Literary Nymphs Interview
Title: HeartstringsAuthor: S.J. Frost
Publisher: MLR Press
Genre: M/M Erotic Romance, Contemporary
Release Date: May 18, 2012
What inspired the story?
I've always had a love for music. Sadly, no talent for playing it, and perhaps that's why I seek to express my appreciation for it through the written word. I've written a few books set in the music world, and with Heartstrings, I return there again. While my books to date have all been centered around the rock industry, this one is a little different in that it crosses genres between classical and rock. My love for classical music goes as far back as that for rock. Some may think it's an odd blend to have those two genres as my favorites, but I don't think so. A lot of rock and pop musicians use classical influences in their sound. So while I've been exploring the rock world in my writing, I've also been hoping, waiting, for a classical musician to come to me. He finally did in the form of violin virtuoso, Las Lamont.
Las came to me fully formed. I knew all about him within minutes of him stepping forward, but I also had a real life model I looked to for inspiration in learning more about the solo career of a classical solo artist. None other than my personal favorite violinist, David Garrett. When hearing him play the violin, it's hard to not feel inspired.
I had also been wanting to write a story featuring a "non-American" band, as I've been a fan of several international artists over the years; Queen, Def Leppard, U2, Coldplay, to name a few, and I wanted to write a band from somewhere other than the States. It just happened right as Las came forward, so too did Quinn Patrick, drummer for Lions Rampant, the Scottish rock band. It seemed my love for classical and rock was melding together in a way and with a force even I hadn't expected. It all led to the creation of Heartstrings, and what I hope will be an enjoyable story for all who read it.
Lying on the king-size bed in his hotel room, his eyes closed, Quinn let the soft notes from the violin float over him. He could almost feel them caressing him. Each one moved so fluidly, with such masterful skill in Rachmaninoff’s Vocalise, and yet with a power so subtle his emotions stirred. He went from a sensation of awe, to yearning, to invigoration, and behind his closed eyes moisture built in appreciation of the sheer beauty. The music coursed through him, filling not only his ears, but his whole being.
The way the violin sang, its voice lush and rich, made it seem as though he were listening to a living entity perform. Perfection. It could be described as nothing less. This was the work of a virtuoso. This was Las.
With the violin’s voice fading into the piece’s end, a knock sounded on his door. Quinn opened his eyes, pulling in a deep breath. He felt like he’d just come out of a trance. He sat up slowly, his legs hanging over the edge of the bed, the violin continuing to whisper through his mind.
Knocking rattled the door a second time.
Quinn shook his head slightly, attempting to clear it, and rose to his feet. He switched off the stereo and moved through the bedroom suite, smoothing his clothes on the way to the door. Anticipation replaced the sense of peace the music had brought to him. Since meeting Las that afternoon, he’d had trouble focusing all through lunch with Greg and the meeting afterward, wanting the business to wrap up so he could call him.
Quinn stopped at the door, doing a final glance down at his clothes and running a hand over his hair. He opened the door, presenting a smile. His breath caught as he looked at Las.
Las stood with one hand on the outer doorframe, the stance pulling open the top of his black button down shirt. Quinn could see the muscled lines of Las’s chest, the skin smooth and a light bronze. He wore perfectly pressed black dress pants and a black leather jacket that ended just below his hips.
Las had been looking down, but now lifted his head. Quinn noticed he’d forgone shaving, the stubble accenting his dark clothing. He had his dark blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, same as he’d worn it that afternoon, and Quinn couldn’t help but want to see what it looked like taken down. Las’s eyes, a light brown, locked with his own. It took only looking into them to wake his cock and send his heart pounding. God, but he wanted to be fucked by this man.
A sensual smile slid over Las’s lips. “Hey. It’s good to see you again.”
Quinn took a breath. “You, too.” He turned from the door, using the moment of not looking at Las to find his senses. “You can come in. I just need to grab my wallet.”
Las walked in, closing the door behind him, his gaze on Quinn’s ass in snug black leather pants. Quinn wore a white long-sleeved shirt, the material hugging his torso and arms giving Las a vision of what the muscular body beneath would look like unclothed. Rings ornamented Quinn’s fingers, and beneath the left shirt sleeve Las saw the edge of a thick black leather cuff bracelet. As Quinn turned for the bedroom, he watched him shake his fingers through his long, black hair.
Las smiled to himself. Quinn was so rock star. It was impossible to look at him and not think he was involved with rock music in some way. There was simply a different feel to him from other people, as though the energy and power of the music he played reverberated around him all the time. It made him wonder what Quinn would be like in bed. Wild and unhindered, he imagined. He hoped to find out tonight.
Las cleared his throat, lifting his voice to carry into the bedroom. “I’m glad you called me this afternoon.”
Quinn stepped out, smiling and pulling on a black leather coat. “And I’m glad you weren’t busy. I was afraid it’d be too short notice and you’d already have plans for the night.”
“Actually, other than Julian, I don’t know anyone in this city. I live in
, but my final concert ended up
being here after the first in the tour was canceled, thanks to the flu. I just
decided to stick around for a couple days to visit Julian.” New York
Quinn headed toward the door. “You two go a ways back, then?”
“Back to Juilliard. He was a couple years behind me, but we were still good friends.” As Quinn reached to open the door, Las took a graceful step to the side, putting a hand on it to keep it closed. He met Quinn’s eyes. “But I wanted to ask, do you really want to go out to dinner, or should we just order something up?”
A surprised laugh broke from Quinn. “Well, you’re not shy, are you? But I normally like to have at least a couple hours of good conversation with someone before I fuck ’em.”
Las took his turn to laugh. “And here I thought all rock stars fucked on the fly.”
Quinn’s smile grew larger. “Oh, I’ve done that, too. And I still do from time to time. But you see, if I want to have a conversation with you first, then it means I really like you.”
Las moved his hand down to the doorknob. “In that case, I feel honored. Shall we?”
Quinn nodded and walked through the open door. With Las behind him, he adjusted his cock, made fully hard from Las’s lack of subtlety.
The elevator opened right after he hit the down button, and as he stepped in, Las moved to stand close to his side. Though Las didn’t touch him, Quinn’s skin tingled with the desire to feel him, even if it was just a brush of his hand. He took a deep breath, hoping to calm himself, but all it did was let him inhale the spice of Las’s cologne, the fragrance strong, sharp, and bold. Fitting to its wearer.
He slowly turned his head toward him, finding Las gazing at him.
His voice low, husky, Las said, “You look really good.” He touched the top of Quinn’s leather pants at his hip. “I especially like these.”
“If that’s so, then you’d probably really like my black leather kilt.”
Las leaned closer to him. “The easier the access, the better.”
Quinn wet his lips. He started to regret the decision not to have food brought up to his room, and wondered if it was too late to change his mind.
The elevator door opened, snapping Quinn back to the moment. He hadn’t even felt it stop. He glanced out, seeing a small group of people staring at them, seeming hesitant to enter. If how he felt inside transferred even halfway to his appearance on the outside, he most likely looked about ready to drop to his knees to suck Las’s cock down his throat, so he could understand the people feeling uncomfortable. He gave a polite smile and nod to the group, and stepped out of the elevator.
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