The Naked Piano Player (Chapter 5) (ff:one-on-one, 8088 words) [5/5] show all parts

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Fiona felt a small flutter of nerves, wondering how demanding it was going to be, but placed her hands on the keys and began. The opening was familiar, comforting even, and she felt herself settling into it. The familiarity carried her and the melody emerged with the same warmth she’d found before.

For a few bars, it felt reassuring. Recognizable ground beneath her fingers. Then the texture thickened. Her left hand began to move independently, and almost immediately she felt the balance shift. The melody faltered, not in pitch but in presence, as if it were being nudged aside by the harmony beneath it.

Fiona adjusted the pedal, then adjusted again, trying to keep the sound from smearing. She pushed on, aware now of how much she was managing rather than listening. The inner voices tugged for attention. The bass grew heavier than she intended. By the time she reached the end of the phrase, the line had lost its shape.

“Stop there,” Laura said gently.

Fiona lifted her hands. “It’s harder to keep it honest,” she said, frowning at the score.

“Yes,” Laura replied. “Because now the piece isn’t helping you anymore. You have to make choices.” She leaned closer. “Play just the melody.”

Fiona did, the line suddenly bare and exposed. “Good,” Laura said. “Now add the bass. Quietly. Let it tell you where the harmony’s going, not where it wants to dominate.” Fiona tried again. The result was tentative but clearer. The melody breathed a little more freely, though her shoulders remained tense. “You’re listening now,” Laura said. “That’s the difference.”

They moved on, cautiously. Fiona made it through the next section without stopping, though the effort showed. Her concentration narrowed as the voices multiplied, and she felt the familiar urge to smooth everything over with the pedal.

“Careful,” Laura murmured. “If you blur it, you lose the conversation between the hands.”

Fiona nodded and tried to separate the lines, even as her fingers protested. A chord landed unevenly. Another came out heavier than she intended. She winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” said Laura. “Just notice.”

They reached the central interlude and Fiona stopped playing, looking hard at the score. This was very different to the gentle, reflective lines she'd played so far. The contrasting and intricate section darted like quicksilver across the page before her. It was going to be a challenge.

"Don’t worry about perfection," said Laura. "I want to hear how you shape it.”

Fiona hesitated, then stumbled through the first few bars, immediately feeling how exposed they were. Without pedal, every note stood alone. The articulation felt almost brittle. “It sounds wrong,” she said.

“It sounds clear,” Laura corrected. “That’s what you’re not used to.” She gestured toward Fiona’s right hand. “No warmth here. No lingering. Precision.”

Fiona tried again. The notes felt stark, but something about the clarity steadied her. The rhythm locked in more securely, even as the texture remained thin, almost austere.

“There,” said Laura. “You’re not pretending it’s something else.”

Fiona made it through the passage, not confidently, but intact. It had been a little messy and uneven, but she pushed through to the end. When she reached the return of the fuller texture, she almost sighed with relief - and promptly overdid the pedal.

Laura stopped her again, smiling this time. “You see? Every section teaches you something different.”

Fiona laughed quietly, rubbing her fingers together. “It feels like it’s all balance.”

“It is,” Laura said. “And restraint. Which is why this belongs with Beethoven, not instead of him.”

Fiona glanced down at the score again, her expression thoughtful rather than discouraged. “I can’t play this properly yet,” she said.

“No,” Laura agreed. “But you’re hearing it properly. That comes first.” Fiona nodded. "Now, let's try the bridge again. Slowly this time. Let's get it right. The speed will come later.”

Fiona tried again, this time focusing on clarity rather than pace. Laura leaned in, tapping a gentle rhythm on the lid, guiding her through the tricky runs.

“You see?” Laura said quietly. “It’s not beyond you. It just asks more of you." Fiona nodded. "Now again.”

Fiona felt a small spark of pride, as she rose to the challenge, and as she continued to play that spark of pride grew ever brighter with every pass she made through the bridge.

"The speed is coming," remarked Laura, looking pleased. "It's a good achievement if you can get all the way there, because it is very difficult to play at the required tempo. Even the Beatles original was recorded at half-speed and then sped up."

Fiona was surprised. "I didn't know that. It means you're asking me to play something that they didn't even play themselves. It was a studio trick."

"It was studio... invention." Laura smiled. "It means this full version of In My Life is actually a fantastic challenge for you, because the fast bridge is so difficult to master and because playing it requires the same finger independence you use for Beethoven." She paused to allow Fiona to process that thought.

"Speaking of Beethoven, it's time we tried the Andante again. I'll leave you to practice In My Life at home and try to master playing the bridge perfectly at full speed." She smiled. "Let's see if you can nail it." She placed the score for Andante on the music stand. “Let’s pick up where we left off last time."

Fiona nodded and positioned herself carefully, eyes on the first bars. She let her fingers hover for a moment, recalling the advice Laura had given her before. Listen first, trust the harmony, don’t force the melody. She felt calm and was ready to begin.

