The flat rhythmic tick of the metronome echoed off the living room walls. Alex put his hand over the pendulum to silence it and listened for a second round of knocking at the front door. Most people used the bell, particularly when his piano playing could be heard from outside, but he was sure he'd heard a knock. He pressed the button on his mechanical watch and a small tinny voice said the time was 3:47 p.m.
"Come in," he yelled, just in case his four o'clock appointment was early. Getting used to new students was such a pain in the ass.
The door opened and closed; high-heeled shoes clicked in the front hall.
"Hi," he said, turning on the bench to face the door. It was something he'd learned set people at ease. "I'm Alex."
She muttered a quiet hello, not bothering to introducing herself.
"Come on in," he smiled. "Jackie, right?"
She didn't answer, but the floorboard creaked near the sofa.
"On the phone the other day, you said you had no previous piano experience – starting from scratch." When she didn't respond he cleared his throat, wondering if she was nervous or something. "I'm blind, if you didn't know or haven't figured that out. If that's some kind of problem for you, I'll understand. But it's a little disconcerting for me if you don't speak."
The old hardwood creaked again, right behind him. He turned his head. "Jackie?"
The seat on the bench shifted as she sat beside him and the smell of her perfume hit his nose. Subtle, something she hadn't put on this morning, but a fragrance she wore habitually that had ingrained itself in her clothing, something he couldn't smell until she was up close.
"No," she whispered in his ear. "Not Jackie."
The breath went out of his lungs and his heart skipped to triple time. The woman who'd somehow found him at parties and in the shopping mall, who'd taken him behind closed doors for varying degrees of sexual play while refusing to tell him her name: she was in his home.
Her tongue swept over his ear lobe, sending the skin on his neck into goose bumps. "Hi, Alex."
"How did you...?" he trailed off, running his hand over his neck to calm his agitated skin.
"I'm an FBI agent."
"Is that so?"
"Or maybe I just own a phone book."
He laughed and rubbed at his neck again, trying to gather his thoughts, to figure what to say or do next. "So you're not Jackie," he said pensively. "Not Jane."
"No." She kissed him. A familiar heat ignited in his belly, following a fuse that ran to his dick and back up to where her mouth was pressed to his. He pushed his tongue forward and tasted her cinnamon Altoids. He put his hand on her neck and felt himself getting hard already. Dammit. If he didn't find it all so exciting, he might have been embarrassed at what an easy mark he was for her.
Breaking the kiss, he said, "I guess you're not here for a piano lesson, either."
She laughed. "I would love to hear you play, though."
"Oh." It was about the last thing he expected her to say. "Okay."
She laughed as he teased her with the opening notes of "Heart and Soul" while he took a moment to decide what he wanted to play for her – something current and groovy, or maybe a romantic ballad? She didn't strike him as the sentimental type, so he gambled on her level of refinement and settled on Bach. "The Musical Offering" was the piece that first made him fall in love with piano, long after he'd gotten over the resentment of being forced into lessons by his parents, in the hopes it would help alleviate some of the profound introversion that overcame him after losing his vision. She slid off the small bench as he began, leaving him to get comfortable and have full range of motion to play. Halfway through he felt her tugging at his shirt, pulling it out of the waistband of his pants and up his chest. He laughed but raised his arms over his head, letting her lift the shirt off.
Her nails trailed down his back, little more than a sharp tickle. "Keep playing."
He did his best. But there were many sour or missed notes as her lips moved slowly across his back, her tongue swiping at his skin. He mentally berated himself for every mistake, perfectionist that he was. But this was new, something no woman had done to him before, the novelty of the sensation was exhilarating and he wanted to focus on enjoying it. His hands stilled on the keyboard.
"Keep playing," she whispered again.
"I can't." He lowered his head and arched his back forward.
He felt her lips curl into a smile against his back, her laugh ghosting across his skin. "You like that?"
Her fingers were cold as she touched his shoulders, a contrast to the inferno he was accustomed to from her, her lips working down along his spine. The gentle warmth of her kisses stopped at his pants, in the small of his back. Her tongue left a wet fire, trailing like the tail of a comet back up to his neck. With a discordant bash, he dropped his forearm across the keyboard and leaned into it.
"Please tell me your name."
She tugged on his knee. "Turn around."
He lifted his legs over the bench and swung around to face her. Her breath exploded in a volcanic wave across his chest as she unbuckled his belt and released the button of his jeans.
"I told you at the party that next time I saw you, you'd be taking your pants off. Don't make me a liar." Her hands pressed against his knees as she got to her feet and tugged on his wrists. "Up you come, big boy."
Alex smirked as he stood, reaching out to place his hands on her waist, skimming his fingertips down her hips over the light, soft cotton of her dress. Her hand covered his crotch and he moaned as she unzipped his fly.
"Happy to see me already, are you?"
He snorted a little laugh. "How could I not be?"
She worked his jeans over his hips, her breath further warming his dick as she knelt to push them to his ankles. She tapped his foot and he stepped out of his pants obediently. Her lips grazed his stomach, nimble fingers tugging at his underpants. Alex pulled away.
"Wait." He grabbed her wrists and pushed her hands from his hips, taking a step backwards. "I'm not going to do this anymore until you tell me your name."
"Are you kidding me?"
"Look," he said, scratching at his temple, "I know I'm not exactly beating the girls off with my cane ..."
The floorboard creaked as she got to her feet. "Is it really that big a deal to you?"
"Yes. I like you. This whole thing ... it's hot. It really is. I'm not complaining about it, by any means. But you're here. We've got time today – privacy. If we're going to go further than we have, I need to know your name now."
A thousand manic birds took flight in his chest when she didn't reply. It was an impulsive ultimatum, and he began to fear he'd lost the wager. He clenched his teeth together, waiting for her to either speak or walk out. Finally, she spoke.
