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I had an Angel on my mind the next few days, and of course, I had Sprite to handle anything more physical should there prove to be time for such things. That was a great arrangement if I had the time. With expectations for the upcoming weekend; who am I kidding; the upcoming weekends ad infinitum; they were going to really cut into my photo shoots. I was going to have to pack them in without regard to the usual niceties, and I hoped my new found brusque manner was not going to put people off. I wasn't going to have the time for any stupid stuff and I hoped it wasn't going to turn people off.

I therefore nearly blew up when a mom and her daughter got into an extended argument over the contents of the portfolio.

I listened to them snipe back and forth before I held up my hand to intervene.

"I am on a schedule here, so please figure out what you want."

The girl, a pretty thing named Olivia, cut her mother off before she could speak

"I want some pics with me playing the piano!"

Her mother shouted back.

"I am not driving you all the way over to the college just for a few pictures."

She turned to me.

"You don't happen to have a piano, do you?"

"Uh, no."

She turned to her daughter.

"See! You'll get what you get."

I held up a hand.

"Excuse me. The community college?"

"Yes!" cried the girl. "It's not that far!"

Mom started to say something, but I unwisely beat her to make a remark.

"What if I drive her over when we're done here?"

"What? And how much is that going to cost?"

I was thinking of a good answer when I notice the girl looking at me. The look and the fact that her hands were pressed together in a praying formation told me she really wanted this.

"Nothing, as long as we get moving. Are you coming," I asked the mother.

"I was going to stay until she was done here,...of course... but if you're going to take her over to the college, then maybe I'll get some shopping in."

"Excuse me?" I said rather peevishly.

"Well, you hardly need me along. She'll show you where the pianos are and I'll pick her up back here." She turned to her daughter. "Just send a text and I'll drive back, ok?"

It was not ok with me, but Olivia superseded my authority and said,

"Sure! I don't think we'll be that long!"

She looked at me and winked, which I normally would have raised an eyebrow at. I was tired enough to rather ignore it. I wasn't certain what she wanted but photos were about all is was going to be. Or so I thought.

As it turned out, her mom stayed for the initial shots. They were fairly basic really, and after a few minutes of photographing her, I had nearly forgotten that she had winked at me. Heck, it could have meant anything after all.

Once we were done there, with the backdrops and such, the girl literally dragged me out of the house.

"I have the perfect room for it. It's the one they use for private auditions and dress rehearsals!"

"Did you bring something formal to wear?" I asked a bit too tersely.

"I have one there, plus I have a few nice tops I can put on, since a lot of the shots will only show me from the head down...to about here," she said, indicating her rib cage

I instinctively looked more intently at her chest. There was a nice pair hidden under there. I relented a little, still unclear if her motives where purely personal or something a little deeper. I was taking very little for granted anymore.

"Fine. Grab what you're taking and let's be on our way."

She climbed into the passenger seat and buckled up like she was used to driving around with a stranger.

I felt a little ill at ease, so I struck up what I hoped was an innocuous conversation.

"Aren't you a little young to be going to college?"

She giggled.

"Yes and no. I'm fifteen, but I am doing so well at my piano lessons they sent me to the college to have a better teacher. I'd rather go to someplace a little more well-known, but mom says it's the best she can afford."

"I get that. So why the portfolio? You hardly need one to get into music school, do you?"

"Mom says I have good looks, and that I should broaden by possibilities." She paused for a moment and then asked, "Do you think I'm pretty?"

Her tone was difficult to decipher, but I knew the correct answer.

"Of course. You have very good looks. But if you don't think too badly of me, most everyone I have been working with have had good looks."

"I bet. Are mine better or worse?"

"There is no such thing. Everyone has details that make them special."

She stared at me, which I could tell only from a sidelong glance, as I was driving remember.

"I take it you have to treat everyone nice. I get that. But have you had a favorite?"

"Favorite what?"

"Girl."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

"Sure. But I tend to keep it to myself."

"Hmmm. You're too polite to pick favorites. That's cool."

"Is it?"

"Sure. I go to school with a lot of pretty girls, and they're always trying to outdo each other. They all want to get the attention."