The opening chords came more steadily than last time. The melody rose clearly, supported but not overpowered by the left hand. Fiona’s shoulders relaxed slightly - a small victory, but enough to buoy her confidence. She could feel the pulse in her arms, the gentle lift of the melody beneath her fingers, and for a moment, the music seemed to breathe along with her.

Laura leaned in, watching without interruption, then spoke softly. “Notice how the left hand should breathe. It’s not a machine, it’s part of the conversation. Let it suggest, not insist.”

Fiona nodded, adjusting the pressure of her touch. She tried to imagine the notes as voices, each with its own weight and rhythm, rather than as obstacles she had to manage. The pulse was steadier, the phrase shaped rather than chased, and she allowed herself a small sense of satisfaction at the way the melody flowed.

Encouraged, she moved into the first variation. Her right hand articulated the melody more confidently than before, letting the notes ring rather than forcing them forward. She could feel the inner voices threading beneath her, hints of harmonies she had only barely noticed last time, and she let them color the sound without trying to control every one of them.

For several bars, the music held together beautifully. Fiona could sense the rise and fall of each phrase, the subtle interplay between hands. She remembered Laura’s words about listening instead of counting, and it helped her keep the rhythm flowing naturally, even as the left hand added small flourishes and the inner voices weaved through the melody.

Then, halfway through the variation, the inner voices began to crowd the top line. Fiona’s pulse wavered. A chord landed slightly late, and a subtle ripple of tension crept through the passage. She tried to maintain the melody’s prominence, but the counterpoint tugged at her fingers, pulling her attention in multiple directions at once. Her right hand faltered for a fraction of a second. A note rang sharper than intended.

Laura stopped her. “Hold it there,” she said. “You felt that slip, didn’t you?”

Fiona nodded, cheeks warming. “Yes… I tried to keep everything even.”

Laura smiled faintly. “That’s the mistake. Evenness isn’t the goal here. You need to let some notes carry, some recede. The movement speaks in shades, not in weight.” Fiona nodded again. "You played well until that slip, but a slip's a slip, so I'm going to demand a forfeit."

Fiona swallowed. The mention of a forfeit caused her body to react immediately in anticipation. Laura smiled at Fiona's reaction and moved behind her, hands resting on Fiona's shoulders. She began to knead them gently, fingers pressing into the tight muscles. Fiona exhaled shakily, her skin prickling beneath Laura’s touch.

"Take off your blouse," Laura murmured against Fiona's ear, her breath warm.

Fiona was accustomed to these forfeits by now and didn't feel any hesitation. She reached for the top button and popped it out. The rest soon followed and she slipped the blouse off her shoulders, allowing it to fall away and pool around her elbows. She shivered slightly as Laura's hands skimmed down her bare arms, before settling back on her shoulders again.

“As I said, you need to let some notes carry and some recede." Laura pointed to a passage a few bars ahead. “Play just the melody again. Listen.”

Fiona obeyed, the line floating above the empty accompaniment. The clarity of the melody felt like a small triumph. Laura tapped her finger in time, indicating the subtle rhythm changes and phrasing she wanted Fiona to notice. “Now add the left hand,” Laura said. “Lightly. Let it suggest the harmony, not push it.” Fiona tried again. The balance was fragile, but she survived - a small victory over her earlier missteps.

Laura nodded. “Better. That’s exactly where you should be right now. Not perfect, not steady, but listening.” Fiona paused at the next phrase, resting her fingers briefly on the keys. She felt a quiet pride. She hadn’t nailed everything, but the Andante was beginning to feel like a dialogue, not a test.

She pressed on, carefully, anchoring herself to the harmony she could hear beneath the surface, letting it guide her through the next phrase. The melody emerged again, not as freely as before, but present - something she had to hold, rather than something that carried her. Her left hand softened instinctively, yielding just enough space for the top line to reassert itself.

For a few bars the balance returned, but Fiona started to feel the strain in her forearms now, the fine tremor that crept in when concentration tightened too much. The inner voices hovered at the edge of her awareness, no longer overwhelming, but never quite still. She negotiated them cautiously, but nevertheless another chord slipped - not late this time, but heavier than she intended.

The sound thickened momentarily, and Fiona grimaced, adjusting her touch mid-phrase. She compensated quickly, thinning the texture, easing the pedal, willing the line forward without letting it rush. It worked - just. The phrase reached its cadence intact, though not comfortably. Fiona let the final harmony settle, resisting the urge to release it too soon. When she lifted her hands, it was with a sense of having crossed something narrow and uneven.

Laura gave her a small smile. "You felt how close that was,” she said.

Fiona nodded. “I was holding it together.”

“Yes,” Laura replied. “But you were holding. That’s different from shaping." She paused to let her point hit home. "For that reason I have to ask for another forfeit.”

