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searching for the words. "Like letting the music breathe, not forcing it." She leaned slightly closer, fingers tapping lightly beside Fiona’s on the keys. "When you trust it, it flows."

Fiona nodded, acutely aware of the warmth radiating from Ms. Middleton’s arm where it brushed against hers. She hesitated, then deliberately shifted her wrist, letting it graze her teacher's sleeve. A fleeting touch, plausibly accidental, but her heart drummed hard enough that she wondered if Ms. Middleton could hear it.

"You've improved," Ms. Middleton said, her voice softer now, almost intimate in the quiet room. The overhead light caught the gold flecks in her hazel eyes as she turned her head slightly toward Fiona. "I mean it. You’re learning fast. I’d even say you’re talented." The compliment settled between them, weighted with something more than professional praise.

Fiona turned toward her teacher and their thighs touched on the bench, another touch that was plausibly accidental. "I couldn’t have done it without you," she murmured, letting her gaze linger on Ms. Middleton’s lips before flicking back up, slowly, to meet her eyes.

Ms. Middleton didn’t pull away, but something flickered in her expression - unease, hesitation - before she cleared her throat and straightened slightly, moving her leg so that their thighs were no longer touching. "Shall we move on to the second movement? The dynamics are trickier, but—"

Fiona leaned forward, cutting her off. "Actually," she said, forcing her voice to stay light, "since my parents aren’t here tonight, I was hoping we could… take a break." She gestured toward the kitchen behind them, where she’d already set out two wine glasses next to a bottle of red. "I wanted to offer you a glass of wine. A little thank-you for all your patience with me."

Ms. Middleton glanced at the clock. "Oh... It’s already been ninety minutes," she murmured, a little surprised. "Strictly speaking, your lesson is over now anyway."

“Well in that case, we're free to have the wine," Fiona replied. She held her breath, watching Ms. Middleton, hoping that she didn't simply get up and leave.

Ms. Middleton exhaled, almost imperceptibly. "Fiona," she started, her voice measured - but beneath it, Fiona heard something else. A waver. A hesitation.

The silence stretched between them, charged. Fiona considered speaking herself, but wasn't sure what to say. She could only wait to see what Ms. Middleton was going to say.

"I'm not sure I should," she finally said. "Your parents might not be happy with me sitting around and drinking wine with you, when I'm here to teach you piano."

Fiona kept her voice steady, careful not to let the desperation she was feeling seep in. "They won't be home until midnight. And honestly, Ms. Middleton – Laura - I'd really like it." She let the name slip deliberately, testing the boundary. "Just one glass. You deserve it for putting up with my numerous Beethoven disasters."

Ms. Middleton - Laura - flinched slightly at the use of her first name but didn't correct her. Instead, she simply hesitated for a moment, her expression unreadable. "Well, one glass," she said at last, exhaling. "I suppose one glass of wine isn't going to do us any harm."

Fiona smiled and went to the kitchen. She poured the wine and returned, her fingers deliberately brushing Laura’s as she handed her one of the glasses. The contact sent a jolt through her, reminding her of how much she wanted to make the most of this moment. Her parents being out that evening had made this an opportunity that she'd never had before.

Laura accepted the wine with a murmured thanks, shifting slightly on the piano bench, putting just a little more distance between them, but not too much. "You're sure your parents won't mind?" she asked, glancing toward the front door as if expecting them to walk in at any moment.

"Positive," Fiona said, taking a sip of her own wine. The deep, rich flavor bloomed on her tongue, emboldening her. "They’re at the mayor’s Christmas party. You know how those things go. They won’t be back until midnight." She watched Laura take a slow sip, the way her throat moved as she swallowed, the faint flush already creeping up her neck.

Laura set her glass down carefully on the piano lid, her fingers lingering against the stem. "You’ve been working hard," she said, redirecting the conversation with practiced ease. "Your phrasing in the second theme is much clearer now." But her gaze flickered to Fiona’s mouth when she spoke, just for a second - long enough to make Fiona’s pulse skip.

Fiona took another sip of her wine, letting the silence stretch. The grandfather clock in the hallway ticked loudly, counting the seconds. "You always say music is about feeling," she ventured, leaning forward just enough that her knee brushed Laura’s again. "But I think I’m feeling something else tonight." The words hung between them, reckless and deliberate.

Laura’s fingers tightened around her glass. "Fiona," she said carefully, "let’s make sure we keep this professional." But her voice lacked its usual firmness, and when Fiona didn’t look away, Laura’s exhale was shaky. The piano bench creaked as she adjusted her posture, her skirt brushing Fiona’s bare thigh.

Fiona put her glass down on the piano lid. "Do you ever think about me when you’re not here?" she asked, the question bold enough to make Laura’s lips part slightly. "Because I think about you. I think about you often." The admission hung between them, thick as the scent of wine and Laura’s perfume.

Laura looked a little taken aback, but her composure didn't waver for long. "Where did this come from, all of a sudden?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious, but staying perfectly calm. "We need to be careful and not say anything that might be inappropriate. You’re my student."

