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A secret told, a relationship forged...

She figured he must have just come from some sort of performance. Never did his eyes open. Were he to do so, he would be looking directly at her. The foot of the piano was closest to her, the instrument and curtain the only barriers between them. Her eyes bored into his face, daring him to look at her. She was captivated. His eyes remained closed.

She wanted to be closer to him, to be enveloped in his sphere of magic. Leaving her post, she padded across the stage behind the curtain, approaching the spot she knew he was occupying. She stood there, facing him; the pounding concerto was now louder than ever, having reached the peak of the first movement. She was so close to him, she could sense his heat, yet separated by a barrier of velvet - she needed to be even closer.

She dropped silently to her knees, fingers toying with the hem of the crimson curtain; feeling along it, taking care not to move it, she found the slit in the middle. She could see the far piano leg through the crack, the curtains slightly agape. She slithered like a cat along the stage floor, slowly - so slowly - penetrating the velvet, moving millimeter by millimeter so as not to move the curtains more than necessary; they were made up such heavy sensual material, they barely rippled as her body passed between the cleavage. She could feel the weight of the curtain trailing across her shoulders, down the curve of her back, up over her bottom, tickling down her thighs. The concerto never ceased.

She completed her passage through the curtains and looked up. She was underneath the piano, at the foot. She looked back at the velvet. Not a stir. She slowly turned her head and gazed straight ahead... just in front of her, a few feet away, was the professor. His shiny shoes played across the pedals of the piano, eliciting long moans from the instrument. Eyes gliding up his long legs, her gaze fell on where they met. Her position afforded her a perfect view of the middle seam of his pants, and what it covered, tightly.

Unconsciously licking her lips, she crept forward on all fours, like an animal stalking its prey... closer... closer, her knees slipping along the slick stage floor. She reached him, close enough to lick his knee if she so chose. The position of the notes pouring from the piano told her the first movement was almost halfway over. She knew the upcoming part well, remembering how it only grew in passion, and moaned to herself. Pure perfection. Just enough time.

Rising up on her knees as much as she could, she lifted them over the pedals and his working feet, positioning herself directly between his legs, simultaneously running a finger up his right pantleg, touching his smoldering skin for the first time. A dissonant howl sprang from the piano, and though it was part of the concerto, it seemed to have more bite. She looked up to find herself locked in the stare of his brown eyes, his mouth slightly open.

"Keep playing, Professor. Do not stop until you have played the entire concerto," she commanded.

His hands obediently continued their dance across the keys, but his eyes did not move from her, kneeling between his legs. She felt the muscles of his legs working on either side of her body, alternately pushing and releasing the pedals. Her eyes followed the contour of his thigh, and she reached up to trace the ribbon of his pants with her finger as the concerto traced its way around the concert hall. The end of her gaze's journey was the apex of his thighs; the thin material of his tuxedo pants seemed to be struggling to contain what could only be a lengthening, thickening cock. She wondered what he was thinking, having this girl kneeling before him, stoking the fire of the most passionate concerto known.

She pushed forward, increasing the intimate contact even more; he opened his legs a little more, allowing her more room.

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