Fiona exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening on the piano keys as Laura leaned forward, her lips grazing Fiona’s exposed shoulder. “Remove your skirt,” Laura murmured. “Slowly.”

Fiona stood and reached for the zipper of the skirt, pulling it slowly as instructed, then she gently pushed the skirt down, just enough to gradually slide the fabric down her thighs. Laura watched approvingly, her fingers skating up Fiona's spine as she sat down again.

Laura leaned forward, indicating the passage Fiona had just played. “Here, you recovered by tightening your grip. That saved you, but it also stiffened the sound.”

Fiona looked back at the keys, absorbing that. “I didn’t know how else to stop it falling apart.”

“And you won’t yet,” Laura said gently. “Not every solution is available immediately. Sometimes all you can do is stay upright.” She straightened. “What matters is that you didn’t panic. You listened, you adjusted, and you carried the variation through.”

Fiona let that sink in. Her hands rested lightly on her thighs, tired but responsive, as if still tuned to the piano. She glanced back at the score, no longer intimidated by it, but keenly aware of its demands. The variation still lay just beyond her control, but not beyond her reach.

“Let’s stay with it,” Laura said. “But we’re going to change how you approach it.” Fiona straightened, alert again despite the tiredness in her hands. “Play the variation again,” Laura continued, “but only the right hand. No pedal. I want to hear how you’re shaping the line when nothing is helping you.”

Fiona nodded and began. Without the left hand, the melody felt exposed, almost fragile. She became acutely aware of where she leaned too hard, where the phrase rushed ahead of itself. A note snagged under her finger, and she grimaced, correcting it instinctively.

“Stop,” Laura said. “That was a good recovery, but I still can't let you get away with the mistake. It means another forfeit.”

Fiona’s breath hitched as Laura’s fingers traced the clasp of her bra. “May I?” Laura murmured, though the question was rhetorical, her hands already loosening the hooks. The fabric slid away, and Fiona shuddered as cooler air danced across her bare breasts. Laura’s hands now ran across her shoulders, thumbs kneading the tiredness from her muscles.

“Play the variation again,” said Laura. "From the top, but again only the right hand. No pedal."

Fiona paused to regain her concentration. When she was ready, she tried again, getting off to a good start. She reached the point where she'd slipped before, smoothing the phrase, letting it unfold more patiently. The line made more sense now - less hurried, more deliberate.

“Now the left hand,” Laura said. “Alone. Quietly. Think of it as walking underneath the melody, not carrying it.”

The bass and inner voices were harder to place in isolation. Fiona stumbled over a transition, her rhythm faltering. “I can’t feel where it’s going,” she admitted.

“That’s because you’ve been using the melody as a crutch,” Laura replied calmly. “This part has to know where it’s going too.” She tapped the score lightly. “Look at the harmony. Play it again - slower. But you'll have to pay another forfeit first. Turn around.”

Fiona did as she was told and turned around on the piano bench to face Laura. "Mistakes are coming thick and fast now," Laura murmured. "Perhaps you're tiring." She picked up one of Fiona's legs and pulled her shoe off and then reached up and peeled her stocking down. Then she picked up her other leg and did the same, leaving Fiona in nothing but her panties.

She tapped the score again. “Look at the harmony. Play it again - slower.”

Fiona did as she was asked. She was tiring a little now, as Laura had suggested, but she did her best to focus on the task in hand. She began steadily enough and the shape emerged reluctantly, but it did emerge. When she reached the cadence, it felt less accidental.

Laura nodded. “Better. Now put them together. But don’t aim for fluency. Aim for clarity.”

Fiona took a deep breath and began again, both hands now moving cautiously, deliberately. The texture was thinner than before, the tempo slightly restrained, but the balance held longer this time. She made it past the place where she had slipped earlier.

Her confidence lifted - and almost immediately, she pressed too hard, accenting a chord that didn’t want emphasis. The sound thickened, momentarily blunt. She stopped playing. "I pushed there."

"Yes," said Laura, "and when the mistake came, you knew straight away what you'd done wrong. It may have been a mistake, but it was also an opportunity to learn. Since you did learn it's still a mistake, but it's not a failure. Having said all that, it will still cost you a forfeit."

Fiona barely had time to inhale before Laura’s fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties. The lace scraped down her thighs with agonizing slowness, leaving her entirely bare beneath Laura’s assessing gaze. Her skin prickled with a mix of exposure and anticipation.

Once again, Fiona had become a naked piano player. She put that thought out of her mind, resetting and continuing, going back to the point at which she'd made the error and correcting that chord. The variation no longer flowed easily, but it held together through awareness rather than force.

“This is what progress looks like,” Laura said. “Stumbling sometimes, but making it through."

Fiona did indeed make it through. She finished the passage and sat still, hands hovering just above the keys. “It feels like I’m constantly adjusting,” she said.

Laura smiled. “You are. Eventually, those adjustments become instinct. But first, they have to be conscious.” She gestured to the opening of the variation again. “All right, once more. The whole variation. Same tempo. This time, don’t try to improve it. Just listen.”

