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I finally landed a real job. It was out in the middle of nowhere New Hampshire, but it was an honest to God paying position teaching Music. I could finally support my expensive music habit and start living like an adult. Pay bills for myself and take my student loans out of deferment.

After my parents threw me a party and sent me on my way from Sunny California, reality settled in. I realized just what living in New Hampshire meant: long winters. High heating bills, hand warmers and cold feet, and most importantly; lots and lots of snow.

My hand to God it snowed the first day I arrived in September. By October, there was a blanket of snow on the ground, and by Halloween, I only had two trick-or-treaters come to my small rented townhouse due to ice and sleet.

My job wasn’t going much better, so by Thanksgiving I flew home. I went to the beach, saw my friends, and cringed when the time came to get back on the plane to resume my position as piano professor at White University.

The first day after break, I walked into the building thinking I wasn’t going to make it through the end of the year. I tried to put on a good front. I smiled at the secretary. She nodded in my general direction and then continued clicking on her computer as I checked my mailbox.

“Hi Dr. Beckett.” a blue haired student said, then turned back to her friends. She was talking and laughing, and however untrue it probably was, I felt like I was the butt of the joke.

The students hated me from what I could tell. I was “too tough.” I wanted their scales memorized. Major and melodic minor, plus arpeggios and blues scales; then two contrasting pieces to be played for end of year juries. Somehow this was too much for them, though I had been required to do more when I was a college freshman. Heck even some of my community music school students in California had been able to accomplish all that and more in high school.

“It’s a different time,” my administrator told me after I received my first complaint back in September. “Don’t forget, you went to Juliard. It’s a whole other ball game.” I smiled, thinking screw it. I’d modify the syllabus. Freshmen now would only have to learn major scales and one piece with contrasting sections. That seemed to be what they wanted. Sure I wanted to go back to California, but not like this. Not in shame and ruin.

I was also having trouble with the culture. I’d committed the sin of calling a male student “He” when “He” wanted to be a “she.” I had to write a letter of apology, and though I had been very sincere with my wording, trying to explain how I had made an honest mistake, my student, a sensitive boy (girl?) named Brad, transferred to another teacher which truly hurt.

I sat at my desk and opened my computer. “Sensitivity training” was the headline. I clicked on it and skimmed the body of the letter. It seemed that in light of my transgressions, I would have to go to a week of training in order to relearn how to interact with students.

I was on the verge of tears, but before I could close the door, I heard someone say “knock knock!” I looked up to see an athletic looking woman dressed in an oversized sweater. She had dark curly hair and wore shiny boots.

“Hi! I’m Madalyn.” she said and held out her hand. I shook it. “I’ve been on leave, so we haven’t met, but I’m the clarinet teacher down the hall.”

“Oh. I’ve heard your name around.” I recalled seeing her at the interview which consisted of a day and a half of talking to different professors and administrative staff. At that time she had been introduced as Dr. Willis.

“So how do you like New Hampshire? Everything going ok?” she asked.

I wanted to tell her it was great. That I felt lucky to be at White University. I had the job I’d dreamed of for 10 years, and now that I was here, I loved my students, the staff, etc. etc. At that moment though, I couldn’t manage it. My face screwed up and I put my hand over my eyes hoping she would just go away.

“Oh honey!” she said, came in the room and closed the door. “What’s wrong?”

I managed to sniff my tears away and gave her a tight smile. “I’m ok. Just having one of those days. Family stuff.” I lied.

She must have seen the open email on my computer because she patted me on the back, then dragged the chair I had by the piano bench to my desk.

“I heard about sensitivity training.” she said under her breath leaning into me, though the door was closed and the rooms padded for sound. “It’s not you. That kid has a long history of being ridiculous.”

I took a tissue, wiped my eyes and tried to laugh a little. I then looked at her with a tentative questioning look.

“Oh yeah. Rodney is shitting his pants now that he has to teach him/her/it…whatever.”

I actually did laugh a little at that. “You don’t think I’m going to lose my job over it?”

“God, no. You called a boy who looks like a boy a boy. Christ, even Lucille thought it was ridiculous.” I gave her a look that told her I had no idea who that was. “You know, Lucille. The dean.”

“Oh” mersin escort I said, shaking my head at the mental lapse. She was Ms. Wallace to me.

“She’s got to be the most liberal person on campus. In fact, she just announced her 21 year old daughter is trans. I think she’s thrilled and proud of it. She did come up with a good idea though to keep all this nonsense at bay. Next week we’re all going to have name tags with pronouns on them. If they change, you change your name tag. So we don’t have any more mix ups. She’s sending out an email today.”

