The Piano Teacher

There were moments of silence after this. Christopher didn't know what to say, how to explain himself, and Priscilla only plucked at her food lazily, not believing how she just snapped at him.

"You should eat, or you'll faint on stage."

"You are not my father, Mr. Holden, you cannot tell me what to do." She murmured.

"Miss. Summers, I am really sorry to have irritated you, I merely meant to do the right thing and..."

Amidst all that babbling, it hit her. Maybe he wasn't just angry, he was jealous. Priscilla felt her face heat up at the thought. Mr. Holden was jealous of her. But it didn't seem right to ask him about it, or at least, she wished she could do it, but the words trembled and died in her throat multiple times.

Until it was too late.

She was called on stage soon, and bowing to the audience, with a special look for Mr. Holden, she sat, and begun to play. Music flew in her mind and in her fingers, from the keys to the chords of the grand black piano. She felt all her new, confused feelings for this man pouring out of her and invading the room, she felt the joy for his jealousy spring up on the high tunes, and the anger for not having the guts to tell him anything, because she was still a frightened little girl. And she felt something she had never felt before. A heat was born into her, growing and making her glow, making her legs shake on the pedals, her heart beat faster and her lower abdomen tighten with a weird feeling.

Christopher sat there astonished. This was without doubt her best interpretation of the piece. She played like her life depended on it, she put everything she had on it, he could see her skin glistening in sweat, not certainly for the heat it the air conditioned room. He couldn't take his eyes off her, he was spellbound by this beautiful creature playing with such a passion. He wondered what inflamed her soul so much, if a lover, or an anger, or pain.. but he didn't look like any of it. He remembered what it meant to be playing while consumed by lust, while your mind was filled by that person, while your skin prickled with the want for them. And he was almost sure he could see her thighs clenching, her legs quivering when not on the pedals. But surely, he was imaging it, all fruit of his mind, his intense hope he was the one on her mind.

When Priscilla finished her piece, everyone applauded, the old lady previously talking to her was in tears. Everyone loved her already. Christopher smiled proudly, and promptly went to hold her arm as she descended the stairs down from the stage.

"Your best interpretation of the piece. It was wonderful, I am really impressed Miss Summers, I cannot say how..."

She smiled and just shook her head. "The guy was my cousin, Mr. Holden"

"What?"

"That guy was my cousin. I called on him to help me pick the dress." she blushed scarlet and looked away, her arm still held in his hand.

A music started again, a beautiful, but recorded walzer filled the room. Christopher couldn't think of anything to say at that, he had been such an idiot about it. What could he say but... "Dance with me."

Priscilla stood there wordless.

"Please, Priscilla, dance with me." He offered her his hand.

At the use of her name, she smiled and slid her hand in his. "With pleasure, Mr. Holden."

"Christopher is fine." He smiled, feeling more like a man with a woman than a teacher with his pupil.

They danced silently at the rhythm of the walzer for a few minutes, Christopher was a skillful dancer, and Priscilla easily followed his moves and the music she knew well.

"You are not angry anymore"

"I was never angry."

"Were you jealous?" she blushed scarlet. "Sorry, I... can't imagine why you would be... forget I ever..."

"Priscilla... even if I was... to tell you that would be tremendously..."

"Inappropriate, I know."

"Yes."

"So you weren't." she sighed. Christopher didn't think he would see that kind of hurt on her face. But he couldn't imagine how Priscilla, who for the first time felt something for anyone, felt being rejected. She disengaged her arms from his.

"I am sorry." She sniffled. "I need to use the restroom."

She fled before he could say anything, leaving him alone on the dance floor, debating on what to do. Before reason could take the upper hand though, he followed his legs that ran on his own, after her.

"Priscilla!" he caught her arm in the corridor leading to the ladies restroom. "Wait."

"I am sorry, Mr. Holden, I shouldn't have said that, just forget that I ever..."

"I was jealous."

Her teary eyes shot up at him. "You were?"

"Of you, of that guy who could... hold you, watch you... touch you" he whispered coming closer. "Without worrying if it was appropriate, without caring if anyone saw you..."

"He's... my cousin." She whispered, frozen in place, not backing away a single inch from him.

"I know now. But I still felt jealous, and I didn't even know I was. I was just... angry."

"Mr. Holden..." She whispered, actually leaning closer now, between the wall and his body.

