Jane's Arpeggio Ch. 02byKaryn Gardenia©
Nile had unintentionally skipped an entire section of his assigned exercise, and he didn't seem to notice. Still, Jane granted him the same privilege she granted all of her best students- the chance to claim that it was a silly mistake that would easily be remedied with another try. She had been there herself many times. It was easy to be tricked by the eyes, especially with so much on one's mind.
Usually, when she was alone, playing through technical warm-ups she had done a million and one times, she let her mind wander down to the very edge of her fingertips where they brushed teasingly over the keys. There was something terribly intimate about the touch. The smooth surface of the ivory keys was like the white, marble-like skin on a sculpture. The black keys were something different- a place she reached further for- like something below the surface of the sculpture, pulsing with life. Sometimes she couldn't help but wonder what life was pulsing in the unseen depths of Nile Palmquist.
While he played this exercise a second time, correcting his mistake, she watched his eyes. Though they scanned the music carefully this time, there was still a hint of something else there, as if he was watching with one eye and wandering through another world and checking out the scenery with the other. She wondered what it would take to be that scenery.
As the next few minutes turned quickly by, he seemed to grow uneasy. She assumed it was because he was embarassed about his mistakes. That kind of thing generally lead to more of the same- it was a beginning musician's curse. She tried to counter away his unease with an encouraging voice and a gentle demeanor while she walked him through some easy ways to avoid the strain of his nervousness. During one such crucial moment, she was interrupted mid-sentence by the telephone in the other room. She thought of ignoring it, and nearly kicked herself for almost being unprofessional. It was hard enough for a 19-year-old piano teacher to be taken seriously without acting like a silly school girl.
The phone call ended up being good news and bad news, but the good was truly good when the bad was simply a mild annoyance. She would have a half-hour's break today in exchange for one of her younger students whining about not being able to locate a proper book.
A few minutes later, while she was telling Nile about the call, she started to wonder if maybe her kind, unwavering patience was one of the things Nile was truly captivated by. Her complaints about annoying students couldn't be winning her any points.
He shocked her with a hand on her thigh. Not only was it placed there, high on her leg and near her very core, but it had an intent, possessive grip to it that nearly made her shudder. It surprised her. The man had hardly let himself be caught looking at her for the last few weeks, and now he was touching her in a way that made her think inappropriate thoughts she could not deny. She wished she had been wearing pants- then he might have been able to circle her leg with his fingers a bit more, bringing him even closer to her center.
As if her forbidden thoughts were multiplying into hallucinations, her eyes caught on his lap, where his light dress pants seemed to be bulging in one particular place of importance. At first she was sure it was her imagination, lost in wishful thinking. She couldn't look away. It wasn't until she started rambling apologies that she knew what she was seeing was the real thing. He had a full-blown erection, and it was all because of her. His hand on her leg had completed it. The air seemed to crackle with the tension and need between them.
Just as she was losing herself in that great torrent of need, he pulled his hand from her thigh and looked away from her, breaking the moment in two.
"I was afraid you'd notice that," he finally admitted. "I'm the one who should be apologizing."
She felt herself smiling, despite her anxiety. She fought it back a little, waiting.
As it turned out, there was no good in fighting the smile. His desire was honest and open now- there was nothing that could hide it from her, and he had no choice but to accept it for himself. Whatever secret he had was laid out in front of him just like the keys he was so intensely staring at. She wondered if there would ever be a better time for her to do the same with hers.
"I find it hard to sit next to you for a half an hour and not notice how breath-taking you are," he told her, dropping his defenses and meeting her eyes in one move. She couldn't think of anything to do other than thank him, and if nothing else, it seemed to stir his confidence back to a less mortifying level. She wanted to raise it even further- to make him feel like he was a man worthy of the erection in his own lap. She turned to him, leaning close and looking straight into his frantically darting eyes.
"You're the best beginner student I have," she said truthfully, "... but I get the feeling you aren't much of a beginner when it comes to things like this." She felt him shiver lightly on the bench next to her, stirred by her comment. She pulled his shiver forward to its full intensity by letting her hand creep across his thigh and onto his obvious erection. His eyes pressed closed as he inhaled with the instant pleasure of the contact. His hand fell atop her own and he gripped it, pushing her palm against his bulge in a softly tamed aggression.
