by Jillian Marie

Thanks to Karen J, Angharad, and Angel for kindly helping me prepare this story for public consumption.

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As I entered the lobby of my building I was called over to a group of my neighbors who were getting ready to order pizzas. “Wanna join us?” asked the girl I recognized as my next-door neighbor.

“Sure,” I replied as I took a seat on the couch next to her. “By the way, I’m Kyle.”

“Cindy,” she said as she offered me her hand. “I’m a Psychology major. How about you?”

“Piano performance,” I replied. “So do you all order pizza often?”

“Whenever we can scrape together the cash. It sure beats the food over at the union.”

“No arguments from me on that one.” I was trying not to stare at Cindy, but in the process I’m sure I was looking rather shifty considering I was constantly changing my eyes focus.

“You seem rather preoccupied. Anything in particular?”

I tried to ignore the question, but the look in her eyes assured me she was a persistent sort. “Yeah, but it’s embarrassing.”

“Oh, it can’t be that bad.”

“Yeah, it can.”

One of the other girls jumped in, “Come on, maybe we can help?”

I looked at the group of them and realized for the first time that I was sitting there with a group of girls and I was the only guy. “I mean it when I say it’s embarrassing.”

Cindy said, “Now I’m really intrigued.”

I looked at her for a moment longer before finally blurting out, “It’s kind of strange.”

The other girl said, “That’s the best kind.”

“My piano teacher is on me about displaying what she calls both masculine and feminine characteristics in my playing. Basically in her theory masculine means power, while feminine is grace and delicacy. I can give her what she wants in short bursts, but I don’t have any clue how to maintain it.”

“What is ‘it’?” Cindy asked.

“Okay, she was on me this afternoon about losing my ‘feminine’ focus in the middle of the piece I’ve been working on. She stopped me, and I decided to try and picture myself as a girl to see if that would help, and it did. Maybe a bit too well, because she said it was the best I’ve ever played.

“She wants me to figure out how to maintain that focus over a longer period of time so I can get through longer concert pieces without losing it in the middle.” As I finished, I felt drained somehow.

“So, do you have any idea how to make this happen?” Cindy asked.

I shook my head as I said, “Not a clue.”

“You know…” the other girl offered. “Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. Sorry, I’m Cheryl. I was going to say, there’s a really easy way for you to keep that feminine image in your mind.”

“How’s that?” I asked in spite of feeling an overpowering sensation that told me I didn’t really want to hear her answer.

“Wear women’s clothes,” she said flatly.

I stared at her for what felt like an eternity. It was Cindy who broke the silence when she said, “That’s not a bad idea.”

I shook my head to pull myself out of my trance and said, “Not a bad idea? Are you on drugs?”

Cindy tried not to laugh as she looked at me, but eventually gave in to the temptation and before long everyone in the lobby was rolling on the floor. After longer than I would have liked, given that I was the target of said laughter, things finally began to calm back down. About the time the pizza was delivered, everyone was finally back to normal.

After the food had all been consumed, Cindy got up from the sofa and after taking my hand and pulling me along with her, led me toward the elevators.

On our way up to our floor I asked, “What did you have in mind?”

“Just a little psychological experiment,” she said with what looked like an evil twinkle in her eye.

She dragged me past my apartment and into hers where she told me to wait while she got something. Then she led me back to my place. Once inside she said, “Okay, put these on.” These were a pair of panties.

“Why?” was all I could think to say.

“To see if my idea works,” she replied as she stuck them in my hand and pushed me toward the bathroom to change.

I stood in there looking at the little piece of nylon and Lycra for several minutes, unsure what I was going to do. Cindy knocked on the bathroom door and shouted, “Hurry up in there. I want to see if it works.”

I finally said to myself, “What the hell,” and took off my jeans and jockey shorts, replacing them with the panties. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that they were a lot more comfortable than my old shorts, in large part because of the softness of the fabric and the way it hugged the skin without pinching in any way. I put my jeans back on and opened the door.

Cindy was standing there waiting for me. She asked, “Well? Did you?”

I looked at her and replied, “I have them on.”

“How do they feel?”

“I wish to take advantage of the rights granted me by the Fifth Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America,” I said, thinking it was clever.

“That good, eh?” she said in response.

I turned a brighter red than you’d find on the flag and fought off a smile. I didn’t really have to say anything; that told her everything she needed to know.

