Awakening - Chapter 3

         Thursday 23rd July, 2009.

         A distant banging thudded in her head.  Her eyes prised apart, slow and against her will.  The pounding continued.  Shivering, against the cold, morning air, Louise turned onto her side, still trying to make sense of her surroundings. 

         The digital clock on her chest-of-drawers displayed the time.  Shit.  Five past nine.  Shit. 

         She heaved back the covers and jumped out of bed.  Padding across the room to the window, she opened the latch and leaned outside.  “Sorry.  I'll be down in a second.”  Her lips struggled to get the words out, their skin dry and sticking in places.  She chewed at her morning breath, her eyes wide in disgust.

         Stopping only to snatch a pair of ankle socks from a neat pile on the floor, the teacher bounded through the door.  She squeezed them over her feet, while standing on the landing and balancing on the bannister.  Her feet sheathed, she managed to touch her toes to the top stair, before remembering her dressing gown.  She rushed back and grabbed it from her room.  From the pocket, she removed a packet of mints, popping one in her mouth to soothe the beast.

         Fastening the robe around her waist, Louise raced down the stairs and opened the front door. 

         “Hi.”  The new pupil grinned.  “Thought you'd changed plans.”  His eyes lowered.  His grin disappeared and gave way to something else.  Something less pleased.

         Unable to help herself and under the protection of being half awake, and therefore only part liable, the housewife glanced at the boy's groin.  Nothing?  Nothing.  Her shoulders dropped, a little disappointed, as she pushed the door against the wall and motioned him in. 

         They made their way to the music room.  The piano sat at the far end, its lid already up and a booklet placed in the holder, above the keys. 

         “Make yourself comfortable.”  The words squeezed out through her lips, just before a yawn racked her features.  “You might need to lift it up a bit, just turn the knob underneath.” 

         The long haired sixteen-year-old adjusted the stool and, when happy with the height, sank into the cushion and reached out to the ivories.  He nodded. 

         She hovered over his shoulder, pulling back the hair from her eyes and over her ear.  Her arm reached over toward the playing surface, paused and pulled back.  “You're a bit taller than my usual pupils, I won't be able to just reach over you.”  She walked to his side and pointed at Middle C, explaining its importance and naming the other notes in turn. 

         Pushing his fingers into place, she continued: “I want you to play the notes from left to right.  Pause.  Then play again from right to left.  Let's see how you do.” 

         The movements came natural to the teenager and he played without trouble.  His body relaxed into place. 

         “I'm impressed!”  The older woman's eyes rose in appreciation, the lashes still a little glued from sleep, in places.  “Now try a little faster.” 

         He picked up the pace and, again, passed with flying colours.  His grin returned. 

         “Superb!”  Reaching across to the song book, the piano teacher flicked through the pages and paused at the one she desired.  She touched his fingers and told him how to play the simple ditty.  “Try it.” 

         The tune reverberated through the room.  Quite well. 

         “Wow.  Are you sure you haven't played before?”  She pointed to the second line and instructed him which fingers to play with, then stood back and watched.  Her ears honed in on the notes. 

         Gaining confidence, the boy swayed his hips and shoulders to the tune.  He played the piece a few times. 

         “Hmm.”  Fumbling in front of her pupil, Louise turned the pages once more and found a more difficult tune.  The tie at the front of her robe loosened and, after rushing her arm to close the gap, a sparkle lit up in her eyes.  She let go of the material and lowered her eyes to see the bare flesh of her thighs, under her nightshirt.  Her gaze returned to the piano, as she showed the eager teenager how to play the new tune. 

         Within twenty minutes or so, the pupil played his way through the tune on the last page of the book.  His fingers twitched over the last few notes.  Once finished, he flexed his arms and digits, shaking off cramp. 

         “OK.  I think that's enough for today.  Don't want to wear you out.”  Louise closed the book, turned, and took a few steps.  “Let's go in the living room.  I think I'm going to have to plan your lessons again.  You've got natural talent.”

         They walked to the other room.  The TV screen lay dark and empty. 

