James Reed is a university piano professor who enjoys the sight of all the lovely young female flesh that inhabits his campus. He has a strict “look but don’t touch” policy….that is until his student, Megan, discovers her boyfriend has been cheating on her. Coming to her lesson, she loses it and tells Mr. Reed all about it, then, bursting into tears, storms from his office. Imagine his surprise when she shows up the next day seeking revenge on her boyfriend: and what better revenge could she have than seducing the handsome professor.
I really love the first day of school. That first day is filled with promise. The promise of a campus full of hot, young hardbodies! The only downside is that being a professor brings with it certain limitations. In theory, any male student who has the balls to make a move could get into the pants of any female student. The rule for professors, however, is look but don’t touch. A few years ago, a colleague in the math department lost his job because the senior he was fucking realized he didn’t love her and would never leave his wife for her. As I was helping him carry his books to his car on his last day, he told me, “James, remember to think with your head and not with your dick.” So, on the first day of school, I take note of all the lovely female flesh on display: the C-cups encased in T-shirts, the perfectly round asses in flesh-hugging shorts, and the long, tanned, slender thighs disappearing into those shorts. But I don’t touch…or at least I didn’t until I met Megan.
I’m one of three piano professors at the state university. As a piano professor, I have a fairly simple job. I teach private lessons all week and host a master class on Friday afternoon. Throughout the semester, I have to help grade student recitals, and once a year, I have to perform at a faculty recital to prove to the students that I can, indeed, play the damned piano! My students possess a wide range of abilities but very few of them possess what I would call real talent. They take piano lessons because their degrees require a fairly high level of expertise on the instrument. I usually get all the conducting majors because I’m good at helping them condense those huge orchestra scores to something manageable. I also tend to get students who hope to become high school band directors. These students are the bane of my existence. They all play their chosen instruments well, but very few have ever considered the need to play piano well enough to study band scores or to accompany students at competitions, so I spend a lot of time dragging their sorry asses through basic techniques. But…occasionally…I get lucky. Occasionally someone with real talent walks into my studio. Someone like Megan.
The first lesson of the semester is the same for everyone. They come in, play whatever they can to show me their skill level, get a syllabus, we chat a while, and they leave. On the first Monday of the semester, I was finishing up my evaluation notes on one particularly inept future band director named Jonathan when someone knocked on my door.
“It’s open,” I called.
Since I really needed to concentrate on Jonathan’s evaluation, I didn’t even look up when the door opened and the new student quietly came in and stood in the middle of the room.
“Be with you in a sec; have a seat at the first piano.”
After putting the finishing touches on Jonathan’s evaluation, I looked up to see one of the most striking young women to ever grace my studio. Dark, almost black, hair hung loosely around a perfectly oval face while two electric-blue eyes studied my reaction to her presence. And what a presence she was. She sported a petite frame but with D-cups that were desperately trying to escape the confines of the red T-shirt and the bra beneath. From what I could see peeking over the low-cut neckline, her breasts were so firm that the bra was clearly an optional accessory.
I guess I spent a little too much time taking in her beauty because she shifted on the bench and said, “Uh, hi, I’m Megan.”
I finally found my voice and responded, “Hello, I’m Mr. Reed. Tell me a little about yourself.”
“Well, I’m a junior transfer, and I’ve been playing piano since I was four years old.”
“Four? That’s a bit unusual. How did you come to do that?”
“My mom is a piano teacher, and I guess I was jealous that she spent so much time with all the students that came through our house. I whined and begged until she started giving me a short lesson every afternoon before her first student showed up. It must’ve worked because when we finished I left her alone to get through the afternoon.”
By this time I had regained my composure, and as I got up from my desk I said, “Okay, let’s see how well you and mom have been doing. Play something for me.”
