His Maestro

The heels of Carl's Cole-Hahn shoes clicked with a surprising resonance off the walkway as he approached the front porch steps of this house he had not visited in 25 years. The city's elite and powerful had long since migrated to country estates and inner-city lofts leaving the neighborhood to the upper middle class and those who had planned their retirements well. While a good number of the expansive homes showed the neglect that often accompanies the absence of full-time gardeners and caretakers, this particular house, with it's perfectly manicured lawns and shrubbery could have as easily graced the pages of a home and garden magazine today as in it's prime in the early 50's. In fact, it seemed to Carl that as he had passed through the front gate, he had entered a time capsule, and the only thing that had changed since 1979 was him.

The last time he had passed up this walkway, his sneakers had left his footsteps nearly undetected, and his button-fly levis and rugby shirt, had not emitted the casual swish that slacks of his Hugo Boss suit and tailor made shirt did on this day. As a painfully shy and meek boy of 17 though, Carl had treasured his anonymity. Lanky, and inept at sports, he was certain to lack popularity in high school circles, but the fact that a violin case accompanied him nearly everywhere had made him the target of ridicule and had ensured an almost total lack of companionship through those difficult years. As any attention from his peers was likely as not to be bad, he had felt that his survival had depended on his chameleon like ability to blend with his surroundings. Had he the ability then to look forward through the years as this short walk was taking him back now, he would have found the success he had achieved in the public spotlight incredulous.

Though most of September had passed, it was a warm day and he had left his jacket in the car. His shirt was open at the collar, and his ever-present violin case still accompanied him as he approached the heavy oak door. As he rang the doorbell a slight breeze wafted by him carrying the hint of fall, and along with it the memories and realizations that it was through this door that he had stepped into manhood. Footsteps resonated inside the house, the latch clicked heavily and the door swung open in front of him.

'You must be Carl.'

Carl had stood astonished, unaware that his eyes were wide and his mouth slightly open. The woman's persona had fit everything he had been told and come to expect; prim and proper, well-tailored but non-descript dress reminiscent of Victorian style, hair pulled tight in a bun exuding a stern demeanor, but the woman didn't look a day over 25. Although the smile was tight-lipped, her pale blue eyes had sparkled and given him the impression that this Victorian facade would crack and fall away at the slightest excuse.

'Yes..er..Yes Ma'am. I'm here for the violin lesson.' Carl stammered the black marks on the toe of his sneaker suddenly holding his rapt attention.

'Of course you are,' came the pleasant reply 'I'm Miss Adair. Please come in.'

Carl stepped into the house, and peered around as the woman closed the door heavily behind him. The dark wood furnishings and intricate carpets laid over the hardwood floors were precisely what he had expected. In fact everything fit the image he had carried here, from the large stair cases and chandelier to the black baby grand piano, in what he assumed was the conservatory, everything except the woman herself.

'This way please.' She said walking past him into the conservatory.

While not particularly tight, the conservative gray dress could not hide her remarkable form, and as she turned to face him it was evident that the high collar was futile in suppressing her very generous chest.

'Now then, let's have a look at you.' She said examining him from top to bottom. Suddenly aware of his adolescent self-consciousness he dropped his gaze to the floor only to feel the gentle curve of her index finger beneath his chin raising his head to stare straight into her pale blue-eyes.

'That simply won't due Carl,' she mildly admonished him 'You are here only because you are said to have an exceptional talent with the violin. Those are the only pupils I accept, but playing well is only part of being a great violinist, presentation is crucial. You must carry yourself with confidence. When you place the instrument under you chin you must respectfully defy anyone to find flaw with you or your music.'

She stared into his eyes for a few seconds and it seemed to Carl a transference of power. He, a boy who could not hold his gaze to a teenage girl, found himself suddenly able to stare straight into this stunning woman's eyes with no self-awareness at all.

Turning his head slightly with her finger she examined his chin declaring it to be 'exquisite'. She took hold of both of his hands and examined them at length while Carl continued to study her face and flawless complexion. She released his hands and suddenly turned from him.