         Avoiding an empty tumbler by the side of the sofa, the teacher paced over and pressed the button, filling the room with the sound of Sky News.  She reversed to the sofa and, using the remote control, lowered the volume.  “Have a seat.” 

         Brian eased himself into the near end of the sofa.  He reached out one arm onto the padded arm, continuing to flex his fingers. 

         “You'll get used to it.  Those muscles and tendons don't get much use in every day life.”  She lowered herself into the cushion and sighed at the comfort.  Her eyes closed momentarily, until she caught her senses and remembered the company.  “I'm going to try you on book two, next lesson.” 

         The pupil's eyes widened, exposing more shimmering white, contrasted by his thick, dark lashes.  “Great.”

         Leaning over in her seated position, the teacher grabbed one of her ankles and hoisted the foot up onto her knee.  She scratched at a little spot on her heel, and nibbled at the back of her bottom lip, as the itch subsided. 

         A little self-conscious, the older woman reached her arm across her front and narrowed the gap between the sides of her robe.  Her cheeks warmed at the idea her pupil might have seen the skin so high up on her thighs.  A tingle spread within her tummy. 

         “Will the other book be similar, or very different?”  He enquired. 

         She noticed the apprehension in his stare.  “Pretty much the same.  There'll just be more notes and perhaps a little bit more complicated in parts.  But you'll do fine.”  She grazed her vision down to his lap.  Still nothing.

         Her lips furled and, deep inside, dejection rose through her senses.  She reached inside her robe and rubbed at her skin just above her knee, letting the dressing gown fall open.  The material of her shirt lay only inches below the level of her panties.  Her eyes rolled back to his groin.  Perhaps a twitch?  Maybe just seeing what I want to see now. 

         The teenager's eyes ogled.  He lifted his gaze each few seconds to ward off detection.  His mouth opened a tiny amount, but remained silent. 

         Well he's looking!  A few more little twitches in his groin, but nothing substantial.  Another itch.  Taking advantage of the moment, the teacher scratched the length of her nails along the bottom of her foot, through her pale pink sock, further exposing her legs.  She rubbed her other heel against the floor, for the same reason.    “So have you never played before?  Truth?  I find it hard to believe.”

         “I had a little keyboard when I was quite young, but I didn't really play anything on it.”  He spoke slow.  His eyes rolled up and down her legs. 

         “Well...”  She paused, sliding her fingers inside the top of her sock to scratch at the bare skin below.  “Sorry, these bloody things are killing me today.  I think I must have used too much washing powder.”  She scraped at her skin and cooed at the relief. 

         He watched, the tiniest hint of a chuckle muffling from his throat. 

         “Well, I'm most impressed.  We should get through all of this pretty easily.  I might even...”  She gave in to the struggle and, with her knuckles, rolled the sock down over her foot, leaving it dangling on her toes.  The skin on top glowed red from her nails' labour.  “I might even be able to convince you to stick with it.  You can play guitar and piano you know.”  She grinned and watched his features for a reaction. 

         His cheeks flushed, as his bottom lip trembled.  His eyes pointed downward and focused. 

         She looked down into his lap and the tingle returned in her tummy.  A bulge; it sat out bigger than last time.  Her eyes locked on; the dryness of her lips soothed as her tongue teased a moist trail along them. 

         The boy eased his arm over his thighs.  His eyes remained fixed.  The flesh of his bottom lip dipped inside his mouth as he bit on it. 

         “What do you think?”  She pushed the point, a mischievous smirk on her features. 

         “Wh...what?”  He looked up, eyes stretched and his bottom jaw lax.  His pupils sank fast, back into place. 

         “Maybe keeping with the piano, and learning it along side the guitar, rather than replacing one for the other?”  She followed his line of vision.  My foot?  Ohhh!

         “Yeah... maybe.”  His shoulders jerked. 

         Her fingers teased over the top of her exposed foot, and back to the ankle.  She twitched her toes and the sock lingered over the tips.  Her gaze flitted from his erection to the reactions on his face.  The pink material toppled over the edge and fell to the floor. 

         A gasp escaped his throat and, with lightning speed he forced a cough to disguise it. 

