by Kara Bryn
"No, I thought not. Okay, here's something I want you to practice at home." Jessica turned around as Miss Ashdown took a step back.
Miss Ashdown lifted one leg up and swung her heel onto her piano stool, her loose summer skirt falling across her knee.
"Like this," she said as she placed both hands on her thigh and then bent slowly forwards. "Keep stretching until you can't reach any further, but never bounce." Jessica watched in amazement as Miss Ashdown's hands continued down along her calves and she lightly rested her fingers on her toes without appearing to make any effort.
"Now you try," Miss Ashdown instructed.
Jessica took a step sideways and was about to try to lift her foot onto the piano stool when Miss Ashdown stopped her.
"Here," she said, "You won't get anywhere with that thing wound around you." Jessica jumped again as she felt the zip of her skirt being slid down. Jessica instinctively clutched at her waistline.
"You can barely move your legs," Miss Ashdown told her. Jessica's hands remained frozen in place. The teacher leaned in slightly. "There's no need to be embarrassed. Here, I'll do the same if you want."
Miss Ashdown began to move away and her hands went to her waist to unbutton her skirt but Jessica shook her head and stopped her.
"No, it's okay", she said. It did seem silly to make Miss Ashdown do the same, and it would probably make her embarrassment even worse.
Miss Ashdown finished unzipping Jessica's skirt and, sliding her hands between the fabric and Jessica's hips, she pushed downwards and Jessica saw the skirt fall to the floor and pool around her feet. Miss Ashdown knelt down and put a hand around first one ankle and then the other to lift it to move the skirt out of the way. She tossed it to one side with Jessica's shoes and socks.
The teacher stood up and put her hands around Jessica's waist again to manoeuvre her to the piano stool. Jessica felt somewhat odd, standing with her bare legs and feet, but Miss Ashdown continued as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
She moved to the opposite side of the piano stool. "Okay, first your right leg." Jessica swung her foot up onto the stool. "It needs to be straight," Miss Ashdown said, and again Jessica nearly jumped as she felt hands around her foot as her teacher pulled her heel deeper onto the stool.
"Now, as I did, from standing, hands on your thigh." Jessica put her hands on her bare thigh. "And then slide downwards slowly." Jessica did as she was instructed, and was surprised at being able to reach her ankles, albeit not her feet as Miss Ashdown had done.
"That's good! Considering," Miss Ashdown said, still holding Jessica's foot in both hands.
"Now the other one," Jessica repeated the same with the left leg. She couldn't reach quite so far, but still Miss Ashdown seemed pleased. "And you'll practice that at home?" She asked. Jessica nodded. "And maybe try tracksuit bottoms instead of a tight skirt, eh?" Miss Ashdown added with a smile and a nod at Jessica's bare legs, raising another blush and a smile from the young woman. "Okay, back to the stool then, and let's see how you do."
Jessica considered asking if she could have her skirt back but somehow felt silly about being embarrassed.
She began to play the sonata again. This time, as well as the cold brass of the pedals, Jessica was sensitive to the rough fabric of the piano stool across the backs of her thighs as her legs moved. But rather than jump at each touch, she was starting to seek out the feeling and revel in it. She would anticipate each tap of the damper pedal and let the feeling course through her.
"Good! Good! Or better, at least," Miss Ashdown said, reining in her praise lest Jessica thought the work was done for the day. "I can see your legs and feet really working here and, more importantly, I can really feel them working through the music. Can you feel it?"
Jessica nodded. It was like there was something different about the air itself.
"And if we can just get rid of some of that tightness, just imagine what we could do! So, back to those shoulders again." Jessica instinctively took a deep breath in an effort to relax herself.
"That's not relaxed," Miss Ashdown said, "Stand up again."
She stood and, without being asked, lifted her arms into the air. Miss Ashdown's hands again closed on the bare skin of her narrow waist. Jessica felt the air on her stomach as her top rose and fell with each breath, and then even more so as Miss Ashdown's hands moved upwards another few inches to the base of her rib cage and felt her lungs expanding and contracting.
