Laura The Tutor

"Clint, I know your voice. I know your capabilities. You can do this solo, in fact I am sure you will do it well," the church choir director said with assurance. "There are just a couple of rough spots you need to get through."

"Just a couple? I feel shaky for most of it, especially after the second crescendo," Clint replied. "You know I've had musical training, but on the piano, not as a singer, and that was over 20 years ago. You know I have only been singing in the choir for just over a year."

"You will gain confidence as you learn your part. This Easter Requiem is a beautiful piece, but it is not easy. Listen, I wouldn't have chosen you to sing it if I didn't think you could do it," she responded. "And after the second crescendo, you just need to work on your breathing."

She believes I'm up to it, he thought, but I'm not convinced. I'm terrified.

The director continued, "I only wish I didn't have so much going on at school with my students, or I'd work with you on it. But I have an idea."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well, a tutor. Some of my graduate students give private lessons to prepare for their eventual teaching careers, and also to make ends meet," she responded. "Unfortunately, since I teach upper voices, they are all young women, and don't sing baritone. But the mechanics of singing are the same no matter the vocal range."

"But the concert is only a month away," Clint stated with concern in his voice. "Will there be enough time?"

"There will be plenty of time. I will check with a couple of my students and have one of them contact you. It will only take a few lessons, one a week, to get you to where you need to be. I hope the money isn't a problem, as neither the choir fund nor the church can afford to pay for private lessons."

"I understand, and no, the money is not a problem. It wouldn't be right for the choir or the church to pay for it," he answered. "And, if you really think this will work, I'll give it a shot."

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Sitting at his desk at work, Clint examined the latest invoices. Business was good. He had worked hard for the last ten years, and it was finally paying off. It was now providing more than just a steady income. He had money for extravagance if he chose, or early retirement if he saved. It was a good feeling.

Clint kept in shape and released tension by working out daily through the workweek. It was almost ritualistic to him and nearly the only means available to him to unwind, as he divorced several years prior and made the conscious decision to focus on work rather than relationships. He was preparing to leave to go for his daily workout when his phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number.

"Hello, this is Clint."

"Hi. My name is Laura. My professor said you are in need of a voice tutor. Most of my students are middle school and high school girls, but I think I can help you. I sing Alto, but that shouldn't be a problem."

"Well, I could really use the help. The performance is the Sunday before Easter. My schedule is flexible, what evenings are you available?"

She paused for a brief moment as she checked her calendar. "So, you are looking for three or four consecutive weeks... one hour a week should be sufficient, and maybe an extra session if it is required. How about Tuesdays at seven?"

"I think that'll be fine," he replied. "Choir meets on Wednesday evenings, so I can apply what I learn in our sessions to the following rehearsal."

"Very good. Now, I charge $60 for a one-hour lesson. Will that be ok?" Laura asked.

"Sounds like a bargain. In fact, you may charge more after you hear me sing."

"Oh, I doubt that. Just a couple more questions," she continued. "What is your musical background, like do you read music?"

"Yes I do read music, and in fact, I have a pretty good knowledge of it. I took piano lessons when I was a kid, and have enjoyed various types of music my entire life," he answered. "But my singing experience is very limited. I've only sung in the church choir for a year."

"Oh, do you still have a piano? If you do, can we have the sessions in your home?"

Clint responded with a chuckle. "Well, sort of. I have an electric piano. It has eighty-eight keys, and sounds all right. My place will be fine. Anything else?"

"One more thing - do you have metronome?"

"As a matter of fact I do," he replied. "I have an old fashion swinging pendulum, and one programmed into the piano. And if that is not enough, I believe there is an App for that too."

She laughed at his response. "I think we can make do without the App. I find people do better with the pendulum-type. I think visual and audio stimulus together is more appealing and captivating."

"We're still talking about the metronome, right?" he asked.

"Of course - what else would be talking about?"

"Never mind," Clint sheepishly responded, and then quickly changed the subject. "I need to give you my address. Do you have a pen?"

Clint provided Laura the address, and they confirmed the date and time of their first session. After their goodbyes, he locked up his office and headed to the gym. On his way there, he recounted their conversation.