"Just Christopher." He breathed, and then pressed his lips on hers, holding her head in place. He could have stopped there and backed away, but then he heard it. a soft, little moan escaping her lips, parting for him.

And he lost his mind. He dove into her mouth like starving man, holding her waist close to him. She responded, passionately, as everything she did, and wrapped her hands around his neck. His tongue explored every crook and cranny of her sweet little mouth, his hand tugging away at her hair, his other splayed on the small of her back, on bare skin.

Then steps in the hallway, and flood flew back to his brain.

Panting they distanced themselves with a start. And finally Christopher realized what he'd done.

"Miss. Summers... I am so, so sorry."

"No... don't be, I..."

"I will get you home, Miss Summers. Clear your head this weekend. And we shall never talk about this again."

Priscilla fell silent. She tried not to show how much it hurt her to hear that. She barely nodded and followed her teacher to his car.

The drive was silent, and even the walk to her back-door. "Miss. Summers, please forgive me for..."

"No need to say anything Mr. Holden." She said as coldly as she could manage. "I get it. I'm just a little girl. Let's not talk about this anymore."

"Miss. Summers are you sure you are okay?" Christopher asked, concerned. He could hear, under the layer of coldness and distance, the hurt in her voice.

"No, Mr. Holden, I'm not. But since you insist on keeping this distance between us, it is none of your concern. So now, good night, and please do not tell my mother anything. I am not supposed to see my cousin." With that, without waiting for any response from him, she shut the door and disappeared into the dark house.

Christopher wouldn't see her until their lesson on Monday, and he knew it was a good thing, but he couldn't help but think of her all the time, and feel so ashamed for what he did, and for how he treated her after. She was so hurt.

His brooding ended with a text message, from his ex-girlfriend, asking for a coffee. He shrugged and figured, why not, since he had to get his student out of his mind.

On that Saturday night, while Christopher accepted a date with his ex, Priscilla, home alone again, had called on Mark to let it all out.

She was currently crying on her bed, while Mark patted her shoulder.

"Pris, stop crying. Talk to me."

She sat up. "What's to talk about? I was an idiot. How could he ever look at me? I am just..."

"A beautiful young woman. He kissed you didn't he?"

She nodded.

"Then he does like you. He obviously has some moral reserves on the whole thing. Which is great, sounds like he is a good guy, merely bewitched by my little cousin here." He grinned, but when she didn't lighten up he continued. "You looked beautiful in that dress, Pris, you always look beautiful. I know no one told you so very often, but you do. I am sure he likes you a lot. You just need to make him lose his head for you."

Priscilla actually smiled this time. "But... I know nothing of this! He's so much older, he surely has more experienced women running all around him, and this stupid girl here... why would he...?" she screeched.

Mark laughed. "Stop Pris, just show a little more skin at your lessons, casually touch his arm or thigh if you're brave. Keep your hair loose, bend down and show him..."

"Alt! Stop right there! Nothing slutty!" she chuckled. "Okay, I get the hint. I have to flirt with him."

"Mercilessly." Mark hugged his little cousin.

"Say, are you sure you don't know too much about this?"

"Nah, I am, pardon my lack of modesty, pretty popular with the ladies, and I have seen enough flirting with me to know what works and what doesn't."

"What a playboy!" she punched his arm.

Finally of a more cheery mood, Priscilla let Mark go to his friends, and she resolved to play some to relax. She would do as Mark said, and tempt him into... what exactly? Kiss her again? Just that? Because it surely felt good but... Priscilla knew, deep down, that if he ever got his hands on her again, he wasn't going to stop at a kiss.

All considered, Christopher's night went worse than Priscilla's. He was remembered all the things he hated about his ex, and went home half drunk and super pissed at himself for even agreeing to such a date.

When he finally got home again, he slouched on the couch and opened another beer. He didn't even notice he fell asleep.

There she was in that beautiful blue dress, in his studio, sitting on the piano, her angelic face looking down, sadness in her eyes.

Christopher approached and lifted her chin with a finger. "Why so sad honey?"

"You don't want me." She replied candidly.

"I don't want you? You don't even know how much I want you." His other hand rested on her thigh.

"Then take me." She whispered, her stare with the same passion she had while playing her piece at the theatre. Her legs spread under his touch, the dress rode up, she leaned back on the piano.

