Lessons and Music

"Teaching music is not my main purpose. I want to make good citizens. If people hear fine music from the day of their birth and learn to play it, they develop sensitivity, discipline and endurance. They get a beautiful heart." Shinichi Suzuki

I've spent my whole life playing music. Both of my parents are professional classical musicians and professors of music. I started taking violin lessons from ages 3-5, piano from 5-8. Then I found my voice with the guitar which I studied from age 8 through college, and have continued to play semi-professionally as an adult.

I didn't actually go to college for music, instead I went for business. While I've always been musically gifted I knew I lacked the tremendous motivation and work ethic needed to make a living as a real concert musician. Also, knowing I didn't particularly care for children, I determined I didn't want my future career to be that of a music teacher, which would have been the other option.

So I minored in music performance on the guitar while preparing to make my living in a more standard way. Something business-y I guess... I really wasn't too sure. I, as so many others, was victim to the laughable expectation that a young adult still in their teens could possibly know what they wish to do for the rest of their life. But this story isn't a critique of American upper-education so I'll move on.

As chance would have it, I graduated college in 2008, right when the economy in the U.S. collapsed. I already had no idea what I wanted to do for work, and suddenly there were very poor work options to be had in my small Midwest city.

Through a family friend I was pointed in the direction of an opening as an assistant teacher at the grade school I attended when I was a kid, potentially being thrown right into the profession I'd deliberately avoided in college. However, my options seemed limited and this government job had good hours and summers off. So I applied and interviewed. I learned they were desperate for men; in our school system there were 22 teacher's assistants (or paraprofessional as my state called the position) and all were women.

I was offered the position and started my first full time job that early fall when school was back in session.

Astoundingly, I found I enjoyed it. Along with my job at the school I took a part-time afternoon job with a local music store as an in-house guitar teacher. I also found a band to play with and performed gigs on the weekends. I was able to modestly support myself and get my own apartment. I also began taking online classes to work towards an education degree.

At the time I was single and enjoying the life of a bachelor, picking up women at weekend shows or upon occasion through various online platforms. All in all, I felt things were going well in my life, but soon I was to meet someone who would let me take a direction I hadn't anticipated.

"Music in the soul can be heard by the universe." Laozi

People who came to the music store looking for a teacher would be arranged with an instructor such as myself. The lessons were taught at the store in one of their small practice rooms. I often came over directly after school let out, still wearing my school attire of dress-pants, a button down shirt typically with the long sleeves rolled up to my elbows exposing my tattooed arms, and a tie. I enjoyed looking the part of the business casual rocker and embraced the persona.

I was much younger than the other teachers at the music store and I knew I occasionally got interested looks from the moms bringing in their kids. I enjoyed the attention, they were exactly the kind of sex-starved middle aged women I loved to pick up after weekend shows; young enough to still be youthfully attractive, old enough to know what they want, and horny enough to leave their inhibitions behind.

As an aside, my advice to any 20-something of any gender who is single and interested in women: never underestimate the great time to be had with 30-40 something women who attend live music shows. When I was in my 20s I was regularly sleeping with women in their 30s and 40s and it was always a fantastic time.

Sorry about the tangent, back on track.

Through my job at the music store it was not only young students I worked with; I had a small amount of adult students as well. Being a teacher to someone my age or older took some getting used to, but I also found it rewarding in different ways as they were often more dedicated and interested.

A year after my college graduation, in the summer following my first year at the school, I was paired with a new adult student. Her name was Emma.

From our first introduction I could not help but notice Emma's attractiveness. She looked to be in her early twenties (something I confirmed later on, she was only one year younger than me). She was small in all regards, short and petite with a modest but alluring chest. Her blue eyes shone out from just under her low pink bangs which almost matched the hue of her pouty lips. She had a free and coquettish demeanor, like a modern day hippie. Yet behind this was an intelligent intensity which made her standout more than any physical trait.

