Mantis

47. The teacher

I sat on the stool in front of the piano, waiting for my new teacher. A professional, cool woman who only had a smile on her face when she played the instrument herself or listened to someone playing well enough not to butcher the music that reached her ears—or so I had heard, since I hadn't yet had any dealings with her. This was supposed to be our first lesson together.

My previous teacher was nice, even overly so. Sometimes I even felt like I told him more about myself than I wanted to. I had no idea how it happened. It was just so easy to open up to him, and it was great, but for some time now, it hadn't been so carefree.

The teacher stopped keeping a professional distance. He sat very close, and every time I felt his fingers on me, an unpleasant shiver ran down my spine. Even though I really didn't want it, I couldn't move. I froze like I was paralyzed and sat there until he finished, unable to utter a word. Only later, when I wandered my fingers over the piano keys for a while, could I say something, but by then, I preferred not to mention those... incidents.

I didn't understand my own body, but I couldn't go on like this. I had no idea how far he would go, and whether I would be able to react in any way then. And I didn't want to find out because the mere thought of it made me feel cold and gave me an unpleasant knot in my stomach.

I looked at the clock on the wall, which clearly showed I had about fifteen minutes before the new teacher arrived. Barely registering the time, I heard the sound of the door opening behind me. I turned, and my heart stopped for a moment.

I was looking at the face of a handsome man in his late thirties, whom I thought I'd never have to be alone with in a room again.

– What are you doing here? – I managed to blurt out.

My teacher smiled charmingly in response, with cheerful sparks in his eyes.

– I told you not to call me „sir" – he murmured in a warmly charming voice, walking toward me lazily. He placed his hands on my shoulders, and I instantly froze. – Why did you change teachers? Am I not good enough? – he asked and began gently massaging my neck.

The paralysis gradually set in, as always when he touched me, and my stomach tightened as if someone had laced me too tightly in a Venetian corset.

– Do you want to run away from me? – he murmured, squeezing my shoulders tighter.

I completely froze, unable to speak a word, though my mind was racing. Only when I imagined that someday he would finally reach under my bra or into my panties did I gather myself. He was no longer teaching me and could now approach me without consequence, but soon the new teacher would arrive, and everything would be okay.

– That's none of your business – I blurted out, surprised that I finally managed to break the awful, paralyzing silence.

The teacher didn't seem affected at all.

– Why don't you want me to teach you? – he repeated, and since I didn't move an inch, he grabbed my chin with his fingers and turned my face toward his.

– I don't like you touching me – I said, looking him straight in the eyes, emboldened by my sudden discovery that I could speak when his fingers touched my skin. – I don't want you to do it.

With that, I angrily shook his hands off my shoulders, assuming that if I could speak and look at him, I could probably move too... and I succeeded.

The teacher raised both hands as if in a gesture of reconciliation and smiled sweetly, which threw me off a bit.

– You just had to say so – he murmured in a gentle, warm tone.