He has simply asked me to practice, I thought. Nothing to it. My rehearsal ended rather abruptly, and I could tell he was upset. Probably upset about my horrible performance. He must be. I tucked my violin case under my arm, the precious Stradivarius. So few of them, rare and beautiful, yet the sound I had raped from it this day was wretched. I looked up at him as the class emptied and I was surrounded my eerily empty orchestra seats, straight backed and rigid. My teacher looked at me with a raised eyebrow on his handsome face. An older man. A genius. A perfect teacher. A perfect British crisp accent in his voice. I felt low. I stood near my chair, hoping for an escape. I did not want to hear him say I was horrible. He wouldn’t say it…would he?
"Maestro, I don’t feel right today. I am sorry." I offered weakly. He smiled the smile of a warm gentleman.
"Never mind that. You are my best student. You are simply bored. Tell me, how can I make this music play for you, make it sing to you?"
His words struck me as odd. They were awkward poetry. I fumbled with my skirt. He touched my cheek with the back of his hand,
"Do you trust me?" he asked. The words hit me. I saw his lips form the words and it was sexual. It was salty and raw. I whispered "yes" but I do not think sound left me. I lipped the word. He instructed me to prepare the violin. I lifted it from the case and held it, wishing the bow were his arm. He would not love me, this perfect man. This perfect species. Not me, a young violinist with no discipline.
"Play the devil’s music, darling. Play it till it burns." I shivered. I lifted the instrument to my chin, lifting the bow to strike down hard on it in the first note, the first sound to fill my brain.
"Let the music come to you…yes, that is it, let the instrument play you." I closed my eyes and felt the music, the words, the notes, all burning inside me, building me up. And I felt his hand on my hip as he stood behind me, bracing me by the hips. His breath was on my neck, near my ear, and he whispered hot breath to me,
"That is beautiful, darling…keep playing…" And I obeyed him. I would have walked to the end of the Earth for him! I brought the bow down slowly, melodically, in a sensual song. I felt his strong; musician’s hands grip my hips and pull me to his chest, our hips together,
"Let the music make love to you…" I was caught up in him. Wanting him. He caressed my outer thighs, rubbing into them hard and tracing a light touch of fire up to the hem of my skirt. I played on. He touched my belt, my white blouse, and his hands moving up to my breasts. He opened my bra from the front latch and I trembled, still struggling to play. I closed my eyelids tight, and felt him come around to my front, standing in front of me. I felt the heat of him; the masculinity mixed with gentleness, and something that could be fierce, could be a monster. He touched my breasts, pushed up my blouse over them, caressed them, pinched them, and even slapped them lightly to flush them pink.
"Beautiful, love…" he breathed against my nipples, mouth only a short space away. I played the violin as if it owned me, the music simmering in my loins, breaking me down! His lips gathered my nipples that were already hard, already aching for him, wanting his hungry kiss. He sucked at them softly at first, but when my playing slowed and I made a mistake, he bit down just hard enough to hurt me and excite me at the same time. I snapped back to attention and continued the melody, a bit faster, a bit more melancholy. His tongue circled my nipples and I felt his hand squeeze my thigh again,
"Open your legs." He instructed but I was hesitant, still not daring to stop playing. He took my leg and spread it just enough to reach between and feel my inner thigh. I felt my juices stir inside me, my hips moving a little. He sucked and pulled at my nipples, his mouth hungry and his hands searching my thigh till he found the now wet spot on my thin cotton panties. I squirmed and he said,
"Be still, and let me show you passion, what music should feel like. You are so young and sweet. You must taste like strawberries. You are so pink…may I taste you?"