"More. Deeper," Miss Ashdown instructed her. Jessica took a deep breath in.
"Still not good enough. More, or I'll make you do it."
Jessica wondered what Miss Ashdown meant: she felt as if she were breathing as deeply as she could, and didn't know how Miss Ashdown could possibly force any more air into her. Jessica felt the underwire of her bra cutting into her skin as her chest expanded; she was certain there was no room for any more air in her lungs.
Jessica stood still, holding as deep a breath as she could, reaching as high as she could with her hands.
"You've forced my hand," Miss Ashdown said, "Now, hold still." And as she said that, Jessica felt the hands on her ribs move further up, over her sides and across her under arms, pulling her top over her head as they went. Involuntarily, she gasped a deep breath in surprise, taking in even more air. "See?" Miss Ashdown said as she pulled Jessica's top off her arms and threw it onto the skirt, shoes and socks. "All we needed was to shock you into expanding those marvellous lungs a little more."
Jessica remained frozen, the air that filled her lungs now starting to burn, and, as Miss Ashdown's hands closed around her waist again, she took another small gasp of breath to fill the last tiny piece of space that remained in her chest.
"I told you I'd make you breathe properly, one way or another," she heard her teacher say softly into her ear. "You can let it out now."
Jessica felt like she was deflating for an age as she released the breath. Her head spun and she swayed slightly, but Miss Ashdown held her steady. Jessica's hands fell by her sides and her breathing stopped altogether while her body processed all the extra oxygen she had taken in. She felt loose, like she was a lifeless doll in Miss Ashdown's hands, although she was still standing under her own strength.
As the room stopped spinning, the air on Jessica's skin reminded her that she was in her underwear and, at that, her black bra didn't even match her plain white knickers. She felt her cheeks starting to burn.
"Okay, now?" Miss Ashdown asked her, her hands still on Jessica's waist, and Jessica nodded for lack of any other response. "And the next time I tell you to breathe, we know how much you can fit in, don't we?" Jessica nodded again.
"Let's try playing again," Miss Ashdown continued. "Keep your breathing deeply and relax those shoulders."
Jessica sat back on the piano stool and started playing. She genuinely could feel the freedom as her shoulders swayed with the movement of the piece. She felt as if the piano were leading her through the music rather than the other way around, and she was so lost in playing that she forgot that she was sitting in her underwear.
Miss Ashdown let Jessica play all the way through the sonata, and finally Jessica stopped with her fingers resting gently on the keys, her eyes closed, savouring the moment.
"You see what you can do?" she heard Miss Ashdown whisper. Jessica nodded and smiled.
"Now," Miss Ashdown continued, "We know you can play with more freedom, but you need to play with more passion. I know it's in you; it must be at your age. Come. I'll show you something."
Miss Ashdown took Jessica's hand and she allowed herself to be led across the room.
"Look at this," Miss Ashdown said, pointing at a framed black and white photo on the wall. It showed a young woman in a loose but low-cut evening dress with a plunging neckline and a long slit up one side. She was sitting at a piano and playing in front of what must have been hundreds of people inside a concert hall.
"That was me," Miss Ashdown told her, "when I was only a few years older
than you are now."
Jessica looked at Miss Ashdown. She was used to thinking of her teacher as, well, a teacher. She might have said that she was attractive, if she was asked, but she had never even thought of it before. She looked back at the photo; she could see the passion on the young woman's face, in the way her body was arched over the piano keys and by the graceful line of her calf as her foot just touched a pedal. It was an incredibly beautiful image, but also somehow an intensely sexual one.
"I was making love to the keys that night," Miss Ashdown said, momentarily lost in memory, "And there wasn't a man in the house that didn't wish he was the one to escort me home to see where my energy would find an outlet next. And maybe a few women there did too." Jessica looked up at Miss Ashdown who gave her a mischievous wink.
