Thinking back he figured he'd had his first piano lesson when he was five or six, maybe a couple of years after they'd moved into the house and just after mother had got the piano.
He was told that the family moved to England when he was two, not long after his grandfather had died, too many cigarettes had got him in the end. His father was English and had moved everyone 'home', something to do with the economy back then. Grandmother, apparently raging, had gone with them as they were her only grandchildren.
It had taken a couple of years to find the right house: this one, and Sebastian's father had died three years later. Seems he'd taken no notice of his father-in-law's demise.
That left six of them; grandmother, mother, his three sisters and himself: the youngest. They were Greek.
Grandmother had been the original piano player in the family, she'd taught her daughter: Sebastian's mother, they'd then ganged up to teach Sebastian and his youngest sister.
He'd occasionally felt sympathy for them in their quest, but that always changed to self pity.
Sadly, for his grandmother, his mother had become far too tied up with work to continue with her side of it so it had fallen to his grandmother to carry on with the mission. Sadly, for Sebastian, she had rallied to the task.
And it only got worse when his sister escaped by going to university.
Sebastian, stupidly some might say, had shunned a distant such house of learning for one much closer to home as it had the exact course in design that he wanted. It was a bad case of misjudgment on his part as it took away the chance of drinking to excess with like minded people, although he did his best, and, worse, gave his grandmother continued opportunities to subject him to further torture at the keyboard.
It turned out that there were compensations.
He loved his grandmother dearly. He loved everything about her: her voice, her touch, her feel, her scent, her looks. She was a tall elegant woman and had always been a constant in his life.
And from his very first piano lesson he was fascinated by her hands: they were long, finely boned and seemed to have a life of their own.
As a young boy he would sit by her side and watch her long fingers dance up and down the keys. He'd glance up at her face, it would be calm, sereen, and yet her hands and fingers flew as if by magic.
Sebastian had inherited a lot of her looks: the pale brown eyes, the long fine nose, her full, heart shaped mouth and thick black hair.
But he was no longer a young boy, he was a young man. A young man who no longer wanted piano lessons, even from his beloved grandmother.
And yet here he was: recently turned eighteen, sitting on the piano stool, five minutes early for a change, waiting for his grandmother.
She was planning what to say to Peter. It was time for him to go. She didn't mind giving them presents; her young lovers, she often did: it pleased her to do so, it wasn't as though she couldn't afford it, far from it. But why did they always think that you were desperate, why did they then start asking for things, why did they get greedy? She'd enjoyed screwing Peter, even if he sometimes couldn't control himself, but he'd been getting a little hysterical recently, and now he was getting greedy. So he's going. She sighed, no doubt he'll get all upset, start crying again but he just had to go. Maybe Philippa would like to play with him for awhile, she was quite partial to the young ones.
She turned her thoughts to Sebastian, nearly time for his piano lesson. She was well aware that he didn't really enjoy them anymore, but she did, so he was going to have to put up with them until he could find a better excuse than 'I don't want to'.
She remembered his birthday party last month: it had been over in the old stables and she'd invited herself. She'd prowled through the throng of young people; enjoying pushing through them trying to spot a promising candidate for her attentions. Sebastian had seen her from the corner and, frowning, had weaved his way through to her.
Stopping in front of her he'd glared then burst into laughter, given her a big hug and kissed her on the cheek. "What are you up to yaya?"
"Just checking out your friends, making sure you're ok." She'd spotted someone.
He'd raised an eyebrow. "Hmmmm. And?"
"Ok, ok, I'll go. Don't want to embarrass you."
"You're not embarrassing me yaya, just don't stay too long, you might see more than you want to see."
"Fine, I'll go." She'd given him a big hug, then, just to really rub it in, kissed him on the nose.
She'd headed towards the door but, once she'd known that Sebastian wasn't watching her anymore she'd circled back towards the pretty thing sitting alone.
Three hours later she'd put the girl into a taxi after a delicious time exploring her lithe young body, making her cum several times and promising to give her a call. She probably wouldn't.
She shivered at the memory and realised that she was late for Sebastian.
