The Viola Lesson

Author's note. Inspired by true events which took place nearly 30 years ago, this story is written for the Summer Lovin' contest. As with my story '48 Hours in Glasgow' the build-up to the main action is deliberately discursive, both to set the scene and, I hope, increase the expectation...

Thank you for reading, and constructive comments are always welcomed.

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Music had been the main focus of Ivan's life for as long as he could remember. Like all his classmates at junior school, he had started group lessons on the recorder at five. But while the rest of the class were still struggling to play one note without the hideous squawking and squeaking often associated with that instrument, Ivan was mastering simple tunes, and within a week had learnt all the pieces in the book which was meant to last a year.

A bright boy, he picked up musical notation just as fast, and his class teacher, herself a keen amateur musician, took Ivan's mother aside when she fetched him one day.

"Have you considered some private music lessons for Ivan -- he has an excellent ear and I think he would really enjoy it?" she said. "A friend of mine teaches the violin and I can give you her number, if you are interested?"

Ivan's mother had also noticed her son's musicality, and she readily took up the suggestion. Ivan began lessons the following week and soon was making as rapid progress on the violin as he had on the recorder. He joined a junior orchestra and it became clear that his was an exceptional talent.

In his early teens he switched from the violin to its larger cousin, the viola, a pragmatic move given the relative dearth of decent viola players in his area, and before the age of 16 he was occupying the Principal chair in several local adult amateur orchestras, whilst also becoming an accomplished pianist and composer.

Unlike many performers, Ivan was also interested in the academic side of music, and elected to read music at university rather than attend a music college or conservatoire. Hence at the age of just 18 (with a July birthday he was one of the youngest in his year) Ivan found himself at the University of York in the north of England, a modern campus on the edge of the historic city.

Ivan was a good looking boy, slim, not tall but with a winning smile and long curly dark hair as was fashionable in the late 70s, and when not studying or practising had an easy-going manner which made him popular with his peers. Despite this, by the time he went to University he had not had a serious girlfriend and was still a virgin, something which troubled him a great deal and which he kept very quiet, imagining, quite wrongly as it happened, that every other student in his year must be experienced and sexually active.

Luckily towards the end of his first term at York, Ivan was introduced to Kate at a party. She was a pretty, vivacious red-headed second-year linguist who had just split up with a long-term boyfriend and was therefore ready to meet someone new. She liked Ivan immediately, enjoying his keen sense of humour and gentle nature, a contrast to her previous partner who was a large, beer-drinking rugby player.

Kate was also untroubled by Ivan's inexperience, and when they first went to bed together a few days later made sure that she brought him off with a quick hand job to ease his anxiety before they fucked for the first time. Even so Ivan came sooner than either of them would have liked, so overwhelmed was he by the whole experience and by finding himself in bed with such an attractive and confident woman, but as their relationship progressed his skills and endurance improved, and he and Kate enjoyed an active and athletic sex life through the winter and early spring of 1979.

This first relationship was not to last: like many college romances a vacation got in the way, Kate meeting up with an ex-boyfriend during the Easter holidays and having sex with him a few times for old times' sake.

At least that's what she said when, in her usual open and honest manner, she told Ivan about these encounters as soon as they were back in York at the start of the summer term. Ivan was very hurt by her revelations, and despite trying, could not put it out of his mind when they were together; to his bitter disappointment and Kate's more wistful sadness they split up the same night.

Ivan threw himself into his work and ended the year on an academic high at least, with a First in his exams and a scholarship from the University for the string quartet he was part of to attend a prestigious summer academy in Monterosso al Mare, in the beautiful Cinque Terre in Italy.

It was there that Ivan met his second lover, a gorgeous American-Italian cellist called Cora, who had combined a visit to her mother's family in Florence with a place at the academy. Ivan was entranced by Cora's long dark hair, olive skin and lissom body, which she used to great effect when they made love on the beach on the second night after they met.