Laura had a pleasant voice, he thought, not the low and sultry voice I would normally associate with an Alto. Nor the high voice of a Soprano, but more normal, upbeat, and a bit perky even. He wondered what she looked like- Oh no, he thought, I can see her now, the fat lady that sings at the end of an opera, isn't she an Alto? Clint pictured a large, stern woman wearing a horned, metal helmet. He shook involuntary as a shiver crawled up his spine at the thought.

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Tuesday was a hectic day at work for Clint. He was able to complete his workout at lunch, but had to work later in the afternoon than he had anticipated. He arrived home only minutes before the time for his appointment. He put down his briefcase, shed his tie, and was heading for the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Dinner will have to wait, he thought.

He was pleasantly surprised when he opened the door. Standing on the porch was a beautiful, rather tall woman of about 25 years old. She had dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a wide smile.

"Clint?" she asked.

"You must be Laura. Please come in." He opened the door and stepped back to allow her to enter. She wore a tight fitting top, which accented her small breasts and a pleated, knee length skirt that complimented a narrow waist, wide hips, and plump ass. She was definitely not what he imagined. "No horned helmets here" he said under his breath as she walked through the door.

"Did you say something?"

"Oh nothing - I was just thinking out loud. One doesn't realize they are talking to themselves if they live alone," he said trying to find an excuse for telling a joke to himself.

"It is good that you live alone," she replied, then realized the implications of her statement and quickly continued, "It is good that we will not be disturbing anyone with our singing during the lesson. You have a very nice home," she said in an attempt to move the conversation away from the awkward beginnings.

"Thank you," Clint replied with a smile. He was proud of his accomplishments, including being able to purchase and furnish this house a few years ago, even though he could afford much more now. "The piano is upstairs in the study. Shall we?" As Clint followed her up the stairs, he could not help but stare at her butt, swaying and jiggling with every step. When she reached the top, he shook his head to bring himself out of his mesmerizing stare and back to the present, as if he were coming out of a trance. "The study is to the right, the room on the left."

Laura sat down on the piano bench, found the power button, and began playing scales to get the feel of the keyboard. "The action and response of the keys is not bad - pretty good for an electric piano. Stand behind my right shoulder and we'll warm up. I'll play and sing a patterned chord progression, and you respond with the same notes but an octave lower. We'll go up until you can't reach the notes comfortably, then progress down until your sound is muddled. This way I can determine your vocal range. Are you ready?"

"Let's give it a shot."

Laura played and sang the first chord progression, but Clint didn't respond. "Is there a problem?" she asked.

He answered sheepishly, "Your voice is amazing. It really caught me off guard. I guess I was lost in listening and didn't think to participate. And now I am thinking that my voice will sound like a bellowing horn when singing with you."

"Clint, I'm sure you are exaggerating about your voice. And try to remember that along with my God given musical and vocal talents, I've been studying voice for over fifteen years. I'd better sound good. Now, let's try it again."

Laura began again... They marched up the keyboard until they reached the key of F and Clint began using his falsetto voice. Laura stopped playing and looked back at him. "Falsetto is great for Billy Joel, but not for a church choir solo, or a Requiem. By the way, you have a very good voice, and we can make it much better with just a few lessons and a couple of exercises. You have a lot of potential. Now, let's see how low you can go."

This time, she began with a chord at a comfortable A above middle C, and Clint responded with the A below middle C. From there, they worked down a little more than an octave until his voice began to waver.

"Good news," Laura said with a smile. "I believe you have more than enough range for a baritone solo. In fact, I believe we can define you as a baritone. You're in good shape in that department."

"So, what is the bad news?"

Laura turned on the piano bench, put her hand on his upper arm and began to rub it in reassurance. Then she looked him in the eyes and smiled. "Clint, don't be so down on yourself. There's no bad news. There're areas we can work on. But I'll let you in on a little secret - the more confidence you have in your singing, the better you'll sound. Unfortunately, the opposite is also true, so we are going to work on the music, your voice, and your confidence in the next month, so you'll sound great for the concert. Sound like a plan?"

