I always made sure to paint my nails before my piano lessons, because I knew how it affected Mr. Schiller. He would watch my fingers perform the up-and-down motion of the scales and stretch for the arpeggios and exercises.
Once a week, for several years, he watched my fingers, all while his own sat folded in his lap, the hands of his silver watch counting the seconds.
Then, at the beginning of one lesson, he asked me how old I was. I smiled, because he knew. I was nineteen, and it was my first year in college. I had recently lost my virginity to a quiet boy who sat in the back of one of my classes. More than anything, the desperation with which the boy touched my body and sucked at my breasts made me aware of the power I had.
I knew that I had even more over Mr. Schiller. He had made it clear in off-hand comments that he felt inadequate now that I had gone to college. Soon I would find a better teacher than him.
"I'm nineteen," I said, making the tone of my voice an invitation.
I turned and looked out the window of his lesson room so that he would have a good view of me from behind. I was wearing tight jean shorts and a white shirt. He was able to see my pink bra-strap through the fabric. The bra, and my panties, matched the sandals I was wearing.
I heard his shoe scuff the floor. He was coming closer to me.
"It is a beautiful day outside," he said.
He was stalling.
"It is," I said, drawing out each short syllable. "I walked barefoot the whole way here, and the sun felt so good on my shoulders."
He took another step. I could feel his heat emanating from behind me. I could hear his breath. I wanted to push my ear against his chest to hear his heart beat. I wondered if I could make it burst just by kneeling.
I knew that I could make him cum just by rubbing my panties against his cock. Either that, or I would give him a heart attack. Regardless, he would never get inside of me. Anything else he wanted, he could have.
"I was wondering if you would like a different kind of lesson today," he said.
I turned around to face him. I made sure to hop as I spun so that my tits bounced slightly.
"What kind of lesson?" I asked.
He was taller than me, so I had to look up at him. The sun put a glare on his glasses, and I could see a bit of his chest because the top button of his shirt was undone. He was tall and tan, and did not look bad for a man his age. My stomach churned at the thought of what I was about to do for him, just as it had with the boy from class.
"Do you know how to give a blowjob?" He asked.
"No," I said, blinking and stammering a little to make it seem like I hadn't expected something like this.
"Would you like to learn?" He asked. "We still have nearly an hour until my next student comes in."
My nervousness turned to excitement. I felt myself blushing, and I knew he would think of me as shy.
"I would like that," I said, slowly. "A lot of the boys in my classes have been looking at me. So have some of my professors."
Mr. Schiller nodded at this. He said, "You have always been eye-catching. Come over to the bench, and I will show you how to do this."
I let him lead me by the hand over to the piano bench. He sat on it backwards so that he was facing me. I started to lower myself to my knees, but he waved a finger at me.
"Wait until he tells you to," he said. "It will make him feel better."
I stood back up. This time I was a little surprised. I had not expected Mr. Schiller to be even the slightest bit assertive.
"Get on your knees," he said.
I knelt on the cold linoleum floor. I folded my hands and placed them in my lap. Right in front of me, at eye level, was Mr. Schiller's crotch. He was wearing black slacks, and his cock was already bulging against the thin fabric. I wondered how long he was going to sit there just looking at me. My knees were already starting to feel sore from how hard the floor was.
"Take off my belt," he said.
I put my hands on his belt. Working the buckle was difficult. I had only slept with one boy, and he had worn sweatpants. When I fumbled the buckle a second time, Mr. Schiller reached down and pinched my ear between his fingers. I looked up at him, and with his other hand he pulled my head down into his crotch. The scent of his sex came thickly through the fabric, and it became difficult to breathe after a moment. He had a firm grip on the back of my head.
"I would expect more nimble fingers from a girl like you," he said. "Try again."
He let me up. I sucked in a breath of air and noticed that my eyes were watering. This time I got his belt off on the first try.
"Good. Now the zipper."
This came down easily. Now all that stood between me and his cock was a pair of gray boxer briefs. I could see the head and the shaft through his underwear.
My mouth was watering. I didn't want to want him. This was supposed to be a game. I reached down and dug my nails into my thigh.