"And you?" I asked quietly.

"I can get attention when I want it. But mostly, I love playing the piano."

I of course knew what school she attended, and I had photographed a few of the girls that went to it. Nothing had happened with any of them, and I was thinking that it had been for the best. I was getting too entangled as it was.

"So you know some of the girls I've worked with?"

"Oh, sure. didn't they catch your eye?"

It was a loaded question.

"Olivia, you seem to be making some insinuations here."

She suddenly turned red.

"Sorry. It's just most guys get all hot and bothered around pretty girls. You seem calm and collected, as mom likes to say."

"I can have an eye for beauty, which is a good thing, since I'm the one who is going to be taking your picture. That doesn't mean I will act inappropriately around you."

"Really?"

"Really."

She sighed. I didn't know what that signified.

The rest of the ride, such as it was, was done in relative silence.

The college wasn't overly large, in line with the size of the city, but it was still quite nice. The music building was to one side, and I had to find a proper place to park that was still close enough to haul my gear inside. It took me a little bit, but I got it together and we walked up the sidewalk and through the front doors.

It was a little too prim inside for my tastes; with a sort of a "I'm-better-then-you" look to the carpeting and walls, but then, I suppose artists and musicians maybe thought that of themselves. Me, I couldn't draw (by hand) a fly or blow my nose to any artful degree. Luckily, I had knack with graphics and an eye with the camera and that was all I needed.

The room she had in mind was a set within another one, and the interior was surprisingly sophisticated. It had limited seating and a lovely grand piano that looked like someone polished it every day. Overall the room had a smoother, European feel to it, as opposed to the somewhat starchy feel of the rest of the building.

Olivia went to a closet in the corner and pulled out a vibrant blue dress. She held it up for me to see.

"I leave this here, because quite frankly mom won't let me wear it anywhere but here. Then again, that could be because it cost eight hundred dollars."

My eyebrows went up at mention of the price, but I didn't say word. Seeing as her mom was off shopping even now, I had a feeling that money wasn't a problem in this family.

"It's very pretty. And I think it will work well with the light color of this room."

"That's what I thought. I'll change into a top, so if you wouldn't mind..."

I turned and walked out the door, camera in hand. As I stood there, I fought the urge to peer in through the window. The piano was to the side, and my face would likely be visible to her before she would be to me. It was just as well I didn't for barely had the thought crossed my mind when someone walked by the outer door, the one leading to the hallway. Whoever it was stopped, back tracked and stared in at me.

The look she gave me was not very inviting. She flung open the door and put on a fierce stance.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in here?"

Let me just say that her tone was enough to freeze boiling lava. I tried to hand her one of my cards, but she was not having any of it.

"My name is Mark..." was all I got out when the door to the anteroom flew open.

"Miss Van Der Waal!"

The woman jerked at the abruptness.

"Olivia? What are you doing here? And who is this man?"

She spat the word man out like it was vile.

"He's my photographer, the one doing my portfolio."

She pulled back, perhaps realizing that she had just made an ass of herself.

"Why are you here?" she asked the girl.

To me she growled, "Don't you have a studio?"

Her question was spoken right into my face. I was quickly getting a little pissed off at Broomhilda (I was not thinking fondly of her, if it isn't obvious) and replied a little tartly in return.

"I do. We've been there. This young lady wished to have a few photographs taken of her seated at a piano she seems fond of. Perhaps I should have consulted with the college president first?"

There was stony silence for a few seconds.

"That might have been better. However, seeing as you are here, and that Olivia is a top student despite her age, I will relent. Where is your mother dear?"

"She went shopping. So if you don't mind, I'd like to get the pictures taken so I don't hold him up, and besides, you know how she gets when she's shopping."

"Yes. Are you going to wear your lovely gown?"

"I am. But if you don't mind, we don't have all day."

The woman frowned at me, turned to Olivia and smiled and then stomped out the door. The girl sighed.

"That woman is the nastiest dyke I know. Too bad she's such a good pianist."

"Is that why she didn't like me?"

"Probably, though I probably should have told her we were coming. She doesn't like strange people wandering around the building. The pianos alone are pretty expensive."