Fiona nodded. She adjusted her hands, feeling the familiar tiredness in her fingers, and took a moment longer than usual before beginning. As she began, her focus narrowed to sound alone - not success, not failure, just the unfolding of each phrase as it came. The Andante continued to resist her, but less violently now, as if it were beginning, slowly, to allow her in.

The opening held. The melody emerged clearly, shaped with care rather than confidence, and the left hand stayed restrained, almost cautious. Fiona focused on the harmony she could feel beneath the surface, letting it guide her instead of fighting for control.

As she reached the passage that had undone her earlier, her concentration sharpened. The inner voices pressed in, but she resisted the urge to tighten. One chord landed heavier than she intended, but she absorbed it, easing the next phrase rather than letting the balance tip. The line wavered - but it did not break.

She carried on, breathing with the music now, listening intently. The variation unfolded to its cadence, intact if not effortless, and when she reached the final chord she let it settle fully before lifting her hands. Silence filled the room.

Laura didn’t speak at first. Then she nodded. “That’s enough for today.”

Fiona let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “It wasn’t perfect.”

“No,” Laura said. “But it was controlled. And more importantly, it was aware.” She closed the fallboard gently. “That’s exactly where you should stop. Any more, and you’d start undoing what you just learned.”

Fiona flexed her fingers, tired but satisfied. The Andante no longer felt like something that simply happened to her - it was something she could now move through, carefully, deliberately. As she relaxed now, she glanced once more at the page, knowing she hadn’t conquered it. But she had held it - and for today, that was enough.

"You must be improving," Laura remarked. "The lesson's over and you don't have any outstanding forfeits this week."

Fiona blushed, acutely aware of her nakedness against the cool piano bench. "I'm trying," she murmured.

Laura’s fingers traced idle patterns along Fiona’s spine. “For this week,” she said, “I don’t want you practicing the whole movement.”

Fiona looked up, surprised. “Not all of it?”

“No.” Laura shook her head. “Just the variation you played today - and only the first half of it.” She reached forward and pointed at the score. “From here to here. That’s all.” She drew a small bracket lightly in pencil. Fiona looked at the indicated section. It was barely a page.

“Slow,” Laura continued. “Slower than feels necessary. Count in two, not four. And every time the left hand changes harmony, you check the balance. If you hear the bass before you hear the line, you stop and reset.” Fiona nodded, committing it to memory.

“No pushing,” Laura added. “If it starts to feel heroic, you’re going too fast. This isn’t about endurance, it’s about control.” She paused, then softened slightly. “Once a day. Twice if you’re fresh. Never when you’re tired.”

Fiona smiled faintly. “That sounds manageable.”

“It is,” Laura said. “That’s the point.” She closed the score. “Next time, I want to hear calm. Even if it’s cautious. Especially if it’s cautious." Fiona nodded. "And don't forget In My Life. Before you go, I'll give you the score for the full version. Practice that and try to play the piano solo at full speed, and if you can't manage that, play it as fast as you realistically can."

Laura traced Fiona's bare shoulder with one finger. "That wraps up the lesson for this week. It's been a good session. Now it's time to turn our attention to some... extracurricular activity, don't you think?" She led Fiona across the studio, headed for her bedroom.

Laura sat down on the edge of the bed, gesturing for Fiona to do the same. She put her hand on her naked back and ran her fingers down her spine. "Have you been thinking about me? Since we last met?"

Fiona exhaled shakily. "Every day."

"Tell me what you were thinking. Did you fantasize about me?"

"Yes, every day."

"So tell me what happened in your fantasies. Entertain me."

Fiona hesitated, her pulse fluttering as Laura’s fingertips still lingered against her spine. She'd had several fantasies about Laura in the last few days and she wasn't sure where to begin.

"Don't just tell me that you thought about me and touched yourself," said Laura. "I'm hoping for more than that. I'm hoping for a good story."

Fiona hadn't wanted to talk about touching herself anyway. Focusing on that felt too raw, too exposed, too awkward. There was one fantasy from the last few days that stood out in her mind, as being something of a story. It would have to be that one. She shivered as Laura’s nails scraped lightly up her back, hoping that it would prove enough of a story to please her.

"When we left the club on Saturday night and were on the way here, I wanted to... do something with you in the back of the taxi."

"Really," said Laura. "So you were in that much of a hurry. You couldn't wait until we got back here."

"No, it wasn't that," said Fiona firmly. "I wanted to do something in the back of the taxi because... I wanted the cabbie to see us."

"Oh, now I get it," replied Laura. "You liked the idea of being watched. Of course. So tell me, why didn't you say something at the time?"

"I decided it was a bad idea. I didn't want the driver to become distracted. We could have ended up going off the road."

Laura nodded. "That's very true. It's good to know that you saw sense." Her hand remained on Fiona's bare back, still gently moving up and down.

