Dr. O and Sarah

I can't tell you what finally made me do it. I'd been thinking about it for weeks. At first it was just a wild fantasy, but as time went on, the fantasy turned into possibility, and from there into a plan. I knew my opportunity was going to be during Spring Break, but for the first several days I was stuck--just couldn't make a decision. It was all I could think about and I wasn't getting a lick of work done, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to do anything. Finally, something had to give. It was already Friday and several chill, rainy days of miserable Midwest weather had somehow morphed into this beautiful sunny, warm day. Those don't come that often in this part of the world, and almost never in March. I took it as a sign.

So I put on one of my new outfits: a sexy black denim skirt, a light spaghetti-strap blouse (no bra--what was I thinking?) and my new laced platform sandals. I knew the sandals and the skirt would really highlight my nice legs, of which I was justly proud. How had I become such a tease?

I stuffed a few overnight items and a change of clothes in my backpack (ejected textbooks strewn onto the floor in haste), grabbed my purse and hopped in my rickety old Escort for the two-hour drive back to the small town where my former undergrad school was located.

Like I said, I can't tell you why I felt I needed to do this. The last 6 months had been the most amazing of my life. I just felt like a whole new person after just 1 1/2 semesters of grad school. Here I was, a naive little small-town girl in a big city at a big state university. All the things that I discovered there--I just can't tell you! Well, one of them was sex, and another was love, or so I thought for a while. The sex was great while it lasted, but it was all hooked into this love thing and I felt it and I thought he did too, but it turns out, not so much. So I fell pretty hard that first semester when I got dumped. At least I was able to channel my misery into my piano studies and I really progressed. Amazing what you can accomplish when all you do is practice. Turns out that getting dumped is also good for the artistic expression. Ain't that a bitch!

Well, next semester, same damn thing. This time I wasn't falling for any stupid trumpet players, and while I was at it, why not avoid musicians altogether? So I met this really cute guy in my French class and we started dating. That's about when I died my hair and started using makeup. Why not just start all over? Anyway, the sex wasn't as good, but I really liked him--for a while. Then he started getting rough with me, usually just verbally, but he pushed me around a few times, too. But not many, 'cause I was outta there. Hello practice room!

At least I had my music and that was going really great. All that unlucky in love stuff really does change how you feel about music and I was sure in the dumps. So I pulled out this old piece that I just loved--still do, actually--and started working on it again. It's this nocturne by Chopin. I heard it in the movie The Pianist. It was the first piece of music that made me cry. Well, it turns out that hearing something that makes you cry, and being able to play something so that it makes other people cry are two different things entirely. The only tears that were shed when I was learning that piece were ones of frustration. How many lifetimes ago was that now? I guess it was in my freshman year. But now, it was a totally different experience. Once I got the notes back under my fingers everything just seemed to fall into place. I could hear how the notes meant something, how I could hesitate or rush forward and it said something. And I just poured my soul into that piece, day after day after day. (Musicians are a self-indulgent bunch, if you didn't know that already.)

Anyway, while I was playing that piece I naturally thought back to my old teacher, Dr. O'Brien, or Dr. O, as everyone called him. He was so patient with me on that piece, actually with everything and I got to thinking that, as much as I'd learned and grown in grad school, it was because he helped lay the foundation for me to build on. I'd always remember the way he'd light up when I finally really got something, and the glow in his eyes when I started actually saying something with my playing. That wasn't until my last year, but he never gave up on me. I also remembered what a tough time he had for most of the time I was a student with him. He and his wife were really having problems. He never talked about it with students, of course, but word got around and you could see it those times they were together in public, like concerts and school parties.

He had really changed by my last year, he looked kind of worn down. That's when his divorce went through, I think. It made all of us who studied with him really sad, because we all really loved him, in a student/teacher kind of way, and we were sorry to see him so unhappy.

But as I looked back from my new perspective, I started wondering if it really was a student/teacher kind of thing between us. He never gave any physical hint that he was attracted to me. Of course, I was so damn straight-laced back then, it's probably no wonder. But there was something in his eyes, in the way he looked at me, and in his smile, that now, well, I was no longer so sure.