“Why don’t you play a little bit,” she said pointing toward my digital piano, “and see if it helps?”

I took a seat at my keyboard and unplugged the headphones so the sound would come out the built in speakers. I started to play my recital pieces and I could tell a difference.

As I made my way through the C# minor it sounded more complete to my ear than I had ever managed before. There was the masculine power that the piece needed, but tinged with a delicacy that could only be described as feminine. I then went into the E minor, where that delicate grace shone through making the piece feel like a completely different work than I had ever played before.

Throughout the B Major I found myself starting to understand just exactly what Dr. Caroll had been saying. Anyone could play this piece with all out ‘hit it hard’ power strokes, but they lose so much of the beauty of the composition when they do so. When finally I began the Ab Major Mazurka, I was a complete convert.

I wasn’t exactly sure why, but I had to admit that not only did Cindy and Cheryl’s idea have merit, it had proven to be a rousing success. My playing sounded even better than it had when I was imagining myself as a girl, even though I had thought I’d never be able to top that in this lifetime. I found this enthralling and terrifying at the same time.

By the time I finished the last of the four Mazurkas, I looked up to see that Cindy was just sat there speechless, staring at me. I stared back for a moment before clearing my throat and asking, “Well?”

She continued to stare for a moment longer before shaking her head, blinking a couple of times, and refocusing on the present. “I don’t know how well you played the other way, but that…” she allowed the thought to fade rather than complete it. All I could do was nod my head in agreement.

As midday Friday arrived I was entering the recital hall. This was one of the things that seemed different about studying at the conservatory. All students were required to take this class called “Music Listening Lab” which basically was required recital attendance. Each student was required to attend at least 16 recitals per semester, as tracked by a count of signed and turned in programs. Additionally Dr. Caroll had informed all of her students that she considered attendance in support of our fellow students as paramount in her grading for our private instrument study. Translation? I had grades in five credit hours worth of courses depending at least in part on me being here today, and at all of Dr. Caroll’s student appearances in the future. At least I didn’t have to write a term paper.

I took a seat about halfway back, toward the middle of the auditorium thinking this would afford me the best sound. I’d barely sat down when Dr. Caroll herself came up and sat beside me. Neither of us said anything for a moment, until just before the first performer came out on stage when she whispered, “Pay special attention. I’d like you to tell me what you think of the performance when we have our lesson on Monday.”

Before I could reply, the house lights faded and a hush came over the crowd. A moment or two later, the performer began playing.

It turned out there were four pianists on the program, all of them students of Dr. Caroll. Since I already knew she was expecting a thought out review of each performance, I tried to pay very close attention to the performances.

This first performer was a senior by the name of James Tilden. From what little I’d managed to discern so far at the school he was considered one of the top pianists in the school. He’d even already secured a spot for next year as a graduate teaching assistant here at the conservatory. Needless to say, I was expecting magic.

Unfortunately, James didn’t really deliver the goods in my estimation. He performed Franz Liszt’s 2 Concert Etudes, S.145, and as would be expected he had the power down cold. But then, cold was the problem. There was no grace or beauty in his playing. It was all technique and bombast, and by the time he left the stage I could very easily have forgotten all about his performance.

Next up was a Junior by the name of Candace Kane…I kid you not. I’d met Candy a time or two and she seemed a nice enough girl. She was playing Claude Debussy’s Reverie, and she played it beautifully. She of course had the whole feminine grace thing working perfectly and had a surprising amount of power for such a small girl. I quickly decided she was going to be one for which I would need to keep an eye out.

Next on the program was a fellow freshman named Suzie Friedman. I sort of knew her…well at least more than the others…and found myself really hoping she’d be able to put on a show. She was playing Eric Satie’s Trois Gymnopedies, which unfortunately fell rather flat. It sounded mechanical and had little or no power to the playing at all. I felt guilty for having thoughts like this, but I found myself wishing this thing would just be over.

The final performer on the program was a graduate student by the name of Gary Harper. Gary was in fact the total package in that not only was he the best of Dr. Caroll’s many students, he combined that talent with movie star good looks. He was already well on his way toward establishing his performing career, and his appearance here was as much as anything a tune up for a series of solo recitals he had scheduled over the next few weeks.

He played Beethoven’s Sonata No.8, sometimes called the “Pathetique”. His performance was absolutely perfect. In fact, I was a bit in awe of it. I found myself having one of my rare moments of self-doubt. Dean Hamilton had talked about there maybe being one or two from my class who might become successful soloists? Gary was the one from his class.

