Play Me (13 page)

“Oh god,”
she gasped into my shirt as I moved my thumb harder and faster.

Her hips undulated
against mine and I was pretty sure I was going to come in my pants.
Then she stiffened and let out a low, keening moan before collapsing
against my shoulder. Behind me, I heard her hands fall and hit the
piano’s keyboard, the apartment filling with the sound of her
pleasure and the echo of the unplanned melody—the most perfect
music I had ever heard.

My own heart was
racing, but I waited until she had recovered and lifted her head. The
languid look of release, the softly parted lips and perfectly mussed
hair caused my pulse to leap in my throat.

“You’re
amazing,” I told her, one hand still in her hair, while my
other hand was tight on her hip.

She blushed
again—goddamn, I loved how she blushed—and dipped her
head.

“I didn’t
do anything,” she whispered.

I put my finger under
her chin and lifted her head so her eyes met mine. “You’re
amazing,” I repeated, wanting her to believe it. And then I
kissed her. Gently.

But it didn’t
remain gentle. Either she felt the evidence of my remaining desire
pressing against her, or her own need wasn’t satiated, but she
returned the kiss with the same passion and intensity as before.

And before I could stop
her, her hands were on my chest, undoing each button with those long,
graceful fingers of hers, sliding her palms against my bare skin.
Ella’s fingers reached my belt buckle, her hand brushing
against my belly button.

“Fuck,” I
moaned, my head falling back as she undid my belt and then the top
button of my pants.

But instead of the
sound of my zipper being lowered, I heard music. Classical music to
be exact. Had I died and gone to heaven? But no, I could still feel
Ella’s ass beneath my fingers, could still feel her weight
against my legs, her knees against my hips. Her hands had stilled,
though.

I lifted my head and
realized that the sound was her cell phone.

“Is everything
okay?” I was shocked I could still form sentences in the state
I was in. Who the hell was calling her? I thought about throwing the
phone across the room. I could buy her another one. I could buy her a
hundred more. It didn’t matter though, because the phone
stopped ringing.

“Sorry.”
She leaned forward and kissed me. I kissed her back, knowing I’d
never get enough of her mouth.

Her fingers returned to
the task at hand, as she slowly unzipped my pants, brushing against
my cock slightly, but enough to make me jump.

“Sorry,”
she said again, this time against my lips.

“Never apologize
for that,” I murmured as I let my head drop back again. But the
moment I closed my eyes, the phone rang again—the same piece of
classical music.

This time, Ella didn’t
just freeze, she completely stiffened. And not in a good way.

“Do you need to
get that?” I asked, already knowing the answer and trying not
to hate the person on the other end of that phone call.

“I’m so
sorry.” She gave me a regretful look. “It’s my
instructor. It might be about the competition.”

“I understand,”
I told her, even though I was mentally punching her instructor in the
face. I tried not to appear as disappointed as I felt as she
extracted herself from our very cozy position on the piano bench. But
as she smoothed her black dress down her legs, covering up the
loosened garter and the red lace thong, some very uncharitable
thoughts about her instructor came to mind. Fuck. I could only
imagine what would have happened if he hadn’t chosen that exact
moment to call. And my cock was still imagining it.

The phone had stopped
ringing, but started again the moment she pulled it out of her bag.

“Hi, Mark,”
Ella answered the phone. “I know, I’m sorry,” she
said quietly. “I was . . . ” She
looked back at me. “I was busy.”

I didn’t know how
I should feel about that description of what we had just done. I
really hoped this call was truly about the competition and not Ella’s
instructor cock-blocking me via cell phone. I didn’t know the
guy, but I did know that if I were in his position, I’d do my
darnedest to make sure she didn’t spend her evenings messing
around with someone on top of piano benches.

“Mmhmm,”
Ella was saying. The expression on her face was completely neutral—it
was impossible to tell what he was telling her.