'Please take out your instrument' she said over her shoulder as she walked to a music stand next to the piano. Carl shook himself out of his trance and looked about him for a place to set down his violin case. Setting it on a chair behind him he removed the violin and bow and turned again to face his teacher who simply pointed at another music stand a few feet in front of and facing hers. As he approached the stand, his heart sank.. The music on the stand appeared to be impossibly difficult and he feared if he couldn't play it, this woman who had quickly enraptured him would refuse to take him on as a student.

'Never mind the music Carl, look at me.'

She took up a baton and raised her arms. Carl readied his violin under his chin.

'Scales, to the 4 count, begin with B, please.'

Once again on familiar ground, the baton began to mark time, and his music wafted through the conservatory. The lace curtains on the window behind her billowed in slightly and a warm breeze with the hint of autumn swirled through the room.

As Carl began playing scales and musical exercises, his eyes riveted to Ms. Adair, changing his tempo and volume as she commanded with her baton. The music seemed to flow by itself as he was lost in her gaze. Her expression changed with the music sometimes stern and demanding, sometimes soft, gentle and coaxing. His eyes remained locked on hers watching not only the baton through his peripheral vision but also the way her expansive chest rose and fell with the music. He was mesmerized, and when she finally laid down the baton, he was surprised to see that 2 hours had passed.

'That was wonderful, Carl' she declared, 'You may tell you father that I would be delighted to accept you as a student.'

Carl watched her body sway as she led him to the door, and felt a sudden stirring in his groin. This took him by surprise. He had had the normal crushes on the girls at school and masturbated while looking at the pictures in the occasional Playboy magazine he could get his hands on, but he felt something different here. It's not that he could or even wanted to picture this woman in those nude poses he had seen in the magazines, it would somehow be base and vulgar to even imagine it. It was sensual more than sexual.

She held the door open for him and he turned to thank her for her time, holding his violin case in front of what was rapidly becoming a noticeable bulge in his jeans. If she noticed, she gave no indication.

'Tomorrow, then.' She said smiling at him then closed the door softly behind him.

And so the days drifted by. While others despised or merely tolerated their musical tutoring sessions, he eagerly anticipated each 2 hour daily session. His grades, though still respectable at school, dropped noticeably as his thoughts were consumed by his music tutor and each afternoon it was a veritable sprint out of the school to the next session. He wanted so much to please her and to bring a smile to her face with each successive achievement. The requirements had grown increasingly difficult, but with each new lesson, he practiced voraciously to execute the required bridges, and movements. On the surface, this was to master each new piece, but he had also found that by committing the piece to memory, he could ignore the music and watch only Miss Adair as her baton drew him through each new piece. There was a visible reaction each time he completed a difficult transition or movement. A quarter note pause at the precise moment caused her to hold her breath, staccato repetitions in an increasing crescendo brought her arms higher with each new measure and her bountiful bosom seemed to expand even farther until the impending climax which seemed to leave her breathless for an almost imperceptible moment. The better he became the more it seemed to Carl that they were orchestrating each other, his music with her baton, and her body with his music.

By late January, Carl's ability had progressed exponentially, but the complexity of the music had reached a point that he was having increasing difficulty in mastering.

'No, no, no.' she exclaimed one Tuesday afternoon 'you're not getting it.'

Carl felt himself deflate. After hours of work on this piece he had felt that he had mastered it but before he had had even finished he could tell that it was lacking. Her eyes had remained open through his entire recital, and there was no reaction at all to any of his complex manipulations of the instrument. She laid her baton on her music stand and walked around to stand next to him. She had never done this before.

'Look at the music Carl. Tell me what you see.'

'Well, uh'successive measure or 16th notes in E flat''

'No,' she said firmly 'those are just the notes, that's not the music. You have to look deeper than that.'

'I don't know what you mean. It's a lot of 16th notes''

'Look at the music and hear it in you mind before you even bring your bow to the strings. Imagine how the composer intended it to sound, the rising and falling, how it comes together with other instruments, how everything intertwines to become a symphony. Let the music become living things in your mind.'

