At eighteen Tasha had everything. Academically she was top of the class. She was captain of the basketball and hockey teams and had won 'personality of the year' each year since we had started secondary school. She was also an accomplished musician playing violin and piano for a young musicians club in the Central City. To top it all off, she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen and had the personality to match. Her honey blonde hair, dark complexion and green eyes were an uncommon mix and the way she carried herself, her flashy smile and twinkle in her eye always attracted a second glance.
When we had started secondary school 4 years earlier, Tasha arrived young and fresh from a small farming town on the West Coast. Being an all girls' school the new student's beauty was met with animosity. I didn't exactly know why but she was seen as a threat. The attention she attracted from neighbouring Boys High was obviously the reason but at the time I didn't have a boyfriend. I didn't have many friends at all really and didn't hang out with the 'in' crowd. Within a month Tasha ruled the 'in' crowd so we didn't have much to do with each other at all. We would greet each other with a friendly smile in class or on the sports field but I had never had a conversation with her.
Our final year before Varsity things changed. A lot of students had already left for University or to join the work force and this had cut our numbers down in the senior school. Teachers were moved around to accommodate the bulging junior roll and Ms Jones, our music teacher suddenly found herself tutoring the whole senior school by herself. Splitting the classes and having a 'relief' teacher help to supervise was only meant to be a temporary measure until another teacher could be rostered to help. As a result some of us students, including myself, got well behind in our rehearsals.
"Well I'm very sorry girls," Ms Jones said in her pitched, shrill voice, "But if we really want to be contenders for the Inter-school competitions we're going to have to spend more time rehearsing." We all groaned at this then looked around at each other laughing. " And with exams coming up in a month or so." Ms Jones continued," I don't think our extra rehearsals will be during school hours." We groaned even louder.
" I know it's a pain and I'm sure you've all got very important things to do in your afternoons but lets face it girls, we need the practice!" We laughed even more at that. Ms Jones pointed to a list she'd written on the board. "I've divided you all into groups and we'll rehearse alternate afternoons."
I liked Ms Jones. She was a good teacher and was always fair. I just found her tediously boring and dreaded spending extra hours with her. And as if she had read my mind she then said, "I've also asked Tasha Daniels to lend a hand. She will be taking group three, cello and violin."
And so the next day I found myself sitting in class at three thirty staring out the window. The afternoon heat had lulled me into a daze and I felt unenthusiastic about the whole idea. Across the empty playground I saw Tasha walking toward our classroom. She had on a white-buttoned shirt and the standard pleat skirt that was part of our school uniform. Her olive tanned legs moved quickly and surely as she walked with a definite confidence. I couldn't believe how attractive she was. In my half dazed frame of mind she appeared like an angel, filtering through my dreams and stepping into my real world. She entered the class throwing her books to one side and immediately sat in the chair in front of me.
"I know this is a drag girls," she said without saying hello and surprisingly unenthusiastic. "But we all know we'll be better off for it. I just think the best thing to do is to see how far into the 'piece' you are and we'll take it from there." So we played for her and when she thought we needed help she'd stop us to demonstrate how things should sound. She was competent with cello and violin and even though she sat in her chair seemingly disinterested and bored, once she got an instrument in her hands she transformed, playing it with a passion and commitment that was so obviously a gift that none of us possessed.
As I played I watched Tasha's face. She'd grimace and smile then grimace again at our slightly 'off' notes, sometimes laughing at us but not in a malicious way. Her hair hung below her shoulders and around her firm breasts and as she listened she paced calmly back and forward. I found myself looking at her legs again, long and muscled with thin calves. Her skirt was hemmed up shorter than most revealing slender toned thighs to die for. I slowly looked up her body to her face and found her staring right back at me. With a flush of redness that must have been all over my face I quickly looked down, then sideways, anywhere except directly at her. "Stop!" she suddenly, shouted as we were destroying what was supposed to be the climax of the piece.
I jumped at the sound of her voice feeling even more like I had been caught out. "Just because we are building in intensity it doesn't mean we play necessarily louder or harder," she quipped putting down her violin. "If you forget that you're playing and actually listen to the notes you'll see what I mean." She moved across the room, grabbed the cello and sat in her seat. Putting bow to instrument she played a long haunting intro to a piece I'd hadn't heard before. Her hair hung low as she leaned into cello with her head down. Legs taught and up on tiptoes she magically wove her composition from a lulling dreamlike state to an intense crescendo of sound that filled the room, teasing our senses. And that wasn't all that was being teased. As she played her knees parted slightly and from where I sat I could see her right up her thighs to her white-laced panties. Just flashes as she moved around on her chair but enough to quicken my heart and flush my skin.