"But the following day, I thought about it again."

Laura’s fingers stilled. "And?"

Fiona swallowed hard. "I imagined you pulling my skirt up - just enough - so the driver could see my thighs in the rearview mirror. You kept whispering things while your fingers..." She trailed off, but Laura pressed her palm flat between Fiona’s shoulder blades, urging her onward.

"While my fingers did what?" Laura murmured, her breath hot against Fiona’s ear.

Fiona arched slightly, her skin prickling. "Slid under my panties. Slowly. I thought you were intending it to be a show for the driver." She hesitated, then added in a rush, "But you made me keep my legs pressed together so the driver wouldn’t see - but he'd already heard the fabric rustling. His eyes kept flicking to the mirror."

Laura hummed, nails digging in just enough to sting. "And did he see anything worthwhile?"

"Not… Not at first," Fiona gasped. "But then you told me to lift my hips. Just a little. So the lace... rode up higher." Her thighs pressed together instinctively at the memory. "The streetlights kept flashing through the windows. Every time they did, he could see..."

"He could see what?"

Fiona gulped. "My… My panties. With your hand inside them." She shuddered as Laura’s other hand skimmed down her stomach, stopping just above her thighs. "And then... you pressed harder... making me squirm. The cab hit a pothole and I was thrown into the air for a moment. The driver definitely saw then."

Laura’s hand drifted lower, now between Fiona's thighs. "Saw what?"

Fiona’s breath came in shallow gasps. "Saw… Saw you that you'd pulled my panties down. Just for a second. The streetlight caught—" Her voice broke as Laura’s hand zeroed in between her legs, fingertips skimming her clit.

"Caught what?" Laura’s whisper was velvet-wrapped steel.

Fiona’s thighs trembled as Laura’s fingers brushed her clit more firmly. "The streetlight caught me right between the legs." The confession tore from her throat as Laura’s fingers brushed her clit again. "And then you..."

Laura’s teeth grazed her neck. "Say it."

"—put your fingers there again," Fiona choked out. "And I couldn't help myself. I started to react. I couldn't hide it." She gasped as Laura’s fingers started circling her clit, pressing firmly and deliberately. "And I kept seeing his eyes in the mirror."

Laura used her thumb now, circling slowly, mirroring the fantasy exactly. "What happened then?"

"The driver pulled over," Fiona murmured.

Laura didn't stop her thumb's slow, deliberate circling. "Did he now?"

Fiona nodded firmly, her hips jerking minutely against Laura's hand. "He said the engine was overheating and he needed to let it cool down for a few minutes. But he turned around and was staring at us."

"So he was watching properly? Getting a good look?"

Fiona nodded, her thighs tightening involuntarily as Laura’s thumb slowed - not stopping, just drawing out each stroke. "Yes. And… And then you whispered... Open your legs, Fiona. Show him."

Laura’s breath hitched against her ear. "And did you?"

Fiona’s thighs trembled, her skin flushing hotter. "I hesitated," she admitted. "But then you pinched my thigh - hard - and I... I spread them." The memory coiled tight in her stomach. "The streetlight was right on me. He could see everything."

Laura pushed Fiona down onto the bed, spreading her legs, her fingers finding her entrance, dipping just inside her. "How did that feel?"

"Like burning... Like burning into me," Fiona gasped. "The way the light hit - so bright - and his eyes..." She shuddered as Laura’s fingers curled, pressing deeper. "He kept licking his lips. I saw him."

Laura’s free hand fisted in Fiona’s hair, tilting her head back. "And then?"

Fiona’s voice dropped to a whisper. "I heard him unzip and... I realized he was touching himself."

Laura’s fingers stilled inside her. "Did you watch him?"

Fiona nodded, her breath ragged. "Yes. I couldn't see what he was doing from where I was, but I knew what he was doing. I watched his face to see his reactions. As you kept touching me, he kept staring."

Laura’s fingers twisted sharply inside her. "Did you enjoy that?"

Fiona moaned, her hips rocking against Laura’s hand. "Yes… Yes... I… I could see his staring, but I could also feel his staring. Really feel it. As you touched me, the staring... increased the sensation. It was exciting."

"What happened next?”

Laura’s hand continued to work between Fiona's legs, her fingers thrusting in and out and her thumb circling her clit, causing her to stumble a little with her words. "You... carried on touching me and... he carried on watching... As I got more excited... I could see him getting more excited."

Laura’s grip tightened in her hair. “Keep going.”

Fiona rocked her hips forward against Laura's hand. "He couldn't... take his eyes off me... And I couldn't... take my eyes off him."

"Were you still giving him a good look?"

“Yes,” Fiona gasped, the admission spilling out between ragged breaths. “I kept my legs spread... to give him the best view I could." Her words dissolved into a whimper as Laura’s hand brought her close to the brink and her thighs began to shake.