And in my wallow of self-pity I had this fantasy of going back and seeing him and finding out what was what. I was probably just acting out a school-girl crush thing that I didn't even have the maturity to know I had when I was back there. But I couldn't shake the idea and as I kept on playing my beautiful piece, and thinking about Dr. O's careful guidance, something just started to take root inside of me. That's when the fantasy turned into a plan. A hair-brained sketch of a plan, but a plan nonetheless.

So after days of waffling I was in my car in my hussy outfit and headed back to my old stomping grounds. Once I got into town, it took about 30 minutes for me to get from pushing the first digit of his phone number on my cell phone to actually making the call. Each time I got close to that last digit my blood would be pounding so hard in my head that I'd hang up. I practically wore down the battery on my phone!

But when I finally made the call, I managed to sound calm, even nonchalant.

"Hi Dr. O, this is Sarah."

"Sarah!? How good to hear your voice! How are you?"

Hmm, 'how good to hear my voice'? That seemed a little warmer than might be expected. Just maybe . . .

Well, my first plan, of having lunch to break the ice and to try to get the lay of the land didn't pan out, but he wanted to hear me play, so that was good. But we couldn't meet until four--five hours with nothing do to! I was too nervous to eat, and several times I had the key in the ignition ready to turn tail. But somehow I stuck it out. I found the old practice rooms and played for a while, but I couldn't really focus much.

At four I was in front of his door, purse in hand, my heart in my mouth. It took me five minutes to actually get the courage to knock. Fortunately there wasn't anyone much around. I heard a voice answering the phone in the office down the hall, but that was it.

I finally choked down my fear and knocked. When he opened the door all I could manage was "Hi" and an embarrassed little wave from the hip as I bounced on my toes. I'm sure I looked like an idiot.

But all *he* could manage was an astonished "Sarah?" as he stood there staring at me for the longest time. Somehow, his astonishment put me back at my ease.

"Well, do I get to come in?" I asked with a teasing smile. That seemed to bring him out of it. He gave me a quick hug as I entered. Without thinking, I headed straight for the piano I always used to play when I had lessons. Leaning over, I set down my purse on the floor by the bench and turned to face him. (Old habits die hard: no foreign objects allowed on the pianos!) He was staring at me with a look I had never seen on his face before. He reddened visibly and quickly sat down at the other piano. I sat too. He seemed really uncomfortable because he kept squirming around on his bench. He looked much better than I remembered him at the end of last year. He had a sallow look to him then, and he smiled more rarely than he used to. But now he looked healthier. No dark circles under his eyes, maybe he was even a bit slimmer than before. It was hard to tell though, because he kept shifting around on the bench. I wondered maybe if he had hemorrhoids and such a gross thought made me smile for some reason. But he blushed again and kept shifting around.

He finally said something. "Sarah, it's so wonderful to see you again. I can see that there have been some big changes in your life since you've gone off to grad school. You certainly seem to have developed into a self-assured young woman."

"Oh, Dr. O, I've never had such an intense experience!" I replied. "It has been so exciting and stimulating. It's been wonderful, but I've had my share of ups and downs too." I glanced down at his lap, trying to figure out what his problem was. He kept squirming and shifting around like he had a burr up his butt. It was then that I noticed the bulge in his pants. That explained it! Seeing his excitement made me excited too. I felt my face and neck flush and suddenly my nipples became very sensitive. I thought, "Oh honey, what are you getting yourself into?"

At this point, Dr. O. suggested that I play some of my pieces for him which I thought was a great idea since I now had no idea what in the hell I was doing there. First I played some Beethoven that I had learned that year. I thought it went well and Dr. O looked pleased, and now much more like his old self. I felt more comfortable again, too.

So I decided to get back to plan A. I smiled and said, "Now, I have a surprise for you." With that I turned to the piano and started playing the Chopin nocturne that I had been pouring my soul into for the last month. As I played, I could feel the emotions that my nerves had kept subdued begin to assert themselves. I felt, rather than thought about, the reasons that impelled me to come here: the hurt, the gratitude, the memories, and the tantalizing possibility that there was something more lurking beneath the surface that just needed the right key to release it.

I honestly feel that I have never played anything with quite the intensity that I did that piece that day. Something just opened up within me that came surging out of that tender little piece. And the fullness, the richness, the sheer rightness of those feelings told me with an unexpected certainty that I had to be here, that I had to find out the truth of what I was experiencing.