"More than a grand?" I asked with a smirk.

"Hell yes...I mean, yes."

Then she caught what I was implying.

"Oh God, stupid music jokes..."

"That's the only kind I think I know. I'm not a musician."

"Obviously. I on the other hand can play a variety of instruments. One of my favorites is the slide trombone."

"Are you in marching band?"

She grinned.

"No. I just generally play that in private."

"Oh."

I didn't think there was much point in playing something if you didn't do it for a crowd.

"Oh? What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing."

She giggled at some private joke, then took a seat at the piano.

"How should I pose?"

"Any way that feels natural. You want people to know you love playing the piano."

"Hmmm. I guess I could actually play a song, and maybe that would work?"

"Sure. I can take a lot of shots and delete the ones that aren't up to snuff."

"Snuff?"

"It's an expression."

She giggled again.

"You're kind of corny."

"Sorry."

"No, I like it. You aren't trying to be cool or anything. You're being yourself. Most people try to be who they aren't. Especially around me."

"Why you?"

"I don't know. I guess they expect me to be something other than I am. I don't much care what people think about me or what I do. That scares some people."

"And why would it scare me?"

"It doesn't. At least I don't think it does. You're hard to read."

I was a bit torn. She was engaging me in a decent conversation, but I had photographs to take before getting her back. Thankfully she was the last shoot of the day."

"I _a_m trying to be respectful."

"I see that. I like it, but it seems weird. Most guys hit on me, even older guys like you. Then they find out how old I am and split."

"Wise choices on their part."

"They could be fun. But mom has fits when I talk about. I have a boyfriend you know."

"I did not know that. Do I need to know that?"

"Free information. His name is Charles. He's nice."

"Good! For both of you."

She smiled a little enigmatically, then set to playing a composition. I didn't recognize it, and I was further impressed because there was no music open for her to read from. She was playing it from memory. It was a lovely piece, and I had no doubt she had practiced long and hard to achieve her present level of ability.

As she played, her face grew calm, if that's the right term for it. Peaceful. As if she was becoming one with the melody. The notes rang out as her fingers danced over the keys almost of their own volition. I nearly forgot to raise the camera, but in the end, y brain kicked in. I snapped away, enraptured with how deeply involved she was with her music. I've seen guitarists jam before, on stage in concert, and this was close, but it seemed much more Zen.

When she was done, she sat there for a moment with her eyes closed. When she opened them and realized I was standing there, she looked embarrassed.

"You play beautifully," I said sincerely.

"Thank you," she said, color coming to her cheeks. Then she composed herself.

"Did you get any good shots?"

"I can hardly see how I didn't. We can look at them later of course."

"Yeah, sure thing. I'm going to change again."

She started to pull her blouse off and I hurried out of the room. I wasn't sure if she meant to tease me or not, but this was a public building and I wasn't about to get caught being a pervert. Girls could be hard to understand, even with me being the age I was and having the recent experiences I had under my belt. And I think you know how much of it was below my waistline...

She called me back a few minutes later. She was brushing out her hair, and she had a look of total mischievousness on her face.

"Were you embarrassed?"

"I thought it improper to stay."

"Huh. You are a little weird but I get it."

"Olivia, are you trying to cause me grief?"

"No! It's just that..."

"What?" I asked with the tone a parent might use.

"Nothing... Should I play another song?"

. "I think that might be advisable."

She gave me a look, which I snapped with the camera, which in turn made her sit up a little straighter in the chair.

"Do you know who Claude Debussy was?"

"I've heard of him, but I can't name any of his music."

As it turned out, I did recognize the piece as she ran her fingers over the ivories. One thing I could say for her, and that was that she became totally engrossed in her playing. Or maybe I did say that already. If so, then it's worth repeating. I've seen kids looking miserable plunking away on the keys. Not this gal. She was as into it as a person could possibly be.

I took about thirty shots as she played her melody (Clair de Lune, in case you care) and then just stood there just watching her. I noticed that her body swayed a little, and from time to time seemed to twitch just a bit. If I wouldn't have been thinking like a stupid male, I might have guessed she was getting off on playing her music. Then again, maybe she was. I wasn't about to ask. Not here, and not now.