Cora was 25, which to Ivan at just 19 gave their brief relationship even more excitement and intensity. The other three members of his quartet were pleased to see their friend enjoying the attentions of a new woman, having worried at the depths to which he had sunk after his break-up with Kate, and indulged his appearing for morning rehearsals bleary-eyed from a night of passionate sex with Cora.

The academy course lasted two weeks and by the end of it Ivan had learned much, both in terms of how to perform Beethoven's Opus 95 String Quartet and how to satisfy a more experienced and vociferously demanding lover. Kate had preferred full-on fucking to any other kind of sex, and was lucky enough to come easily from penetrative sex; Cora, by contrast, found it hard to reach orgasm with a cock inside her, and, very confident in her rights in those post-Erica Jong days, showed Ivan how to bring her to a climax with his fingers, his tongue and yes, his cock (using it to stimulate her clit).

It was in many ways the perfect summer romance and even though he was devastated to have to part from Cora so soon, Ivan was rational enough to know that trying to sustain things with her on the other side of the Atlantic would be impossible. They kept in touch for a while through letters and postcards, but in those days before email, texts and instant messaging their relationship soon ebbed away.

Returning to York for his second year Ivan had increased confidence in his musical and sexual abilities, and also found, as many had before him, that some of the new intake of first-year girls were more than ready to meet a friendly second-year boy. One such was Rita, a bubbly, curvy oboist from Northern Ireland, keen to find someone to help make the most of her healthy sex drive.

She and Ivan soon became inseparable and this time Ivan thought he had found the love of his life. Their spending every possible minute together in or out of bed proved misguided, however, and by the middle of the spring term Rita was finding it claustrophobic. She explained this to Ivan, and suggested they had a 'cooling off' period but he could not cope with the idea, and after two days of tears, reconciliations and renewed arguments, all interspersed with bittersweet fucking, they parted for good.

Once again Ivan found himself on his own as summer approached, this time without the prospect of a trip to Italy to look forward to. He spent his long vacation at various music courses in England, where he did manage the odd liaison with female fellow students, but nothing came of any of them, Ivan left frustrated by the kissing and cuddling not leading any further. By the time he returned to York for the third and final year of his degree he was desperate for sex and for a new girlfriend -- which he exuded far too obviously, and off-puttingly, in his initial approaches to the girls who took his eye among the first years and in his new hall of residence.

By November Ivan was despairing of ever finding another girlfriend, and indeed of ever having sex again. Just at the point when he thought things could not get worse he had a message from home that his favourite Aunt, his father's oldest sister, was dying from cancer (she had been ill for some time but they had all hoped the end would be delayed) and could he get back to London as soon as possible. This unfortunately coincided with two concerts which he could not miss, and by the time he got on the train three days later she had died and, the family being Jewish and following the tradition of a burial taking place within 24 hours, he had also missed the funeral. Instead he attended the second night of the prayers, weeping alongside his cousins at this first death of any of his close relatives.

Ivan returned to York late on a cold and rainy Sunday evening, and was just about to go into his room having made himself a coffee in the communal kitchen when a voice said: "Hi Ivan, I was sorry to hear about your Aunt, are you o.k.?"

Turning round Ivan saw Maggie, a first-year musician he had previously barely noticed, but who he now remembered lived upstairs in the same hall as him. Maggie was pleasant-looking rather than stunningly attractive, but had a sweet manner and a friendly smile, and her kindness was more than welcome to Ivan. He offered her a coffee and they went into his room, where they talked for hours about their families, music, life and all the subjects that students can cover with enough coffee and the luxury of time and youth on their side.

At about 3am Maggie started to make moves to go, but showed enough reluctance that Ivan realised she was giving him a cue, and as they stood up Ivan pulled her towards him so that they could embrace. One kiss led to another, and another, and soon they were lying on Ivan's single bed, their hands fumbling with each other's clothes. Maggie was wearing dungarees which Ivan struggled to undo, and, laughing gently, she helped him to remove them. He found that the unflattering garment had been hiding a surprisingly sexy body: Maggie had generous breasts, a narrow waste, wide womanly hips and well-shaped legs. She was also, though only 19, as experienced in bed as Ivan was, having had an active sex life at the mixed boarding school she had attended from the age of 16.