Miss Ashdown put her hands around Jessica's waist and turned her ninety degrees. Jessica found herself looking into a full length mirror. She was suddenly reminded of her bare arms, legs and midriff, her plain black bra and her mismatched white knickers. She knew she would look nothing like the confident woman that Miss Ashdown had been. Jessica's eyes looked down at the floor despondently.
"Shall I let you in on a secret?" Miss Ashdown whispered conspiratorially, and then continued without waiting for an answer. "Underneath that evening dress, I had nothing else on." Jessica's eyes went wide at the revelation. "Every time I leant over the piano I wondered how much the audience could see down that dress. It was such a turn-on. I channelled all of that energy into my playing."
Jessica looked back at the photo with fresh eyes, at the low neckline, and the long exposed leg, ending with a delicate foot that she had only just noticed was also bare whilst a pair of small stilettos stood next to the piano. She had never thought of Miss Ashdown as anything but her slightly stuffy teacher. Suddenly she had to readjust to the idea of her as a young woman revelling in taking risks on a public stage.
"I think if I could have played naked I would have done," Miss Ashdown continued wistfully, not noticing Jessica's blushes. "I used to practice playing naked, whenever I could. It was just so… free, and raw." Jessica could feel the intense heat in her cheeks. "You know, so many people love the guitar, because of the way you hold it and close your arms around it, or the cello, because of its sexuality and the power it delivers from right between your legs. But really, there's sexuality in every instrument, or almost every instrument, and the less that sexuality is given to you by the physical shape of the object, the more it has to come from the musician."
Miss Ashdown re-focussed her gaze on the reflection of Jessica. "So, yes, I know exactly what's going on inside that body of yours, and how mixed up it all is, but also just how powerful it all is." She judged that now was the time for the direct approach. "Tell me, do you masturbate?"
Jessica froze with embarrassment: would a lie or the truth be better here? Miss Ashdown saved her the trouble of deciding.
"Actually, don't answer that," the teacher said, "Of course you do. But a word of advice: don't ever do so before a performance. The longer you can hold off, the more energised your playing will be."
For want of a response, Jessica's eyes froze on her reflection. She wasn't feeling much like an energised sexual creature as she saw herself standing in her mismatched underwear with her shoulders slumped.
"Hmmm," Miss Ashdown said, "So how do we tap this…. well of sexuality… I suppose it worked for me, so… Lift your arms up above your head for me again, draw a deep breath and close your eyes." Jessica did so and felt one of Miss Ashdown's hands rest lightly on her stomach and the other on the small of her back. "Now breathe gently and deeply and try to imagine you're standing on the stage, ready to practice for a big concert tonight. You just want to loosen up and get used to the surroundings before you play in front of an audience." Her voice dropped to a whisper again. "And since the place is deserted you've snuck onto the stage in your underwear."
Jessica stood, her arms above her, her eyes closed, and barely restrained a giggle. Miss Ashdown felt her stomach move in and out with her breathing, and then continued her story.
"But there's one thing that you notice, that you're not supposed to notice. There's someone sitting in the back row, in the dark, and he's someone you've been trying to attract the attention of for quite some time." Jessica blushed again. "He was walking through and he saw a beautiful young woman walk onto the stage in her underwear and start to stretch, and he just had to stay and watch, very quietly."
Jessica's breathing continued but Miss Ashdown felt a tremble in her stomach. "You can't let him know that you've seen him in the shadows; that would ruin everything. So you decide to make the most of the opportunity that's fallen into your lap. You decide that you're going to give him the most passionate performance of your life and you know that, after this, he'll be at the show tonight, and he'll come and find you afterwards, and you'll know that, if you want him, you can have him."
Miss Ashdown felt Jessica's breathing quicken: the fantasy seemed to be working. She continued.
"Now, drop your arms by your side, but keep your eyes closed. Don't leave that auditorium and, whatever happens, don't open your eyes until I tell you."
Miss Ashdown took her hands off of Jessica's torso and the student lowered her arms, keeping her eyes closed and her breathing deep. She was almost starting to drift in her imagination when she felt a pinch in the small of her back, and then Miss Ashdown's hands pushed her unfastened bra off of her shoulders and down her arms and she heard it drop to the floor. Her breath shuddered and it was an effort of will not to open her eyes and close her arms across her chest to cover her breasts.