When she was finished, she opened her eyes quickly and smiled.

"I like that composition. Do you have any favorites?"

"I'm more of a rock and roll sort of guy."

"No appreciation for the finer things in life?"

"No, not that. I can appreciate many things. I'm simply not well-versed in classical music."

"Your loss then. I can feel it flow through me. I love feeling things flow through me."

I raised my eye brows a bit.

"Is that so?"

That was a little more than blatant innuendo.

"Yep!" she replied with a bit of snap in her voice. Then she wrinkled up her nose at me.

"I'm going to get undressed again, just in case you want to leave."

As much as I wanted to stay, I left the room to her and her devices.

I stood outside fidgeting, torn between being a slave to my impulses and being a devotee to my morals. The latter were pretty much shot, but having something going on under my roof was much more acceptable than here in the open. True, this was a room within a room, but anyone could walk in as had already been proven. That would not go so well.

I heard her call out to me, so I took a deep breath and walked back inside. She had returned to sitting at the piano, a book of music open in front of her. From my angle, I could just see her eyes and above. Her pupils went from focusing on the music to staring at me.

"I'm trying to think of something more raw and emotional to play. I have a couple of choices but I don't which one to choose."

"Whichever one makes you happy I suppose."

I was trying to be noncommittal.

She looked over the top of the book, her eyes aglow. I could tell she had a smile on her face. The next instant she lowered her sheet music and stood.

Those breasts I was curious about were very nice. Still, I felt a little shocked. I didn't like having such going-ons going on in a public place. I whipped around to look out the pane set in the door. The room beyond was empty. I mean, I knew that having just come from there, but I had no reason to worry about it before.

"Olivia, what the hell are you doing?"

"Getting naked."

"For Christ's sake, I can see that! What if that nasty lady, whatever her name is, comes walking in?"

"It's Miss Van Der Waal. And I doubt she'll return. She usually heads home about now."

"It doesn't matter. You need to get dressed!" I was bordering on hysterics, in case you couldn't figure that out.

"Sure. After you get a few pictures for me."

As I was arguing with her, I am sorry to say that I was getting a hard-on. OK, so I'm not sorry, but it was not a place I would have wanted to make out. The fine line I had been balancing my life on was getting thinner and thinner.

I knew that I had better snap some of her, or we'd be here all day. So I focused and clicked away, all the while talking to her.

"Do you think this is a good idea?"

She smiled demurely.

"Beats selfies."

'I can't keep them you know; you're underage," I replied in a statement I knew was a lie. I was just going to have to keep them well hidden.

"I won't be my entire life," she retorted snidely.

"True, but these photos will always be of you at this moment. The law doesn't see it any other way."

"Oh God! And I heard you liked getting laid."

I pulled my face away from the camera.

"What?"

"Rumor has it you like getting laid. What guy doesn't?"

"Who told you this?"

"Girls hear things."

"Which means some girls talk too much."

"Maybe, No one I know personally has anything bad to say about you. They say your pretty cool. Old, but cool."

I would have taken umbrage at the old part, but my blood pressure was through the roof. That only make my erection that much stiffer.

"I'm going to claim ignorance of whatever it is you're insinuating until I know what it is you want."

"Seriously? OK, it's not that hard." She giggled, looking towards my crotch. "I get turned on by playing music. Listening to it is no problem, but when I play it makes me all wet and itchy."

To illustrate her point she stood and pulled a towel out from underneath her bottom. There was an obvious damp spot showing in the middle. At the same time, I got to see more of her rather nice body.

"So let me get this straight. You want to make out in here...with me?"

"I'd rather have Charlie, but we can never get together to get here at the same time. Then I heard about you. That's why I had mom pick you. I had heard stories and they sounded nice."

"I'd rather have Charlie here too," I said nervously. Each minute that passed with her standing there nude was a minute closer to disaster.

She giggled at what I said, then followed it with;

"But I thought to myself, why not anybody?"

I pointed towards the hallway.

"Do you want me to find you someone?"