"Did he say anything?” Laura murmured, her lips brushing the shell of Fiona’s ear. “Or was he too busy jerking himself raw?”

Fiona’s toes curled against the hardwood floor. “He… He groaned,” she panted. She arched her back as Laura’s fingers twisted deeper, thumb pressing hard against her clit. She was very close now. “Louder than he meant to. His face went red. But he didn’t look away.”

Laura’s teeth scraped Fiona’s earlobe. “Did you come in front of him?”

Fiona’s breath hitched. Laura’s fingers were relentless now, each thrust deliberate, each circle of her thumb precise, but the question forced her to relive the climax in her fantasy, amplifying the sensations tenfold. “Y-yes,” she gasped. “You made me come. I came in front of him. And… And he… He...”

Laura’s grip tightened. “He what?”

Fiona’s hips bucked helplessly against Laura’s hand. “He came too,” she choked out. “Right when I did. I saw his face - his mouth - how it twisted—” Her words shattered into a moan as Laura’s fingers drove deeper, thumb circling faster.

Laura’s voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Did he make a mess?”

Fiona whimpered, her thighs clenching around Laura’s wrist as her pleasure level reached close to breaking point, the dam about to burst open. “I couldn't... see... from where I was,” she gasped. “But... I saw him shaking... as he came... He must have... made a mess.”

Laura’s fingers curled inside her, pressing against that sweet spot ruthlessly. “And then?”

Fiona’s entire body tensed, her toes curling into the carpet. “He asked for the address again," she panted." He said he'd completely forgotten where he was taking us.” The memory collided with Laura’s relentless fingers, and Fiona recognized that she was now on the very edge.

Laura nipped at her neck. "Did you tell him?"

Fiona arched against her, the dam about to break. "No... no... you... did," she gasped. "Your voice was so calm... like nothing had happened... Like you hadn't just made me come... Like he hadn't been watching us..." Fiona shuddered, her hips stuttering against Laura’s hand. Her breath came in shallow gasps now, her hands clenching and twisting the bedsheets.

Fiona’s ragged moans filled the room as she finally shattered, her entire body convulsing against Laura’s fingers. Heat flooded her core as her release tore through her, thighs clamping around Laura’s wrist as if to anchor herself against the intensity. For a moment, her head was in something of a haze, but it quickly cleared and she reached out to pull Laura close.

For a while they held each other, not saying anything, just sharing an affectionate moment. Then Laura broke the silence, murmuring in Fiona's ear. "You know, I'm disappointed with that cabbie. Pulling over to stare at his passengers and then jerking off in front of them. "That's poor behavior in my book."

Fiona giggled, turning her face into Laura’s neck, still breathless. "But you liked the fantasy."

Laura’s fingers traced idle patterns down Fiona’s spine. "I liked - your - part in it," she corrected. "But that cabbie?" She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Unprofessional."

Fiona giggled again. "You didn't seem to mind at the time. I mean you didn't seem to mind in the fantasy."

"Well it wasn't my fantasy," said Laura, arching an eyebrow. "If it were my fantasy, I'd have made him apologize."

Fiona grinned. "And then what?"

"Then I’d have put him to the test. I’d have been - creative - in the back of the cab again, to see if he kept his eyes on the road this time."

Fiona shivered, warmth pooling low in her belly. "You’d... orchestrate another distraction?"

"Yes. A second chance for professionalism. A second chance for him to show his worth. And if he pulled over again, I'd remind him that a real cabbie always keeps his hands on the wheel."

Fiona leaned in and gave Laura a small kiss. "So how would this second distraction proceed? Bearing in mind that he'd already seen me at my most exposed. It would be your turn now, wouldn't it?"

"Yes," said Laura.

There was a pause. Fiona pushed herself up on her elbows, looking at Laura pointedly. "Yes? That's it? You're not going to elaborate?"

Laura smirked. "Would you like me to?"

Fiona smirked back. "Well we can't just leave it there, can we?"

Laura’s smirk deepened. "Okay fine. Second round then. I’d start by unbuttoning my blouse halfway. Just enough to tease the lace edging of my bra."

Fiona sat up and reached for Laura's blouse, unbuttoning it halfway as she'd described. She could already picture it - Laura’s blouse slipping open in the cab’s dim interior, the streetlights catching the curve of her collarbone every few seconds.

"Yes that's perfect," said Laura. "I'd sit in the back of the cab like this. The neon from storefronts would flash - pink, then blue - just long enough for him to glimpse the swell of my breast before shadow swallowed it again."

Fiona’s fingers traced the revealed lace. "Then what?"

"Then I’d lean forward - just slightly - to adjust the vent on the passenger seat. Giving him a longer look. Enough to see the way my bra tightens when I move."

Fiona’s breath hitched as she mimicked the motion, watching Laura’s breasts shift under the lace. "And if he… If he still kept driving?"

