"It was a joke," God pleaded on the phone the next day.
"I really didn't see the humor in it," said Linda, trying to suppress a snicker. It HAD been funny, in retrospect, but at the time she'd been madder than hops and stormed upstairs, ready to greet a husband who was on the verge of doubting her womanhood.
But apparently he hadn't seen. He had only seen Geri come around the car before drawing back. He hadn't seen the kiss.
"Did he make love to you last night?" Geri asked curiously.
"I don't remember," said Linda saucily. "See you next week, dear." And she hung up.
She was determined to keep her marriage intact, if possible, until the divorce. And she would bitchily keep out of her life anyone who interfered. Tim had been very cool towards her. She knew he was still confused. He had no idea if she'd gotten those large bills for sex or not. And she was trying to play it cool.
They had not made love. But they had managed to talk civilly to each other.
Linda was going through the want-ads later when one caught her eye: "Students – apply – second half summer session to Cedar House Music School – 746-9111."
This was her opportunity. She'd seen variations of that ad numerous times before, and had always promised herself she would attend once. She dialed the number and was told to come in and register.
She went down immediately. The cost was $50 for eight sessions. She paid it with the second of the three large bills. Then she was instructed to purchase an alto recorder and come back that afternoon for her first lesson. She was very excited.
When she returned to the music school, she found her teacher waiting on the second floor. The lady managing the front desk had directed her in a high, squeaky voice.
"Hello," she said nervously to the white-shirted, longhaired man whose back was to her. He seemed to be going over some fingering. He turned.
"Well, hello," he said, rose and extended his hand.
"Uh," Linda said, "I'm your new student. Beginning, I just got this," and she waved the packaged recorder in her hand.
"Good," said the man. "Open it up. You… let me see here. I've got a ticket on you somewhere, yes, Linda Carney, correct?"
"Yes, sir," said Linda, pulling the twine free of the package.
"I'm John Millhouse."
"Yes, I know," Linda smiled. Fine looking man, too, she nearly added aloud. How old? Married?
Her glance skipped down to his left hand. No ring. Well, that didn't mean anything nowadays. Maybe it was in his pocket.
"Sit here," directed Mr. Millhouse. He readied a chair for Linda in front of the music stand. "You need this instruction book here," he went on. "You can use mine today."
"Oh, they didn't tell me downstairs." Linda seated herself, next to her instructor, in front of the music stand. She felt the heat radiate from his body. She wondered, if he were warm. The room was warm. Then she wondered if some people just didn't radiate more heat and sexual energy than others. If so, she was coming into the radius of his energy, and it was beginning to affect her.
She found she could hardly concentrate on what he was teaching her: "Blow and say 'tuh'," Mr. Millhouse was saying.
"Tuh, tuh," said Linda, blowing into the recorder mouthpiece and squeaking. Then she sounded a clear note.
"That's it," he said. "Now place your left thumb on this bottom hole, that's right, like that, and your forefinger, that's this one," he touched her slightly and she jumped, "on this hole above it. There. Now say 'tuh' again."
"Tuh, tuh," breathed Linda, emerging with a new note. She beamed.
"Yes, good, that's a B. Here. It looks like this on the staff. There. Do you read music?"
"A little. Very little, I'm afraid, actually. I sang in elementary school." Linda was nervously chattering away. She really wanted to touch Mr. Millhouse's thighs. They were, again, those nice thick, muscular well-developed thighs that she liked so much, that made her melt on sight. She wondered how she was going to handle this. Rather, them. She looked around. He was getting up to close the door. There was a little window in the door, through which people could see who was instructing whom. And in what, was Linda's added thought. Not a bad idea.
He sat down again. "The kids will be coming in shortly for orchestra practice. It gets very noisy."
"I see." Linda smiled quickly. He touched her shoulder slightly to draw her attention back to the music book on the stand. All she could think of was how badly she wanted to seduce him. And when she put the recorder in between her knees, as he had instructed her, she felt she was being given instructions on masturbating with a polo stick. They could make beautiful music together.
The instruction went on for twenty-five more minutes. Linda learned four notes and could now play parts of Three Blind Mice.
"Practice for half an hour every day," Mr. Millhouse instructed her, glancing down her cleavage just before she rose.
It was an in, thought Linda, and she would make the most of it.
"Do you have another student coming now?" she asked politely, staring at his mouth and dropping her eyes dangerously to his crotch. He most certainly had a lump there.
Mr. Millhouse looked at her sharply. Then his gaze mellowed. "No, not for another half hour," he said. "What did you have in mind?" He smiled. He was like a racehorse – off and running.
He had sideburns, longer than, would be considered tolerable in an office. His voice was soft. He had a brush for a moustache. Linda had never kissed a moustache before.
She took a deep breath and recalled her assertiveness training course from the previous evening. Say what you feel. Say it directly. And say it tactfully.