Fiona hesitated for a moment, but then leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I know I shouldn’t feel this way," she admitted, "but I can’t stop thinking about you. Ever since you told me you prefer women, I’ve been wondering…" She let the sentence trail off, watching Laura’s reaction closely.

Laura looked uncomfortable, but not rattled. "Fiona, that was idle conversation," she said patiently, her tone firm but with an underlying tremor. "And small talk like that doesn’t change anything between us." Despite her words, Fiona noticed the way Laura’s breath hitched slightly when their knees touched again, just fleetingly, before she shifted away.

Fiona took another sip of wine, letting the silence drag out. The air between them crackled with tension, thick enough to cut with a knife. "Maybe it doesn’t change anything between us," Fiona murmured, "but it changes how I see you." She hesitated, then added, softer, "How I see us."

Laura gave her a look of disapproval. "There is no us," she said. "You're my student. We both need to remember that." The protest sounded hollow, even to her own ears. Fiona had moved closer and her proximity was intoxicating, the warmth of her thigh now pressing into Laura’s.

"I know I'm your student, but on the other hand I'm not a child. I'm eighteen years old."

Laura inhaled sharply, the wineglass trembling slightly in her hand. "Legally, true," she conceded, "but that doesn't make this appropriate. Your parents pay me to teach you piano. What would they think if I encouraged you to have these kind of feelings about me?"

"They're not here," Fiona murmured. "And I've had these feelings long before tonight." She turned fully toward Laura now, their knees pressing together with undeniable intention. "Besides you’ve encouraged me quite a lot already. I've seen the way you look at me sometimes. I know it's not in my imagination."

Laura's grip tightened around the wineglass again, her knuckles whitening. "That doesn't—"

Fiona didn't let her finish. She reached out, fingertips brushing Laura's wrist where her pulse fluttered visibly beneath the skin. "Just tell me," she whispered, "have you ever thought about it? Even once?"

The air crackled with tension. Laura's lips parted - not in protest, but hesitation. Fiona watched the conflict flicker across her face - the sharp inhale, the way her throat worked when she swallowed, the fleeting glance at Fiona's mouth. The grandfather clock ticked loudly in the silence, marking seconds that stretched too long.

Laura set her wineglass down with deliberate care, the crystal clicking against the piano lid. "This is..." She trailed off, her voice unsteady for the first time that evening. Fiona could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath the modest neckline of her blouse.

The piano bench creaked as Fiona shifted closer, narrowing the already scant distance between them. "You didn't answer my question," she murmured, letting her hand slide up Laura's forearm, fingertips skating over the fine cashmere of her sleeve. The fabric was softer than she'd imagined - like Laura's resolve seemed to be becoming.

Laura's breath hitched when Fiona's fingers reached the delicate skin inside her elbow. "This is—" She stopped, her protest dying as Fiona leaned in, close enough that the floral notes of her perfume mingled with the tannic bite of the wine on her breath.

Having got this far, Fiona had no intention of backing down now. "Tell me to stop," she whispered, her thumb tracing slow circles just above Laura's wrist. The pulse beneath her fingertips jumped erratically.

Laura's exhale shuddered out between parted lips. She didn't pull away, didn't speak - just stared at Fiona with pupils blown wide in the dim amber light of the piano lamp.

Fiona took the silence as permission. She leaned in slowly, giving Laura every chance to stop her, until their mouths were barely an inch apart. The wine on Laura's breath was warm and ripe when Fiona finally closed the distance completely, pressing their lips together in a featherlight kiss. Laura went rigid for one heartbeat - then melted against her with a stifled moan.

The piano bench creaked noisily as Fiona deepened the kiss, one hand sliding up to tangle in Laura's carefully pinned hair. Pins scattered across the hardwood floor like metallic rain as strands of chestnut brown tumbled free. Fiona tasted the faint bitterness of red wine and something uniquely Laura - the hint of mint lip balm, the lingering sweetness of afternoon tea.

Laura's hands fluttered uncertainly before settling against Fiona's waist, her fingers digging into the soft fabric of Fiona's sweater when the girl nipped at her lower lip. The rational protest forming on Laura's tongue dissolved into a gasp when Fiona's knee pressed between her thighs.

"Yes you've thought about this," Fiona murmured against the corner of Laura's mouth. Not a question any longer, but a triumphant observation as she felt the older woman shudder beneath her touch. The piano lamp cast long shadows across Laura's flushed face when Fiona pulled back just enough to see the wrecked expression in her teacher's normally composed features.

Laura's fingers trembled where they gripped Fiona's waist. "We shouldn't—" The rest of the sentence fractured into a sharp inhale when Fiona's teeth grazed the sensitive spot beneath her ear. The scent of Laura's shampoo, something citrusy and expensive, filled Fiona's nostrils as she pressed open-mouthed kisses along the rapid pulse in her throat.