I began to re-button my
shirt. It was clear that our date was over, and while my cock was
screaming out for release, a part of me knew that going slow with
Ella was probably a good idea. Okay, not a good idea. I had lots of
good ideas that involved her and me, but right now wasn’t the
time. Stupid fucking Mark.

Across the room Ella
hung up the phone and turned back to me. Again, her face was
unreadable.

“Is everything
okay?” I asked, adjusting my erection before standing. The last
thing I wanted was to have a visible boner if something terrible had
happened.

“I made it to the
next round,” she said quietly.

“What?” I
wasn’t sure I heard her correctly.

“Mark just told
me I made it to the next round of the competition.”

I couldn’t
understand why she wasn’t thrilled.

“That’s
good, isn’t it?” I asked, coming over and taking her
hand. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“It is.”
She shook her head as if getting rid of something and then smiled up
at me. “It is. I’m really happy.”

Even though she didn’t
look it, I pulled her into my arms and spun her around.

“Congratulations!”
I told her once I had put her down. This time the smile on her face
was genuine and the news seemed to finally be sinking in.

“Thank you.”
She let out a breath, as if she had been holding it for a while. She
placed a hand to her chest. “Wow. I just—I was so sure—”
Ella let out a laugh. “I really wanted to make it to the next
round,” she confessed.

“When is it?”
I asked.

“Saturday,”
she told me, and I saw that she was already eying her piano.

“That’s
pretty soon,” I noted.

Ella nodded and chewed
on her lip. The same lip that I had been melded to only moments
before. Even though the last thing I wanted to do was leave, I knew
that if I were in her position and had something important that I had
worked a long time towards, and that I needed to practice, I would
want to be free of distractions. And clearly this was extremely
important to her. She still seemed to be in shock.

“I should let you
practice, then,” I told her.

She looked up at me
with the same conflict clear on her face. “No, it’s
okay.”

I gave her a kiss on
the forehead. “It’s alright,” I said. “I’ll
call you after this round is done, okay? We’ll celebrate your
inevitable victory.”

“Um. Okay.”
Ella smiled up at me. “Thank you,” she said.

“Why?” I
winked at her. “I didn’t do anything,” I said,
echoing her statement from before, and headed home to take the
world’s coldest shower.

Ella

Even though my body was
disappointed to see Jake go, my mind was grateful for the opportunity
to take a breather and assess what the hell was going on with me.
When did I get so sexually aggressive? So like my sister? Not that I
was regretting it, because who would regret an orgasm that made their
toes curl and body turn to Jell-O? No, I wanted more. Lots more. And
that’s kind of what scared me. Because I didn’t want to
practice tonight. I wanted to get back on that piano bench and finish
what Jake and I had started. No one had ever distracted me from my
goals the way that Jake did. I wanted to lock us up in my apartment
and burn off this sexual tension (and possibly burn down the building
as well from the heat we were generating).

And not only was this
the worst possible time to get involved with someone, but what was I
thinking getting involved with someone like Jake? Someone who had
another woman’s name tattooed across his heart? I still didn’t
know who she was, but no doubt he had loved her a lot. Was she still
in his life? It was something that would have given me pause weeks
ago, before I met Jake, but now I seemed to be throwing every bit of
caution I had to the wind. Was I just setting myself up to get hurt?
Sure, he had some woman’s name tattooed on his body, but that
didn’t mean he was someone who was interested in commitment. He
was just like me, focused on his career. Were we just going to derail
each other? The thought was unpleasant.

As had been the phone
call from Mark. I would have thought he would be happy that I had
advanced to the next round of the competition, but the way he
delivered the news made it unclear. His tone had been similar to that
of a person informing another about the passing of a family member.
In addition to his Eeyore-like attitude, he had also made it pretty
clear that he thought the judges had made a mistake in allowing me to
continue on to the next round.

What kind of teacher
did that? I thought of my own students and how hard I worked to
encourage them, especially when they thought they weren’t
getting any better. No one liked being told they were doing a bad
job, and it was even more disappointing to hear you were actually
doing worse than you thought you were. Because I thought I had played
pretty well during the last round. I was pretty proud of how it had
gone. And dammit I clearly had reason to be proud. I could still win
this competition.