"I find you very attractive," Linda began. "Why, thank you." Mr. Millhouse seemed taken aback but recovered rather quickly. He reached out and touched her arm. Linda's skin tingled. She grabbed his hand, but he was the one who drew her closer. They were standing directly in front of each other now. He looked over his shoulder at the pane of window glass in the door, then drew her around a corner of the room behind the piano where they could not be seen.
He kissed her warmly, with his soft, thick lips. Linda seemed to melt like putty. When her spirit awoke, she found him still standing there, in her arms.
"You needn't pay me this way," he advised.
"Wouldn't be a bad idea, would it, Mr. Millhouse?" laughed Linda. "I mean, just joking." She didn't want him to think she was a screwball or anything.
"I know you're joking," he said. "Call me John, by the way. You're very lovely," he added. "You're the prettiest student I've ever had."
"Why, thank you," she said, pleased. Then she leaned to kiss him again. She pressed her lips hard against his. She pressed his body with her own. Her large, firm breasts rubbed against his chest. She tongued his mouth and he tongued her back. "Oh, that feels good," she said softly, withdrawing her mouth, and staring at his longingly. "Tell me, are you married?" she asked him as objectively as possible. Her assertiveness was amazing even her.
"I don't think so," came the answer.
"Now, what does that mean?" she laughed. "You're joking."
"I'm not married. Yet."
"Engaged?"
"That's a toughie. Hard to say." He drew her close again. "Don't go. We can do it right here, if you need to. Or want to."
She whispered. "I'd like that, John. I'd like that very much."
"I can even lock the door." He went over and flipped the latch. Then he pulled a clean blue bandanna handkerchief out of his pocket. "Here," he whispered, "lie on this."
She was already yanking her skirt up over her panty hose tops. John sank down to the floor beside her, placing his hand on her upper thighs. She sighed.
"Your hands feel so good, John. Are you sure no one will know we're here?"
He shook his head. "I doubt it. This room doesn't get used for another half hour."
Linda sighed. She picked up a strand of her long blond hair and tickled his face with it. Then she nuzzled his moustache with her nose, and gave him a kiss. But in a moment they were down to business.
Linda rolled back full length on the floor. She let her legs and thighs be pried wide apart by John's hand. His touch was so gentle on her. He found the tops of her panty hose and peeled them party-way down, just to expose the firm, fleshy part of her thighs.
"Oh, you're beautiful here. My God!" he leaned over to kiss her upper thigh, flesh all over, and to nibble on its tender white skin.
Then his lips found their way upward and over to her pussy flesh, moist and clothed in their white panties. He cupped his palm over her mound.
"Ohhhhh," she moaned. She pulled the elastic waist open herself and pushed his fine, large hand in, stuffing it down her groin.
He was quick to pick up on the idea. His fingers filled her magically and she lay back and squirmed and moaned, clapping her hand over her mouth at intervals to prevent her moans from being heard downstairs.
She was wet, so wet. "You're very warm here," John said, rubbing her pussy. "Your temperature is higher here than anywhere else."
"Sez who?" Linda snickered. "Oh, do it, do it some more. Please." The cravings were getting too much for her, in her pussy.
He fingered her clit and cunt hole fast and hard. She moaned and twisted and turned on the blue bandanna handkerchief. Soon she was groaning and her breath came in thick gasps.
"Please, more, more, oh, do it deep, John, oh, please." She spread her thighs as wide as her panty hose would allow. They clung around her calves, binding them together. But he was still satisfying her, and fast.
As he brought her to a climax, she shuddered and laughed deep in her throat. He kept jutting a finger in and out of her soft, moist cunt hole, and she found it deeply satisfying.
When she felt she'd had enough, given their short time together, she began fingering his zipper mid finally got it down. She dipped into his shorts and came up with her prize. His dick was as long as her husband's, yes, even a little longer, she thought. And a little thicker.
She clasped it gratefully, hard and erect. "Bring it here," she advised him. He came closer to her, walking on his knees, and she began sucking it until it was rock-hard. "Oh, put it in me, please, PLEASE!" she pleaded. She loved sucking him, but she didn't want to waste their brief moments on that, when she needed him so desperately inside her hot and juicy hole.
"Sure, sure, Linda, anything you say," he said gently. He pulled his pants down to his knees and mounted her, at the same time freeing her breasts from her bra and pushing her red blouse up. "Oh, they're beautiful," he gasped.
He touched them tenderly and leaned to suck them both, one at a time, squeezing and kneading the nipples and feeling the firm breast flesh. Linda moaned.
Then he entered her, at first the firm cockhead and then the whole staff. "Oh, give me your cock, give it here. Oh, plug me with it. Oh, please, please," she moaned, and she felt the cock filling her, stuffing her, filling her to capacity. Oh, it was that feeling she craved so terribly all the time.
