This weeks WipItUp is from a work in progress that is in a roughly hewed state. It’s the start of something, and like many WIPs, although I have an outline, it is fluid. So what you see here, maybe not be the finished product by any means.
Callie is an amateur, but enthusiastic, clarinettist who treats her clarinet – Nettie – like a best friend. Having met Stefan, the new conductor of her orchestra, she is invited to his house to help practice a solo part.
The lesson progresses and they have been discussing her breathing technique.
“You’re a singer?” I fingered Nettie’s keys.
“I had lessons. Sang in a few concerts. Composing is my passion.” He rose. A tall man. Solid but lean. My lungs were definitely picking up a pace. He tapped his ribs with the tips of his fingers. “Here.”
I nodded and put the clarinet in my mouth, imagining my diaphragm sinking into my pelvis. I played a long note, trying to keep it pitched perfectly. By the end, my head buzzed and flashing stars appeared before my eyes.
“Play me something you like.” Another step towards me. “Close your eyes and relax.”
Play something. I racked my brain. Then the obvious slipped in. Before continuing, I took a sip of water from the glass. I licked my lips, running the tongue around them. His eyes followed, opening wider. I showed him my pearly white teeth. My pride. I looked after them well.
He smiled. A radiant Stefan smile. I was learning to recognise them. I slipped the clarinet back in my mouth and closed my eyes. Mozart’s clarinet concerto, second movement. I’d learnt it years ago, when it had been far too difficult for me. Now, I thought I’d mastered it. I would never perform at the Proms or a concert hall, but I could carry the melancholy melody and let it soar.
The room’s acoustics were perfect. Truly a pleasure to play in the surroundings. When I finished, I opened my eyes and he had moved even closer. I hadn’t noticed. He circled me and came to stand behind me. His hands touched my waist.
“More. More from here.” The palm of his right hand rested on my belly. I shivered. Behind me, he radiated heat. A delightful warmth. He pressed his heavy hand on my belly button. “Push it out.”
I sucked in as much air as I could and forced out my stomach, letting my pelvis drop, creating a vacuum in my lungs.
“Better,” he whispered. “This time quicker.” He looped his other hand around me.
I repeated my inhale, snatching a lungful. I blew a long note before launching into the Mozart a second time. His hands stayed about my waist.
Oh my God. I’d never played with somebody touching me before. The rise and fall of his arms were visible when I looked down.
“Close your eyes.” He squeezed my sides. “Don’t be nervous.”
Nervous! My legs had gone to jelly. His own breath landed on my neck. Quicker than mine. I struggled to hold my breath, to reach the end of the phrase. My eyes flickered, as I fought the dizziness. I swayed. His large hands steadied me.
I couldn’t stop even if I tried. I leaned backwards, almost resting my head on his chest. For a few minutes, I was quite lost, as his roving hands trapped me. They slid up and down in time to the tune, stroking me and I continued to breathe into his gentle embrace.
“That’s good,” he muttered.
I felt him. My bottom slotted between his hips and I had no doubts about the hardness. I rose up on my toes, sliding backwards into him. His erection bulged.
The clarinet slipped out of my mouth. My lips parted and I lost the connection to her. Something else had captured me.
He lowered his mouth and kissed the side of my neck. A gentle caress of his lips. He sighed, exhaling and the heat bloomed across my heaving chest. He lifted up the edge of my sweatshirt and let his fingertips make contact with my skin. I snatched a breath. He journeyed up my belly, higher while his lips continued to kiss and explore my neck.
I clung on to Nettie, fearful I might drop her. It wasn’t the only part of me clenching tightly. I recognised the familiar sensation. Months had gone by without. I’d neglected my poor sex, apart from the occasional frantic rub under the bed covers. I moaned.
I should be saying no. Pushing him away. We’d met only a week ago and I’d spent more time in his car than anywhere else.
He reached my breast. He probed with a fingertip under the elasticated band of my bra, stretching it until the strap popped over my nipple, freeing it. He rolled my nipple between his finger and thumb. It sprung to attention. My little pebble responded on cue to his touch.
“Oh God,” I practically drooled.
His other hand shifted under my top, finding my covered breast and released it from the cup. My bra bounced up on to my chest and hung there loosely.
“Callie,” he whispered. “Tell me to stop and I will, otherwise, I’m going to take you.”
Oh fuck. Yes. Take me.
I swallowed hard and twisted around, forcing a gap between us. I gazed up at his face with Nettie wedged against his belly. Bright eyes twinkled in my direction. “Is this part of the lesson?” I asked.
He curled his lips upwards – an increasing familiar expression of intent. “Most definitely. My own special tuition.”
“What makes you think I need it?”
“You told me.”
“Me? You’re sure of yourself.”
“Your clarinet told me.”
“Nettie?” I gripped her tighter.
He chuckled. “Nettie? You serenaded me. Didn’t you?”
Had I? Was it deliberate, the choice of Mozart, the way I swayed against him? It was all me, though. “Your hands,” I said.
“They knew what they’re doing.”
“They’re well trained. They like the sensual touch. The smooth surface of the piano keys. A bit like your skin. Warm and responsive.”
He had me. There was no going back. “I have to put her down. I don’t want to drop her.”
“Can’t have you doing that.” He took Nettie out of my hands and lay her on the grand piano’s shelf. I watched as he turned and came to face me again. This time, when he reached out to touch me, I didn’t think he would stop until he finished with me.