Clint hesitated before he spoke. Staring into her blue eyes as she stroked his arm made it difficult to taken in all that she was saying. When it finally registered, he spoke, "music, voice, confidence - got it."

Laura rose from her seat and slid the piano bench to the right. "Come sit with me so we can sing together, and I can show you the details in the music."

Clint moved to the side of the bench, and then hesitated. If I take a seat on that narrow bench, he though, I'll have to sit shoulder-to-should and hip-to-hip with her, and I don't know if I am up for that. Concentrating on music is going to be difficult.

"Come and sit down. I won't bite," she insisted with a broad, inviting smile on her face.

Clint eased onto the bench and scooted over until his pants were against her skirt. As she began to play the piano, her soft arm brushed against his. He could smell her perfume, or was it her hair rinse? He could feel the warmth of her leg against his as she worked the petal with her right foot. With the distractions, he missed his vocal entrance.

She stopped playing, turned to face Clint, rested her hand on his leg, and with a smile said, "Let's try it again. I'll start here," pointing to the music. "Next time, I'll give you fare warning before you are to begin. Sing the best you can, and I'll join you an octave higher if you need help. And if that does not work, I'll forgo the accompaniment and just play the notes."

He made it through the solo, as Laura guided him through the difficult parts. "That was good," she said with a smile. "You have done this a few times. Now let's break it down into smaller parts, four measure phrases."

They continued to work through the solo, section by section. She was a cheerful and supportive tutor, and for the most part, Clint an attentive student. However, on several occasions his thoughts wandered away from music and to the beautiful young woman sitting next to him. It did not help that she look at him with her big, blue eyes, smiled at him frequently, patted his leg, rubbed his arm, or laid her head on his shoulder, all presumably to provide a supportive and reassuring atmosphere.

They completed their work on the four measure phrases, all eight of them, and then ran through the solo in its entirety twice. "During the next six days, I want you to practice the transitions," Laura instructed. "Some of the note progressions are unusual, and you need to be comfortable with them. You should play them on the piano and then sing them in response. Or sing with the recording. It would be best if you did both."

"So, are we done for this evening?"

"Not quite. We need to work on your breathing. You need to be able to do each four-measure phase in one breath. And for that, we need to stand up. Why don't you stand next to the door?"

After they had moved to the threshold, Laura continued, "first, you have to have the proper posture, and we'll use the open door as a guide, so up against the door," she said playfully as if she was a cop ordering a suspect against the wall. She then stood directly in front of him, put her hands against both of his collarbones, and pushed him gently but firmly back.

"In order to achieve the most volume in a breath, you need to be standing straight," she explained as she moved her hands outward toward his shoulders and pinned them against the door. Her warm hands and long fingers pressing against his shirt began to cause an involuntary response from within.

"It's also important that your neck and head be straight," she continued as she slid her hands over his shoulders and to the base of his skull and around his neck. It was as if she was going to run her fingers through his hair and hold his face to kiss him, only pushing him back against the door rather than drawing him forward. But the feeling of her touch on the sensitive skin of his neck was the same.

If she continues this treatment, he thought, there will be only heavy breathing.

Laura rested her open hands on his shoulders. "Now, take a sharp, deep breath," she instructed. He inhaled quickly through his nose, which brought an immediate response from his tutor. "You must breath through your mouth," she said has she brought a hand to gently touch the side of his nose, and then to his lips. "Your breath will be much quicker through your mouth, and it will already be open while you sing."

Clint appeared to be listening, but his thoughts were on the fingers lightly touching his lips, thoughts of kissing and sucking the fingers so close to his mouth he could almost taste the flesh. I would take each finger into my mouth, he thought, swirl my tongue around each digit, and then force my tongue between two fingers as if it were her pussy lips.

Her voice brought him back from his fantasy. "The air must rush past your mouth and into your lungs quickly, or you'll be behind the beat." As Laura spoke, she moved her fingers from his mouth, over his chin, delicately down his throat to his chest, her open hand resting on his sternum.

