Private Lessons Ch. 05-06

"You follow directions well, Maggie," he said huskily, undoubtedly taking in the sight of my naked spread pussy.

I only let out a tortured moan in response as I felt his fingers spread my pussy lips wide.

"Would you like me to reward you, Maggie?"

"Yes, sir," I whispered.

"Stay very still."

His wet finger flicked playfully at my clit.

I felt his warm mouth through the silk of my blouse as he kept playing with my clit with one finger, driving me crazy. As he tortured my nipple and clit, I was truly desperate to come. Then I heard and felt him move lower. His warm breath brushed against the inside of my thigh.

I squirmed and jolted as his tongue wriggled up and down my pussy.

"Stay still!" he ordered, spanking me lightly on the thigh.

My legs were trembling as he pulled my hips farther to the edge of the stool. Had he not been holding both of my hips in his hands, I would have fallen onto the floor. As it was, his mouth just pressed against me more deeply. I felt as if he were going to devour me whole and I would die without so much as a whimper.

When he held my clit between his teeth and began to suck at it, I could not help but moan and buck my hips.

"Ooooohhhhhh..."

"Silence!" he ordered.

Pulling away from me, he spanked me sharply between the legs several times.

I bit my lip, trying not to cry out, even through the slaps were more arousing than painful. And because my eyes had been closed, they had seemingly come out of nowhere.

He pulled me from the stool and onto my back, slapping lightly at my breasts and buttocks.

I moaned and cried out.

"You need to learn discipline, don't you, you naughty little girl?"

"Yes, sir," I moaned.

"Do I need to teach you that lesson too?"

"Yes, sir."

"I will tell you once more not to move. If you do, I shall stop and you can just stay frustrated. Do you want that?"

"No, sir."

"Then be good."

He pulled my thighs apart wide and rested then over his shoulders as he continued to lick and nibble and suck. When I felt his fingers thrust into me, the orgasm hit with a vengeance. The tremors seemed to go on and on forever as my pussy convulsed around his fingers. He was not merciful but kept sucking until he made me come a second time.

When it was over, I thought I would faint. I could barely move or breathe. I sat up, my thighs soaked with his saliva and my juices.

Mr. C was already standing up.

"You can open your eyes now."

I got onto my knees, practically crawling at him on all fours.

"Please, sir..." I begged. "Please let me..."

"Yes, Maggie. What would you like me to let you do?"

"I want to..." I searched in my mind for the words he would like. "I want to suck your cock. Please, sir."

Oddly, Mr. C hesitated at first. I would have thought that he would have been all for it. And it wasn't every day that I was crawling and begging to give a man oral sex. But I wanted to make him feel the way that I did. Also, I needed to feel like I had a little control in what was going on, even if that was the only way I could do it.

With a gentle smile, he unzipped his pants. His cock was very nice and thick. I have never been one to compare appendages. Being so imperfect myself, I did not want to contribute to the mass obsession with physical characteristics. But it was a very nice cock.

Funny that I had begged to suck him off as I had never particularly liked oral sex. When I received it, I felt either awkward, grossed out or feeling under obligation to return the favor. But I particularly didn't like the taste of a man's cock. I tried it with my first boyfriend and was completely disgusted. With the second one, I got better at it and a little more used to it. In fact, I became so good that sometimes that was all he wanted from me and didn't even reciprocate. After enough of these unsatisfying trysts, that was the end of that relationship. With the third one, I didn't do any blow jobs at all. It just wasn't worth it.

But as I took Mr. C in my mouth, I didn't mind the salty taste. In fact, I even got into it, taking him deeper than I had ever taken any of the ex-boyfriends. Not so far that I would gag. Linda Lovelace did not need to worry about any competition from me on that score. But I made up for depth with my tongue, sucking and licking and swirling away at him. Judging from the throaty moans he was giving out, I must have been doing something right. I clutched at his denim jeans, pulling his hips closer and closer, unable to get enough of my Mr. C. I even let him come in my mouth and swallowed it, breaking another precedent. I'd still have a Coca Cola any day over cum, but it wasn't bad.

For a while, we both just remained still. His hand was stroking my hair. That was the first time he had ever touched me that was not as a teacher or in the middle of fucking. Somehow, the intimacy freaked me out. I don't know why. Maybe because Mr. C was starting to seem like a human being rather than a sadistic taskmaster or a poster on a dormitory wall.

