The days following Alyssa's piano lesson were a blur. My mind continually replayed the extraordinary turn of events, and I found myself in a constant internal debate. There was no doubt that it was the best sex I'd ever had - her beauty, the spontaneity and passion of the whole thing, it was a fantasy come true - but I couldn't deny that the professional (and personal) ramifications were significant if it became known that I was sleeping with my students.
I was filled with questions. Was this even legal? (She's eighteen, but she's still a high school student, and I'm her piano teacher, not a fellow teenager.) At best, it was strictly taboo, and my professional career would be buried in scandal if word got out...not to mention what her parents would do if they found out. They could even take legal action, I thought.
By the third day following her lesson, I was resolved: as incredible an experience as it was, and no matter how badly I wished for a repeat, the risks were too great. This could not happen again.
The week completed, and as Alyssa's lesson drew near in the afternoon I found myself growing more and more restless. How do you even teach a piano lesson after something like that, I wondered. I steadied my resolve, and as the doorbell rang and Alyssa ushered herself into my studio, I instantly felt it begin to weaken.
My God, she looked stunning. She wore a close-fitting denim skirt that came nowhere near her knees and a white button-up blouse that somehow accentuated her petite figure without clinging to her. Her auburn hair was done up in a single braid that hung over her right shoulder, and her green eyes glittered with mischief.
"Hi," she said quietly, her gaze locked onto mine as she stood in the doorway, a familiar half-smile playing on her lips.
I cleared my throat uncomfortably and glanced away. "Hey there - come on in and have a seat."
Alyssa crossed the room and seated herself on the piano bench. Her skirt rode even further up her legs, and I determinedly kept my eyes raised. "Let's get started, shall we?"
If Alyssa was surprised or concerned at my obvious attempt at normalcy, she didn't show it. She obediently pulled her music from her bag, and after ten minutes of scale-based exercises, we moved onto her first piece.
While it was admittedly hard to concentrate, I was encouraged that she hadn't made any motion to pick up where we'd left off last week. I might actually get through this intact, I thought to myself.
Twenty minutes into the lesson, Alyssa began to struggle with a particular section of her music and - after a few attempts to direct her from my seat - I suggested I play it for her instead. We both stood, and I took her place at the piano bench, Alyssa standing close to my left shoulder.
I'd just raised my hands to the keys and begun to play the passage, when I felt a soft hand snaking its way over the back of my neck and down the front of my shirt. I froze, suddenly immobilized with indecision.
God, I wanted this. I wanted her.
I felt her warm breath next to my ear as a finger played with the dark curly hairs on my chest, and my resolve melted away. Alyssa nibbled on my ear for a moment, then in a single movement slid herself into my lap, her hands holding my face as our lips met. I slid my own hands up her smooth thighs and cupped her ass cheeks, feeling the soft flesh through the thin fabric of her panties.
Alyssa moaned softly through her slow kisses and began to unconsciously gyrate her hips slightly, grinding herself against my groin and the growing hardness there. As the kiss became more passionate, I slid my hands up her blouse and was surprised when my fingers met only smooth skin.
"No bra," she said in a low voice, smiling devilishly.