And I wanted to. So
very badly.

More and more I was
doubting Mark’s teaching ability. It was exhausting to be
around him and his endless disappointment. Was there anyone who could
please him? As I thought about it, I realized I had never heard him
say anything positive about any other pianists. Not even other
students of his. He was always quick to point out where their
remaining flaws were. I used to think it was good that he could look
at others with a sense of objectivity, but now I was beginning to
think he was just being a jerk. I had mistaken a negative outlook for
a critical eye, it seemed.

And I wondered how much
of it was personal. It had seemed to get worse after he ended our
relationship. After I wasn’t upset over it ending. Perhaps I
had wounded his ego and he was doing his best to return the favor.

I sat down at my piano,
thinking how happy and encouraging Jake had been when I told him the
news. Maybe getting derailed by him wasn’t the worst thing in
the world. Sure, he was a hotshot chef, but he was kind. And
completely, totally hot. I felt my skin heat up thinking about what
he had done to my body tonight. I’d never be able to even look
at my piano bench again without thinking about what we had done on
it.

And as that heat and
desire coursed through me, I placed my fingers on the keys and began
to play.

***

“Wait, I’m
sorry, did you say you actually want to go shopping?” Nina
asked me as I finished up our weekly lunch. The next round of the
competition was tomorrow, and I wanted to have something nice to wear
when Jake and I went out to celebrate—no matter the outcome.
And I didn’t want to wear black this time.

“Do you not want
to?” I pretended to be casual, while Nina stared at me.

“Of course I want
to.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are we just getting another
black dress? Did you lose one of the five you already have and you
need a replacement? Because I am not interested in getting you
another Wednesday Addams’s dress.”

“No.” I
tried to look innocent. “I was thinking something with a little
color.”

“Gray is not a
color,” Nina told me.

“Not gray.”

“White also
doesn’t count.”

“I was
thinking . . . red?”

Nina’s eyes
widened and she grabbed my arm.

“Oh, sister, I
thought you’d never ask.”

The red dress from the
other week was still there and Nina threw it into my arms, along with
several other brightly colored options, and practically shoved me
into a dressing room. I could hear her pacing on the other side as I
undressed and stepped into the red dress.

It was a smooth,
stretchy material that clung to my body. Nothing was left to the
imagination in this get-up. But it didn’t terrify me like I
thought it would. In fact, I liked the way I looked. It was the first
time I had really seen my body this way. Wearing sexy lingerie in my
darkened apartment was one thing, but wearing a tight red dress, all
parts of me visible in the dressing room light, and not hating the
way I looked? Well, that was a pretty good feeling.

“I know you have
it on,” Nina’s voice came from the other side of the
curtain. “I can see your feet. Come on, show me!”

I took a breath and
pulled back the curtain. Nina and the salesgirl helping us were
standing there. Both of their mouths dropped open.

“Oh. My. God.”
Nina shrieked. “You look fucking amazing!”

“That is a great
color for you,” the salesgirl said and immediately began
pulling other items from the shelves. “You should try these on
too.”

By the end of the day,
I had a brand new wardrobe full of sexy, slinky clothes, as well as
more everyday items that fit better than my usual clothes. They also
actually had color in them, and my sister continued to marvel at my
change of mind. Though, when I tried on a black vintage cocktail
dress, one that hit just above my knees and showed off my shoulders,
nipping in at the waist, even Nina rescinded her “no more
black” rule.

Of course, when it came
time for the competition, I was back to my black performance dress.
But I made sure to wear especially sexy underwear, like the ones I
had worn during my last date with Jake. Every time I walked, I was
aware of my garters and reminded of how smoothly and expertly he had
undone them. I also couldn’t help remembering the feel of his
hands against my red lace thong and how I couldn’t wait to pick
out a new pair of panties for our next date—ones that he could
completely remove this time.