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.Which meant he’d had an erection stiff enough to pound nails ever since they arrived.Trianon was a nice place—elegantly appointed, with recorded string quartet music playing softly in the background and waiters in gold and red livery scurrying every which way, pristine white towels draped over their arms.Okay, not just nice—positively luxurious.If not for his current condition, David might’ve appreciated it more.But now all he could think of was getting the hell out of here.Luckily, his dark slacks and the long scarlet tablecloth disguised his hard-on, but it didn’t stop Colette from scooting over next to him and sliding her hand all the way up his thigh.“Oh dear.You are in a state, aren’t you?” she purred.He stared across the table at Aleks and Dieter, absorbed in conversation and paying no attention.Not that it really mattered.They’d lapsed into German half an hour ago, so he couldn’t follow what they were saying anyway.With a frustrated sigh, he turned back to Colette.“You’re enjoying this way too much.”“Don’t pretend you’re not.”“An hour ago I was.Not anymore.” He threw down his napkin and started to slide out of the booth.“I’m going to the bathroom to take care of it.”Her hand on his leg tightened into a vise grip, nails digging in hard.“Sit back down,” she ordered sternly, all playfulness now gone.“Relax.We’ll only be a few more minutes.”“That’s what you said an hour ago.”“Trust me, cheri.My patience is wearing thin as well.” Drawing herself up, she flashed Aleks and Dieter a brittle smile.“Gentlemen, much as I hate to bring this lovely dinner party to an end, David and I are both rather tired.”“Of course you must be, after tonight’s performance,” Dieter said, knocking back the last of his fourth or fifth glass.He was a tall, thin, balding man with thick glasses and an apparent fondness for pricey French champagne—at least, when his clients were buying.“But Colette, we must sit down again this week before I return to Berlin.Salzburg is anxious to have you back for Figaro next summer.”“Tell them to refresh their memories.I sang Cherubino there two seasons ago.”“Then what about Charlotte in Werther for Cologne?”Colette shook her head.“Lovely music, but the role’s not suited to me at all.Far too melancholy.”“But good for your voice!”“Not really.I studied it when I was at the conservatoire.The range in the third and fourth acts lies a bit high for me.”“That was years ago.Why don’t you give it another look? Mezzos and sopranos sing the role equally often these days.”“And you could even sing regular soprano roles if you really wanted to,” David interjected, now squirming from all eyes at the table fixing squarely on him.Just what he needed—not only a piece of metal up his ass, but everyone staring at him as if he were the village idiot.“Your top notes are rock solid.I’ve heard you hit beautiful high C’s when you warm up.”“And a steady diet of them gives me a splitting migraine,” she replied.“No thank you.I’ll stick with my very comfortable mid-range, and leave the high C’s to Fleming and Netrebko.”“Eboli in Don Carlos then,” Dieter persisted.“The original Paris version.Pappano’s dying to do it.”She sat up straight.“Where?”“The Met, next season.”Now she sighed.“Dear God, how many times do I have to say it? No more engagements outside Europe.I’ve had it with tramping all over the globe.In fact, I’d cancel Rosenkavalier in New York this spring if I wasn’t sure Thielemann would never let me hear the end of it.”“Ah Colette, Colette, Colette.You’re shooting your career in the foot.Surely you know that.”“I honestly don’t care anymore.Being home and happy is far more important to me.Besides, if I were going to become a major star, it would’ve happened by now.”Dieter shot Aleks a plaintive glance.“You’ve tried to talk sense into her, I expect?”“My angel follows her own heart,” Aleks replied.“It’s not for me to dissuade her.”Dieter gave a resigned shrug.“Very well, then.At least I tried.”Aleks had already paid the bill, so they all slid from the booth and walked up to the foyer to get their coats.David heaved a sigh of relief as the pressure inside him eased a bit, though he still had to yank down his sweater to cover the bulge in his pants.He pasted on a smile when Dieter turned to say goodbye to him, hoping it didn’t look too distracted or insincere.“A pleasure to meet you, Mr.Lewis.I understand you’re satisfied with your current representation, but if that should ever change, please feel free to call me.”“I will, thanks.”Colette came up beside him, tucking her arm in his as they strolled out to the car.“I’d consider it if I were you.He doesn’t hand out offers like that lightly.”“I’m doing just fine with the agent I’ve got, especially for someone who’s only been singing professionally for a few years.”“Of course you’re doing fine,” Aleks retorted once they’d piled into the limo’s back seat.“You’re a tenor.The opera world is your oyster.There are far more good roles for you than for a mezzo like Colette.You’ll sing Don José for the next thirty years, if you’re smart enough to keep your voice in good repair that long.And even if you’re not, you’ll still probably get a good twenty-year run, until some new young turk forces you out.” Loosening his tie, he stared out the window at the blur of city lights rushing by.“Everyone pokes fun at old warhorses like Alberto Bernini, but I respect him.He’s a survivor who’s had to work his ass off for every break he’s ever received.And there you sit, after brushing off a chance to work with the best agent in the business, thinking you’ve got it all figured out.You have no idea how lucky you are that Dieter even gave you a second look.”Jesus, this was too much [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]