Vanilla Guitar Lessons

Elizabeth left and I watched her slinky walk as she moved down the hall with poise and dignity--and a quiet sensuality.

I called to my next student to meet me in the next room, explaining that another teacher needed the room I was in.

I don't remember how the next few lessons went but I hope they were passable. I was not in much of a state to teach them.

The next week, Elizabeth did not show up. I called her house the next day to see what had happened, and Kate, the maid, answered the phone.

She had a pleasant, low voice. I explained that I was Elizabeth's guitar teacher and that she had three paid lessons coming to her, so I wondered what had happened the day before. She hadn't shown up and hadn't called.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Kate. "Elizabeth must have forgot to have me call you. She was not in a good state of mind anyway. I'm sure she didn't mean to stand you up. She loves her guitar lessons. I've never seen her happier than when she came back from your lessons. In fact, she's mostly been just horribly depressed--and mostly drunk. A few days ago she left for Florida to check into a clinic for alcoholics. I'm not sure when she'll be back. Just keep the money for the next few lessons. From what I understand, you earned it."

I was shaking a little when I hung up. It is not easy to be reminded how little you know about someone that, in some ways, you know very intimately.

I felt sad for Elizabeth. I had no idea things were so bad for her. But she was quite a clever and sexy woman. And not a bad musician.

She had set up that sticker and that vanilla without a word said. I wondered what other parts of our lessons she had maneuvered without letting on. And what had she told Kate? "From what I understand, you earned it," Kate had said.

Maybe I should give Kate a call, and learn more about Elizabeth...a little about Kate, too, if she'll let me. And what wild kind of fucking did Elizabeth have planned for us? Had to be something well worth the rug burns...