The first time I met her in our little practice room she was wearing a white t-shirt with some band logo on it I didn't recognize. She wasn't wearing a bra; the imprint of her nipples were quite distinguishable when they pressed against the fabric, and her small breasts seemed to jiggle and sway freely under her shirt. She had on red converse shoes with ankle cut socks, and tight jean shorts that were just long enough to keep her bottom from hanging out. And finally, and most importantly, she was wearing a black choker necklace that appeared to be made of some soft fabric with a small gold design housing a pearl centered on her long, thin neck. When I saw her with that choker my teeth clenched involuntarily at her attractiveness, but I kept my cool.

"Hello, I'll be your instructor!" I said, greeting her as she walked into the lesson room carrying an obvious electric guitar in a gig bag. Being a professional I didn't intimate my attraction to her in any way or stare. But I wanted to.

"Hey, I'm Emma." she replied.

"Hi Emma" I said, savoring the feel of her name in my mouth. "I'm James. Nice to meet you!"

"You too!" Emma said with a smile.

I invited her to take a seat in the small room, which she did, positioned to my left. The room was arranged with two seats next to each other, an amp for the students in between them. There was a music stand in front of the two seats, and my amp and guitar were to my right. Lessons at the store were not particularly expensive, but also not particularly cheap so I avoided small talk as much as possible. It was my responsibility to take control of the lesson and make sure the student was getting the education for which they, or more often their parents, were paying.

"Well why don't you pull out your guitar and we'll get you plugged in to start with."

"Alright." she said with an effervescent voice.

Her instrument was a lower mid-range Ibanez LP style electric. It had a nice blue quilted maple veneer that made it look much nicer than its entry level price point would suggest. It was a basic electric guitar, but one that somebody who was more serious about wanting to learn to play might buy. This was more typical of adult students and indicated that she might not give it up after a couple months, as so many of any age do.

I started off with the first question I always ask.

"So from 0-10 what skill level would you say you're currently at with the guitar?"

"Oh probably about a one." she answered. "I know a few chords but I'm not that good at them. I'm definitely a beginner, but I wanna learn!"

"Well I'm here to help, and I'm happy you've decided to take up the guitar, it's an instrument with near limitless possibilities!" I said earnestly. "Do you have any background in music apart from the guitar?" My standard second question.

"I mean I sang in choir when I was in highschool and took a little bit of piano when I was a kid. That's it though."

"No worries." I said with a smile and moved onto my third standard question. "And what is it that you want to accomplish playing the guitar?"

She thought for a moment. "Like, short term or long term?" she questioned.

"Whichever you like. What brings you to me today?"

"Well, I have all this... I don't know, music in my head. I hear songs and melodies..." she gestured to her head as she said this "... and I want to try and turn them into something. I want to know what to do with them all."

Her's was a beautiful answer. As if her looks and demeanor weren't enough she was clearly thoughtful, intelligent, and artistic. I couldn't help but want her immediately.

"Well then you're already a musician, we just need to make you a guitarist." I said with a smile.

"Awesome." she responded back. Her face was bright and perky, her smile was beautiful and her eyes shone out from the shadow of her low bangs. She was smart and adorable, but I tried not to let my attraction show and purported myself professionally.

"Why don't you start by showing me what you know, play some of those chords you mentioned and I can get an idea of where we're at."

She agreed and played some chords. Her abilities were about where I had expected them to be. She could mostly get through a chord progression, but had to pause a bit between some of the more difficult chord changes. Her movements, as with pretty much all new guitarists, were stiff and mechanical. As she played I looked at her fingers and body mechanics, the things necessary to help teach her to play the guitar better. However, I also found my eyes quickly darting to other parts of her body.

I'd look at her face, cute with concentration. Her legs, creamy and smooth, and so little of them covered by her summer shorts. Her breasts, which looked like they might be about peach sized, flashed their imprint in and out of view as her loose t-shirt waved back and forth atop them.