"Please, Christopher."

His hands craved to feel her skin, to squeeze her, to graze her, to taste her...

And he explored her body with his hands, carefully sliding her dress off, sliding his fingers over her wet folds. Oh so wet!

"Christopher..." her whisper filled the air and he couldn't hold back anymore. He unzipped his fly and pushed into her. "Priscilla, baby..."

Christopher woke up with a start, a hard on in his pants and sweat all over. He had a wet dream about her. This thing was becoming too serious. He needed to get her out of his mind.

On Monday, as she waited for her lesson, Priscilla checked herself in the bathroom mirror. She had undone the top two buttons of her blouse, it was still decent but a little less conservative. She had rolled up her skirt on her waist twice, making it considerably shorter, she lost the knee high socks for some real stockings, with lace at the top, barely visible under the now short skirt. Lastly, her wavy hair was brushed back and free over her shoulders and waist. A little mascara on her eyes completed the whole thing. She shrugged and though that f it didn't work she could hardly act as if it never happened, it was obvious this was not like herself.

But it didn't seem to be a problem.

As soon as she walked in, Christopher lowly growled, so that only he could hear it, he hoped.

The creamy skin of her chest and legs was on display, her hair spread her scent all over the room... and was that lace? He was fucked.

"Hi Mr. Holden." She greeted as if nothing was wrong. She sat at the piano and really did pretend everything was normal.

"Priscilla what are you doing?"

"Oh are we back at Priscilla now?" she turned and smiled gleefully. "Glad to know, Christopher."

"Please, Christopher..." his dream came back to him. The piano, her pleas... his lust No. He couldn't.

"Priscilla you are making this hard for me." He groaned sitting on the arm chair, closing his eyelids. He didn't hear her moving, but when he opened his eyes she sat on the piano, now closed.

"I don't understand. First you act all jealous and kiss me, then you push me away, obviously not that into me, and then..."

"Not that into you?" he growled getting up. "You have no idea what went through my mind every day I saw you since the first lesson." He leaned on her, his hands on the piano at her sides.

"I want to know." She murmured. "What went through your mind. Tell me."

He sighed heavily, staring deep in her shiny eyes. And he saw it again, the look se had while she played. The passion.

"You have the same look." He whispered without noticing.

"The... same?" she whispered confused.

"The look you had when you played your Chopin at the theatre. There was such a passion in your eyes... you were glowing... I wanted you so much right there and then." He shook his head, eyelids falling, not quite believing he just told her that.

"I was thinking about you." She said softly, a hair from his lips. "I had a feeling I never had before. I wanted to... feel you, to feel your skin against mine and your hands on me, to touch you, to see all of you." Her voice turned husky and low. Christopher could hear the lust in it, so clearly...

"Priscilla stop... please..." he groaned. But opening his eyes he could see she didn't understand why he had asked her to stop. He couldn't bear to see her hurt that way. "I don't want you to stop because I don't like what you're saying. I dreamed so much of you saying that. But if I hear one more word I fear all my morals will be thrown out of the window." He murmured staring deep in her eyes, his hand cupping her face.

"Really?" she could only say.

Christopher chuckled. "You have no idea of the effect you have on me, do you?" his gaze lowered from her eyes to skim her whole body, and he felt his cock twitch, growing even harder.

"I... think I have an idea now." She was staring at the bulge in his pants, biting her lip. He chuckled.

"Ehm... yes, that might give you an idea." He sighed. "What do I do with you, Priscilla?" he cupped her cheek to capture her gaze again.

"Kiss me again." she basically whimpered. His mouth went dry. "Please, Christopher."

And there he lost it, hearing her plea like in his dream. He held her face in both his hands and kissed her passionately, feeling her own lips mold against his, her tongue grazing and tasting his. And she let out that soft moan again. He groaned and stood straight between her legs, while still kissing her, his hand running up her down from her thigh, her side, her shoulder.

"Priscilla, baby..." he groaned. "Tell me to stop, please tell me to stop or.."

As a response, she pulled his hair and dragged his mouth over hers again. Christopher groaned, pulling her waist closer. He ravished her mouth, she tasted even better than in his dream. Groaning, he lost all sense of chivalry, and basically ripped her blouse open, slid the straps of her bra off her shoulders and finally had her topless before him. He broke the kiss to take her in, leaving her panting.

