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From: Anoninsac <anoninsac@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Piano Lessons (Continued) {Anoninsac} (Mf lolita)
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Date: Tue, 24 Feb 2004 23:10:04 -0500
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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is
copyright with all rights reserved by the author
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courtesy to the author please do not delete the
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The author relishes your comments at anoninsac (at)
yahoo (dot) com. If you like this story, see my other
stories at www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anoninsac/www.

WARNINGS: This story depicts consensual sexual
activity between men and women, or women and women.
Some of the participants in the story may be under the
age of 18. If you are too young to read about sex
please do not read this.


       The Piano Lessons - (Continued)


I floated through the next few days. Never had I
imagined something so precious, so wonderful happening
to me. Heather had given me my youth again. Loving her
had returned me the ardor of youth. My whole being was
energized in ways it hadn't since my youth. I
remembered our love making, the passion of youth with
the control of age. I laughed for no reason and
nothing bothered me. Truly, the world was brighter,
the colors more vibrant and details of life more
distinct.

At our lesson that week my eyes would constantly flow
to Heather only to find her looking at me. We'd smile
and then guiltily look back at the teacher only to
find our gazes locking just moments later. After the
lesson, Heather walked from the room with me. 

"Can I come over Saturday?" she asked.

Before I could answer the car was pulling up. Heather
saw it and then her eyes darted toward mine
expectantly. "Yes," I answered. Her face beamed and
she turned and ran toward the waiting car. I watched
as she bounded into the car. I glanced at the driver
and saw a look on her face, a measuring look. She said
something to Heather as the car started moving. I
waited to see if Heather would look back but she was
answering her mother. The car disappeared into
traffic.

Heather arrived late on Saturday. I was pacing in my
front room worried that she wasn't coming. On one trip
I saw her walking up the street. I met her at the
door. "Hi."

She smiled, "Sorry I'm late. Mom kept asking me to do
things this morning. I didn't think I was ever going
to get away." As I closed the door she came into my
arms. "I only have a little while," she said. "I don't
want to waste it." We kissed. 

I carried her into my room and laid her on the bed.
She looked up at me a smile on her face. I leaned over
her and our lips met again. 

There was an urgency to our coupling. We both tore at
our clothes knowing we had precious little time. Once
naked Heather pulled me to her, taking my hard cock
and bringing it to her opening. I pushed in but she
wasn't ready yet. I started small gentle thrusts,
circling around her pussy until I was able to push in
a little bit. Then another thrust, and I sunk into her
a little more. She was getting wetter as I continued,
my cock sinking into her body degree by degree, until
my cock was coated with her juices and I could sink
into her completely. The urgency returned as I began
thrusting into her, hearing her moaning and saying
yes, yes, yes almost under her breath. I was rushing
to completion, pounding into my little darling until
it came, and I did and she did as well.

*****

We celebrated our fourth anniversary, four Saturdays
together, with a long and slow seduction. We lay in
bed after our lovemaking and talked about piano, and
high school and for the first time she began to ask
about my world. She was interested in the `work
world.' What was it like to have a job? What was it
like to have a boss? She was naīve but also bright and
asked some discerning questions. When it was time to
go I started to get up. "No," she said. "I like seeing
you naked. Lay there while I get dressed." 

I watched as she hid her loveliness under jeans and a
sweater. Too bad. "You are beautiful," I told her.

She smiled that beaming smile I had come to love.
"Next Saturday I want to try some things."

"What things?" I asked.

"I've been reading a book," she answered. I raised my
eyebrows. "A sex manual," she continued. I raised my
head and started to ask her - when she interrupted,
"You'll have to wait till Saturday to find out."
Smugly satisfied she blew me a kiss and said, "I'll
see myself out, Dear," and swept from the room.

I nearly started to laugh but that would have ruined
the effect. After I heard the door close I lay in bed
bemused from so much happiness. I thought about
Heather and all of the joy she was bringing me. But
there was still the difference in our ages, and lives.
I wanted to possess her completely, to hold her, to
own her. But I knew that I couldn't. In one of those
transcendent moments of real intuition I knew
Humbert's mistake. He had taught Lolita to fly and
then tried to keep her in the nest, owning her and
possessing her. It wasn't possible. His obsession was
his downfall. Not his love of Lolita but his obsession
with possessing her and keeping her from living. I
couldn't make the same mistake. I knew I would have to
let Heather fly from the nest when she was ready. I
had given her wings and taught her to use them. I
would not make that mistake and so my love of my
little Lolita would not have to end in tragedy.