And then that black collar on her neck, the single central pearl seeming so representative to me; I couldn't help but wonder if it was to her as well. Did the pearl represent her clit? Was her unique necklace saying her sexual pleasure came in the form of a collar, and the things that collar represented? Was it a gift from a Master or Mistress? Was she already "collared" or was she subtly expressing her desires to be so?

Or maybe, extremely likely even, it was just a piece of jewelry that accentuated her pretty neck and looked good on her.

These abstractions shot through my head and I had no ability to stop them. I knew her skill level on the guitar in 5 seconds, yet I let her continue on for about a minute, allowing the obscene and inappropriate thoughts I had for this girl circle in my mind. To be fair, it is also rude to cut a student off immediately when they're making mistakes; it does not build confidence or trust. However, my primary design with allowing Emma to clunk along on the guitar was admittedly less polite instructorial patience, and more sexual distraction.

Though I could have gazed at Emma for hours I gently cut into her performance with my voice.

"Ok!" I said cheerily. "Well you have a foundation on the instrument, and we can go from there."

"Yea, I don't really know what I'm doing." she said with a weak smile. "But I really want to learn. I'm going to work hard at it."

"Well that's excellent!" I said. "I'm here to lead you and teach you, and however hard you want to work I can structure things accordingly."

"That's awesome." she said. "I feel like I need a strong structure, you know? That's why I want lessons. I want to work hard but sometimes I just don't know how..."

She trailed off, clearly not saying everything that was in her mind. As a teacher it's important to listen to your students, they can tell you exactly how they need to learn but if you're not listening you may end up just taking them in circles. However, this must also be balanced with what you, as the expert, know is the right and wrong way to go about learning something.

"For some students" I began, "having a strict structure is the correct way to learn. It can help them to stay on task and see the progress they're looking for. But the discipline to adhere to that structure has to come from you."

"I really want to learn! I'm going to try and be as disciplined as I can."

Her willingness was intoxicating. She may only have been expressing her desires to learn music and the guitar, but her forthcoming demeanor and my physical attraction to her seemed to give her words extra meaning.

The unrelenting fixation that I wanted to know this girl carnally, a desire that had emerged almost immediately upon our meeting, cemented itself within the first few minutes of her lesson.

I felt like I was two people; the reality that I was Emma's music teacher, and the fantasy that I could be her... I didn't know what to call it. Lover didn't seem right, there was something more in my feelings towards her. There's a power dynamic in all teacher/student relationships, but with Emma my immediate sexual desire for her molded my feelings on the situation. My mind was filled with thoughts about how best to teach this girl both intertwined and competing with thoughts on how I wanted to take her and make her mine.

Start out slow, I thought to myself. Test the waters and see how she responds. But how to do so?

I'd had a piano professor at college, learning some piano being part of my minor. He was a kind man, but a very strict professor. Most professors didn't care too much how students addressed them but this one insisted on being called Dr. McKasson or Sir at all times. He also insisted that, upon a lesson's conclusion, the student would say "Thank you Dr. McKasson for teaching me today."

I decided to take a page out of Dr. McKasson's book for Emma.

"As I said..." I began "...I can tailor your lesson experience to your learning style. I'm here to facilitate what you need to learn. If structure and discipline are what you feel you need then I will provide them."

"That's perfect, thank you." She responded.

"To start with, I would like you to call me Sir, or Mr. A at all times. It will help to foster an environment of discipline."

(Mr. A was what my school students called me, my long and convoluted last name being a bit much for an 8 year old to handle.)

Emma's expression changed just slightly. To this point she'd been very effervescent and open, now she looked just a touch nervous.

"Ok, I can do that."

I smiled just a little, savoring what I knew was going to come next.

"I would prefer you simply say, 'Yes Sir.'"

"Yes Sir." She said.

What a beautiful sound that was. If I had less self control I believe my eyelids may have fluttered hearing her say those two words. For her part, Emma's self control clearly did not reach the levels of my own. There was no missing her body language after she spoke as she noticeably squeezed her thighs together and bit her lower lip. I decided right then that I couldn't pass up this opportunity. I knew I had to pursue Emma, but I would attempt to do so with tact.