         Caught in the moment, the tingle travelling south in her body, into the moistening cleft between her thighs, Louise shifted her weight and lowered one leg, switching places so that the other foot now sat on the knee opposite.  She pinched the material around her ankle and lowered it at a speed which could only be used for teasing. 

         The aroused lad squirmed against the sofa.  The inside of his forearm pressed against his groin, the movements slight and sneaky.  “If I'm good at it.” 

         “You're already very good at it.”  The sock slid down to perch off her toes.  She wiggled them and it wavered.  “You'll make some lucky girl very happy one day, with those hands.”  The last word spilled out before she had time to stop.  Oh my god!  I can't believe I said that!  She almost choked.  “I bet you could give one hell of a massage, the way your fingers danced along those keys.”  A nervous chuckle. 

         His head jolted upward, his eyes boring a hole into the wall at the other end of the room.  “I... yeah... I guess.”  He flustered as his cheeks beamed, bright red. 

         The wet sensations between her legs drove her vocal chords.  “I wish my husband could play.  My feet are always sore from standing all day, but he's useless.”  The room silenced. 

         A heavy gulp broke the lull.  “I... cou...”  He paused, his lips twitching amidst the ever expanding red patch of his face.  His nerve didn't hold.  “I guess.” 

         The teacher flexed her foot, to grab his attention, and once gained, she wiggled until the sock lost its grip and dropped to the carpet.  The pink varnish on her toes glistened in the daylight.  “Do you have a girlfriend, Brian?”

         “Sort of.”

         “Do you ever give her a massage?”  Her tongue slid along both lips, like a hungry animal eyeing its prey. 

         “No... I've never tried that.”  His words trailed off. 

         Her own nerve struggling, the seductress thrust her words out before she could bottle it.  “I know it's a bit selfish of me... but... I could really use a foot massage.”  Her face turned scarlet.  Her nipples ached, erect and begging for attention, under her t-shirt.  “Sorry.  Maybe I shouldn't have asked.”  Just in case.

         “Y... yeah... I could... try?” 

         Her libido rocketed at the excited quiver in his voice.  Before guilt or sanity could take control of her thoughts, she twisted her hips and aimed her feet at his lap.  She placed one by the side of his thigh, the knee bent and her toes edging under his bulk.  The other she ran along his forearm, moving it out of the way and making room on his lap.  Just under his bulge.  She swore she could feel the front of her panties dampen, as she exposed them to his eager young eyes. 

         The teenager's hands trembled as he wrapped them around the sides of her foot and pressed his fingertips into the soft, bare skin.  His eyes stalked out onto his cheeks, like those of a child waking up on Christmas morning. 

         “That feels great!  You have a wonderful touch.”  She planted her elbows on the padded arm behind her, and slid her pelvis to get more comfortable, laying her body along the full length of the sofa.  Grateful she measured a mere five foot three.  As she returned her gaze to the boy, she noticed the wet spot on the front of her panties and gasped at her own lewdness.  The tingle turned to a hungry urge. 

         Out of his depth, the pupil stroked his hands back and forth on the older woman's foot, from her heel, up to the tips of her toes.  His tongue licked at his lips as he worked, the bulge in his trousers strong and solid. 

         Louise pulled her foot out of his grasp and, before he had a chance to react, replaced it with the other.  Her toes wiggled and writhed as he made contact.  The desire to reach down and touch herself overwhelmed her mind.  She resisted.  Just about. 

         He repeated the process, becoming more confident in his actions.  “Is that OK?”

         “It's better than OK.  It's terrific!”  She verged on singing her answer.  Her foot slid across his thigh.  The heel made a glancing contact with his stiffened groin.  She gasped and froze in an instant.  Her clitoris longed to be touched. 

         Brian lifted his eyes with almost impossible lack of speed.  “Sorry,” being all he could offer. 

         “It's OK... can you get the pad just below my toes, please.  That's where it really aches.”  She relaxed, not wishing to scare the lad.  The urges and needs within her sensitive sex allowing her to leave the heel against his erection.  She inhaled through gritted teeth and soothed her eyelids shut. 