"No! You're pretty good looking, even if you're old enough to be my dad."

"I'm not quite that old..."

"Sure you are. But hey who cares. I want to have sex in here, at this piano, while I play it."

"That's a chair you're sitting in, and I cannot see how you could...have sex... and play at the same time."

"Right you are!"

She pulled the chair out of the way and pulled over a low bench. She then went and got her blue dress out, slipped it easily over her head and shoulders and hiked up the hem.

"God, I am so horny right now! You've just got to do this for me!"

"I'll make you a deal..."

I couldn't believe I just said that.

"...I'll do it, but you have to tell me where you're hearing things. This isn't information that can just be bantered about in public you know,"

"Deal!"

I knew I was totally nuts. I took my camera equipment and set in on the floor to one side, started to get undressed, but there she stopped me.

"Just drop your pants and lay down on the bench."

"What?"

"You lay down on the bench," she said slowly, in a mocking tone. "It's as low as it will go. You lay head first towards the piano, sliding part way under it. I'll get on top of you and the rest should be easy."

She grinned at the sight of my raging cock, or maybe at my discomfiture, for I was rather self-conscious on account of this whole, crazy idea. This was going to be a weird experience, and there was no better word for it. But...being the dutiful lover, I moved the bench sideways from the way it was supposed to be, slid it partway under the piano and squeezed underneath. I could see her legs and more as she lifted her dress and climbed on top. I rather figured she wasn't a virgin, so at least that mess was going to be avoided.

She wiggled down on top of me like a pro, and I was absolutely certain she had done this before. Many times before. Maybe not here, but I could see her doing practice runs somewhere else. But I kept my mouth shut. To be honest, I was too terrified to say a word.

She was certainly wet. Without a hitch, she took everything I had to give on the first drop. There wasn't a commercial lubricant that could have equaled what she was making on her own. I felt the moisture ooze out around my cock and flow onto into my pubic hair. She was shaved smooth, I assume just for the chance at this occasion, for she was certainly old enough to have a batch as thick as mine.

I felt my heartrate increase. This was a stupid idea and a risky one, but if she (we?) pulled it off, I don't think either of us would ever forget it. I figured the best thing for me to do was lie there and keep my mouth shut. I was still treating the room as a public place.

She squirmed in place until she was as solidly connected to me as the laws of physics would allow. I was pretty sure the tip of my cock was pressed up against a pretty sensitive part of her internal anatomy. That she could feel was also noticeable.

"You're a better fit for me than Charlie. He's fine, but you have a little more length. Tickles the perfect spot."

"Glad to be of assistance," I said a little edgily.

Perhaps sensing my nervousness, she quit talking and began playing. As she did, her muscles tensed up around me as the rest of them relaxed. I was unclear how she managed this, but there you have it.

Her fingers played across the keys as expertly as any concert pianist I had ever heard. As you know, my knowledge doesn't go very far, but even from under the piano, I could tell she had a mastery of the piece. As she playing her hips swayed; back and forth, up and down; all in rhythm to the music. I found it enjoyable, but the feeling was mitigated by the circumstances under which it was happening.

She played for a few minutes, and as time went on, I did force myself to relax just a little. I closed my eyes, as all I could see was the underside of the piano, unless I lifted and angled my head, which was doable for a few moments but that eventually gave me a pain. What I could see of her was certainly nice enough, but I would rather have gotten a closer look in a bedroom at home.

The lilting melody was setting her off, well before I was ever going to be ready. Her playing intensified, and I think not to any notations on the score. She was becoming more energetic in her movements as well, and I'm not referring to the type Beethoven wrote. It was more of a movement in O major.

I know that's not a note from the scale. I was denoting a rather powerful orgasm.

Keep with me here.

Her playing never faltered, not once. She shook and she gasped, but her fingers were glued to the ivories. There was something not quite natural about that. Her hips were jerking in time to her playing, which as I have said, had picked up a pace not originally set on paper. I found it quite nice, even if I was enjoying it while stuffed unceremoniously under the piano.