And again, I was struck by a sense of unreality. Was this what Monica Lewinsky felt like after blowing Bill Clinton? I wondered. Just this weird sense of 'what the hell is going on'. I had no way of knowing. I did know that I would learn from her mistakes and keep my mouth shut about what just happened. Not that Mr. C was as famous as the President of the United States, anyway. And besides, who was I going to tell the story to? My mother?

"Another class is going to come soon," he said quietly. "We have to leave."

Mr. C helped me up to my feet. The action would have been rather gentlemanly if the scenario had been different. Then came the inevitable awkwardness as I pulled at my mussed clothing and retrieved my coat.

"See you next week, Maggie."

Mr. C kissed me lightly on the cheek. He smelled of sex.

It was not until I made my way to the Number 9 train that I realized that he was no longer calling me 'Miss Spencer'. He had called me 'Maggie'.

WEEK SIX – DEALING WITH OBSTACLES

This was proving to be the Week from Hell.

At my boring temp job, one of the higher-ups started to get bored and try to think of ways to "improve things". So naturally I was stuck with so much grunt work that I had to put my own acting projects on hold. I was seriously considering moving on to greener pastures. If you temp at one place for too long, then the chains start to tighten around your neck. If only the rent wasn't due.

My mother called with her usual habit of taking out all of her angst on me. When was I going to grow up and be responsible? When was I going to meet a nice guy? Why wasn't I a better housekeeper? Blah blah blah. Over the years, I have had many issues with my mother. I still have not conquered the art of not letting her words bother me. My compartmentalizing skills were fairly crappy.

Despite all of my vigorous dieting and workouts, I had gained two pounds.

And worst of all, I woke up on Friday to an unpleasant surprise. Bloody underwear and God-awful menstrual cramps. So much for any hanky panky with Mr. C. this particular Sunday. And I had been daydreaming about what I would do to him all week.

I sang an old Judy Garland love ballad in class. Not any great shakes, but I was too stressed this week to climb Mount Everest. It wasn't bad but wasn't great.

Mr. C's critique: "You need to make the stakes stronger. For this character, it is life or death that you are with this man. You have some of that, but I want more."

To be honest, I wasn't sure I had that much to give, especially when the whole world was in a conspiracy to keep me from pursuing my career.

"Sorry, I know it was crappy," I said sullenly in the Hot Seat. "I'm not feeling so well today."

For a moment, Mr. C looked concerned. I was touched. But then the strictly-business teacher took over.

"We all have excuses, Miss Spencer; but the show must go on."

"Yes, sir."

"I can't count the number of times when I've been on stage with colds, feeling nauseous, suffering headaches or whatever. You just have to find a way to deal, although I will admit that the human body does have a nasty way of impeding a person's ambition." He gave me a generous grin. "Just wait until you're my age. Onward and upwards," he said, dismissing me.

The rest of the class dragged on. Unfortunately, I could not really enjoy it as I had my usual third day menstrual headache. The songs all seemed fairly dull to me. Mr. C could have done a naked lap dance on me and I wouldn't have cared. All I wanted to do was take Tylenol PM and pass out until this wretched menstrual cycle was over.

"Feel better," Mr. C. whispered in my ear as he joined me at the coat rack, touching me on the back lightly. Did I say that I didn't care? When he touched my back, I felt like a lonely cat desperate for more petting and affection. As usual, he had been very discreet since most of the students were congregated at the far side of the classroom, chatting.

"Thanks," I said, smiling weakly. "I'm sorry. Female trouble."

"Oh," he nodded. "Glad it's nothing serious."

No, my period would not kill me. It just made me wish that I were dead.

He gave me a quirky sort of smile. I never thought I'd look at my idol as kind of a goof, but at that moment I did.

"Perhaps next week, we should do lunch," he suggested.

Doing lunch. That seemed suspiciously like going one step beyond rushed explicit sexual encounters in a locked up basement.

"I'd like that," I said with a smile.

"See you next week."

Suddenly, the sun was shining. The birds were singing. And all was right with the world. We were going to do lunch!

"Hey, Maggie!"

