I smiled at her compliment, nodding my head in appreciation for the restaurant’s round of applause. I began playing a slower, softer piece that easy enough where I could talk and play at the same time.

“When’d you write it?” she asked.

“I had some time when I got home from New York. I actually wrote most of it while talking to you. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize it, silly.” I said, smiling.

She looked a bit embarrased, “Well, I guess I just like hearing your voice more than your piano.”

I shrugged, “My voice can’t be that sweet…”

She giggled softly and kissed me on the lips, “Yes it can…”

I nearly lost my fingering as I melted at the touch of her warm lips. I felt a sudden rush of affection for her, and it was all I could do to keep playing. She must’ve notice because she started giggling.
“Something wrong, baby?” Her words were soaked in longing, and they succeeded in prying my hands from the piano and wrapping my arms around her.