She went off for a couple of minutes, long enough that I wished I had put the towel under my ass before starting this. My butt was sitting in a pool of her juices and I could feel more running down in a rivulet, adding to the pool that was growing on the bench.

When she was finished, she stopped playing for just a few seconds.

"Sorry about that. I always fall for a glissando."

"A what?"

She managed a weak giggle.

"It's a term that means gliding, like between notes. Or in this case, bodies."

I stifled a laugh.

"Lord knows you have the gliding part covered nicely."

"Yeah, I do get a little overboard. I wear pads to practice because of it."

"I get that," I said, wondering what was going to happen next. I was rather in the mood to blow one inside her but I found my position lacked any real action on my part.

She returned to playing, her internal muscles all atwitch and convulsing in a most delightful way. I had no doubt she was flushed, for her body temperature seem warmer than normal.

That was as far as my wondering went, for a few seconds later the door opened.

A little part of me died right then.

I turned my head to see, and saw only a long skirt over sensible shoes.

My blood turned to ice.

It was Broomhilda.

I felt Olivia do a quick jerk. Like the wink, I was uncertain if it carried a message but I took it to mean for me to be perfectly still.

"Miss Van Del Waal!"

"Hello Olivia. I decided to see how you were doing before I left. I see you have been playing some of your favorite pieces."

Olivia ran her hand over her face.

"Yeah. I think I spooked my photographer. He said he was going to come back after I had calmed down."

The girl was a deft liar. I only hoped that Miss Nasty-pants had limited vision. I couldn't imagine I was all that hidden from view.

"Men! They can't understand how good music moves a person's soul the way a lady does."

"I don't know about that Miss Van Der Wall. I'm only fifteen you know."

"Yes dear, I remember. There will come a time when you will experience men. Let me tell you right now that they aren't all they're cracked up to be."

"I'll have to believe you on that. I have no idea what they're like. I would hope to find someone nice."

"Good luck on that! Well, I'll leave you be. Just keep an eye out on this fellow; he looks shifty to me."

"Really? He seems kind of nice and friendly to me."

"Of course he is dear. He probably just wants to get in your pants."

The lady's tone was acerbic.

Olivia smiled though I could not see it.

"Then it's a good thing I'm not wearing any."

There was icy silence for a moment

"Just be careful around him. With your mother not here, you'll have no one to protect you."

"Thank you Miss Van Der Waal. However, he comes highly recommended and I for one trust him completely."

"As you wish dear. Well, I'll not bother you any longer. I'll see you next week as per the usual."

"I'll be here, willing and able as always."

The woman retreated, allowing the door to close behind her. Neither of us said a word until the faint sound of the outer door closing came to our ears. Then Olivia almost freaked out.

"Oh my God! That was fucking close!"

I jerked up, hitting my head on the underside of the piano.

"I told you this was a bad idea!"

"But we didn't get caught! How awesome is that?"

I had to admit, not getting caught was great. Not doing it here would have been far better.

"Yes, yes. Now get up! I need to get dressed and we need to go!"

She squeezed me in a way that deflected my anger.

"Oh, please! One more piece?"

"And put ourselves at greater risk of discovery?"

"She's the only one who comes in here regularly. No one else will come."

I was feeling a bit put out.

"I had better..."

"You had better what?" ask Olivia before my tone sunk in. "Oh! I'll make sure of that one way or another."

I unwisely relented. Why did I let it go? Because I was totally stupid and off the deep end of life.

"If we must. Besides, I'd be a cad if I dumped you on the floor."

"You would. I know that was scary as fuck, but she's gone. Now we can really cut loose."

"You mean you can. I'm just a sex toy right now."

She giggled.

"Yeah, you are, just like Charlie is. But remember, I told you I liked playing the slide trom-boner."

"You said trombone."

"Whoops. Silly me."

She repositioned herself, took a deep breath and began playing again. My heart was still racing, and not in a good way. I was counting on her being correct this time. If we were discovered I would be done for. I might just have a heart attack and die on the spot. It would save me a lot of embarrassment from the bad press I'd be getting.