That first night they did not fuck; Maggie was not on the pill and Ivan had no condoms, and she was not prepared to take any risks. Instead they gave each other plentiful orgasms with their flexible and strong musicians' fingers (Maggie was a pianist), and as dawn approached Maggie jerked Ivan off one last time, laughing as he came, saying "You are insatiable, aren't you??!"

Ivan and Maggie settled into a happy relationship; Ivan had learnt from his previous mistakes and tried to take things slowly, so that they did not reach the same levels of obsession as he had had with Rita. As the end of the academic year approached Maggie began to worry about their future, given she still had two further years at York, and they were both thrilled when Ivan was offered a scholarship to stay on to read for a Masters degree, as long as he achieved an Upper Second in his BA, which he did with ease.

Ivan entered his postgraduate year in York secure with Maggie and enjoying his studies, even fitting in some freelance professional work with the local opera company orchestra. His scholarship covered his fees but not all of his living expenses, so he was on the lookout for other work, and hence was very pleased when the Music Department Administrator approached him about doing some private viola teaching. The Department was often asked for recommendations for local teachers and liked to give their older students work when they could, and soon Ivan found himself with four pupils: two children who wanted to change from the violin to the viola, and two adults.

Both adult pupils were women who had played the viola as teenagers but like many instrumentalists had given up when exams and other distractions encroached on their time. Now they wanted to start again in order to join local amateur orchestras and play chamber music. One, Naomi, was in her 50s and physically awkward: Ivan worked hard to try to get her to relax her shoulders and improve her bow arm but he found teaching her a struggle.

His other adult could not have been more different. Her name was Helen and she and Ivan hit it off from the start. He did not ask her age, but reckoned she must be in her late 30s -- she had a daughter of 14, and said she had not played the viola seriously for nearly 20 years since leaving school. He also gathered quite quickly that she was divorced, her husband having left her for another woman when her daughter was just five. Ivan thought to himself that the man must have been mad or deluded: he found Helen very attractive, though did not entertain the idea of a relationship with her given the difference in their age, lifestyles and relationship status.

Ivan was also loyal to Maggie, although in his heart of hearts he was beginning to wonder whether she was definitely the girl for his long-term future; they had fun together and a very comfortable relationship, but given their relative youth, almost too comfortable, particularly in bed where Ivan was finding Maggie a little unadventurous and hard to persuade to try different things. Nonetheless he was happy, and he tried to supress these doubts, recognising that Maggie was kind, considerate and clearly loved him.

Through the winter and spring Ivan worked hard at his Masters studies, and also enjoyed his teaching and his freelance work. The lessons with Helen went well and she made good progress, finding that her levels of attainment soon overtook where she had reached in her teens. She and Ivan continued to get on well, and Ivan was a good teacher, new ideas and ways of expressing them coming to him easily. Helen teased him in a friendly way, particularly about his hair, which was still long and very curly, and when he did finally have it cut she claimed full responsibility, although others had also told Ivan that it was getting a bit ridiculous.

Ivan found himself thinking about Helen often between their weekly meetings, and on occasions when Maggie was away and Ivan was sleeping alone, he could not help fantasising about Helen as he masturbated. Helen had shoulder-length strawberry blond hair and was quite tall, at 5ft 7 only an inch or two smaller than Ivan, with very good legs which she displayed readily with short skirts and boots or skirts with a large slit in them. She often wore fitted tops which revealed good breasts, and Ivan imagined running his hands over them during a lesson, Helen not resisting and then joining in by stroking his cock through his trousers. It did not take much of one of these fantasies for Ivan to come hard as he tugged at his swollen cock, and once or twice he even gasped Helen's name as the cum spurted on to his stomach.

