he walked by one that sold musical instruments. He was surprised when he saw the sign over the front door, Music for the Ages, and something made him stop and look in the window. He saw a drum set, trumpet, keyboard piano, banjo, and a violin, but what caught his eye was the blue guitar in the corner of the window. Orrin was drawn to that guitar. Something about the color and shape sent a tingle through him, and instantly, he knew he had to have that guitar. He must have stood there for ten minutes just staring at it before he went inside. He heard a bell jingle over the door and saw an old man with shaggy white hair and wire-rimmed glasses behind the counter. The man looked up at Orrin, then went back to putting strings on a violin.

  It was a small store--dingy and dark. In addition to instruments it sold CDs, but also had a table with old record albums. A sign over the table said, Vintage Records—Used.

  Orrin asked how much the blue guitar was. The man looked at him and said a thousand dollars, then walked over to the window and brought it over to him. Orrin knew nothing about guitars. The man told him it was a classical guitar with nylon strings instead of wire and that he knew the man who made it. He handed it to Orrin. “Hold it. See how it feels,” and added, “It was originally twenty-five hundred dollars, but no one wants a blue classical guitar, so now it’s a thousand.”

  Orrin had never held a guitar before, but when he cradled it in his arm, then gently plucked one of the strings, he felt that tingle again, a strange vibration. He strummed it and loved the rich sound it made and again, the vibration rippled through his body. He put his finger on the lowest string at one end and plucked, then moved his finger up the string a little more and plucked again, then one more time, he plucked, then told the man, “I love the sound of this guitar. It’s beautiful, but there’s no way I could afford a thousand dollars.”
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  The man nodded and said he was selling it for the person who made the guitar, an old friend of his since childhood. He thought for a minute, “Maybe I could sell it cheaper, but I have to ask my friend.”

  He told Orrin his friend had been making guitars his whole life, but this was the last one he would ever make, then added, “I don’t know why he painted it blue. I told him it was nuts, no one would buy a blue classical guitar.” He paused and looked at Orrin, then narrowed his eyes. “I like the way you look holding that guitar. For some reason I think you should have that guitar. Maybe my friend would sell it for a lot less than a thousand dollars. I could ask him.”

  Orrin looked at the guitar, then back at the man. “Thank you, but I doubt I could afford anything. We just moved to town and we don’t have much money.” He strummed the guitar again, closed his eyes and felt that strange sensation again.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Orrin,” he answered and plucked the string again.

  “I’m Hermes.”

  “Hermes, like the Greek god?” Orrin asked, surprised. “I love mythology. It’s one of my favorite things to read. Hermes was the messenger.”

  “My family is Greek. My parents named all of their children after Greek gods, but I tell most people my name is Herman because if I tell them my real name, I get strange looks. No one in this country is called Hermes.”

  “So why did you tell me your name was Hermes and not Herman?”

  “I’m not sure, but when I saw you holding the guitar that my friend made I wanted to tell you my real name. It just felt right. Some things you can’t explain. By the way, my friend’s real name is Apollo, but he calls himself Paul for the same reason I don’t call myself Hermes. We grew up together in Greece. Both of our families came to America when we were fifteen.”

 

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