Fiona could feel Laura's resolve crumbling through every shuddering breath, through the way her fingers kept tightening and loosening in Fiona's sweater like she couldn't decide whether to push her away or pull her closer. When Fiona's hand slid up to cup her cheek, Laura turned instinctively into the touch, her lips parting on a shaky exhale.

"You're shaking," Fiona murmured, dragging her thumb over Laura's flushed cheekbone. The skin there burned beneath her fingertips, feverish despite Laura still having reservations about what was slowly unfolding. Laura's eyelashes fluttered when Fiona kissed her again, this time deeper, slower, giving her teacher time to reciprocate.

Laura did. Tentatively at first, then with desperate hunger as Fiona's tongue traced the seam of her lips. The piano bench groaned beneath them when Laura arched into the kiss, her hands finally settling firmly on Fiona's hips. The taste of wine mingled with something headier - desire, thick and undeniable between them.

Fiona's fingers slid down to the first button of Laura's blouse, pausing just long enough to feel the frantic flutter of her teacher's pulse beneath the fabric. "Tell me to stop," she whispered again, her breath hot against Laura's parted lips.

Laura gasped - half protest, half surrender - as Fiona's fingers deftly loosened the top button. The collar fell open to reveal pale skin flushed pink, the hollow of Laura's throat visibly trembling with each uneven breath. Fiona traced the exposed dip with her tongue, tasting salt and the faintest trace of bergamot perfume as Laura arched against her.

"I can't—" Laura's whisper fractured when Fiona's teeth grazed her collarbone. Her hands, which had been clutching Fiona's sweater like a lifeline, now slid upwards with hesitant urgency, fingers tangling in Fiona's hair. The groan that escaped her when Fiona's knee pressed more firmly between her thighs was muffled against Fiona's mouth, a desperate, hungry sound that sent fire licking through Fiona's veins.

Fiona's fingers worked the second button loose, then the third, each inch of revealed skin making Laura tremble harder. The blouse gaped open to expose the delicate lace edge of Laura's bra, the swell of her breasts rising rapidly with each shallow breath. Fiona dragged her thumb along the lace, watching Laura's eyelashes flutter shut, her lips parting on a silent gasp.

"You're so beautiful," Fiona murmured against her teacher's throat, savoring the way Laura shuddered at the words. Her knee pressed deeper between Laura's thighs, meeting with no resistance, and being rewarded by a sudden gasp from the older woman.

Laura gasped again when Fiona's fingers traced the lace of her bra, her chest rising sharply. "Fiona—" Her voice was barely audible, strained with want. "I think this has gone far enough,” she mumbled, without any conviction. The protest dissolved into a moan as Fiona's thumb brushed a taut nipple through the delicate fabric.

Fiona took advantage of Laura's momentary speechlessness, leaning in to capture her mouth again. Laura responded in kind, though her hands still fluttered around Fiona, as if still uncertain between pushing her away and pulling her closer.

The blouse hung open now, revealing the full lace cups of Laura's bra, the peaks of her nipples visibly hardened beneath the fabric. Fiona traced one with her fingertip, watching Laura's breath catch audibly. "Look at you," she murmured, dragging her nails lightly over the lace. "Who knew my piano teacher was this sensitive?"

Laura shuddered, her fingers tightening in Fiona's hair. "This is… Oh… This is so inappropriate." But her hips rocked forward against Fiona's knee as she spoke, completely betraying her words.

Fiona nipped at Laura's earlobe, relishing the sharp intake of breath it provoked. "Then stop me," she challenged, her fingers slipping beneath the lace of Laura's bra. The skin beneath was fever-hot and silky, and Laura arched into the touch with a choked-off whimper.

Laura's fingers dug into Fiona's shoulders, still neither pushing nor pulling, but holding firmly. Her blouse hung open completely now, the delicate lace cups of her bra proving to be no barrier to Fiona’s exploring hands which roamed over both her breasts. Fiona focused on the nipples, using her thumbs on them and watching Laura's eyelids flutter helplessly.

"You're—" Laura's protest dissolved into a gasp as Fiona continued to work her taut nipples. The sensation almost made her arch off the piano bench, her hips jerking forward against Fiona's knee in an involuntary grind. She instinctively put her hands on the bench to balance herself again, stifling a moan as she did so.

Fiona smirked against the warm skin of Laura's throat, amused that she’d almost fallen to the floor, now using her fingers to roll the two hardened peaks of her breasts. "You were saying?" she murmured, dragging her teeth lightly along Laura's pulse point. Beneath her, Laura shuddered, thighs squeezing reflexively around Fiona's knee. Fiona pressed harder in response, her knee pressing home between Laura’s legs, and being rewarded by Laura's bitten-off whimper.

Laura's hands finally settled on a decisive course of action, not pushing away, but grasping Fiona's sweater in white-knuckled fists, pulling her closer. Fiona had thought about such a moment many times and was thrilled that her fantasies were now a reality. She’d wanted this for so long, dreamt about it for so long, and now she had Laura exactly where she wanted her.