*****

Monday evening I was practicing that week's main
piece. For the first time we were playing in a minor
key, G minor, Mozart's key of tragedy. I heard a knock
on the door. When I opened the door I was stunned. It
was Heather but this woman was almost my age. I am
sure the shock showed on my face. 

"I guess you are surprised to see me," she said.

"Excuse me but I don't think I know you," I said.

"I'm Heather's mother. May I come in?" she asked.

"Of course." My mind was racing as I ushered her in.
"May I get you something to drink?"

"No thank you. I'm not here for pleasure," she said. 

A feeling of dread welled up, "How may I help you." I
followed to the heavy tread of the executioner's
march.

"You know why I'm here," she said her voice low.

"Why no," I answered.

"Please," she said. "I don't have time for games. I
feel sick to even be here, to think what has happened
here..." Her eyes became steely. "I know about you and
Heather. I followed her Saturday. I parked across the
street and saw the two of you disappear as soon as she
arrived.  I confronted her and she admitted it all."
She paused and waited for me.

"I don't know what to say," I responded.

"I almost called the police right then, sitting in my
car and thinking about what you were doing to my
baby," she said. I had often heard the phrase `my
blood ran cold,' and for the first time I knew exactly
what that felt like. She continued looking at the wall
behind me, "But I kept seeing in my mind Heather,
naked, and the cops rushing into the room. I couldn't
stand that. And then I thought about the courtroom and
Heather having to testify, to detail the lurid ugly
things you did to her." Her voice had a low hissing
quality now. "You deserve everything that would happen
to you. But Heather would be punished as well and she
doesn't deserve it. I'd like to see you dragged away
in handcuffs to prison, to know that child molesters
get it in prison." I thought about correcting her -
statutory rape isn't the same as child molesting but
it seemed a moot point at the moment. "But Heather
doesn't deserve punishment and I can't do one without
doing both." She paused and looked at me. "So I'm
going to offer you a deal. If you don't accept it, I
walk out of here and call the police. You know what
happens then?" 

I nodded. I was well aware of what would happen then.
It all rushed through my mind kaleidoscopically,
arrest, trial, jail, all because I loved a woman who
was younger than I and because she loved me back.
"Yes, I know what would happen then."

"Good, I hope you think about that a lot. You agree to
never see Heather again, never talk with her, never
write to her, ever, even after she's eighteen..." she
saw the look on my face. "Yes, even after she's
eighteen. I know what the statute of limitations is. I
can still call the police then. You will never see my
daughter again. You will never put your filthy hands
on her again. You will never do your filthy perverted
things to her again. Do you understand me?" I nodded.

"And to make sure that you can't see her again I want
you to move away from here," she said.

"Move?" I asked stunned.

"Yes. Move or jail. Your choice." I was sick but I
nodded again. She stood, "I don't have anything else
to say to you. I was going to ask why you would do
something so disgusting but I don't think I want to
know. Goodbye." 

I started to stand but she motioned me down. Her heels
made a clicking sound on the wooden floor as she left.
The door closed on the rest of my life. I slumped in
the chair. What was I going to do? I stumbled out to
the kitchen and poured myself a large glass of wine. I
stared at the walls of the kitchen, Sell my house?
Quit my job? Move away? Because of some arbitrary
number, eighteen? I finished the wine and poured
another. I felt the tears start as I finished the
second glass. I poured the rest of the bottle of wine
into the glass. 

I stumbled into the front room and slumped into a
chair. There was the piano, the instrument of pleasure
and of torture. It had led me to this moment, pain and
loss. If only I hadn't taken those piano lessons. More
tears rolled down my cheeks as I contemplated all I
was losing: job and friends and house. I stared at the
wine in my glass, the way the light reflected form
it's pristine surface, cold and clear so unlike my
life. I swallowed the rest of the wine. I remember my
head falling back against the chair.

*****

My head throbbed - that is what woke me. I was still
sitting in my easy chair. Morning light flooded the
room. I stumbled into the bathroom. After brushing my
teeth and a shower I was again feeling vaguely human.
I considered several options but quickly discarded
them. The one overriding truth was that I had no
stomach for scandal. I would meekly slink from the
scene hoping that I would leave untouched. What the
cost was didn't matter. I could rage and scream but it
wouldn't change my course, the die had been cast.