I turned in my signed program on my way out the door so I would get credit for attending, and headed back to my apartment. Since I wound up not having anything that afternoon, I was looking forward to beginning my weekend a little early. When I arrived at the apartment building Cindy grabbed me on my way in the front door and dragged me to the elevator and up to our floor.

As we exited the elevator she said, “We need to go get you some panties of your own.”

I was taken aback by that and it took me a moment to collect my thoughts enough to speak, “Why do I need my own panties?”

“Well you didn’t think I was just going to keep loaning you mine, did you?”

The truth is I hadn’t given it any thought one way or the other, but once I did I had to concede that she had a point. The evidence was in and it told me that this would help me with my playing…though why exactly this was I couldn’t even begin to tell you.

I dumped my messenger bag full of school stuff inside my apartment and joined Cindy in heading back downstairs, where we met up with Cheryl who was going to drive us all to the mall and my first experience with buying lingerie.

I felt like a deer caught in the headlights as they dragged me first across the parking lot, then directly into Victoria’s Secret. I’m sure I was turning a permanent shade of crimson from the embarrassment of being led from one display to another as my escorts sorted through panties looking for just the right ones for me.

It turned out they picked out a half dozen pairs, all very soft pastels in silk. I was so far beyond simply being embarrassed at that point that I just went catatonic as they added a couple of bras to the pile before leading me toward the cashier.

“Did you find everything all right?” the older lady working behind the counter asked.

I was completely gone at that point, unable to utter even guttural sounds, but my companions were having no such problems. Cheryl was first to respond, “Yes, thanks. I think we found everything we needed.” The last bit was said while looking directly at me. I wanted to shrivel up and disappear at that moment.

“That’ll be Fifty-seven sixty-eight,” said the cashier as she rang up the last item in the stack.

Cindy just turned to me without saying a word. I reached into my pocket to retrieve my wallet, pulled out my debit card, and handed it to the lady at the register. She looked at me for a moment before finally just passing the card through the reader and waiting for a moment for the approval to come through.

I signed the receipt, still without having said a word to anyone involved before following the girls out of the store and back across the lot toward Cheryl’s car. Once we were outside the building, Cindy spoke up, “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

I looked at her for a moment as if she had three heads before finally admitting, “Not so bad.”

As we piled into the car, the girls began giggling incessantly. I eventually gave up and joined in.

Other than joining everyone in the lobby Saturday night for a movie on the big screen TV, I spent my entire weekend practicing. By the time I returned to class on Monday morning, I felt I was playing my selections for the recital about as well as they could be played.

It was during Music Theory on Monday that I found myself completely unable to concentrate. Dr. Pogemiller was addressing the class when he walked over to the piano and played something. “Mr. Bronson, can you identify that cadence?”

I sat there completely embarrassed because I had not studied all my listening assignments over the weekend, and I think he knew it. “Um, I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening in that way, but I know I like the way it sounds.” Showers of laughter came pouring my direction for a moment before Dr. P decided to rescue me.

“Class!” he said a bit more forcefully than his normal teaching voice. Once the laughter had died down he said, “Now, Mr. Bronson,” and played it again.

“Plagal,” I replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over me knowing that I’d gotten it right.

“Very good,” Dr. Pogemiller said. “But Mr. Bronson has inadvertently brought up a point that is far too often ignored in this and most other schools.” He walked away from the piano, back toward the chalkboard. “Too often we spend so much time analyzing the nuts and bolts of music that we forget that it’s a form of emotional communication. All of us need to try to remember to shut off the analyzing part of our brain and just listen because we like it once in a while. If we can all remember to do that, I think we’ll all become better musicians.”

As everyone exited the classroom following that morning’s lesson, my classmates were divided in their take on what the professor had said. Some thought he was loony while others, myself included, were certain he had just proven that he was possibly the most brilliant musician any of us had ever met.

Monday afternoon I was again seated at Dr. Caroll’s piano, having just completed playing my recital pieces straight through. “Excellent work. I’m glad to see you’ve figured out how to maintain your focus so well.”

“Thank you ma’am,” I replied feeling somewhat embarrassed because I knew exactly how that aforementioned focus was being maintained.