Fiona decided that this was the moment to relocate and suddenly stood, pulling Laura to her feet with her. She guided her away from the piano bench and toward the sofa, where they quickly sat, much more comfortable now. Fiona immediately pushed Laura back, wanting to resume touching her without any delay, and as before her fingers rolled her taut nipples.

“So sensitive,” murmured Fiona, watching Laura’s reactions and noting how her breath now came in ragged gasps. Any thought of resistance had clearly been banished from her mind, as Laura surrendered completely to her touch. “This is such a nice moment,” Fiona continued, “finding out that my piano teacher’s like this.”

One of her hands slid down the trembling plane of Laura’s stomach, stopping just above the waistband of her skirt. The hesitation was deliberate as Fiona was feeling a little greedy. She didn’t just want Laura’s surrender. Because of her earlier protests she now wanted Laura to beg for it.

"You're shaking," Fiona murmured against Laura's collarbone, her teeth grazing the damp skin. “Why don’t you tell me what you want. Tell me what I can do for you." She didn’t get an answer, other than heavy breathing, so slid her hand lower, over the skirt, pausing teasingly between her legs.

Laura's fingers twisted in Fiona's sweater, her hips arching involuntarily when Fiona's thumb circled her nipple again, and her heavy breathing breaking into a gasp as Fiona's other hand pressed harder between her thighs. Laura’s reactions were speaking volumes, letting Fiona know just how well this was turning out.

Fiona's hand moved from between Laura’s thighs and her fingertips traced the waistband of her skirt before dipping beneath the fabric. Laura's stomach muscles jumped at the contact, her breath hitching when Fiona's nails grazed the sensitive skin just above her panties. "Tell me what you want," Fiona murmured against her ear, her teeth catching the lobe. "I want to hear you say it."

Laura's hips arched again, her body trembling against Fiona's hands. The words came out strangled - half protest, half plea - as Fiona's fingers found her panties and toyed with them, the touch deliberately teasing and deliberately going no further. "Please… Fiona..."

Fiona smiled against the damp skin of Laura's throat, continuing to slowly trace the edges of the damp lace. "Please what?" she murmured, her breath hot against Laura's ear. Beneath her, Laura shuddered, her fingers tightening convulsively in Fiona's sweater.

Laura's hips jerked when Fiona's fingers finally slipped beneath the lace, her breath escaping in a fractured gasp. "Fiona…” Her words dissolved into a moan as Fiona's fingers found their intended target, circling with maddening lightness.

Fiona watched Laura's face, the way her lips parted around silent pleas, the flutter of her pulse in her throat, the sweat beading along her hairline. She drank in every twitch and tremble as her fingers teased lower, tracing Laura's sweet spot with torturous slowness. "It’s time to answer my question," Fiona murmured, pressing a kiss to Laura's quivering jaw. "Tell me you want this."

Laura's hips jerked forward, chasing Fiona's teasing fingers. A whimper escaped her throat when Fiona withdrew completely, leaving her wet and aching. "I...” Her voice cracked. The word hung suspended between them like the tremble in Laura's thighs as she squeezed Fiona's hipbone with desperate fingers.

Fiona traced the soaked lace again, watching Laura's eyelids flutter shut. "Say it," she whispered against Laura's neck. “Say you want this.”

Laura's throat worked as she swallowed hard. When she spoke, her voice was wrecked. "I want it." The admission seemed to strengthen her, as though she’d got something awkward out of the way. “I want it,” she said again, more firmly this time. “I want you to touch me.” Her fingers trembled where they gripped Fiona's sweater, nails digging in through the fabric.

Fiona rewarded her with a slow press of two fingers inside, relishing the way Laura's body clenched around her instantly. The older woman gasped, her back arching off the sofa. Fiona curled her fingers, dragging them forward in a motion that made Laura cry out, a raw, unfiltered sound Fiona had never heard from her teacher before.

Laura's fingers scrabbled against Fiona’s sweater as she stroked deeper, her thumb circling Laura's clit with deliberate pressure. The older woman's hips jerked upward, her breath hitching on every exhale. "Oh my god… Fiona..." Her voice cracked as Fiona crooked her fingers just right, drawing out another choked moan.

Laura's bra had slipped way down her body, and Fiona eyed her now heaving breasts and flushed pink nipples that peaked tighter with every stroke of Fiona's fingers. She lowered her mouth to one, sucking hard and Laura immediately responded with a lengthy gasp that Fiona relished.

Laura's hands found Fiona's hair again, this time twisting hard enough to sting. "Don't stop," she begged, her voice raw. It was a far cry from the measured tones she used during lessons. Fiona rewarded her with a deeper curl of her fingers, smiling against Laura's breast when her teacher's back arched off the sofa again.

"Look at me," Fiona demanded, dragging her thumb hard over Laura's clit. Laura's eyelids fluttered open, dark with need, her pupils blown so wide that Fiona could barely see the familiar hazel. A bead of sweat trickled between Laura's breasts as Fiona slowed her strokes, drawing out each movement until Laura whimpered.