When I finished I looked up at Dr. O. I thought I just caught a glistening in his eye when he abruptly jumped up and ran to his desk. He grabbed a tissue and blew his nose as I came over to him and put my hand on his arm. "Dr. O, are you ok? Didn't you like it?" I was suddenly unsure of what his reaction meant.

He turned and looked at me, his dark eyes glistening. He seemed to look deep into me. Then I knew.

"Oh Sarah!" he said. He put a gentle hand on my shoulder. His touch was so hot I thought it might burn me. "Nothing could have pleased me more. You have grown into such wonderful artist, such a grown woman, in such a short time! I can't explain why I'm reacting like this. You'll have to forgive a sentimental old fool. Probably having my mid-life crisis and I didn't even know it! But I shouldn't subject you to . . . "

I put a finger to his lips to stop him. "Dr. O, you don't need to say anything. I have grown at least a little wiser over the last few months. I've spread my wings and maybe at times I've flown a bit too high and gotten burned. But one reason I wanted to come back here was not just to show off what I've accomplished. I knew you'd be proud of me, but your approval isn't what I'm after. I wanted to thank you for the faith you've shown in me, and for the love that you instilled in me--for music, for beauty, and for life, too."

"Sarah," he started, but my finger stopped him again.

"Please let me finish. I've learned some things about myself, but also some things about you. Things I couldn't see or understand before, but which I can now, or at least I think I can. And I think that I need to find out how true those things really are, that I owe myself that discovery. And I think that you need to be a part of that discovery, and that it will be a good thing for both of us."

I seemed to have shocked him into silence yet again. He wasn't breathing and I got a little worried. I tapped his nose to bring him out of wherever he was and said, "Dr. O, I'd feel a lot better if you'd start breathing again."

He let out a big whooshing sound and that made him laugh. I laughed too and soon we were pretty much out of control with laughing. He knocked something off his desk and I just automatically leaned down to pick it up. He must have leaned over too, because he gave me a pretty good whack on the head. I grimaced and put my hand on the sore spot. He put his hand there too and said something apologetic. But I didn't really hear the words because suddenly all I was aware of was his searing touch. My bump was completely forgotten as I took his hand in mine and held it in front of me.

I remembered admiring those hands in my lessons. They were so sure, so confident, so able to express themselves. But now I saw something else in them, a beauty of form, strength, and elegance. I traced my fingers over the muscles and tendons, explored the form of the joints, felt the texture of the skin. This hand before me was just so sensual. I couldn't help but kiss it and taste it. When I licked between his fingers he gasped. I looked at him, more determined than ever to find in him what I felt sure was there.

As I pulled him towards me he tried to protest, but my finger silenced him a third and final time. I touched his lips, caressed his check, and finally brought our lips together. He was so soft and so gentle. The other boys I'd been with had mainly just wanted to stick their tongue down my throat, but now I was discovering what a kiss could be. It was like playing my nocturne actually--the slightest pressure is what expressed the greatest passion.

Whatever hesitation Dr. O. had been feeling, he seemed over it now. He held me tightly, even as he continued to kiss and nuzzle me with the greatest tenderness. I began to feel a fluttering sensation in the pit of my stomach which quickly turned to a wonderful warmth and tingling between my legs.

He guided us over to the piano bench and sat down. I straddled his leg and boldly rubbed my knee against his crotch. (Where had I found this raunchy streak?) I could feel his hard-on against me which turned my nice warm tingling into a hot flood. I kissed him deeply as I wrapped both legs around his waist and began rotate my hips into his. I had an itch to scratch. One part of me couldn't believe how forward, how naughty I was being. This was my piano teacher for gawds sake! But another part of me, the part that was firmly in control now, didn't care a flying fuck. I was so taken by the moment, so absorbed by pure animal passion that nothing could deter me now.

I could feel his hands roaming over my back and neck and butt. They felt so strong (how else would you expect a pianist's hands to feel?) and sensual, so eager. I wanted more of him, so I worked his shirt loose and began pulling it over his head. He helped, and then pulled off my blouse and held me back before him. I could see his admiration for my body.