"You're gorgeous," he said, seeming to think that explained everything. He wasn't prepared for the cutting response she would then deliver, and she knew it. She let a thoughtful, interested look claim her face as she felt him growing harder still beneath her hand.
"Let's do something about it," she said, being sure to hold his lusting eyes still in their gaze.
His mouth fell open a little, and her moment of opportunity was taken. She leaned in, collecting his bottom lip between hers and moving upward into a teasing kiss. He had mint on his breath, as if he had always wanted to be prepared for this very possibility. She let her hands slide up his chest, feeling the shape of the muscles she had hoped were there, and gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him more forcefully against her on the bench. This was the move that seemed to break his paralysis.
His hands slid around her lower back, returning her forceful pull. One of his hands slid up to take ahold of her face, turning her head to allow the kiss to mature into something more passionate. His other hand ended up on her thigh again, massaging with the rhythm of their closeness. She was struck with a memory that brought an audible whimper to her lips, which were dancing lyrically with his:
The day of his first lesson, she had walked to the foyer to answer the door, knowing it was her new student who was still too shy to just barge right in like she expected of her other students. When she had opened it, she had been amazed that the polite, sexy British voice she had spoken with on the phone belonged to not a middle-aged, graying fellow, but a young, strikingly handsome stallion who was well-dressed...and with good manners! This was not something any young piano teacher was prepared to run across on a random Monday afternoon.
After she had finished with her lessons for the day, she had indulged in a long, calming bubble bath that had brought her memories of the day flooding through her. Of course, she had stopped on him- this curious, foreign man with the attractive accent. She had almost felt guilty after pleasuring herself for nearly a half hour with a student in mind... almost.
Now he had his hands all over her, and was kissing her like they were already making love. She had a twinge of doubt that perhaps she was sitting there, making out with this truly captivating creature, simply because his foreign persona excited her. She barely knew the man! Still...
"Jane," he said against her parted lips.
"Nile," she responded, likewise, pulling away just enough to look into his eyes.
"I can't tell you how much I want you."
"You can't?" she asked playfully, smiling, and favoring him with a quick peck on the cheek. She wanted to know more... to know what he was thinking and why he was thinking it. She wanted to know him.
He smiled back. "I mean I don't know how to tell you. I can't describe it properly. I don't..." he stopped, realizing he was rambling. He shook his head in his own defeat of words.
"Maybe the best way to describe it would be to say that you want me just as much as I want you..." she offered. "Besides..." she let her hand fall once again to the indicating factor of his desire on his body, "I can tell how much you want me by this. I want to know what you are thinking about."
Reluctantly, he began to dispense information to his piano teacher. First, he told her about the nights he lay awake in bed, rubbing himself to an ecstasy before cumming into his own hand. Then, about the morning showers where he leaned into the hot spray of the water and looked down at his feet, imagining her on her knees with wet hair, sucking him to a similar ecstasy. Lastly... in the car as it sat parked in the garage after his lessons, when the memory of her was so fresh that his sense called out for release.
"You fantasize about me having this in my mouth?" she asked softly, kneading his erection teasingly through his thin pants. "About me being on my knees, looking up at you and doing everything in my power to give you pleasure?" He could only nod, his eyes taking on the glossy look of a daydream.
"God, Jane... just hearing you say it is making me see it."
"Then stand up, Mozart," she teased, licking his earlobe ever so slightly. He shuddered with the feel of the tip of her tongue on him, knowing he would soon feel it elsewhere. He rose, and she turned on the bench so she was seated facing him. He stood in anticipation, trying to breath steadily as she unbuttoned his pants with one hand, smiling a knowing smile up at him. She could feel him right there, throbbing and begging to be let out, and she was about to grant it its wish. She couldnt wait to see what he had been saving for her.
She paused, using the other hand to unzip his pants while she held his waistband. His boxers were soft against her hand, but what stood pushing beneath them was like a finely sculpted rock. It reminded her of the white marble that hid a black power beneath its surface... a statue of stone with life enough to throb and pulse and thrust. She wanted it in her mouth so badly she could almost taste it.
His erection, now fully prominent, pushed against his boxers as she pulled his pants down to the floor and sat back up, looking up at him for one long, final moment before moving to her knees on the floor. She was going to enjoy this. She was going to make an art of it.