Virtuoso

February, 1st week

Goddamn sometimes I only want this feeling to stay and last.

How We Are Hungry, Dave Eggers

Ami played the Sentimentale beautifully, but there was no vibrato.

"No luck yet?" he asked sympathetically. Judging from the heavy shadows under his eyes, he hadn't been sleeping well. The redness of the lids made his eyes seem greener.

"No, I don't seem to be getting the hang of it." She paused, then asked, "Can you show me the procedure again?"

Her wording made him smile slightly. "Of course. Try to think of it as something that develops organically rather than through a formula. And you don't want the rhythm to be too even, either. Otherwise the vibrato will sound too mechanical, and there won't be any life to it."

Zak picked up his flute and told her, "Put your fingers on my stomach, below the ribs." Seeing her hesitate, he lowered the flute again and showed her want he wanted her to do.

Timidly, Ami placed her second and third fingers together lightly against his shirt, feeling the soft cotton against her fingers and the hint of warm skin below.

"Harder. You won't be able to feel anything that way."

She was blushing so hotly that she didn't notice his voice was slightly breathless, something that never happened even when he had been playing through four lessons in a row.

Her fingers moved closer by an infinitesimal amount.

He took his right hand off the keys, using just his left to support the flute, and placed his hand over hers until she was applying the right amount of pressure. "There. Don't be afraid; you're not hurting me."

Ami nodded wordlessly. Three of her fingers curled tightly into each other.

Her other two fingers were pressed against him, and they rose slightly with the movement of his body as he inhaled deeply. Beneath his shirt, she could feel the hard planes of his stomach, and below the shallow layer of flesh, his even harder abdominal muscles. She held her breath as those well-defined muscles contracted, pushing powerfully against her fingertips.

He played for as long as he could bear it, thankful that she kept her fingers still and her eyes down. If she had looked up, she might have seen the raw need in his eyes. If she had slid her fingers either upwards or downwards… He shivered at the thought of those careful, methodical fingers gliding over him.

The instant the door shut, he collapsed into the nearest chair. He wasn't sure he would make it through their lesson on double tonguing.