It is inevitable when teaching any instrument that some physical contact will take place between teacher and pupil, and with Helen, Ivan had in particular to work on the way in which her left arm moved under the viola. She was a little tense and he showed her exercises to release this tension, demonstrating the way in which he wanted her arm to swing by putting his hand on her left elbow as she played, moving it as she changed from one string on the viola to another. He worked on her shoulders too, encouraging Helen to relax as she played by pressing with his fingers on the tight areas around her shoulder blades. As summer approached and the weather grew warmer, Helen took to wearing t-shirts, sleeveless blouses or flimsy cotton tops, and Ivan managed to find the need to massage her shoulders more often.

Given Helen's encouraging progress Ivan suggested that their weekly half-hour lessons were not adequate, and asked if she would consider increasing to 45 minutes. She agreed readily and the extra time seemed to move their relationship on to another level, each more relaxed in the other's presence and able to display small signs of intimacy, the result too of the lessons having gone on now for nearly eight months.

Ivan was staying in York for the summer to complete his thesis, whilst Maggie was returning home, though visiting him as often as she could. At the end of June Maggie went abroad for two weeks to play with her former county youth orchestra on a tour of Germany, leaving Ivan alone in York to study. Helen was still around, her daughter's school term not having finished, and the viola lessons continued.

The first lesson after Maggie's departure took place late on a Friday afternoon. England was having a rare burst of sustained summer sunshine, and even in York the temperature was in the 80s. Ivan enjoyed the heat and had been cycling along the river bank in shorts and a t-shirt on his way to Helen's house, his viola strapped carefully to the front of the bike. He arrived slightly early, chained his bike to a lamppost, took off his viola case and stood for a moment feeling the late afternoon sun warming his bare, brown arms. He wondered idly what Helen might be wearing, and was delighted when his hopes were fulfilled as she answered his ring on the door, standing in front of him in a pair of small denim shorts and a vest (tank) top covered by a very thin, almost translucent cotton shirt. As far as he could tell, the closely fitted top also meant that she had gone without a bra, making her look even sexier than ever.

"Come in, come in" Helen said, "you must be boiling, I'll get you a drink," and she turned and headed into the kitchen, affording Ivan a glorious view of her excellent arse and legs. He followed her and sat on a high stool as she mixed him a lemon drink; he downed it almost in one gulp as he found the heat had indeed made him very thirsty.

"Wow, someone's up for it," Helen said, "I can almost see your tongue hanging out! I'll get you another one before we start."

Ivan wondered whether he was imagining what seemed like flirting from Helen, but tried to put it out of his mind as the lesson began. The highlight of it for Ivan was his taking the opportunity to stand close behind Helen and reach around her to demonstrate how to approach a particularly tricky passage, his body nearly touching hers as he leant forward, and his cock stirring at the proximity to her fabulous bum. The time passed far too quickly for Ivan's liking as he was enjoying Helen's company and did not really want to leave, so his heart leapt excitedly when she said as they were putting their instruments in their cases: "Would you like to stay for a proper drink? Jenny [her daughter] is at a friend's for a sleepover so I'm at a loose end, and I know you're on your own too at the moment."

Ivan had mentioned the previous week that Maggie was going to be away but was surprised that Helen had remembered, and again wondered whether this meant anything or not. He readily agreed and they moved back into the kitchen.

"Beer, wine or something stronger?" Helen asked, and Ivan requested a cold beer. Helen reached up towards a high cupboard to get the glasses, then even though the difference in their heights was trivial, said to Ivan "Can you reach up above me and get them down; I don't want to drop them?"

Helen had manoeuvred herself so that Ivan had to stand directly behind her to reach up to the cupboard, like in the lesson, but this time as he stretched above her she moved back so that she was leaning into him. He put the glasses down on the work surface and Helen took his hands in hers, guiding them deliberately and firmly on to her breasts. Ivan was briefly taken aback at this and hesitated, but Helen made her intentions perfectly clear by moving his hands with hers so that he was stroking her through the thin cotton of her blouse and top. He could feel her nipples harden beneath his touch, and Helen turned her head towards him, whispering into his ear: "That's great, I love your hands, they're so sexy, I've wanted you to do this for so long."