#lustwelcome

Claire Caraway was seated in a comfortable armchair in the corner of her den-turned-classroom, one leg crossed over the other. The latest copy of New Yorker was splayed across her lap, and just as she was finishing an article she heard the door open and glanced at the clock. Five o’clock on the dot.

She’d only seen this particular pupil a few times and he’d yet to make her wait. Well dressed, well spoken, full of decorum, and so so shy, Isaac was a pleasure to instruct. Such a pleasure, in fact, that he had quickly become her favorite student - not that she’d told him that, of course.

“Good afternoon as always, Isaac.” Ms. Caraway’s voice was always melodic and airy, yet always contained a gentle air of authority. Her heels tapped against the hardwood of the small, cozy condo, seeming to create a symphony all their own. She told herself it was childish, but she couldn’t help but believe in the beauty, and music, of everything - even her shoes clacking against the floor. Claire’s passion for music made her career as a piano instructor fun on most days, particularly with students like Isaac who were just so eager to learn.

She leaned against her desk and adjusted the hem of her sweater. She wore a buttoned up cream colored cardigan, one of her favorite items of clothing. The woman wore it often, despite the fact that it did little to hide the supple swells of her body, and it looked as decadently soft as it felt. She was busying herself smoothing out the fabric when she caught a glimpse of Isaac’s face and realized he looked frustrated. His body language even seemed flustered. Very flustered, in fact. She tilted her head of copper curls to the side softly, watching him attempt to get settled in at the piano, giving him a moment before curiosity got the better of her.