It was Dawn, the key student of Mr. C's class. The key student generally took care of administrative stuff like role call, making sure any props used were returned, et cetera. I don't think that I had spoken two words to Dawn since I started the class so I was sort of surprised when she came up to talk to me.

"Would you like to work on a staged duet for next week?" She had already asked Mr. C permission if we could do this. He said it was okay with him if it was okay with me.

"Sure," I smiled. It might be fun to work with somebody else for a while. I always preferred scenes to monologues. I imagined duets would be very much the same sort of thing.

"What did you have in mind?"

"I have a few things that you could look at."

"Okay. Give me a call."

Things seemed to be looking up a little bit, at last. I couldn't believe how much better I felt. Mr. C's class truly was a tonic for what ailed me.

It was when I reached the exit of the basement classroom that I saw him.

Billy.

You know how I said I had had three ex-boyfriends? Billy had been #2. To be honest, he should have been a one-night stand. He just lasted six months longer than that.

With dark curly hair, green eyes and a lightly freckled complexion, Billy was an attractive guy. What had turned me onto him in the first place was that he had seemed so mature. And he had known what to do with his lips and his hands. It wasn't until later that I found out that he still lived with his mother and was so manic depressive that he made me look sane. After one particularly nasty fight on the telephone, I called him a "fucking psycho" and hung up on him. I thought that would be enough to cut him out of my life forever.

Guess I was wrong.

"How are you, Maggie?" he asked, putting on his lost puppy dog act, staring at me with soulful eyes.

I knew better.

"Fine."

I was in shock to see him. Why did he have to put us through this? What the hell was he doing here?

I looked back towards the classroom nervously. Mr. C was nowhere in sight. Good.

"So..." I started awkwardly. "Are you taking a class?" If he was, it would be too good to be true. That would mean that this was only a chance meeting.

There was a long pause.

"I'm going to audit one."

My bullshit meter was going off a mile a minute.

True, I had met Billy in one of Mr. B's scene study classes. But it seemed that Billy was much more interested in getting into my pants than he had ever been in working on acting. I should have known right from that point on that he would prove to be nothing but trouble. But I was a sex-starved young puppy having just arrived from Texas. I didn't know any better at the time.

"Whose class?"

"What?" he asked.

"Whose class are you auditing?" I repeated, feeling a bit like a prosecuting attorney grilling a witness.

He named another teacher of the school. I nearly accused him right then and there of being a liar. You would have to audition for that teacher's class, and I knew Billy well enough to know that he was not disciplined enough to audition for anything. He would never be able to hold his own in that kind of an acting class. He couldn't even hold a job.

"You look good."

Always looks with him!

"You've lost weight."

Always weight with him! First, I was too fat. Now, I supposed that he thought that I was too thin. Why was he always so fucking body conscious? Not that I cared.

Christ, I hated this! I hated who I was with him. In his eyes, I was just some stupid hick doormat that he could push around whenever he felt like it. That is until he started to get lonely. Here I was...just getting into my stride. Taking a class with Mr. C, for God's sake! And then he had to come back from my past to haunt me. After all, he was the one that became all moody and hostile and critical, cheating on me, not returning my phone calls. And now he was here stalking me. I was sure of it!

"Well, have a good class..." I said, attempting to sound cheery as I tried to pass him.

"No, wait..."

He reached for my hand, grasping on to it tightly. Was he crying? This was just too much.

I pulled away as if he had burned me. But it was too late. Mr. C had just passed by us. He must have seen Billy clutching at my hand. He couldn't have missed it.

I was furious. It wasn't enough that he had to break my heart. Now he was ruining my chances with Mr. C too! I lost all patience with trying to be nice.

"I've got to go," I said sharply.

He nodded, all abject like he deserved it...which he damned well did, as a matter of fact.

I left the acting school, made my way for the subway and did not look back.

That did not keep the matter from grating on me however. I had worked so hard to put that part of my life behind me. I was no longer the girl who had given her virginity to her high school sweetheart, only to be dumped by him the following week. I was not the lonely woman who would be abused and degraded by a man who couldn't even hold a job as a doorman.

No.

I studied myself in my small mirror in the Chelsea dump that was my apartment.

I was Maggie. Miss Spencer. An actress. A singer. An artist. And I had integrity as a performer and as a person.

