The Naked Piano Player (Chapter 2) (ff:one-on-one, 8494 words) [2/3] show all parts

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"You're early," Laura remarked, stepping aside to let her in. The studio was an elegant converted loft space with high ceilings, its centerpiece a gleaming Steinway grand piano. The scent of bergamot and rosin hung heavy in the air.

Fiona's throat went dry at the sight of the grand piano, its polished black surface reflecting Laura's silhouette. "This is quite a step up from my upright," she said, eyeing the raised lid and the long sweep of the keyboard. "It's enormous."

Laura's lips curved as she walked around the instrument. "A grand piano presents a different experience, but I'm sure you'll adjust quickly." She traced the edge of the fallboard with one finger, before flipping it open. "Sit down."

Fiona lowered herself onto the bench, hyperaware of Laura standing just behind her right shoulder. She flexed her fingers, feeling they had to be fully ready as a new world was waiting for them. Then her hands hovered over the keys, awaiting directions.

"Begin with scales," Laura instructed, her breath warm against Fiona's ear. "Hands separate." She moved immediately behind Fiona, putting her hands on her shoulders. "Posture straight."

Fiona inhaled shakily and positioned her hands, the keys cool beneath her fingertips. She played the C-sharp minor scale slowly, each note reverberating through the cavernous studio. Laura was on the move, circling the piano like a predator, listening carefully with every step.

"Again," Laura murmured when Fiona finished. "Faster this time."

Fiona obeyed, the notes tumbling out more fluidly now. Laura’s shadow fell across the keys as she completed her circle. She leaned closer, very close, and a single lock of hair escaped her updo, brushing Fiona’s cheek as she played.

"Good," Laura murmured. Her hands settling on Fiona’s shoulders again, thumb pressing into the hollow of her collarbone. "Now hands together."

The first chord Fiona struck was too loud, the Steinway’s resonance vibrating up her arms. Laura exhaled - almost a laugh - and slid onto the bench beside her, their thighs touching. "Control the pressure," she instructed, covering Fiona’s right hand with her own. "The keys respond differently than your upright." Her fingers lingered, warm and familiar, before guiding Fiona’s into position.

They played a descending scale in unison, Laura’s tempo flawless. Fiona’s pulse hammered when Laura’s left hand drifted to her waist, adjusting her posture. "Better," Laura murmured, her lips grazing Fiona’s earlobe. The metronome’s steady tick filled the pause between scales, each beat syncing with the throb Fiona could feel between her legs.

Laura stood abruptly, surveying Fiona with a calculating look. "Now the étude." She placed sheet music on the top board, her own handwritten markings crowding the margins.

The first measure came out jagged, Fiona’s fingers stumbling over left-hand arpeggios. Laura clicked her tongue and seized Fiona’s wrist mid-note, halting the melody. "Patience," she chided, dragging Fiona’s hand lower on the keys. "Feel the weight first." Her thumb pressed into Fiona’s pulse point - hard enough to leave marks - as she demonstrated proper pressure.

Fiona’s next attempt earned a hum of approval, but Laura didn’t release her grip. Instead, she guided Fiona’s fingers through the phrase, her other hand sliding over Fiona’s blouse to splay across her abdomen. "Breathe into it," Laura murmured, her palm rising with Fiona’s inhale. The heat of her touch bled through the thin fabric.

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jth215 writes Sun 5 Apr 2026 14:48:

It's going to be a masterpiece. Can't wait for the recital!!! Thanks for sharing your stories

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