<strong>Marie, at the Piano with Kissinger</strong><br/><br/>Marie was a little surprised that by the warm reception her impromptu performance seemed to have gotten. She hadn’t really given it much thought … performing, for her, was kind of like breathing. She just<em>did</em>it. So – with a little encouragement from Kissinger – she proudly stood up on the piano again, and curtsied gracefully to the inventors at the bar, and seated elsewhere in the Playground, who appeared pleased with her performance.<br/><br/>And it seemed right to congratulate her performing partner as well.<br/><br/>Marie stepped lightly off of the piano, back to the floor. Picking up her skirts so she could walk a little quicker, she made her way to the piano bench, and slid neatly next to Kissinger. Wrapping her arms around him in a passionate embrace, she  leaned in and kissed him, hard and full on the mouth, letting her tongue intertwine with his as she slipped a hand down between his legs and gave his crotch a playful squeeze.<br/><br/>“We make some excellent music together,” Marie said, when she finally broke away from her kiss. “You’ll have to play some more songs for me, later tonight … ones you learned on the streets of Paris, perhaps?” She smiled tenderly at him. “And perhaps I’ll make you sing with pleasure.”  She stood up, sliding one hand across his shoulders as she did so.<br/><br/>“Ladies and gentlemen, kindly give our talented and beloved piano player Mister Henry Alfred Kissinger a loud and lovely round of applause,” Marie called out in a loud voice, bringing her lace-gloved hands together as she clapped enthusiastically. She strode confidently from the piano to the stairs, a mad and merry gleam in her eyes, as she headed to great the new wave of incoming guests.<br/><br/><em>Busy, busy, so very busy indeed …</em>