“I’d say at this point your primary goal with the Chopin is just to maintain a freshness to your playing. I’d like you to play through them a couple of times each day, just to make sure you don’t forget anything and then I’d like you to work on this,” she said as she placed a book in front of me. “I usually don’t assign this to freshmen, but I think you just might be up to the challenge.”

Turns out, ‘this’ was Rachmaninov’s second sonata in Bb minor. I spent the better part of the rest of my lesson time stumbling through the first two movements before being sent home with Dr. Caroll’s parting words to me. “I’m hoping this will let you spread your wings a bit more. I have you scheduled to play this three weeks from today on the noon recital.” With that I was ushered out of her office and sent on my merry way.

As I made my way home I was beginning to grasp the significance of what had just happened. In one week I was performing Chopin, followed by Rachmaninov two weeks after that. To say I had my hands full considering I was an eighteen-year-old college freshman would be a drastic understatement. I just hoped I’d prove to be up to the challenge.

Between classes and practicing for both of my upcoming recital appearances, I was feeling a bit overwhelmed for the next several days. I had taken to wearing those panties every day and could tell a real difference in the way I played. I still had no clue why that would be the case, but since the consensus was that it was very much a positive change I decided not to complain.

The day of my first performance arrived and like every other Monday my day began with Dr. Pogemiller’s music theory class. He always liked to start us off with some little tidbit of philosophical advice, and this day was no different. He entered the classroom, walking straight to the chalkboard where he proceeded to write, ‘There are no wrong notes. Only passing tones.”

He turned to face the class and was hit by a room full of blank faces who were trying to figure out just exactly what it was he had just written on the board. He went over to the piano and took a seat before he spoke, “Who can tell me what a passing tone is?”

A couple of hands shot up in the air and he finally chose to hear from Terry Thompson, a composition major who was just a little too far out in left field for my tastes. “A passing tone is a transitional device used to bridge movement from one harmonically correct note to another by way of a note or notes that are not harmonically compatible.”

Dr. P looked at him for a moment before replying, “Not exactly how I would have said it, but basically, yes. A passing tone, or appoggiatura in Italian, is a note of embellishment. It can dress up a melody, or as you said serve as a transition from one point to another.” He then proceeded to play for a minute or two; being sure to insert extra notes into melodies we were all familiar as examples of passing tones in use.

Just after noon I was standing backstage in the recital hall, suddenly very aware that I was in fact wearing panties under my suit and tie. I actually had to start counting my breaths to make sure I didn’t start hyperventilating when it was almost my turn to go on stage.

As I reached center stage and took my seat at the piano, I went completely blank. I couldn’t remember how to play “Mary Had A Little Lamb”, let alone the Chopin Mazurkas. I sat there staring at the keyboard for what felt like an eternity but I was later assured was actually only a few seconds before I closed my eyes, raised my hands to the keys, and began to play.

I felt very detached from what was going on. The truth is, I couldn’t tell you whether I played my pieces correctly or not, but I was forced to assume that for the most part I had done a decent job, given the far warmer than expected reaction I got from the audience when I finished the fourth.

I floated off stage and as soon as I was out of earshot, Dr. Caroll came up to me and said, “Outstanding job, Kyle! We’ll review your performance from the recording this afternoon, then start work on the Rachmaninov.” She then turned away from me to refocus her attention on the next of her students on the program.

I took a few moments to bask in the glory of what everyone seemed to think was an outstanding performance. I just wish I could remember something of it.

Recordings of selections mentioned in this chapter:

Frederic Chopin 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41, No. 1 in C# minor
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-1-breeme...

Frederic Chopin 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41, No. 2 in E minor
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-2-breeme...

Frederic Chopin 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41, No. 3 in B Major
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-3-breeme...

Frederic Chopin 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41, No. 4 in Ab Major
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-4-breeme...

Franz Liszt Concert Etudes, S.145
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-abirato-hell...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/liszt-un-sospiro-m...

Claude Debussy, Reverie
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/debussy-reverie-mc...

Eric Satie, Trois Gymnopedies
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/satie-gymnopedie1-...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/satie-gymnopedie2-...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/satie-gymnopedie3-...

Ludwig von Beethoven, Sonata No. 8 “Pathetique” — recording of second Movement only
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/beethoven-13-2-sim...

Sergei Rachmaninov, 2nd Sonata in Bb minor
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-1-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-2-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-3-g...

Notes:

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To Be Continued...