Today my anxiety feels like it's about to escape through the walls of my mind. I knew I would be nervous for my first music lesson, but I didn't think I'd be this nervous. I've been avoiding the idea to be quite honest. The only thing I know for sure is that my music lesson is today at five in the afternoon. I don't know where it is or what my instructor's name is. I just have an idea of what he does here at the University. I imagine it's an older gentleman, someone who looks like the Monopoly man perhaps. A man with a thick English accent who keeps pictures of his grandchildren and cats in his wallet.
I giggle at the image in my head. At least it relieves my anxiety even if just in the slightest.
I make my way into the music building. I walk to the reception desk. Every building on campus has one regulating the specific departments and guiding the students to their different classes and appointments.
"Good afternoon, my name is Valerie Blaine, I am here for a music lesson at five." I say to the older woman on the other side of the desk. "Miss Blaine, yes you are expected in room C on the third floor. The elevator is just down the hallway.
I make my way to the third floor and then to a set of large wooden double doors. I knock once before pushing the door open to enter a beautiful room with deep red walls and dark wooden flooring. Displayed on the walls is a great variety of string and brass instruments. In the left corner of the room a harp radiates elegance. A desk with sheet music scattered accross its surface occupies the opposite corner. Finally, a grand piano stands proudly in the middle of the room. I feel my heart skip a beat in appreciation of the sight in front of me.
I am so distracted by the room, that I do not notice the figure behind me before the figure decides to clear its throat.
"Lovely of you to join me Miss Blaine."
I turn to face the piercing eyes of Alaric Strauss. His eyes leave mine to seemingly inspect my body. I take this opportunity to do the same. The beauty of the room I admired a few seconds ago seems so dull in comparison to the man who is slowly making his way closer to me.
His eyes make their way back to mine and I see a type of hunger roaming inside of them.
"Are you ready to play Miss Blaine?"
"Ex... Excuse me?" I stutter.
"Are you ready to play the piano." He says with the hint of a smirk featuring on his face. "The piano is the instrument if your choice is it not?" He continues to ask.
"O, yes Sir, it is." I answer, trying to snap myself out of my state. I mentally scold myself for where my thoughts are going.
"Lovely, have a seat at the piano and play any piece you'd like. I would like to start by getting an idea of the skill level you're currently at." He says, motioning for me to sit on the piano bench while he remains standing. He observes me while I attempt to remember how to play one of the pieces I had played so many times before.
I watch her fingers move effortlessly accross the keys as she plays a piece I enjoy listening to often.
She bites down on her lower lip as she concentrates on every note. Her eyes sparkle with passion. Her plump breasts in perfect view from where I'm standing. Her wavy hair gracing her shoulders while she plays.
What an exquisite creature.
When she reaches the end of the melody, I take a few steps forward, sitting down next to her on the bench. "Again." I demand. After a moment of hesitation she complies, starting to move her fingers over the keyboard again. My fingers join hers in a duet. My hand grazes over hers and I feel her movements freeze, but she regains her composure quickly. Being this close to her, I feel the atmosphere becoming heated. My fingers tingle with the desire to touch her.
His fingers join mine on the keyboard. Guiding me while adding some notes of his own. I try my best to keep my composure as his fingers occasionally brush over mine and his musky cologne overwhelms my sense of smell.
"Keep playing." He instructs as his one hand goes to rest on his lap while the other moves closer to me. His fingers stroke the side of my head, moving my hair out of the way. Normally, the touch of a man makes my skin crawl. In this moment, my skin just feels like it's on fire. He moves his head closer to mine, his eyes focussing on me while mine focus on the keyboard. I know I must protest against his current actions, but instead I lean slightly into his touch.
His fingers come to an abrupt halt and I hear a growl leave his throat. Not a growl of lust, but of anger. In a manner of seconds he stands up, announces that we are done for the day and leaves the room. Leaving me, a baffled Valerie Blain, alone in music room C.