Fiona pulled Laura’s panties out of the way, making it easier to continue her slow strokes. Laura's thighs trembled, her hips thrusting forward to chase Fiona's teasing fingers. Fiona could feel her own pulse hammering in her throat, the power thrumming through her veins at having reduced her usually composed and professional teacher to this writhing, dripping mess.

"You're so wet," Fiona murmured against the damp skin of Laura's collarbone. “You’re dripping.” She couldn’t resist withdrawing her fingers a little, just enough to make Laura whimper. "Tell me how much you want this. Come on, I want to hear you say it."

Laura's fingers twisted in Fiona's hair, not pulling away, but anchoring herself as her hips jerked forward. "I… Oh my god..." The words dissolved into a gasp when Fiona's thumb pressed harder against her clit, circling with merciless precision. The sofa creaked beneath them as Laura arched her back, sending her breasts bobbing, a motion that Fiona enjoyed watching.

Fiona watched the frantic rise and fall of Laura's chest, the way her breasts bounced, the way the hardness of her nipples made them stand out. She slowed her fingers deliberately, savoring Laura's broken whimper. "Say it properly," Fiona murmured, dragging her teeth along Laura's collarbone. "Say it properly. Or I stop."

Laura's fingers dug into Fiona's shoulders, her breath hitching when Fiona's thumb stilled completely. "I want you," she gasped, her hips jerking upward in a futile search for friction. “I need you.” The admission seemed to rip from her throat, raw and unfiltered.

Fiona rewarded her with a slow, deep stroke that drew a shuddering moan from Laura's lips. The older woman's thighs clenched around Fiona's wrist as Fiona added a third finger, stretching her deliciously. The wet sound between Laura's legs was obscenely loud in the quiet room, mingling with the loud and relentless ticking coming from the grandfather clock in the hallway.

"Say it again," Fiona demanded, punctuating each word with a deliberate twist of her wrist that made Laura's back arch into the air. The sofa creaked beneath them as Laura writhed at Fiona’s touch, giving up her hold on Fiona’s shoulders, her skin glistening with sweat in the lamplight.

Laura gasped, her eyelashes fluttering as Fiona's thumb circled her clit with just enough pressure to tease but not enough to satisfy. "I… I need you." The confession tore from her throat, ragged and unrefined, and so unlike her usual measured cadence during lessons. Fiona watched the pulse leap in Laura's throat as realization dawned across her teacher's face that she’d surrendered to her student so completely. A student who now possessed her body and her soul.

Laura arched into Fiona's touch, her hips lifting off the sofa in a frantic rhythm. Fiona caught the exact moment control shattered, Laura's thighs clamping around her wrist, her breath hitching as Fiona crooked her fingers just right. They both knew what was about to happen.

Fiona watched, enthralled, as Laura's climax hit and she jerked upwards. She continued to watch as her teacher sank into the sofa, her entire body trembling through the waves of pleasure. Fiona didn't let up, drawing out each pulse with slow, deliberate strokes until Laura whimpered, oversensitive.

Laura's chest heaved, her flushed skin gleaming under the lamplight as she let out a breathless sigh. Fiona shifted closer, so she could put one arm around Laura and whisper in her ear, her other hand sliding up Laura's trembling thigh. "Still think this is inappropriate?" Fiona murmured against Laura's damp temple. Laura's only response was a breathless whimper when Fiona's teeth grazed her earlobe, her hips jerking involuntarily against empty air.

Fiona smirked as she drank in the sight before her. Her perfectly proper teacher lay sprawled across the sofa, chest heaving with ragged breaths, blouse unbuttoned and open, bra and skirt bunched together at her waist, an obvious wet shine on her inner thighs, and her panties around her knees.

Laura slowly sat up and turned her head toward Fiona. "That was..." Her voice cracked, her throat raw from moaning.

Fiona smirked again. "Educational?" she suggested, leaning in to kiss her and effectively discouraging a response. Laura more than welcomed the kiss and threw herself into it, at the same time her hands finding Fiona’s sweater, gathering it, and preparing to remove it. She broke the kiss and immediately tugged it over Fiona’s head.

Fiona wore nothing beneath her sweater but her bra. Laura took a deferential pause to admire her body, before deciding that the bra was coming off too. She reached behind Fiona and deftly unhooked it, her hands sliding around to cup her bare breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples in slow circles that drew an audible gasp from Fiona's lips.

Fiona's breasts were full and soft against Laura's palms, almost as big as her own breasts, the nipples already pebbled tight from her touch. A faint flush spread across Fiona's chest as Laura's thumbs continued their torturously slow circles, each pass coaxing another quiet sound of pleasure from Fiona's parted lips. The weight of them filled Laura's hands perfectly, warm and yielding, and when she finally dipped her head to take one rosy peak into her mouth, Fiona's gasp was sharp, her fingers immediately tangling in Laura's hair to hold her there.

Laura switched her attention to Fiona's other nipple, working it expertly with her mouth, every flick of her tongue drawing a reaction. Fiona's breath now came in shallow pants, punctuated by gasps. Eventually Laura pulled back, noting with satisfaction how swollen the nipples were, but feeling that her work there was done and it was now time to move on.

