The heels of Carl's Cole-Hahn shoes clicked with a surprising resonance off the walkway as he approached the front porch steps of this house he had not visited in 25 years. The city's elite and powerful had long since migrated to country estates and inner-city lofts leaving the neighborhood to the upper middle class and those who had planned their retirements well. While a good number of the expansive homes showed the neglect that often accompanies the absence of full-time gardeners and caretakers, this particular house, with it's perfectly manicured lawns and shrubbery could have as easily graced the pages of a home and garden magazine today as in it's prime in the early 50's. In fact, it seemed to Carl that as he had passed through the front gate, he had entered a time capsule, and the only thing that had changed since 1979 was him.
The last time he had passed up this walkway, his sneakers had left his footsteps nearly undetected, and his button-fly levis and rugby shirt, had not emitted the casual swish that slacks of his Hugo Boss suit and tailor made shirt did on this day. As a painfully shy and meek boy of 17 though, Carl had treasured his anonymity. Lanky, and inept at sports, he was certain to lack popularity in high school circles, but the fact that a violin case accompanied him nearly everywhere had made him the target of ridicule and had ensured an almost total lack of companionship through those difficult years. As any attention from his peers was likely as not to be bad, he had felt that his survival had depended on his chameleon like ability to blend with his surroundings. Had he the ability then to look forward through the years as this short walk was taking him back now, he would have found the success he had achieved in the public spotlight incredulous.
Though most of September had passed, it was a warm day and he had left his jacket in the car. His shirt was open at the collar, and his ever-present violin case still accompanied him as he approached the heavy oak door. As he rang the doorbell a slight breeze wafted by him carrying the hint of fall, and along with it the memories and realizations that it was through this door that he had stepped into manhood. Footsteps resonated inside the house, the latch clicked heavily and the door swung open in front of him.
'You must be Carl.'
Carl had stood astonished, unaware that his eyes were wide and his mouth slightly open. The woman's persona had fit everything he had been told and come to expect; prim and proper, well-tailored but non-descript dress reminiscent of Victorian style, hair pulled tight in a bun exuding a stern demeanor, but the woman didn't look a day over 25. Although the smile was tight-lipped, her pale blue eyes had sparkled and given him the impression that this Victorian facade would crack and fall away at the slightest excuse.
'Yes..er..Yes Ma'am. I'm here for the violin lesson.' Carl stammered the black marks on the toe of his sneaker suddenly holding his rapt attention.
'Of course you are,' came the pleasant reply 'I'm Miss Adair. Please come in.'
Carl stepped into the house, and peered around as the woman closed the door heavily behind him. The dark wood furnishings and intricate carpets laid over the hardwood floors were precisely what he had expected. In fact everything fit the image he had carried here, from the large stair cases and chandelier to the black baby grand piano, in what he assumed was the conservatory, everything except the woman herself.
'This way please.' She said walking past him into the conservatory.
While not particularly tight, the conservative gray dress could not hide her remarkable form, and as she turned to face him it was evident that the high collar was futile in suppressing her very generous chest.
'Now then, let's have a look at you.' She said examining him from top to bottom. Suddenly aware of his adolescent self-consciousness he dropped his gaze to the floor only to feel the gentle curve of her index finger beneath his chin raising his head to stare straight into her pale blue-eyes.
'That simply won't due Carl,' she mildly admonished him 'You are here only because you are said to have an exceptional talent with the violin. Those are the only pupils I accept, but playing well is only part of being a great violinist, presentation is crucial. You must carry yourself with confidence. When you place the instrument under you chin you must respectfully defy anyone to find flaw with you or your music.'
She stared into his eyes for a few seconds and it seemed to Carl a transference of power. He, a boy who could not hold his gaze to a teenage girl, found himself suddenly able to stare straight into this stunning woman's eyes with no self-awareness at all.
Turning his head slightly with her finger she examined his chin declaring it to be 'exquisite'. She took hold of both of his hands and examined them at length while Carl continued to study her face and flawless complexion. She released his hands and suddenly turned from him.
'Please take out your instrument' she said over her shoulder as she walked to a music stand next to the piano. Carl shook himself out of his trance and looked about him for a place to set down his violin case. Setting it on a chair behind him he removed the violin and bow and turned again to face his teacher who simply pointed at another music stand a few feet in front of and facing hers. As he approached the stand, his heart sank.. The music on the stand appeared to be impossibly difficult and he feared if he couldn't play it, this woman who had quickly enraptured him would refuse to take him on as a student.
'Never mind the music Carl, look at me.'
She took up a baton and raised her arms. Carl readied his violin under his chin.
'Scales, to the 4 count, begin with B, please.'
Once again on familiar ground, the baton began to mark time, and his music wafted through the conservatory. The lace curtains on the window behind her billowed in slightly and a warm breeze with the hint of autumn swirled through the room.
As Carl began playing scales and musical exercises, his eyes riveted to Ms. Adair, changing his tempo and volume as she commanded with her baton. The music seemed to flow by itself as he was lost in her gaze. Her expression changed with the music sometimes stern and demanding, sometimes soft, gentle and coaxing. His eyes remained locked on hers watching not only the baton through his peripheral vision but also the way her expansive chest rose and fell with the music. He was mesmerized, and when she finally laid down the baton, he was surprised to see that 2 hours had passed.
'That was wonderful, Carl' she declared, 'You may tell you father that I would be delighted to accept you as a student.'
Carl watched her body sway as she led him to the door, and felt a sudden stirring in his groin. This took him by surprise. He had had the normal crushes on the girls at school and masturbated while looking at the pictures in the occasional Playboy magazine he could get his hands on, but he felt something different here. It's not that he could or even wanted to picture this woman in those nude poses he had seen in the magazines, it would somehow be base and vulgar to even imagine it. It was sensual more than sexual.
She held the door open for him and he turned to thank her for her time, holding his violin case in front of what was rapidly becoming a noticeable bulge in his jeans. If she noticed, she gave no indication.
'Tomorrow, then.' She said smiling at him then closed the door softly behind him.
And so the days drifted by. While others despised or merely tolerated their musical tutoring sessions, he eagerly anticipated each 2 hour daily session. His grades, though still respectable at school, dropped noticeably as his thoughts were consumed by his music tutor and each afternoon it was a veritable sprint out of the school to the next session. He wanted so much to please her and to bring a smile to her face with each successive achievement. The requirements had grown increasingly difficult, but with each new lesson, he practiced voraciously to execute the required bridges, and movements. On the surface, this was to master each new piece, but he had also found that by committing the piece to memory, he could ignore the music and watch only Miss Adair as her baton drew him through each new piece. There was a visible reaction each time he completed a difficult transition or movement. A quarter note pause at the precise moment caused her to hold her breath, staccato repetitions in an increasing crescendo brought her arms higher with each new measure and her bountiful bosom seemed to expand even farther until the impending climax which seemed to leave her breathless for an almost imperceptible moment. The better he became the more it seemed to Carl that they were orchestrating each other, his music with her baton, and her body with his music.
By late January, Carl's ability had progressed exponentially, but the complexity of the music had reached a point that he was having increasing difficulty in mastering.
'No, no, no.' she exclaimed one Tuesday afternoon 'you're not getting it.'
Carl felt himself deflate. After hours of work on this piece he had felt that he had mastered it but before he had had even finished he could tell that it was lacking. Her eyes had remained open through his entire recital, and there was no reaction at all to any of his complex manipulations of the instrument. She laid her baton on her music stand and walked around to stand next to him. She had never done this before.
'Look at the music Carl. Tell me what you see.'