What I was doing now was what I had come to New York to do. If I wanted to be fucked over, I could have stayed in Texas. I thought of Mr. C and all that he had taught me. Okay, perhaps he was fucking me over too. But that was okay. I was giving him permission to do that with my eyes open. He had made no promises to me. I could live with that.

But erotic encounters aside, he had taught me that I could take pride in my work. That I did have value in the field I wanted to be in. That maybe I could make my dreams come true. Despite everything.

WEEK SEVEN – DEALING WITH DISASTERS

Working with Dawn was a hoot. We both enjoyed working on the duet from GENTLEMEN PREFER BLONDES and fell into an easy camaraderie. When we weren't singing our hearts out, we were divulging in coffee and gossip.

Apparently, Dawn had known Mr. C long before he started teaching this Master Class. In fact, she had been in the chorus of one of his more famous Broadway shows. She was an older woman, possibly in her late thirties or early forties, but I could believe that she was a dancer. She had the build for it, that bitch, I thought enviously. With Italian dark looks and short hair, she was quite attractive in a mysterious way.

Without hesitation, I tried to pump her for information all about how she knew him and what he was like outside of the classroom.

Dawn laughed over her latte at Starbucks.

"I confess, I really don't know what his personal life is like," she said. "Whenever he was at work, he was completely dedicated to the task at hand. And he is just as brutal on himself when he is acting as he is on us in class. There was one time, after my divorce when..."

Her voice faltered.

I knew that I was stepping on painful territory.

"You don't have to go on just for me," I said. "It's okay."

"...No, it's just that he was very nice to me. Very supportive. At a time when I needed it. I'll never forget that."

To know that there was a human being behind that singing and acting machine was a comfort. I guess knowing that Mr. C had a heart made me a little less frightened of him. And I was getting more nervous by the day at the prospect of "doing lunch" with him.

At that moment, my cell phone rang.

"Excuse me, better get this..." I said, hoping that it was a casting call since only people in the industry had this number. Only people in the industry...and Billy, I noted with distress.

"Nothing important," I shrugged.

Happily, I returned to Dawn and her stories. Billy would just have to learn to take no for an answer. I was a different person now.

-----------------------------------------

"Very good, girls," Mr. C said wanly after our number. "Next time, let's try something with a little substance, shall we?"

Dawn and I were both disappointed as we thought that we would like it. Oh, well, on to Plan B. The duet from WEST SIDE STORY. The "I Have A Love" number.

"Oh, and Maggie?" Mr. C asked. "Would you take this to the Admissions Office for me?"

"Sure."

It was a blue audit card. On the back of it was a scrawled message.

"Meet me after class at the back entrance."

I nodded, trying to be subtle. Of course, he couldn't just waltz around town with his student all over New York without a care in the world. He was still Mr. C after all! He probably just wanted us to have some privacy while we snuck away in a taxi.

At least, that's what I assumed he meant by the "back entrance". Naughty thoughts of anal sex crossed my mind. The thought terrified and repulsed me that he might want to do that. He was already into kink, so why not that? And I was pretty sure that I wouldn't like it. But on the other hand, I never thought I would get so turned on by being spanked and whipped. So what did I know? There are some men that you want so badly that you would do anything, try anything, if they asked you to. And I knew that Mr. C was one of those men for me.

For the rest of the class, I was wondering where we would do lunch. Where does a person like him eat lunch? Sardi's? 21? Nah, those were all tourist traps now. He would undoubtedly go to some real hot swank spot that you hear about in gossip columns, one of those places where you couldn't even get in the door unless you were Somebody.

When class was over, I visited the ladies' room and fixed myself up a bit. I had worn an elegant burgundy sweater with a respectable black knit skirt. I had no idea what to expect, so I decided to go conservative. I even pulled back my hair for the occasion. And I looked pretty good, I had to admit. Even my stomach was starting to finally firm up a little bit.

Then I went out through the main hallway of the school, past the Green Room, towards the back entrance. I had never been back there before. The view wasn't much. It was just a plain side street where I had hoped his car would be waiting. But there was no car. So why were we meeting here I wondered, shivering in the cold. Snow had fallen early this year. I occupied myself kicking at the snow with my boot, nervously waiting for his arrival.