Laura’s fingers tangled in Fiona’s hair, tugging lightly. "Then I’d sigh like I was overheating. Maybe let the blouse gape wider." She guided Fiona’s hand to the next button. "One more. Slowly."

Fiona obeyed, her pulse jumping as Laura’s blouse parted to reveal the dark lace cupping her breasts. The cabbie’s imagined gaze burned against her skin - she could almost hear his sharp inhale, the creak of leather as he shifted in his seat.

Laura’s voice dropped to a murmur. "Then I’d catch his eyes in the mirror - hold them - while my fingers skimmed the edge of the lace." She demonstrated, her nails dragging along the scalloped trim until Fiona shivered. "Just enough to make him wonder."

Fiona’s breath hitched as Laura’s fingers trailed lower, teasing the swell of her breast. "Would… Would he say anything?"

"Not yet," Laura murmured. "But he’d grip the wheel tighter. His knuckles would whiten." She arched into Fiona’s touch, her voice dropping. "Then I’d ask him to turn up the air conditioning - my voice just shaky enough to betray how warm I really was."

Fiona’s fingers trembled as she traced the dip of Laura’s waist. "And when he reached for the controls...?"

Laura’s breath hitched. "He’d fumble. The vents would hiss too loud, covering the sound of my clasp snapping open." She guided Fiona’s hand to the back of her bra, pressing her fingers against the hook. "Go on. Prove me right."

Fiona’s pulse hammered as the clasp gave way, Laura’s breasts pressing against the loosened lace with each breath. The fantasy crystallized - the cab lurching over a pothole, Laura’s blouse slipping entirely off one shoulder as the bra gaped open.

"And then?" Fiona whispered, her fingers skating along Laura’s ribcage.

Laura exhaled sharply, her nipple peeking through the lace as she shifted. "Then he’d hit another pothole. Harder this time. My blouse would slide down my arm." She arched as Fiona’s thumb brushed her bare skin. "And my bra - already undone - would slip just enough to show him everything."

Fiona watched Laura’s chest rise with each breath, the lace clinging precariously. "Would he pull over again?" Her fingers trembled against Laura’s waist.

Laura’s laugh was low, dangerous. "Oh, he’d try." She caught Fiona’s wrist, guiding her palm fully under the loosened bra. "But this time, I’d tap the partition." Her thumb circled Fiona’s pulse point. "Eyes forward, I’d say. Unless you want me to report this cab’s suspension issues."

Fiona’s breath stuttered as Laura’s bare breast filled her hand, warm and heavy. "He’d... listen?"

Laura’s nails dug into Fiona’s thigh. "For about thirty seconds." She rolled her nipple between Fiona’s fingers, hips shifting. "Then he’d glance back - just a flicker - but I’d be ready." Her free hand dragged Fiona’s hair, tilting her head up. "I’d let the bra fall open completely, watching his Adam’s apple bob in the mirror."

Fiona moaned as Laura arched against her palm, the lace now bunched beneath her fingers. The fantasy burned clearer than the bedside lamp - neon signs reflecting off Laura’s bare skin, the cabbie’s choked gasp as fabric whispered against leather.

Laura’s voice roughened. “He’d swerve. Just slightly.” Her teeth grazed Fiona’s earlobe. “And I’d sigh - honestly, driver, focus.” She mimicked the motion, her hips canting forward to press Fiona’s hand tighter against her breast. “Then you'd start to touch me, taking advantage of my bra having fallen away, then sliding your fingers lower – slowly - letting him watch in the mirror as you traced my waistband.”

Fiona’s fingers obeyed the unspoken command, skating down Laura’s stomach to the clasp of her trousers. The metallic snick of the button releasing echoed louder than it should have - or maybe that was just the blood pounding in Fiona’s ears. Laura’s zipper parted under her trembling fingers, revealing a strip of lace so sheer it might as well have been smoke.

“Would he—” Fiona swallowed, her throat dry. “Would he still be driving?”

Laura’s laugh was dark velvet. “Barely.” She guided Fiona’s fingers beneath the lace, her breath hitching as Fiona’s fingertips grazed damp curls. “His hands would be shaking, the wheel slick with sweat, but he wouldn’t pull over. Not this time.” She nipped at Fiona’s lower lip. “Because he’d know I’d report him the second we stopped.”

Fiona’s pulse hammered against Laura’s thigh as she traced lower, Laura’s hips lifting to meet her touch. The cabbie’s imagined struggle was palpable - the jerky corrections to the steering wheel, the bitten-off curses as Laura’s fingers dipped between her own thighs in the backseat.

“He’d—” Laura’s breath hitched as Fiona’s thumb found her clit, “—speed through a yellow light. Too fast. The jolt would make your fingers slip.” She arched, pressing Fiona’s hand harder against her. “And he’d see, in the mirror, exactly where they landed.”

