Date: Thu, 15 Jan 2004 18:13:12 +0000
From: Shy Boy <snbist@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Piano Teacher

This is how it all started ...

My piano teacher was fairly old and thin, in a tired out suit and a saggy
tie.

My parents booked him because the lessons at school were not one-to-one,
and I was nowhere near as good a player as my older sister was when she was
13.  However, he must have been the only private teacher in town, because
of all the days and times my mother suggested, he could only manage 7.30pm
on Wedsnesdays, which was exactly the time I finished at scouts.

On the first lesson he came to our house just before I rushed back panting,
so with no time to change, I just went straight in to our front room to
meet him in my scouts uniform. He looked me up and down (more down then
up!), and then tapped the piano stool with his baton to beckon me to sit
down.

After the half hour, and as mother paid his fee, he mentioned that next
week, it would be better if I went directly to his house after scouts
... first, because it would be quicker (he lived nearer the scouthut), but
most importantly, because his piano was correctly tuned for the lessons in
hand. My mother naturally agreed.

The next week, I was somewhat nervous in ringing his doorbell, as the whole
house looked like him - dingy, old, and a bit decrepid. But obviously I
did, and he answered immediately (as if he had been waiting), and quickly
shuffled me in and closed the door. The house smelt damp - and everything
was old fashioned and rather dismal. He asked me to take off my shoes, then
to pull my shorts up "properly".

The piano was in a back room overlooking an overgrown garden. It had a long
bench seat, and a side table. The table had two batons, a wooden ruler, and
a leather strap on.

"Sit down, and play the scales I taught you last week" he said fairly
bluntly.

And as I climbed over the bench to sit down, he added: "Back straight,
knees apart ... and pull those shorts up properly!"

He picked up the ruler as soon as I played the first wrong note ...

After I finished playing the scales, he said, "Hands on head boy, far too
many mistakes."

Then he slapped the top of my bare legs with the ruler .. one sharp smack,
right across both legs.

I let out a yelp, and he said, "shshsh .. boy"

Then he sat down beside me and started gently rubbing the now red marks
better.

I made to bring my hands down, but he pushed them back up, and continued the
massage, whilst also managing to open my legs wider. It felt strange to be
sitting upright, hands on head, legs stretched open, with a piano teacher
fondling my legs!

It felt out of place, not really there, dream like ... but also fairly
comforting. The sting had gone, and a creeping sensation I hadn't
experienced before started in my tummy. My breathing changed, and my heart
beat felt stronger. I instinctively opened my legs further and leant back a
bit. His hand moved in circles, getting higher on each circuit, until he
reached the hem of my shorts ...

He suddenly stopped fondling my bare legs, and told me I had a choice.
During the lessons, either I could be puniished for making mistakes, or
rewarded for getting things right. He explained that punishments would be
smacks with the ruler, or maybe the leather strap, and rewards would be
special favours (his hand slipped back between my thighs).  He also said
mistakes didn't just mean playing the wrong notes, but could be arriving
late, not paying attention, or not following his instructions.

I nervously chose rewards.

"Good" he said.

He then got up from the bench and stood directly behind me, hands on my
shoulders, and asked me to play the tune on the music sheet that was in the
stand. It was a very simple nursery piece, that I easily got perfectly
right.

"OK" he said, and started to undo my scout neck scarf.

"Now try it without looking at the keys -- like a professional would at a
concert"

The scarf was wrapped round my head, covering my eyes, and loosely tied at
the back. He kindly leant over me to place my fingers on the correct
notes. Something warm and hard pushed into my back.

He stood back up, and I flunked the tune.

"Never mind, try again" His hands back on my shoulders.

The next attempt was better, but not good.

"Never mind, try again" ... "Maybe you are not relaxed enough"

His hands slid along and gently massaged the back of my neck, his fingers
dipping down just inside my collar.

Surprisingly, my next try was improved .. but still many wrong notes.

"Just keep trying" he said calmly.

His fingers moved towards the front of my neck, soft but not tickling, and
then casually flipped open the top button of my shirt.

As I repeated the exercise over several times, it wasn't long until I felt
the cooler air against my chest, as the gentle undoing of buttons reached
down as far as my belly button, and the top of my shirt was opened wide,
exposing lots of soft warm skin for the teacher to "make feel better" as
the number of mistakes continued to deminish.


snbist@hotmail.com ... more later