'I'm not sure what you''

'What's the name of this piece Carl''

'Cockaigne Overture Opus 40'

'Do you know what Cockaigne is''

'No'

'It's an imaginary land of ease and luxury. Now look at the notes and imagine the music. Hear it in you mind.'

Carl looked at the music sheet and picked up the music in his head.

'Now, close your eyes,' she instructed 'and visualize your own imaginary land of ease and luxury while you hear the music. Each new instrument of the symphony brings something new into this land. Hear it. See it. Feel it. Let it take you where it wants to go. Don't force it, you're just along for the ride.'

The overture cascaded through Carl's mind. In his imagination it was a lush green meadow with cascading waterfalls and crystal pools. He stood on the bank with the music floating with ease from his violin and the other instruments joining in from somewhere beyond the trees. With the symphony spinning and swirling he saw his tutor moving as a ballerina with the wispy white veils of her dress fluttering behind her as she twirled, danced and floated to the music.

'Now with your eyes close, play. You know the music.'

Carl rested the violin beneath his chin and drew the bow across the strings.

'That's it Carl' she whispered from behind him 'feel it deep inside of you. Let it move your soul, your essence. Feel it here.' Carl felt her hands slide down his stomach to just above his pubic bone and press in firmly. Her scent permeated his nostrils. His felt the stirring in his groin.

'Yes, that's it you can feel it now,' she whispered in his other ear 'I can see it. Let it carry you, let it take you where it wants to go.'

Her hand had moved away from his now thoroughly rigid cock, but remained on his hips.

The music climbed, and increased tempo.

'Yes,' came the whisper 'You have it now, more, more''

The breaths in his ear became shorter and heavier, as he worked the bow more fervently across the strings. The music was building in his mind, the instruments coming together in symphonic harmony rising towards the finale, his head was spinning yet he was in complete control, intoxicated not only by her breath and scent, but by the command he had over her with his instrument. The sharp staccato strokes brought the short breaths from behind him, the complex movements of his fingers brought the whispered encouragements, each more breathless than the last. The music reached an apex, paused and then the symphony in his mind crashed together. His violin drew them through the crescendo, and he heard 'Magnificent.' In a long sigh behind him as her ever-tightening grip on his hips suddenly relaxed. With his still closed he dropped the violin to his side and rolled his head back taking in long breaths. He felt completely exhausted. He felt her move from behind him and a new scent caught his nostrils in her wake. Suddenly aware that his cock was straining against his jeans he quickly brought his violin in front of himself and opened his eyes only to find that he was alone in the room.

Carl was perplexed at his teacher's disappearance, but thankful at the same time. He sat in the chair behind him and hoped that she would be gone long enough for his very noticeable hard-on to subside. He briefly considered quickly packing his instrument away and slipping out, but he was also both enthralled and confused at what had just happened. Had he bungled the piece and angered or frustrated her' He didn't think so, he thought he had played it very well, played it as it was intended. Closing his eyes, he went over it his mind again, feeling the music. As he thought of drawing the notes out of his violin and her breath in his ear he felt the excitement rose again in the pit of his stomach . His cock throbbed again, straining against his jeans. It was the most sensual and erotic thing he had felt. He loved music, but he had no idea that it could have any physical connection.

His head was swimming as questions swirled through his mind. 'What had he done' What had she felt' Was it the same as him' Where had she disappeared to''

'It will all be very clear to you soon.' She said suddenly appearing from the doorway and walking to her music stand. 'That's all for today. I'd like you to work on the Prokofiev piece I gave you for tomorrow.'

Like a switch, her demeanor and fa‡ade of the stern taskmaster had overtaken her again, and his excitement had subsided as he stowed his instrument, but the questions still whirled in his mind.

'You need to concentrate on your double stops Carl, particularly with the G string.' She said walking him to the door.

'Yes Ma'am,' he replied automatically, not really hearing. He paused on the porch, and turned to face her again before she closed the door. He was overflowing with questions but couldn't verbalize any of them.