"Oh, you're beautiful," he said, looking down and eyeing her half-clad, half-naked body beneath him. She looked up at him tenderly and felt his cock withdraw.
Then he choked her full of it once more, leaning over at the same time to caress her tits.
He held her thighs apart and began fucking her good now. And hard. When he tired of the in-out motion, he rotated his thick dick around and around inside of her.
It didn't take long till he was hammering home. Linda felt the hard dong press deep. Her blood ran hot. Her heart pounded. He fucked her rapidly and she loved it.
"Ohhhhh, John! You're great, oh, you're wonderful! Oh, you're the best teacher I ever had! Ohhhhhh! AIIHHHHH!"
In that moment, he clapped a hand over her mouth. He had climaxed just in time to stop her shrieking. His thick, warm semen was already dribbling out of his block.
Linda had felt it when he came. It was all she needed to feel fulfilled. The spunk had spurted against her cunt walls and was now dripping slowly, pleasantly, out of her. She'd felt the hand on her mouth right after that and her last screw was emitted into a muffling hand. Then John kissed and tongued her gaping mouth once more.
"Ohhhhhhh, John, ohhhhh, John, that was terrific! Where'd you learn to fuck like that?"
"Many years ago," he whispered, his lips still close to hers. "I used to be a hippie on the Lower East Side of New York. They call it the East Village. We used to fuck every night. And all day, too."
"Your girl friend and you?" asked Linda, smiling brightly. She hadn't really expected an answer, and any mention of another sexual experience he had had was inappropriate in such an intimate moment as this.
"Whoever," he answered, shrugging. "There were many. Sometimes several at one time."
"Must have been nice," said Linda, pulling away slightly and letting his now slack dick fall away. "Nice for me now. But somehow fucking in a music school becomes you, John, more than screwing half the East Village." She reached her arm as far as it would go and picked up the alto recorder which had somehow rolled off the music stand.
"Oh, I didn't mean to hurt you," said John sympathetically. "That was a long time ago."
"That's okay," said Linda. "Tell you what you do, to make it up to me."
"Sure, anything. But it can't take long."
She shoved the recorder at him. "Fuck me with this." She kept a straight face. "Please!"
John frowned. He gulped. "This?" he said.
"Yes," Linda cooed. "I want you to fuck me with it." She parted her thighs and held her pussy lips apart for him.
"I'm not sure it will fit," said John, trying to be good-humored, but hesitating. "Which end, the bell or the mouthpiece?"
"Well, which end looks to you more like the male sex organ?" Linda asked sweetly.
"Uh, you're right. Okay. Here goes." He inserted the mouthpiece end just inside her pussy lips.
"Ohhhhhh," moaned Linda. There was a sharp wooden edge on it, but the wetter she got, and the more her cunt hole expanded, the better it felt. The circumference was the size of any man's cock. And beyond the slat, where the air vibrated, it tapered slightly, and continued on, unlike any man's cock, for eighteen inches.
The recorder slipped further up her pussy. John rotated it around and around her inner cunt hole. It was touching her in all the right places now. It was a snug fit. He flitted his finger against her clit as he manned the recorder fucking-machine.
"Ohhhhhhh, John, do that, yes, like that! Oooooooh, that's good. Ohhhhhhh, it's so nice. Mmmmmm."
"I feel a little inadequate for you, Linda," said John evenly.
"No, don't, please, don't," she said. "Mmmmm, that feels so good. I just thought this a fitting climax to our lesson, don't you agree?"
Linda, in the middle of her pleasure, saw him close and open his eyes in mock impatience.
"Oh, please. Just a little more and I'll be satisfied. Okay?"
"You know if you masturbate too much, you'll never want to practice," warned John, fucking with gentle in and out motions of the recorder.
"This will be for the last time," sighed Linda from another pleasant and erotic world. "I promise." Her face was rosy and relaxed. Her breath was coming more slowly, deeply now. "Oh, I'm just about there! Oh, please God, now, let me come again! Now! Mmmmmmm."
She began humping herself hard against the recorder. Her breath came in short gasps. She began moaning. The instrument, planted deep inside, was too much for her. Her moans changed to deep guttural groans as the hot pleasure flashed through her groin.
"Ohhhhhhh!" she groaned.
"Okay, time to get dressed, student. You're all mussed." John took a protective attitude toward her. As he helped to brush her skirt off, he said, "Don't forget now. Practice every day. Your music, that is. And try to keep your recorder dry. I know that might be difficult for you!"
When she straightened her clothes, he handed her purse and the recorder. John unlocked the door, and a young girl with long, straight brown hair, carrying a clarinet case, stared at Linda, as she entered.
"HI, Lisa," greeted Mr. Millhouse. "You're late again, Lisa."
"No, I wasn't!" protested the girl. "Your door was locked. Why was your door locked, Mr. Millhouse?"
The door closed behind them, leaving Linda giggling in the hallway.