Conversely, the experience hadn't phased her in the least. She was damper now than before. There was going to be a wet spot on the floor before we were done. She gave me a few twitches of her vaginal muscles before playing another composition. As before, she settled into a state where her body was calm, while her insides roiled. She was as physically jittery inside as I was emotionally.

As she played this time, she rose and dropped much more than she had previously. Maybe she had had lingering doubts about our sanctum having any privacy in the first place, and now that that nasty woman was gone, she felt a little more at ease. I wasn't about to ask her about her motives. I trusted her statement about how music moved her, and was content to leave it at that. This was one of those situations where the less I knew, the better off everyone was going to be.

She got off twice more, while the combination of the scare, plus being on my back on an uncomfortable bench was keeping me from blowing. She came to this realization too, though not soon enough in my book.

"Sorry! I was thinking just about myself. You gave me what I wanted. Anything I can do for you?"

She found herself belly-side up on the bench, with a puddle of her own lubrication in the middle of her back. I had, of course, pulled the bench out and away from the piano and was now solidly pegging her for all I was worth. She had her legs pulled up to her shoulders, and I had my cock up to her cervix. I didn't take long to finish, which was more the pity, but while I was working her over at a feverish pace, she had to do everything in her power to keep her cries muffled.

I gave her a crescendo that made my finale an opus to remember. I did a drumbeat on her uterus that shook her insides and made her cum one last time. She and I were both gasping for air as my balls blew forth their infertile load deep inside her. It was only then that I recalled that she had seemed unconcerned about that very important topic. Had she known of that as well?

I didn't climb off her until my cock had shrunk down and slipped out. When it did, she jerked a little and sighed. Her lips turned a bit of a discontented pout.

"Can we go again?"

"No! We both smell like sex, and this room needs to be cleaned up before we leave!"

"Damn!" she cried.

"Now listen here..."

She sat up, nearly tilting over the side of the bench.

"I get it, I get it. That was intense! I wish we could do it again!"

"A wish and a buck will get you a cheap cup of coffee Olivia. We already wasted too much time. Your mother is probably wondering where you are."

"Hah! Watch this."

She grabbed her cell phone and texted her mother. A short while later is buzzed in her hand. She brought up the text. The entire conversation like this.

"Running a little late. Had trouble with Miss Van Der Waal."

_ " That woman? Glad I didn't come. Can't handle the smell of cats and patchouli." _

"Right? We will be leaving here in about forty minutes. Sorry."

_ "No problem. Macy's is having a sale. Let me know when you get back."_

_ _ "Is your mom always like this?"

Olivia laughed, her breasts bouncing nicely as she did.

"Yeah, she loves to shop. Good thing she got the better deal in the divorce."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that?"

"What? That my parents are divorced or that mom got such a good deal?"

"The first one."

"Thanks. Shit happens you know."

"I do know. I happen to be divorced. And speaking so candidly, aren't you afraid of getting pregnant?"

"Naw. I've been on the pill for two years."

"Since you where thirteen?"

"You sound surprised. I've been playing piano for five years. I used to fingerfuck myself just to relieve the buildup of tension that I couldn't manage to release any other way."

"So you've been active since you were ten?"

She was using the towel to try and mop up the mess we had made. I was hoping there was another, because if not it was going to be hell getting my underwear and pants back up.

"Define active? I used to masturbate so furiously that I made myself raw."

"Sounds uncomfortable."

"Tell me about it. I took my own virginity, if that's possible."

"Technically no, but who cares?"

"Right?"

She finished mopping the bench and moved to the floor.

"What does Charlie think of all of this?"

"Who can say? I don't consider him a serious boyfriend though. He doesn't appreciate music the way I do. Kind of like you. You're nice, and too old, but I wouldn't mind fucking you a couple of times a week if we could fit it in. Ever think about buying a piano?"

"You know that's not happening, right? How would I explain the need for a piano?"

"I figured as much. Too bad for both of us. You looked like you got into it, even if you say otherwise."

"Considering I about shit myself when she walked in here, I'd say I did ok."

"Yeah, that was wild. Thought she had us dead to rights. Thankfully she has a thing for me. Not sure if I could do a lesbo thing, but even if I could, it wouldn't be with her."