She turned her attention to Fiona’s jeans, working the button loose with practiced fingers, then sliding the zipper down, deliberately slowly, letting the metal teeth hiss against each other as Fiona's breath hitched. The denim clung stubbornly to Fiona's hips, until Laura hooked her thumbs into the waistband and peeled them down, revealing damp lace panties beneath. Laura pressed her fingers along the fabric before pressing her palm firmly against Fiona's heat. Fiona's hips bucked instinctively, a broken moan escaping her lips as Laura's fingers curled inward, applying just enough pressure to make her thighs tremble.

"I can’t believe how wet you are," Laura murmured, as she traced the outline of Fiona's swollen folds through the lace. "Do you find me that exciting?" she asked teasingly. Fiona could only nod, her teeth sinking into her lower lip when Laura abruptly hooked her fingers into the sides of her panties and yanked them down to her knees. The sudden exposure made Fiona's skin prickle, the cool air contrasting sharply with the intense heat between her legs.

Laura quickly buried her face between Fiona's thighs. The first slow stroke of her tongue had Fiona gasping and her hands gripped Fiona's hips tightly, holding her steady while her tongue worked in broad, relentless laps, covering Fiona's folds before circling her clit with clinical precision. Fiona's moans climbed higher with every pass, her thighs tightening around Laura's head and her fingers tangling in her hair as the pressure coiled unbearably in her lower belly.

Laura’s tongue circled relentlessly. “Faster,” Fiona moaned, “faster… please.” Her composure had unraveled completely, her voice cracking, but Laura was unmoved by the pleas and her tongue continued to flick with the same steady rhythm. Fiona had made Laura beg earlier and Laura would now enjoy hearing Fiona do the same.

Fiona’s hips jerked forward involuntarily, her thighs clamping around Laura's ears, her nails digging into her bare shoulders. "Give it to me… Don’t tease." She felt Laura’s grip on her hips get stronger, anchoring her in place more firmly, but the rhythm of her tongue remained the same, circling Fiona’s clit with the same precision she used to demonstrate arpeggios – so methodical, so controlled.

"Please Laura...” Fiona tried to press her hips forward to increase the contact, but Laura was now holding her so firmly that she could hardly move them. She groaned loudly and decided to accept her position, completely relaxing her body and submitting to the older woman’s control.

Laura suddenly broke for a moment and watched Fiona with the focused intensity she usually reserved for Beethoven’s tempo markings. She saw her thighs trembling and her breath coming in ragged bursts. "You sound..." she murmured, her voice rough, "like a poorly tuned metronome."

Fiona choked out a laugh. She could feel Laura watching her unravel with that same analytical focus she used during lessons, cataloging every hitch of Fiona’s breath, every twitch of her muscles. She had boldly taken the lead earlier, but now Laura was the teacher again and she was the student.

Laura resumed her actions, tracing slow, wet circles around Fiona’s clit with her thumb, never quite pressing where Fiona needed her to the most. Fiona’s thighs trembled even more now, her breath coming faster and louder, and Laura continued to watch, studying her reactions. Fiona found it maddening, being played like this, Laura’s touch as deliberate and controlled as her demonstrations of Bach’s fugues.

Laura’s thumb continued its slow movements, pressing relentlessly but not too firmly. "Say you want it," she murmured, watching Fiona closely. “Say it.” Fiona shuddered at the command, noting that Laura’s voice was lower now, rougher than Fiona had ever heard it during lessons. "Say it properly."

Laura’s hand stilled and Fiona realized that she was being given a taste of her own medicine. She had wanted Laura to beg earlier, to make her initial protests appear to be little more than window dressing, but now it was Laura denying her the touch she craved. "Please," Fiona choked out, her nails digging into Laura’s shoulders. "Please, Laura.”

Laura’s lips brushed Fiona’s thigh, as she considered her response. "Please what?" she murmured, her fingers starting to circle Fiona’s clit with agonizing slowness. Fiona whimpered, her thighs trembling as Laura’s free hand slid along her thigh, another deft and gentle touch, delivered with the same precision she used when her hands danced across the piano keys.

"Tell me what you want," Laura breathed against Fiona’s thigh, her voice low and her teeth grazing the skin in another subtle touch. "Use your own words." She was using her teacher’s tone, but a little rougher and more demanding than than when she used it during lessons.

Fiona moaned, hips twitching forward against Laura’s restraining grip, hands clutching at her shoulders. "I want..." Her breath hitched as Laura’s fingers circled again, but not quite with the pressure she needed. "I want you to make me come." The words tumbled out in a rush, raw and unfiltered. Laura hummed in approval, her breath hot against Fiona’s damp skin, but her fingers still moved deliberately lightly and slowly.

Fiona’s hips twitched again, her nails biting into Laura’s shoulders. "Please… I’m begging for it." The words tumbled out between gasps as Laura’s fingers circled her clit with torturous precision, the older woman using all her experience, knowing exactly what she was doing.