“That sounds like what’s needed.” I said, sorry I was the catalyst that caused it.

“Don’t worry about it. All this will blow over. Go to the stupid training and try to look sincere about embracing woke culture. You’ll be fine. Besides, Brad is Rodney’s problem now. You’re teaching, what? 15 underclassmen and a few keyboard clases?” she asked.

“That and Freshman theory.”

“Oh ok. I was wondering who was teaching that. Anyway, it seems like the rest of your students are nice kids. The ones I know from last year anyway, and the freshmen are all too new to be obnoxious.” she looked at the time. “Well, I better get going. My first one is on the way. You want to have coffee later?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’d love it!” I said, glad to have finally met someone who seemed sympathetic and friendly.

“Ok, let’s meet at Java’s after lunch. 2:00 ok?” she asked, and I nodded. I had my break from 2-3, but she probably knew that already.

That day’s teaching went better. I taught four lessons back to back, and was exhausted after drilling scales and arpeggios and trying to make analogies like legato playing was like writing in cursive as opposed to typing. I hoped at least a little of what I said sunk in, but I was underwhelmed at the level of playing these music majors displayed.

At coffee, I found Madelyn was talkative and full of advice and opinions. “This place isn’t churning out top tier musicians” she said. “We’re a small school. We want to instill the love of music in our students and ignite the love of teaching. Our students will go on to teach band, piano lessons, and elementary music. One out of maybe 100 will go on to a top 5 school for an advanced degree.” she explained after I told her about how I’d been reamed out for having high expectations.

“It took me a few years to understand what we do and how we operate here. Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it.” she told me. “You have to grow where you are planted.” and I agreed.

From there, she told me about herself. She went to a conservatory, grew up in Texas, was from a big family, and though we were around the same age, this was her 8th year at White University.

When I looked at my phone, I realized I had enjoyed talking so much the time had gotten away from me, and I had only five minutes until I had to teach my keyboard skills class.

“Oh, Gosh!” I said. “Look at the time.” I said, realizing I needed to go right then.

It was only then that I realized she looked disappointed. Just for a second, and then the mask went up again. “I really enjoyed getting to know you better.” she said, and got up from her chair. “I hope we can meet again soon.” she said, and gave me a hug.

The hug only lasted a second, but there was something in it. It seemed to be not just a friendly hug. There was more there, as I felt her large breasts crush up against my torso. As I walked out the door, she sat back down, but I couldn’t get the energy that passed through us out of my mind. There was a sensuality in it that registered with me, and I wondered if it was mutual, or just my imagination.

I’d never thought about sex with a woman before, or even having a non platonic relationship with someone of the same sex, but somehow that hug put it in my mind. Before then, I simply wasn’t attracted to women, but now I was thinking about it. I’m not sure what it was. Maybe the way she looked at me, the way she squeezed me, I wasn’t sure.

Still, I’d had numerous relationships with men that never worked out though. I was always practicing too much. I was too ambitious. They didn’t feel like I cared (whatever that meant), but for some reason I felt something else with Madelyn. She seemed to be on my wavelength. Like she got me, and for the first time ever, I felt a true connection and maybe a spark?

Then again, maybe I was just lonely and reading into a split second reaction too much. I didn’t know if she was into girls, or guys. She hadn’t said, and we didn’t talk about relationships. She probably knew a lot about me because I was new and temporarily in the new faculty fish bowl, but I didn’t know anything about her. For all I knew she was married and had 5 kids.


For the next few weeks, I said “hi” to Madelyn in the halls, and she would come by and chat occasionally. I could tell she had an easy way with everyone, and I felt silly for thinking she might have been attracted mersin escort bayan to me. She was just being friendly, obviously. She was probably straight. Not into girls at all.

Then, one day before a faculty meeting, I saw Rodney, the other undergraduate piano teacher sitting alone, so I took the opportunity to ask how Brad, my former student was doing. He rolled his eyes and exaggerated a look of exasperation. “It’s fine. Whenever ZIM tries to educate me about my white gay privilidge, I change the subject to Rachmoninov.” I laughed, I couldn’t help myself. “Then this week I told ZIM to go into politics.” He over emphasized the pronoun whenever he said it, which made me laugh harder.