I was on the phone lining up a real estate agent when
I heard someone at my front door. I opened the door
and Heather flew into my arms tears staining her
cheeks. "Oh Mike. I'm so sorry. When Mom told me she
parked outside and saw everything I got so mad I told
her about us. But I was telling her it was none of her
business and then she said she was going to call the
cops, and I got scared what they'd do to us and I
started begging her not too... Do you really have to
move?"

"Whoa sweetheart. Calm down and we can talk," I said.
I glanced past Heather and saw a car parked down the
street. A car I thought I recognized. "Heather, what
color is your Mom's car?"

"A dark red color. Why?" She saw my eyes flick up and
she turned her head. "No. She followed me."

"We have to call her," I said.

"Mike I want to see you."

"And I want to see you but if your mom calls the
police the only way you'll see me is visiting hours at
jail," I said quietly.

"That's not right. You didn't rape me. I wanted to,"
she said.

"I know. But that's what would happen." Mike pulled
away from Heather and picked up his phone. He dialed
the number Heather gave him. It was answered on the
first ring. "Hi. Yes it's me. Yes, I know you don't
want to talk with me but I have something I need to
tell you. Heather came over to my house. Just now. No,
we haven't `done' anything. She just got here. I'll
send her home. Don't bother? Why? You'll come pick her
up... Ok, she'll be waiting." I hung up the phone. "I'm
sorry sweetheart."

"Mike what are we going to do? She can't make us never
see each other again," Heather said breathlessly.

"She can and she's going to. And there isn't a thing
either of us can do about it." I looked up to see the
car pulling up outside. "She's here."

Heather looked out the window and then back at me.
Tears started again. It hurt so much to see her in
pain and I wanted to pull her into my arms. But the
harridan was outside, waiting for an excuse. "I love
you Mike."

"I love you sweetheart. I'll always remember you. Have
a wonderful life and I hope you meet a man who will be
twice as good to you as I could ever have been."

A racking sob burst from Heather as she turned and ran
out the door. Her mother was staring at her as Heather
as ran down the walkway. As she climbed into the car I
saw her mother asked her something. I knew what. What
had I done to her? Heather's head came up and a steely
expression crossed her face. Heather started to yell
at her mother and that quickly they were in a
screaming bout. Then her mother slammed the car into
gear and tore away. I knew I had seen Heather for the
last time.

*****

It took exactly four weeks to get a buyer for my
house, nice when the housing market is hot, and to
land a new job. It was in LA. Unfortunately LA could
be the model for Dante's third level of hell. But it
was a job and it even paid more than I currently made.

The front bell rang on the afternoon I was to sign the
final papers. The movers were coming in the morning.
It was the harridan. "I didn't expect to see you."

"Your house is selling today. When are you leaving?"
she asked.

She must have been watching me quite closely. I was
tempted to yell and scream at this bitch but I didn't
want her to have the satisfaction. "The movers will be
here tomorrow. I will pack up and be gone the next
day. I am moving to..."

"Don't tell me," she said. "I don't want to know where
you are. And make sure Heather doesn't know either. I
don't want Heather to suffer anymore."

Suffer? Oh yes Heather was suffering but it wasn't
because of me. I started to say you are making her
suffer but knew that her mother would never accept
that. "Don't worry. I will be gone soon and Heather
will forget, in time."

She looked intently at me. "You never look like this
has meant anything to you. Don't you have any feeling
at all?"

That was too much. The tears stared before I could
stop them. As they rolled down my cheeks I gasped, "I
never wanted to give you the satisfaction of knowing
how much you hurt me. But yes, you hurt me as much as
you are hurting Heather."

"I never hurt Heather. I'm protecting her," she lashed
back at me.

I turned away and wiped the tears from my face and
composed myself as best I could. I turned back and
said quietly, "I never hurt Heather. I never would
knowingly hurt her. She's hurt but it's not I who has
hurt her."

"You took her innocence," she said menacingly.

I stood mute but my eyes gave lie to that statement.

Her mother understood. "Are you saying... No, she
couldn't have. She's too young." She looked at me and
my eyes confirmed it. "No, I refuse to believe it."

"I think the most dishonest thing in the world is to
know the truth but refuse to believe it because it
makes us uncomfortable," I said. She turned away.
"That is why I never tried to explain or justify
myself. I do care for Heather even though I knew she
and I would never grow old together. I knew I was just
a youthful love for her. I knew she would flit off one
day."

"A sixteen year old doesn't love," she said.