Fiona’s own thighs clenched at the image - Laura’s blouse pooled around her elbows, bra hanging open, Fiona's fingers working frantically between her legs while the cabbie’s reflection burned into them. The fantasy blurred with reality, Laura’s hips rocking against her palm in the same rhythm she described, her breath coming in sharp, humid bursts against Fiona’s cheek.

"And then?" Fiona rasped, her fingers slick as Laura’s arousal coated them.

Laura’s teeth scraped Fiona’s jaw. "Then I’d look up, catch his stare in the mirror, and tell you to press harder." She demonstrated, grinding against Fiona’s palm with a choked moan. "Just to watch his hands spasm on the wheel."

Fiona’s fingers curled, dragging a gasp from Laura’s throat. The cabbie’s imagined desperation thickened the air - his white-knuckled grip, the dashboard clock ticking as Laura’s breaths grew ragged.

"Would he—" Fiona’s voice cracked—"manage to hold out until the end of the journey?"

Laura’s nails bit into Fiona’s shoulder as she arched. "No." Her hips stuttered against Fiona’s hand. "He’d jerk the wheel - pull into an alley - just as I was about to—" Her breath shattered into a moan as Fiona’s thumb circled faster. "The cab would lurch to a stop. He’d turn around - mouth open - just in time to watch me come."

Fiona’s own breath caught at the image - Laura’s back bowing against the cracked vinyl seat, her thighs trembling as she climaxed under a stranger’s stare. The fantasy coiled tighter than Laura’s fingers in her hair. "Would he… touch himself again?"

Laura’s laugh was breathless, her hips still rocking against Fiona’s palm. "Not this time. He was too late to the action this time." Her back arched off the bed, telling Fiona that real life was about to follow fantasy. Just as Laura had come in the back of the cab, she was going to come for real in the bedroom.

Fiona watched Laura’s face twist with pleasure, her arousal coiling tight as Fiona's hand continued to work away between her legs, pressing relentlessly. Her breaths came in short, sharp gasps now, her thighs trembling against Fiona’s wrist.

Laura’s fingers dug into Fiona’s hair, pulling her closer until their foreheads touched, their shared breath mingling in the charged air between them. “That’s it,” Laura whispered raggedly, her voice barely audible. “Just like that. Keep going. But harder.”

Fiona obeyed, pressing deeper as Laura’s thighs clamped around her wrist. She watched the tension coil tighter in Laura’s body - the way her shoulders stiffened, the tendons in her neck standing out as she fought to keep her eyes open, fixed on Fiona’s face. A bead of sweat traced the curve of Laura’s collarbone, gliding down between her breasts, and Fiona couldn’t resist leaning in to lick it away, her tongue dragging slow over flushed skin. Laura gasped sharply, her hips jerking off the bed.

"I'm close," Laura managed, the word cracking halfway through. Her fingers twisted tighter in Fiona’s hair, pulling just shy of pain. "Don’t… Don’t stop."

Fiona didn’t stop. Her thumb circled mercilessly, the heel of her hand grinding against Laura’s clit with every erratic thrust of her hips. She watched the moment fracture - Laura’s lips parting around a silent cry, her spine bowing off the mattress as pleasure ripped through her. The orgasm rolled in waves, Laura’s thighs clamping around Fiona’s wrist, her body shuddering violently as Fiona drew it out, fingers curling deep.

Laura’s grip on Fiona’s hair went slack, her arm flopping back onto the bed as she gasped for air. Fiona slowed but didn’t stop, drawing lazy circles through the slick heat between Laura’s legs, relishing the way her muscles still twitched with oversensitivity. Laura’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her skin flushed from collarbones to cheeks, her parted lips glistening.

“Oh my god,” Laura finally breathed, voice rough. She lifted a trembling hand to push her black hair from her forehead, then fixed Fiona with a look that made her pulse skip. “Good girl.”

There was silence for a moment, Fiona deciding exactly what she should say in reply. "You said you'd reward me if I were a good girl."

"Did I?"

"You said if I were good, we'd go to the club again."

Laura smirked. "You can't wait to go back there."

It was a statement, not a question, but Fiona answered anyway. "Yes, I felt at home there. It was different. I felt like I'd fully discovered myself." She paused, searching for something more to say. "I don't want something like that to be a one-time thing. An experience that never happens again."

Laura smirked again. "I'd better keep my word then. Since it's not just me you crave, but a wider world."

"That's it exactly," Fiona replied. "Being part of that world - that scene - it felt that I belonged there. It was like... like an epiphany."

"Well, if you're going to put it that way, I can only find your argument irresistible," said Laura, smiling. "We'd better pay the club another visit pretty soon. How about Saturday?"

Fiona's pulse leapt, her fingers tightening against Laura's thigh. "Yes—" The word came out too eager, and she swallowed, forcing herself to sound smoother. "I mean, if you're free."

Laura traced Fiona's lower lip with her thumb, smirking at the barely restrained enthusiasm. "It's a date then."

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jth215 writes Sun 26 Apr 2026 16:45:

Great story. Thanks for sharing.

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