She looked at the quizzical expression on his face for a moment.

'Feel the music, Carl, always feel it.' She said quietly. Then she smiled and closed the door softly.

Carl stood looking at the door now, as the autumn breeze swirled around him and thought back to how that day had changed his life. He had wanted to return here to see her again for years, both yearning and fearful. He wanted so badly to thank her for the success he had achieved but feared, after all these years that he had felt something she hadn't intended.

As he reached for the bell, the latch clicked and the door swung wide. There were lines extending from the corners of her eyes and the blonde hair was streaked with gray, but the sparkle of those pale blue eyes made her appear as though a single day had not passed her by.

'Carl!' She exclaimed 'How wonderful to finally see you again.'

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, bosom pressing into his chest. He returned the hug with his free arm, and started to stammer out an apology for waiting so long to return.

'Oh hush,' she said with a dismissive wave as she led him into the house, 'I know how demanding the musician's life is, there are no apologies here. You're here, that's what's important. Here, sit down. Now tell me, how is it with the philharmonic, is it everything you dreamed of''

'It's wonderful,' admitted Carl taking a seat opposite her on the Victorian style sofa bordering the conservatory. 'and I see things haven't changed much here.' 'Oh I still have the steady stream of students,' she smiled 'many are very good, but none approach your talent. They can't feel the music, can't understand it they way you do.'

'You realize Miss Adair, that..'

'Please, Carl, it's Simone.'

'You realize Simone, that while I would never trade our lessons for anything in the world, you ensured that I will never conduct.'

'You can't stand through the music ehh.' Do you still feel it that much'

'As though I learned it yesterday.'

She leaned forward in her seat, clasping her hands together over her knees. Her still smooth complexion held a tight lipped smile as her eye fixated on some remote object. His former teacher appeared to be gathering the nerve to say something.

'Go ahead and ask Simone.'

She cocked her head slightly furrowed her brow at him not understanding that he had read her expression

'You must respectfully defy anyone to find flaw with you.'

A broad smile crept over her face and her chin raised as her eyes sparkled at him.

'Would you play it for me' She asked simply.

'Anything you like, if you lead.'

'Oh, I've waited so long for this' she said quickly standing and smoothing the wrinkles from the ever-present gray flannel dress.

Carl removed his violin from its case and prepared himself behind his old music stand.

Simone took up her baton tapped it lightly and raised her arms. 'I'd like to see'hear, your Cockaigne..again. she said flushing but still smiling directly at him.

Carl removed a CD from his violin case, inserted it in the bookshelf stereo above the loveseat and turned on the power. He helped her to her feet, handed her the baton again, then started the CD.

'I already played this for you Simone,' said Carl softly, "Conduct my symphony, Simone.'

The music started, the baton began to wave, Carl took up his instrument and began to play. The music, long since emblazoned on his soul, flowed from his instrument with a freedom and precision that would captivate the layperson and enthrall the musically educated as it did Simone. A broad smile covered her face, now flush with excitement and her bosom heaved. She struggled to keep an even rhythm as her hands began to shake slightly. Carl felt the music swell through him, and his own excitement rose. Her eyes were riveted to his expanding bulge as her baton seemed to coax it higher with each beat. Her breathing became heavier with each measure of his music. She closed her eyes and lit it swirl around her. Her head tilted back, and her mouth opened slightly as she let it take control of her.

Carl began walking slowly towards her not missing a beat. Her motions with the baton became more exaggerated and her hands visibly trembled as Carl began circling around her letting his music flow over her.

'You realize that I knew don't you'' he asked softly and rhetorically as he slowly paced behind still playing. 'Even before I played this for you the first time,, I suspected what you felt.' Her head seemed to nod a bit in time with the ministrations of her baton.

'I used to watch you become more flustered as I played. At first I thought I wasn't playing well, and I tried harder, put more passion into it.

The corners of her mouth turned even higher.

'Then I realized that the better I played the more flustered you were. It was so thrilling to me to excite you like that, it became my goal to bring you all the way. For months it seemed I could get you right to the edge but not over it.