"Oh yes they do. Certainly not with the depth of a
person married for twenty years. Not with all of the
life experience, not deeply like that. But it is love.
It is how she will learn to have that deep and abiding
love. I know I was a step on her path and I am happy I
was able to share something beautiful with her. I know
you think I used her, but I tell you truly, I care for
her and would never hurt her or use her."

"Heather would never have done this. You had to trick
her," she waited for my reply. I lowered my face.
"Were you her first?" I looked up and then down again.
"I don't believe it. I can see it in your face. How
many?' she asked.

"You need to ask Heather those questions," I said. She
turned away knowing the way I said it confirmed it.

"Is that why you said you didn't take her innocence?"

"No, that isn't why," I answered.

She whirled back to face me her hand covering her
mouth. Then, "I will never accept this. I will never
believe that Heather submitted herself to this..." she
paused looking for a word.

"What you choose to accept doesn't change what is," I
said.

Her face looked as if I had slapped her. She turned
and went to the door. Without looking back she opened
it and said, "I am glad you are leaving. I never want
to see you again," and she slammed the door closed
behind her. 

I was drained and collapsed into a chair. I covered my
face with my hands. Oh Heather.

*****

I was standing in my kitchen wondering if I wanted to
make something for dinner or would just order pizza
when the doorbell rang. It was Heather. She was in my
arms before I could say anything. When I managed to
extricate myself I looked at her. She looked happy and
I wondered why. "Sweetie, you know you shouldn't be
here."

"It's ok. Mom said I could come over," she told me
nearly giddy. 

I was dumbstruck. She couldn't be lying, the vibes
were all wrong for that but there was no way the woman
I had talked to that very afternoon would have said it
was ok either. Why would she do that? "I need to call
her to make sure," I said.

"You don't trust me?" she asked.

"Heather please. Don't make it about that. It has
nothing to do with that. You know I have to call."

She shrugged but again didn't look worried. What the
hell? I dialed and her mom answered. "It's me," I
said.

"I didn't think I'd hear from you again," she said.

"Sorry to bother you. But I have to ask - Why?" I
asked.

"Because I couldn't stand her crying and whining
anymore. Because she promised no more crying and that
if I let her come over to say goodbye I would never
have to hear your name ever again. That's worth it.
So, say goodbye to her and good riddance. Her curfew
is midnight and she better be home, pervert. Good
bye." I heard the phone click in my ear.

"I'll be damned," I said. "Good job Heather."

"Huh?"

"Your mom said it was you crying that made her let you
come over," I told her.

"I don't think it was me," she said. "Mom was really
strange when she came home today. Quiet and kind of
thoughtful. She kept asking me how you tricked me into
going to bed and I kept telling her it was my idea. I
finally told her the whole story, you know, how I
jumped in your lap and you got all embarrassed. And
how I came over the next Saturday in nothing but the
skirt and top and how I made it ride up until you
could see. She got mad for me going out like that but
I don't care. She asked me why and I think she finally
got it that I wanted to. I like you. You made me feel
so wonderful. Anyway, Mom went in the kitchen real
quiet. She came out a while later and told me I could
say goodbye to you. I thought she meant like on the
phone but she said I could come over tonight. I was
like you, I didn't believe her but she told me I
could. I was out the door before she could change her
mind. Sorry I'm in my jeans. I wish I could have
gotten all dressed up for you."

"Heather you look beautiful just the way you are," I
said. "There's only one way you would be more
beautiful."

"Oh," she asked coyly. "How's that."

"On my bed with no clothes on," I said.

"I do like to look beautiful for you," she said as she
turned and headed toward my room. At the doorway she
pivoted so that her head was the only thing still
showing. "Give me a minute and then come on down big
boy." She winked and disappeared.

I stripped off my clothes energized as I hadn't been
since this whole nightmare started. I followed her
into my room. The room was dark except for the light
coming in through the door. She was naked, in the
middle of the bed and looking deliciously sexy. God,
is there anything to equal the look of a woman in
heat? 

I came to her, pushing her back on the bed and
covering her, enveloping her. I knew this time would
be for her - to show her how much she meant to me. She
sensed it and lay back letting me control our
lovemaking. We kissed, languidly at first and then
with mounting passion.

The sex was slow and long, this was for her, to show
her how much I loved her. I lost count of her orgasms
but they came in clusters until she was writhing and
mumbling under me. I quit holding back and quickly
came myself. I held her until she recovered finally
rolling to her side while she curled up next to me.

