The Luthier – Part 2: Private Concert
Lesbian Stories·EN·2 min read·Published 2026-11-07, updated 2026-11-07·Part 2 of 2
The workshop was dim, lit by a single green-shaded lamp. Snow fell softly beyond the high windows. Joanne sat on the workbench, hands in her lap, as Camille played the whole Bach suite, slowly, with the repaired cello singing under her bow. The notes filled the room, deep and golden, vibrating in the wood of every instrument on the walls.
When the last note faded, neither of them moved.
"I've been planning to say something for six weeks," said Joanne, her voice low.
"I know."
"You do?"
"I've been planning to hear it."
Joanne laughed. "I would like to kiss you, Camille. If you'd like. And if you wouldn't, you will still get your cello back, and I will be a professional about it."
"I'd like it," said Camille, setting the bow on the stand. "I'd like it very much."
The kiss was gentle and slow, with a hint of varnish and tea. Joanne's hands were rough and careful, one at Camille's waist, one in her hair. Camille kissed her back with the same long phrasing she gave to music, deep and unhurried, building. The cello leaned against the bench, resonating faintly in the quiet.
"Upstairs," whispered Joanne. "I live upstairs. It's warm."
"Show me."
The flat above the workshop was small and snug, with a stove, a worn rug and a bed under a skylight dusted with snow. They undressed slowly, laughing at gloves and scarves, and under the blankets they discovered a rhythm of their own, patient and tender, full of soft laughter and long pauses. Snow fell silently on the glass. The workshop below was still.
On Saturday evening Camille had a concert at the symphony hall. Joanne sat in the third row, in a green dress, holding the programme in both hands. Camille walked out, sat down and glanced at her once, a small private smile, then raised her bow.
The cello sang like it had never been cracked at all.
More lesbian romance stories: Tea at the Conservatory · Bookshop at Midnight · Ballroom Rivals
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