         He continued his work, kneading at the soft flesh.  Blood pumped through his body at an alarming rate, as his heart raced. 

         She flexed her foot to his movements.  So hard.  Soon the whole of her heel pressed down on his excitement.  So fucking hard.  The flesh of her bottom lip jumped as she bit down hard. 

         The boy's fingers became confused, almost coming to a halt. 

         She pushed down, as he rose off the sofa with his hips.  The stiff length under his jeans throbbed against her touch.  She opened her eyes and swallowed in the sight before her.  His hips bucking.  His lips vibrating as he sucked air in and out between them.  His eyes closed tight. 

         He moaned. 

         Squeezing his erection against his body, with the sole of her bare foot, she pushed it back and forth. 

         He groaned. 

         The older woman worked faster and harder.  Her eyes longing to see the hard shaft.  Her skin begging to touch the wet, glistening head.  Her throat aching, dry, for the taste. 

         A long, uncontrollable gasp exploded from his lungs. 

         She almost came at the sound.  His cock twitched and jolted under her foot.  The front of his trousers turned wet.  His cum seeped through the material and glistened on her skin. 

         He continued to spasm, sending stream after stream of sticky liquid into, and through, the material of his trousers.  His arms tight in front of him, his fingers clutching around his teacher's toes. 

         She watched on.  Little tendrils of cum stretching between the heel of her foot and the fabric of her pupil's trousers.  Every part of her cried out to taste it. 

         A loud chime stole them from the moment.  The clock signalled ten AM. 

         They both jerked upright.  A single gaze connected their eyes. 

         “That was wonderful.  You've got a magic touch, for sure.  My feet are rejuvenated.”  The housewife swung her soles back to the floor, twisting her hips to face forward.  She rose up and padded to the door. 

         The boy pushed himself up, ever so slow.  His eyes bulged and looked fit to fall out of their sockets.  He attempted to speak, but the sound he made was in no known language. 

         “Same time tomorrow?”  Her smile radiated across her entire face. 

         “Erm.. yeah.” 

         “Great!”  She led him out to the hallway, unlatched the front door and allowed him to push past.  “See you tomorrow.”

         Without waiting for a reply, she shut the door and fell back into the living room.  Her legs wobbled like jelly, just able enough to reach the sofa, before she collapsed into the soft padding. 

         She eased onto her back and stretched her toes out to brush against the opposite end of the furniture.  A wet spot glimmered back at her from just below her ankle.  She reached down, wiped it onto the tip of her finger and, trembling, brought it to her lips.  She filled the room with a wanton sigh, as she savoured the droplet. 

         Without another sound, she plunged her hand down the front of her dampened panties and rubbed the tip of her finger over her clitoris. 

         Within seconds, her body racked in pleasure.  Her toes curled towards her body.  She gasped for breath as her orgasm went off like fireworks inside her.  “Oh fuck.  Brian!”

         She lay there for long moments, unable to free her hand from its position.  Applying gentle strokes and prolonging the warm haze that caressed every pore of her being, inside and out. 

         Against the desire to lay there all day, the teacher pulled herself up off the sofa, ambled up the stairs and showered and dressed.  The next pupil due to arrive at eleven. 

         The rest of the day flew by.  A single hour refused to pass without a flashback, a longing, a desire for the young man with the  foot fetish. 

         In bed, later that night, under the covers and snuggled against her husband, the housewife leaned over and kissed him on the lips.  She forced her tongue between them and tasted his.  As he kissed back, she slid her foot up and down, his leg; the hairs tickled at her teasing toes.  With each movement she moved higher, until the heat of his unclothed groin soothed at her skin.  She glanced against the pubic tussle of his testicles. 

         “I have an early start in the morning.  I need to sleep.”  He pulled away, dipped back in to kiss her forehead and rolled over to sleep. 

         “Night.”  Her voice resonated with rejection and a single tear rolled over her cheek, as her eyes welled up.  She turned to face the wall and lay silent, torn between thoughts of loneliness and the boy who seemed only too willing to be aroused in her presence.  The guilt kept her awake most.  Sleep arrived late.