"Mike, I never felt anything like that." Her arms went
around me, "This isn't fair. I finally find someone
who can make me feel so good and you have to leave."

"I feel the same sweetheart, exactly the same," I said
quietly.

We lay quietly for a while absorbed in the moment.
Then Heather asked, "Mike, where are you moving?"

"Part of your Mother's deal was I couldn't tell you."

"Mike, I learned my lesson. I'll never tell her
another thing, no matter how mad I get," she said.
"Please tell me."

"I suspect that is a good lesson with your Mom but
don't apply that to everyone. Not everyone is going to
be like her." I paused thinking about outcomes. "I'm
moving to LA but you can't try to see me or even
contact me. Your Mom has me in a tight spot until the
Statute runs."

"What statue?" she asked.

"Statute, the law. The Statute of Limitations says you
have to prosecute someone within a time limit of when
the crime occurred. So for us it's six years from when
it happened. And California is a real bitch about it
prosecuting people. They do it even when both parties
and the parents of both parties don't want it
prosecuted. So until then your Mom has me by the
you-know-whats," I said.

"Jeez, the more I find out about this the more I think
people must be crazy to write laws like that," she
said.

"Not crazy, well ok a little. It's the Aunt Busy Body
impulse in America. For some reason, when it comes to
sex there is a strong impulse to make sure nobody has
or enjoys sex. So the laws are written as much as
possible to punish people for having sex. Crazy, but
that's the way it is," I said. "Let's talk about
something else."
 
Heather looked up at me and smiled. "Ok."

"What do you want to do when you finish college?" I
asked. That started us off on a long journey, our
hopes and fears and desires. We talked and talked and
hardly noticed the time rolling away.

By eleven we were all talked out. And we certainly
erotically satisfied. I started to pull away. Heather
grabbed me and pulled me to her. "It's time," I said.

"No."

I disentangled her arms and stood beside the bed. I
put my hand out to her and said, "I would like it if
you would shower with me." That brought a smile to her
face. She took my hand and I pulled her to her feet.
We shared a hot steamy shower. By 11:40 we were
dressed. We didn't say anything, I couldn't and I
guess she felt the same. I took her hand and we went
out to my car. In complete silence I drove her home. I
had five minutes to spare. I looked at the house and
then at her. Her chin started to quiver, then the
tears started, slowly, quietly. Heather threw her arms
around my neck, "I love you, Mike." 

"I love you, Heather," I said holding back my own
tears. 

Her arms squeezed like she was trying to hang on for
life, then she released me and not looking back threw
open the door and ran up the sidewalk. I heard one sob
before she reached the door which opened for her as
she ran up. As she disappeared I saw her mother
looking at me. It was a quiet look. She closed the
door and turned out the light. I started the car and
drove home feeling completely alone.

Epilog

LA is an ugly city with no soul. It has a beautiful
glittering surface but there is nothing under that
surface. People in LA search for meaning in the most
superficial ways when fulfillment comes from within.
They are fame swallowers who measure their worth by
being in the same restaurant as an actor who couldn't
string three meaningful words together without a
script. There is no there - there.

My piano arrived out of tune. It is interesting
practicing on an out of tune piano. New sounds keep
appearing in the most unexpected places. When I first
arrived I thought about Heather so much. That last day
had me confused. I wondered if her Mother had a change
of heart. I called one night and her mother answered.
Ostensibly I told her I was calling to let her know I
was gone. She was cordial but firm - don't call again,
I don't want you talking to Heather. I volunteered to
leave my address hoping she would have it if she ever
did change her mind - she said, no need. I'll never
know what caused the apparent thaw and chill. And the
truth is, by the time Heather is eighteen she will
have left that part of her life behind. It would never
be rekindled. 

In the months I have been writing this I have had time
to find a better position. Seattle looks to be
pleasant. I will be moving in a few months and I so
look forward to leaving this smoggy, crowded, ugly
place. I will be flying right over Heather on my way
to Seattle. I wonder if she will look up as I go by
and see the plane and wonder if it is me. In a few
years she will probably be in college somewhere and
away from her mother. I will be in the phone book and
if she wants to find me there is always the Internet.
Or will she already have forgotten?

I sit in my front room and as I play the piano I
remember Heather and how she could play so
effortlessly. I share a passion with her, a passion
for music, which is immortal. And this is the only
immortality you and I may share, my Lolita.


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