Laura’s breath was hot against Fiona’s thigh. "Begging for what?" she murmured innocently, her fingers slowing to a near stop. Fiona whimpered, starting to become desperate now, her mind needing to focus on the task of persuading Laura to give her what she wanted.

"Please..." Fiona gasped, trying to arch her hips toward Laura’s teasing hand. "Do your best for me, Laura. I need to come." The admission ripped from her throat, raw and pleading. It made Laura push herself up and look Fiona in the eyes. Fiona immediately recognized the look, and the smirk, the same infuriating smirk Fiona had seen when Laura was demonstrating how to play a difficult passage.

Laura’s fingers stilled completely. "Ask properly." The demand hit Fiona hard, having been reduced to begging already, and sent a fresh shudder down her spine. .

Fiona’s nails dug into Laura’s shoulders and her voice cracked with frustration and need. "Please, Ms. Middleton..." The honorific slipped out instinctively, but it was a sign of her desperation. She wondered how Laura would react to it.

She didn’t have long to wait. "Again," she demanded, her voice very rough and nothing like her usual measured tone during lessons.

"Please… Ms. Middleton… Don’t tease me… You know what I need," Fiona whimpered, the words fracturing as Laura’s fingers began to circle her clit again.

Laura’s fingers still moved with calculated precision, denying Fiona the steady rhythm she craved. "Look at you," she murmured, “desperate.”

Fiona whined and arched her back, knowing that forcing Laura to beg earlier had come back to bite her. Laura watched her with dark satisfaction, noting her reactions, every detail being cataloged and savored. Instead of the touch that Fiona longed for, her fingers continued to move with infuriating lightness.

Her fingers moved lower now, no longer circling Fiona’s clit but circling her entrance instead, but still slowly and lightly. Eventually one finger slipped inside, shallow at first but then twisting deeper. Then came a second finger and the two fingers combined to stretch Fiona with a very exaggerated slowness, causing her to let out a long sigh

Laura’s thumb brushed Fiona’s clit. Not circling now, just gently brushing against it while her fingers pistoned deeper. Fiona’s thighs trembled violently, and now that her hips were no longer being held down they jerked into each relentless thrust, seeking more friction, more pressure.

Laura’s thumb began circling again, more firmly now, the touch on the clit much greater. This was much more like the kind of contact Fiona had been seeking, the synergy of the trusting fingers and the pressing thumb finally promising the release she had been waiting for.

"You’re close," Laura murmured. It wasn’t a question, just an acknowledgment, clinical and certain, the way she’d note Fiona’s fingering mistakes during scales. "But I decide exactly when."

Fiona’s breath hitched when Laura’s fingers suddenly slowed, each thrust now a deliberate, maddening tease. At the same time the contact with her clit also fell away, with no more circling or pressing, just fleeting brushes from Laura’s thumb, each one as light as a staccato note.

"Laura!" Fiona’s voice shattered.

"Not yet." Laura’s fingers twisted deeper, but terribly slowly, her thumb pressing flush against Fiona’s clit without movement. Fiona’s hips stuttered forward, seeking friction, but the stronger older woman pressed her back. "You’ll wait until I’m ready."

Laura’s fingers now stilled. “Count to ten.” Fiona didn’t immediately respond, puzzled by the unexpected command. "Now."

"One..." Fiona’s voice cracked as Laura’s fingers twisted deeper, the sudden stretch she felt burning in the best way. Laura’s thumb circled Fiona’s clit just once, as sharp as a metronome’s click, before retreating.

"Carry on." Her fingers withdrew completely, leaving Fiona gasping at the emptiness before driving back in, two fingers going deep again. Fiona’s back arched and she gasped loudly.

"T-two…" Laura’s thumb pressed harder against Fiona’s clit, grinding in slow circles, causing her back to arch again.

"Three..." The word dissolved into a whimper as Laura’s fingers withdrew abruptly, tracing Fiona’s entrance without pressing in, and her thumb stilled once more. She looked at Fiona expectantly.

"F-four..." Fiona gasped, as Laura’s fingers returned to action, stretching her at first and then diving deeply.

"Keep going," Laura demanded, her voice low and rough, not sounding anything like the patient and nurturing voice that Fiona knew so well from her lessons.

"F-five..." Fiona’s breath hitched as Laura’s fingers slowed again, almost stilling, and her thumb retreated. Fiona whimpered, her hips jerking forward helplessly.

"Six..." She gasped loudly, her thighs trembling violently as Laura picked up the pace again, both her fingers and her thumb returning to full service, giving Fiona exactly what she craved.

"Seven..." Fiona’s voice shattered into a moan as Laura’s fingers worked faster and her thumb pressed harder. She knew that Laura was now taking her where she wanted to go.

“Almost there,” Laura commanded, hitting a steady rhythm now. Her fingers pistoned in and out, knuckles pressing against Fiona’s slick folds with each thrust.