She paused in the doorway, he was sitting on his hands gazing at the carpet, he looked so young in his baggy shorts and tee-shirt, she felt a catch in her throat: had they really just had his eighteenth birthday?
He sensed her presence and looked up.
"Sorry darling, have you been waiting long?"
He knew she was teasing and decided to ignore it.
She smiled at him. "I've got something I'd like you to play." And placed the score on the rest. "It used to be my favourite."
Sebastian spun around on the stool and studied the piece.
Alexandra moved the second stool over and sat beside him: close enough that she could turn the pages, but not so close that she was crowding him. Her grandson was getting too cocky with his playing, showing off, he was quite good these days and she knew he'd easily manage the early sections but it was a long piece and, even with his years of playing she knew that he'd struggle with the middle sections. She wanted to stretch him.
She sat quietly and watched him. He seemed to be taking it seriously, turning the pages and going over it, she saw his frown when he got to the more difficult parts, going through them several times, then carried on to the end, then flipped back to the beginning.
He glanced at her, marveled at her beauty for a moment.
Alexandra watched his profile as he looked at the keyboard, calming his mind: just as she'd always taught him. She was fascinated at how he looked so much like her mother and father, there wasn't a single feature that was from either one of them, he seemed to be a blend of them both. Beautiful.
He began playing.
And he did really well. Even when he got to the middle section he started well, then began to stumble. Just the odd note to start with, but it quickly went downhill from there until whole bars were wrong. He was getting frustrated.
She stopped him. Had him play individual bars. Then, when he'd got that, got him to string them together. But he couldn't get it, kept losing his way.
She stopped him again. Decided on an old approach, one they hadn't used in ten years or more.
"Stay there Sebastian." And she dragged her stool behind his, hitched up her dress and climbed around behind him until she was seated up against his back and could reach the keyboard around either side of him.
She chuckled to herself. It was so much easier ten years ago, she used to rest her chin on top of his head, now she could barely get it on his shoulder. And those shoulders? When did they get so wide?
And he smelt so good. She shivered against him, couldn't stop it. This was such a mistake.
Sebastian was in turmoil. He hadn't understood what she was doing at first and then, when she started to clamber up behind him, he instantly remembered. She hadn't done this for years; since he was six or seven. She'd sit like this, all wrapped around him. He'd be transfixed by her fingers. He'd put his on hers as she played, feel her delicate touch on the keys. Then they'd swap: his fingers on the keys, hers on his. He used to love it, would love the feel of her wrapped around him, her chin on the top of his head, the warmth of her on his back, the soft movement of her bones as she played.
This was different.
He felt different.
She felt different.
He could see her legs where she'd pulled her dress up, feel her bare thighs against his, her breasts against his back, her pelvis against his bum, her cheek against his neck.
His chest tightened and he felt her shiver. Knew he'd get an erection. Fuck, fuck!
And as soon as he thought it, it started. The blood and heat rushed to his groin. He felt sick. He didn't know what to do. He tried to force it down, but the more he thought about it the worse it got. The bigger it got. He felt the tears forming, he was going to cry. She was going to hate him.
Alexandra sensed the change in him. The tension. Knew she'd made a mistake. He was a grown man, she was a grown woman, his grandmother, his yaya. She loved him, as her grandson.
She felt him shiver, felt his indecision. Knew he wanted to get up, had an intuition as to why he didn't. Oh god! She felt her heat. His bum pressing between her thighs and his back rubbing across her nipples made her groan. Her nipples hardened. Stop, don't do that! Too late.
He couldn't believe what he could feel. They were pressing into his back. There was a heat against his bum. His cock jumped. Fuck! The inside of his mouth was bone-dry, he couldn't swallow. He wriggled on his stool.
Without thinking, she put her shaking hands on his thighs. She almost snatched them back. What was she doing? His thighs started to shake.
He didn't dare look down. His cock was going to burst. The only thing holding it down were his shorts and that was tenuous. Then she groaned in his ear and put her hands on his thighs. And his cock swelled that last half inch, shifted inside his shorts and slipped through the leg. He whimpered.