Jessica couldn't remember the last time another person had seen her breasts. Her nipples hardened in response to that thought, and even more as she felt the cool air. Miss Ashdown's voice was soft in her ear. "You can almost hear a gasp from the back of the concert hall as the object of your desire leans forwards to take in the sight of your naked chest. He can't believe he isn't dreaming. You want him to imagine what it would feel like to touch your skin, to feel your thin waist within his firm hands."
Jessica's breath shuddered again. Miss Ashdown, standing behind her, took Jessica's hands within her own and moved them up to rest on her stomach, and then slide up along her sides as she breathed in. Miss Ashdown pressed Jessica's hands onto her hips and slid them up and down her sides with the slow rhythm of each inhale and exhale.
Jessica imagined herself, standing on the stage, barely covered by her underwear, running her hands over her hips and stoking the fire of her passion. She suddenly felt incredibly sexual.
"You act as if you're alone; this is the most private moment as you ready yourself to give everything to your playing," Miss Ashdown's soft voice continued. "You want nothing to come between you and your music."
As she said this, and as Jessica exhaled, Miss Ashdown's fingers, flat on top of Jessica's, slipped into the white knickers. Jessica felt the fabric sliding over her hips as their interlocked hands pushed them down onto the floor. Jessica's breath shuddered again but somehow she resisted the impulse to try to cover herself. She concentrated on the image of the concert hall, of standing naked on the stage as if no-one was there.
"You imagine his strong hands, running up and down your naked body," the teacher continued, their hands continuing to move together, "His eyes devour your image as he remains fixed in his seat, desperately trying to control his breathing lest he be discovered watching you while you arouse yourself, naked on the stage."
Miss Ashdown paused. Jessica's hands were now moving by themselves and Miss Ashdown was merely following their movements with hers.
"Finally, with one last stretch, you feel you need to release this energy, to show him just a hint of the woman that is bursting to get out of you." With that, she lifted Jessica's hands above her and Jessica arched her back as if she were stretching after awaking in the morning.
"You're a beautiful young girl, Jessica," Miss Ashdown whispered, "So now let's se
e how you play."
She led her student back to the piano and sat her down. Jessica was past the point of asking for her clothes back; she had become so aroused by the exercise that every touch of her feet on the wooden floor, her bare skin on the rough piano stool, and her feet on the chill brass of the pedals was like electricity through her body.
Miss Ashdown watched as Jessica caressed the keys and the piano sang in response. She envied her for her passion and, perhaps a little, for her physique too as she moved up and down the scales. She noticed how Jessica moved her position on the stool to stimulate her body yet further, how she would lean into the piano as if she wanted to climb on top of it, and she could feel the essence of the young woman's sexuality in every passage she played.
Finally, Jessica was finished and, again, she sat with her eyes closed and her fingers and her toes resting lightly on the keys and pedals. Miss Ashdown broke the spell with a gentle touch of Jessica's forearm.
"That was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen," she told her student.
Jessica opened her eyes and smiled dreamily. Oh, how she wished there really was her mystery man in the audience, ready to make love to and to bring her own performance to a crescendo.
Miss Ashdown smiled back at the girl and waited for her to recover. She watched her young, bare breasts rise and fall, with just the hint of a shudder from deep within. Finally Jessica spoke.
"Miss Ashdown?"
"Yes, Jessica?"
"Does this mean…" she said, looking down at her naked body, "Does this mean I have to take lessons like this from now on?"
Miss Ashdown's smile widened to a grin. "I think so, young lady. Yes, I think it does."
The Author
I took another sip from my wine glass. Over dinner we'd been exchanging pleasantries, chit-chat and literary gossip, but now was time to get down to business.
"So, tell me more about this idea," Elisa said. Her voice and demeanour were both assured and confident, and her Italian accent was exotic and alluring to my ears. I envied her.