The conductor's baton falls, and the symphony begins, but it's not the only thing moving to the music. The violinist's bow dances across her strings, mimicking the movements of her hidden desires. She catches the eye of the cellist, his fingers dancing on his instrument, and a silent dialogue begins. Their music becomes a soundtrack to their forbidden dance, their bodies swaying, hips grinding to the beat, until the final note is played, and they collapse into a sweaty, satisfied heap, the studio echoing with their moaned finale.