My heart is beating so hard, Clint thought, I wonder if she can feel it pounding against her hand.

"Now, let's try it again," she said in a supportive tone.

Clint took a deep breath and swelled his chest as the air filled his lungs.

"No, No, No," Laura said with a smile. "You just demonstrated a very common misconception. One can draw more air into their lungs by using their diaphragm muscles rather than trying to flex their ribcage," she explained while she rubbed his chest with one hand and moved the other slowly down to his belt. When she glanced down, she noticed the enormous tent of his pants, and then quickly looked up with wide eyes.

Clint put his hand on her arm and urgently said, "I need to sit down," as he gently nudged her aside and hurriedly made his way to the piano bench.

Laura slowly moved toward the bench and sat down next to him, but did not speak. It was as if she was searching for something to say, or recounting all the ways she had touched and enticed him. Now she realized the affect it had.

Finally, he lifted his head and spoke in a quiet voice, "Laura, it has been a long time since I've been touched by a woman - particularly one as attractive as you." He glanced into her eyes, and then looked down again.

She put her hand on his upper arm and said, "Clint, I'm sorry. I wasn't aware..., I didn't mean..."

He cut her off. "Don't apologize. I know you didn't mean it. It was my thoughts and my reaction."

Laura took a deep breath. "Let's try it again, but this time I'll be more cognizant of my actions, and of your feelings."

Clint took his position at the door. The bulge in his pants had subsided somewhat, though still noticeable. And he saw that Laura had noticed, as if she did not want to look, but had to see it.

"Now, take a few deep breaths and exhale slowly, as if you are singing a long, sustained note," she told him as she placed a single finger on his chest to encourage him to use his diaphragm. "And breathe lower," she added in a supportive and encouraging tone.

As he began to understand the mechanics of the proper breathing technique, Laura looked into his eyes and flashed a big grin. "Now you are getting it," she told him. He couldn't help but smile back.

Her grin subsided to a smile, and then she bit her lower lip as she continued to look into his eyes. She innocently reached up with her open hand and lightly rubbed his check. Then to his surprise she buried her face into his neck and pressed her body into his with such force that the door banged against the wall. Clint instinctively grabbed her shoulders, but before he could push her away, she protested. "Please don't," she whispered into his ear. "Hold me."

He did not wrap his arms around her, but his hands did not leave her shoulders. They remained in this awkward embrace for a moment, Laura sweetly nuzzling his neck, her hands on his sides. She raised her head to speak but then hesitated. Clint felt her hot breath on his ear, her warm body against his, and once more his primitive instincts began to stir within him.

Laura finally spoke quietly into his ear. "You said that it had been a long time since you had been touched by a woman, well, it's has been a long time since I've touched a man. Between work, school, my students, and rehearsals, I haven't had the time or the mindset for men."

She shifted her weigh from one leg to the other, but the effect on him was as if she was grinding her body into his. She continued in a soft, sultry voice, "your physical reaction to me brought to the surface all those suppressed thoughts and feelings. Your reaction - your hard cock made me feel attractive, sexy, desirable." Laura moved her hand to his face and gently rubbed his check. She leaned her head back slightly to glimpse his eyes as to gauge his response. Clint was uneasy with his current predicament, but by no means overly alarmed. Surmising his reaction and confident she would not be rebuffed, she pressed on with her seduction.

Laura slid her open hand from his face to his neck, then chest, then to his side, continuing a slow, deliberate motion. The sensation of the delicate touch of her warm hand against the flesh of his check and neck was almost maddening it was so pleasurable. As she moved her hand ever lower, she continued, "I'm sorry I caused you embarrassment, and I'd like to make it up to you" as she reached the bulge in his pants and began to rub and squeeze his stiff member through the fabric. "I would like to finish what I've started."

Clint unconsciously puts his arms around her as she continued to rub his member through his pants. She again nuzzled his neck, and then kissed his neck and ear. As she began to work on the zipper of his slacks, she whispered in his ear, "I will take care of this, but you can't cum in my mouth. It irritates my throat and alters my voice." She then squatted down and reached into his open fly.