For the remainder of the lesson I took on more of a dominant tone and posture; still pleasant, but more serious and commanding. Emma responded beautifully, saying "yes sir" every time I instructed her to do something with the guitar; her body language spoke to the interesting reactions taking on a submissive role had within her. She was seeming to enjoy it.

Toward the end of the lesson I was making notes for what I wanted her to practice over the next week. One item was a basic chord progression with the main goal being to work on correct body mechanics and smooth transitions from chord to chord. One way I help demonstrate this to new students is to stand behind them and finger the chords on the fretboard for them while they concentrate on maintaining a steady rhythm with their strumming hand.

I told her what I was going to do and what I wanted her to do and I got in position behind her. I moved in close, much closer than I normally would. I got close enough that I could hear her breathing and I knew she could feel the heat of my body and face next to hers.

As we began the exercise her breathing grew shollower and quicker. She began to get flustered and was struggling to maintain a steady speed with her right hand.

"You need to relax." I said.

"Yes sir, sorry."

"Am I making you nervous?" I asked, a slight smile forcing itself onto my lips.

"No sir... I mean yes sir. I mean... I'm sorry."

How wonderful her timid and submissive little demeanor now was; so different from her initial airy freeness of personality. Of course I would want that personality back, it was too joyous and pleasant to lock away; but it already felt even then that we were slipping into roles. Almost as though we were playing our own parts in a private little play.

I leaned in as close as I dare, almost touching her, I could smell her hair and perfume, it was delicious. She kept her face looking forward.

"What's wrong then?" I asked sweetly.

"Nothing sir." she replied.

"Nothing? You seem to not be able to concentrate on this exercise."

"Sorry sir." she repeated.

"I don't want an apology, I want an explanation." I said, not unkindly.

I gave her a few moments to gather herself and give me an answer, not moving away from her.

She quavered a bit as she spoke. "You're very attractive, sir, and I'm just a bit flustered with you so close to me. I'm feeling... certain things."

"Does me being this close to you bother or upset you? Please answer honestly."

"No sir." she said in a breathy voice.

"I want to be certain, Emma. We seem to be going down a path; is it one you wish to travel?"

"Oh yes sir." she replied with a beautiful, aching desire apparent in her tone.

"I'm pleased to hear that Emma." I said, and I made my move.

Before I rose I used my left hand to gently pull her hair back off her shoulder and tilt her head to the side. I then leaned in and gave her long beautiful neck a soft kiss, just above her black choker.

Then I stood and returned to my seat. By now there was no hiding the imprint my hard cock was making against my black dress pants. I didn't try to cover it, I let it show gratuitously for Emma to see.

I smiled at Emma who was breathing heavily and looking at me with something like shock and lust in her eyes, and I did indeed notice her gaze glance downward to my crotch a couple times, no doubt observing the imprint of my erection.

"Emma" I said. "I'm not supposed to do this, but I would like to invite you to attend a weekly private lesson at my home rather than here at the store. Is this something you think you might be interested in?"

"Yes sir!" Emma answered immediately. "Please sir." she added.

"I'm very pleased to hear that, Emma." I said.

"I'm going to finish writing up your lesson plan. I want you to know that I'm going to raise the expectations I would normally have for a new student. If you are able to meet these expectations I will reward you and you will see rapid progress on the guitar. If you do not meet them, then we can discuss what discipline may be appropriate. Does this sound good to you, Emma?"

"Yes sir, it sounds perfect and... and wonderful sir." she said, with some of her early exuberance finding its way past her adorable nervousness.

We smiled at each other, both obviously excited with the direction Emma's guitar lesson was taking.

"As I mentioned," I reiterated "I'm not supposed to poach students from the store to my private studio. So I'll just inform them you've decided guitar is not for you and you won't be returning, and as far as the store is concerned we can leave it at that, alright?"