“Eight…” Laura’s thumb was circling quickly now. Fiona could finally feel the pressure on her clit the way she’d been begging to feel it and her excitement was rising rapidly.

"N-nine..." She choked the word out, her voice fracturing now as Laura’s hand worked relentlessly between her legs, fingers and thumb moving in harmony to achieve the desired result.

"Ten,” Fiona panted, sounding as though she was struggling for breath. Laura suddenly took her clit in her mouth and sucked it hard, gently biting around it at the same time. Fiona let out a strangled scream as her excitement peaked, her vision whited out for a breathless second, her back arched violently off the sofa, and her orgasm ripped through her.

Laura’s breath was rough against Fiona’s ear, her teeth grazing Fiona’s earlobe as she murmured, "that was good, you came on cue." The words were thick with satisfaction, nothing like the measured praise that Fiona knew from her piano lessons. Fiona shuddered, her body still pulsing around Laura’s fingers before she finally withdrew them.

There was just enough room on the generously sized sofa for Laura to lay down alongside Fiona. They gazed at each other, smiled at each other, and Fiona whimpered a little when Laura’s thumb brushed her lower lip, her breath hitching at the deliberate possessiveness in the gesture.

Eventually Laura spoke. "We can’t let your parents know about this," she murmured, her thumb continuing to trace Fiona’s lower lip. “It has to be our secret.” Fiona nodded, not wanting her parents to know either.

The grandfather clock in the hallway struck the hour, reminding them both that it was getting late. “I need to make a move,” said Laura.

“Not yet,” Fiona protested, “My parents—“

“Might come home earlier than you’re expecting.”

“Laura, don’t go yet, I want to spend more time with you.”

“You will,” Laura replied. “I see us spending a lot of time together. Not tonight, but in the future. Fiona nodded, loving the certainty in Laura’s voice.

The following evening, Fiona sat alone in her room, thinking about what had happened. She was still full of excitement after her intimate encounter with Laura, and she kept replaying it in her mind, step by step, relishing going over the exact details of what they'd done together. It wasn't every day that a dream came true, but this had been a fantasy of hers for a long time and now it really had happened.

She was thrilled that Laura had spoken about spending more time together, but concerned that she had left without saying anything about when their next meeting would be. It seemed unbearably long to have to wait until next week's piano lesson, and even if she did have to wait that long her parents would be around at that time anyway, meaning that nothing more than the lesson itself would take place.

At that moment, she heard her mother calling her and left her room, going to the head of the stairs. Her mother stood at the bottom. "Laura Middleton just called," she said.

Fiona, taken by surprise, immediately came down the stairs. "What did she want?"

"She said your lesson last night went very well and she thinks the time's right to give you tuition on a grand piano, rather than our upright. It would mean going to her studio for your next lesson, rather than her coming here."

Fiona's surprise was genuine. "I'd love to play a grand piano," she said, trying not to appear too excited.

"She has your number. She'll contact you directly to confirm it with you."

Fiona nodded. Her heart was suddenly racing, but outwardly she remained very measured. "I'll get some practice in now and wait for her call."

She went to the piano and sat on the bench, remembering with a smirk what had taken place there the evening before. She considered contacting Laura without waiting for her call, but didn't want to appear too desperate.

She began to play a Czerny étude, knowing that Czerny exercises were something that Laura always urged her to practice. She concentrated hard on the familiar drills, feeling keener than ever to do her teacher's bidding.

Her phone buzzed with a text, causing her to stop playing. The message was clinical. "Next lesson Thursday 7pm. Confirm if OK." An address followed, not that far away.

Fiona's pulse throbbed rapidly. She was going to be alone with Laura again. Just the two of them and a grand piano. Only five days to wait.

Her hand hovered over the phone's keyboard, before typing "What should I wear?" She hit send and immediately cringed at her transparency.

The reply came quickly. "Don't dress up. Or your parents will wonder why."

Fiona smiled to herself, both at Laura's practicality and the implication beneath it. She typed back. "OK. See you Thursday."

She resumed playing, her fingers tapping out Czerny études with uncharacteristic precision, the notes ringing sharply in the silent room, every arpeggio sounding flawless. Knowing she was going to be alone with Laura again had inspired her to greater heights.

Her mother came in and stood listening, a pleased expression on her face. "You're playing beautifully today," she remarked approvingly.

Fiona barely glanced up, fingers flying over the keys with newfound fervor. "Ms. Middleton's taught me well."

Her mother lingered by the piano. "She’s an excellent teacher," she said, adjusting a framed photo on the mantel. "Nervous about the grand piano?"

Fiona forced a smile. "Just excited." She switched to playing a Chopin nocturne, which she had played a number of times before and knew well. Her mother found it familiar, appreciating its serene and flowing melody. It was a good way to end the session.

The next few days passed slowly for Fiona, testing her patience, but at long last it was Thursday. She set out for Laura’s studio dressed in jeans and a simple blouse and jacket - nothing that would arouse suspicion. Her heart and her mind both raced at what the evening promised to have in store for her.

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