The mental image made me shudder.

"She needs something along those lines, but no one has yet found a sasquatch in real life."

Olivia made a face at me.

"Don't be mean to the poor bigfoots."

I chuckled as I tried to pull up my pants. Getting out of here without anyone becoming suspicious was going to be a mission involving preternatural stealth.

Olivia blotted herself dry, pulled on a spare pair of underwear complete with a pad, and pulled on her pants and a shirt. The rest she bundled together in a wad.

"Won't your mother be curious why your clothes are so messed up?"

"I'm hoping it won't be a problem. You do have a washer and dryer don't you?"

"Yeah. You think we're going to get them clean and dry before she picks you up?'

"I hope so."

I heaved a rather oversized sigh.

"Let's grab everything and hightail it out of here. We're going to be cutting it close."

The only thing she hung back up was her dress. I think it might have been a dry-clean only, and besides that, it was supposed to stay here in the closet. I doubted she could come up with a convincing story as to why she brought it back to my place. As it was the trip home was barely under the speed limit. But I am thankful to say that we got there in good time, got her clothes in the washer, after which I excused myself to the shower.

I should have guessed she would push the boundaries ever further. Her excuse as she entered the shower was that her other clothes seemed to need cleaned as well, so she threw them in the load. I didn't believe it for a minute, but we were in my home, and that meant that the situation was more under my control.

This time we performed to my kind of music, and as I fucked her hard over the end of the couch, I had her cumming to the beat of Black Betty. It was a quickie, and even then, we both hit the shower again afterwards. By the time we were dried off, and had her clothing back on hangers, it was well past the time I had allotted for this shoot. Somehow, this crazy situation had allowed us to come out unscathed.

Olivia was sitting on the couch, looking ecstatic.

"Thanks for doing that for me. I know you have a hang-up for the whole age thing, but you treated me pretty well."

I silently laughed at the age hang-up thing. If she only knew.

"That reminds me. How did you find out about me?"

She turned red.

"I did promise, didn't I?"

"You did."

"It's an online forum. We all pose as adults, but the group is pretty tightly controlled. We don't let in just anyone, but sort of a friend of a friend thing.. We also remain pretty anonymous, except for those girls we know. A little while back there was talk about this great guy. We thought the person was talking about a football player or something like that. Your name came up. Surprised the hell out of me. I see whoever mentioned you knew what they were talking about."

"I'd say thanks, but this is serious. I can't have my name being bantered about over the internet."

"I found it out in a P.M. I didn't know you were a local at first. Then I looked you up and found out you were doing the portfolios, just like this person said you were doing."

"And this person was?"

"I really don't know. They knew you liked to fuck though, got pretty graphic with the details."

I mused over that for a bit.

"I don't like getting myself in situations where I'm breaking the law."

"Yeah, that's got to be a tough one. I won't tell anyone, at least not for a long time. There has to be a statue of limitations on something like that, right?"

"Statute. Statute of limitations. And I have no idea."

She leaned over and kissed me.

"You're nice. I'll keep my mouth shut. And I promise I won't post a thing."

"I've heard that before."

"And someone broke their word. That won't be me."

"Good."

That was the end of it. Her mom showed up, didn't ask a single question, and off they went. Rather anticlimactic end to a rather crazy day. Olivia came back of course, with her mom in tow, and they were quite happy with the photos. On top of the payment, they had two tickets to an upcoming concert that Olivia was going to perform in. When her mom went out to the car to get her checkbook, she pulled her head down into her shoulders in her barely contained excitement.

"You'll come won't you?"

"I don't know. My weekends have been getting filled up as of late."

"It's in the evening. And if you come, I know I'll do wonderfully."

"You'll do wonderfully regardless of me being there."

"Maybe..."

I had an idea.

"Why not invite your boyfriend, Charles."

She stared at me for a second before busting out in quiet laughter.

"I would, but I don't think they'd like a dildo taking up one of the seats."

It took me a moment to absorb that, and by the time I did, her mom had returned. Olivia was sitting there as calm and collected as before.

I was beginning to think that all girls were schemers.

And I was going to perish because of it.

"