"You like?" I asked playfully, and wiggled to make my breasts jiggle a little.

"Indescribable," he replied, "and luscious, too, I bet!"

His admiration was so evident that I felt a rush of warmth flow through me. I tweaked his nose playfully. He pulled me closer and began to lick and suck my nipples. Little flicks of his tongue on the tip of my nipple as he sucked them into his mouth sent shudders through me. I couldn't help but grind my crotch against him. He kept sucking and licking when a little bolt of lightening shot through me and I gasped. Wow, that was fast! It wasn't earth-shattering, but a very nice prelude nonetheless. I relaxed as he looked at me with an odd look.

"Just a little one. I expect plenty more, understand?" I said with cocked eyebrow.

"Yes ma-am!" was the earnest reply.

I kissed him again and began exploring his body with my hands. Nice strong back, firm stomach, and, oh my, what have we here? I have to say, he was really hard. In my two previous experiences with boys I discovered that not all hard-ons are the same. Sometimes, who knows why, there's just more blood flow down there or something. But in the couple of dozen times that I'd made love with my two boyfriends I never felt anything quite this hard. As I held my hand against it I could even feel his pulse marked by a little twitch. The thought that I could make someone this excited made me even hotter. I felt my juices really start pouring out now. I thought I needed to slow down, so I stood and stepped back.

Dr. O's admiring eyes burned over me like lasers. He pulled me a little closer and ran his hands over my body, and especially my legs, which he particularly seemed to admire. He lifted one leg to remove my sandal, put it back down and did the same with the other. But instead of putting this foot back on the floor he kept it perched on his leg and rubbed and massaged it, separating and bending my toes and massaging the muscles and tendons on the sole with his strong fingers. It felt incredibly relaxing and, well, just good. Then he leaned down and gently licked between each toe. I gasped and felt my anus sphincter contract and relax. Boy howdy, that was new! Wadda you know, a new erogenous zone!

He returned his attentions to my legs, gently touching and probing up towards my thigh and crotch. My juices were just pouring out now. I'd never been that wet before and I became concerned that he might think it was weird or something. But when he encountered my wetness he just looked at me and smiled. That put me at ease. My panties were absolutely soaked when he got to them and I was glad to feel him pull the soggy mess down. He deftly unbuttoned and unzipped my skirt and down it came.

So there I was, stark naked in front of my old piano teacher. I don't know why I should have suddenly felt self-conscious, but I did, standing there without a stitch on.

"You're indescribably beautiful," I heard him say. How could I not smile at that?

His eyes burned over me for a few more seconds, then he drew me closer and began kissing me on my stomach, my legs, up my thighs, and on my pussy. He was so gentle, so patient. He licked and sucked my pussy's lips, flicked his tongue inside me, fondled my thighs. I started to feel a little light-headed, which he must have noticed because he guided me over to the bench and sat me down. I leaned back, but the bench was too short to support my head so he pulled the other bench over to support me. He was quickly back at my pussy, licking, sucking, driving me crazy. He finally stared licking near my clit, but tantalizingly avoided it by running his tongue around it, never quite touching it. I grabbed his head to guide him to it, but he kept just teasing me, getting nearer but never quite touching it. I was about to go nuts. When he pulled away again I grabbed his head more firmly and pushed him against me. This time I felt his lips gingerly envelope my clit and he sucked it lightly. Waves of pleasure rolled through me. I could feel rivers of warmth flowing inside me as he gently sucked. But he stopped again, damn him, and blew on my now very wet and pulsating clit. I begged him not to stop, but he just kept blowing on me. After just a few seconds of this I couldn't stand it anymore and pulled him to me again. Now, as his lips caressed me the sensation was even more intense. I could feel something building deep inside of me. I realized my breathing was coming in loud pants. Yet once again he pulled away and blew on me. I grabbed his ears and pulled him closer. I wasn't letting go this time! I pushed his face into me and this time he put the flat of his tongue firmly against my super sensitive clit and kind of moved it around, massaging it. I was gasping with pleasure and could feel a rising tide of pressure building and building. Oh gawd, I didn't want it to stop but here it came and my stomach clenched and my knees pulled up and my chin hit my chest as convulsion after convulsion washed over me.