"God, you're beautiful." The softness of her flesh under his fingers made him heady. He kneaded on her breasts, passing a thumb over her nipple, drawing a little moan out of her. With an hungry stare fixed in her eyes he bent down to take her nipple between his lips.

Priscilla moaned, pulling his head on her chest tighter. He couldn't take his eyes off her ecstatic expression, and when she finally dropped her gaze to meet his, he bit lightly on the little hard nub in his mouth. And Priscilla screamed.

"Christopher!" her evident pleasure sent ripples down his spine. He pushed her back down on the piano, hoisting her knees up until her heels settled on the wood as well, while kissing her furiously.

"You drive me crazy." He growled. "Promise you'll stop me if you don't want to go any further."

"I promise." She breathed, her heated eyes never leaving his.

Flood flowing away from his brain, Christopher dropped to his knees to free her of her stockings and panties. The simplest, white cotton panties he'd ever seen. He smiled at her innocence. But his stare quickly changed nature as he could smell the wetness between her legs. Still staring at her, he dragged his tongue over her folds, her mouth opening in a silent gasp, then reached her clit and flicked it over it. She threw her head back and groaned. Unable to resist, Christopher slid a finger into her, easily since she was so wet, but so tight. He groaned thinking of how it would feel around his cock. Wriggling his finger around, he rubbed against her special spot, making her groan again. her breathing was getting ragged, her legs quivered next to his head. Determined to make this as best as it was possible for her, he kept rubbing on her spot, and when the time was right, lightly bit on her clit, hoping not to hurt her.

Her eyes shot open and she screamed and trembled with the strength of her first orgasm. "Christopher!" her arms supporting her gave out, and she leaned completely against the piano. Standing up, Christopher undid his belt and let his pants fall.

"How do you feel baby?" he took a moment to appreciate her figure, naked except for her skirt rolled around her waist, then smiled and kissed her lips.

"That was amazing." She whispered. "Is it always like this?"

"It can be, yes." He nuzzled in the crook of her neck. "Priscilla, baby, I want you."

"I know, I want you too. Take me Christopher."

"I could hurt you."

"I'll be alright, I'm not a little girl." she smiled.

He chuckled. "Yes you are, my little girl." he playfully bit on her lower lip, sliding his boxer down with a hand. "You sure Priscilla?"

"Yes. Christopher, please..." she actually ground on him, and a groan escaped both their mouths.

"You'll be the death of me." He growled next to her ear, positioning himself at her entrance. Then he slowly pushed in, stretching her. Priscilla gasped at the new feeling, gripping his shoulders tight. A whimper left her mouth.

"I'm so sorry baby..." he sounded strained.

"It's okay, it's so big though..." she groaned, in pleasure, grinding up. Only that made her wince in pain. Her hymen was blocking the way.

"Baby, this is it, I need to break in, it'll be a little painful." He held her face in his big hands. "Ready?"

She nodded.

He pushed in sharply, finally sliding it all inside, and caught her cry with a kiss. "You okay?"

"I..." she hissed. "Yes. It burns a little but if you move... it'll be better."

He grinned. "You don't have to ask twice." Slowly, Christopher started grinding into her, her walls tight around him. His breath soon became ragged, his thoughts strained but that unearthly slow rhythm, so good and yet such a torture.

"Christopher, please faster." She moaned, grinding up against him.

He growled. "As you wish baby." He thrust in her harder at every stroke, building his pace. The feeling of having her wrapped around him made him hungry. He didn't realize he was squeezing her, thrusting deeper, or biting her neck until she squealed.

"Fuck! I'm so sorry baby, I..." he loosed his grip but her next groan was of protest.

"No." she breathed. "I... liked it, it was perfect. Please don't stop."

Christopher looked at her astonished, a bruise already forming on the pale skin on her side. "I hurt you, Priscilla."

"No, you didn't. Well yes but..." she blushed scarlet, until his worried stare turned into a grin, and he bit her lip again.

"You liked it." he thrust deeper. "You liked it that I hurt you a little." He didn't let her respond, he bit on her nipple and thrust back into her at double speed.

"Yes! Christopher, please!" Priscilla didn't even know what she was begging for, but Christopher's response was a low growl, that made their bodies tremble.