He then dialed it back a little, realizing he was talking about a young adult student and said, “he is a good player, he just needs to work out his political issues.” not bothering to use zim or zir this time. “All this is much more about him wanting to feel special than an actual internal struggle with his gender. At least that’s what I think. He would have lashed out at any female teacher. I must have called him by the wrong gender 15 times by now, but if he’s not dialed into it, he doesn’t notice.”

Just then, another faculty member, a man who taught trumpet or traombone, I couldn’t remember, sat down with us.

“Did you hear Madelyn and Sophia broke up?” the teacher said to Rodney. It was Dr. Bruce Mills, his name finally coming to me.

“I did.” Rodney said, and I noticed his rings flashing. “I was surprised. They seemed so happy when we went to that dinner last summer.”

“I thought they had it all figured out. I can’t believe it.” he said, and then Lucille got up to speak.

Right as she stood though, Madelyn breezed in at the last second as she always seemed to, looking a bit frazzled.

“Hi” she smiled warmly at me, and touched my shoulder before sitting down on the free seat to my right.

The dean spoke about new policies and then we went around the room discussing our students and how best to help them succeed. I had to admit, after my initial blunder, things were somewhat better. I was happy to have a girl named Allison who showed real promise and talent, and I was hoping she would do the concerto competition coming up after winter break. It would be nice to have some entries.

After the meeting was over, Madelyn asked “Do you want to go to Java’s?” and I said yes.

We both ordered double latte’s and sat, this time in a slightly more intimate booth in the corner away from the general distractions of the coffee shop, and I said quietly “I heard a rumor about you.” feeling I knew her well enough to say something.

“Oh” she said and cocked an eyebrow.

“I heard you broke up with your partner?” I said.

She broke eye contact and nodded her head slowly, suddenly a bit less happy than she had seemed only moments before.

“It was a long time coming. 10 Years. We’re still friends I guess. She got a job in Wyoming teaching English Literature and I didn’t want to leave here to be a housewife and give up my job. Plus, she didn’t want to have kids. I wanted to try for at least one, and that was never in the cards for her.

“Still, it sucks.” I said, though I’d never had a relationship last more than maybe a year. “Sounds like you guys were great together though. Everyone seems to think so.”

“Oh, that party last year?” she asked and laughed shortly. “Yeah, well. Appearances can be deceiving.” Madalyn looked wistful. “Sophia was always into how things looked. Everything had to seem to everybody else like we had the perfect relationship. Like we were the perfect lesbian couple. Kids would have driven her crazy. She used to joke she couldn’t have handled them as perfectionistic as she is. It was the truth though. They would have to get all A’s, look great at all times. It’s fine. It’s been a few months. I still miss her, but it is what it is.”

“Hum” I said, unsure of how to respond.

“But what about you? I don’t know the first thing. Are you in a relationship?” I got the feeling she had wanted to ask for a long time. All my social media accounts were intentionally vague, so she couldn’t have found out from there. I’d tried to keep it that way so potential employers wouldn’t be swayed either way by my relationship status.

“I’m single.” I told her, and I could tell that made her happy.

We chatted a bit more about the meeting and our students, and then after a while she said. “Would you like to come to dinner tomorrow night at my place? I’m just having whatever I can find in the fridge, but I’d love the company.” she looked at me like my response would make or break her. Like if I said no, she might break into tears the same way I had when we first met.

“I’d love to.” I found myself saying and she smiled what was almost a smile of relief.


I was nervous about dinner. Really nervous. Was it a date or just friends? I didn’t want anything romantic. With my relationship track record, I had sort of escort mersin come to expect flings, and I needed a friend, not a one night stand.

As I stood on her doorstep ringing the bell, I reasoned I could always say I wasn’t into girls if she tried to make a move on me. After all, I wasn’t. I’d never been before. I was attracted to her, but she was literally the only woman ever. Probably only because she was tall, and sturdy and her face had a chiseled look that I found very appealing, though she wasn’t masculine exactly.

“Julie! Come on in!” She was clutching a wine glass, so I thought maybe there were other people there. Maybe I had built all this up in my mind for no reason, but when I walked in, I saw that I was very much the only other person there. “Glass of wine?” she said as I looked around the pristine, tidy house.

“Sure.” I said, and pushed back my blonde hair from my face. She poured a glass from the bar, and gave it to me.

“Wow, your place is incredible.” I said.

“All Sophia.” she said. “I couldn’t decorate my way out of a paper bag.” she said. I had seen her office, and I had to agree that was true.

Whatever was cooking in the kitchen smelled amazing though. “Tortellini, from scratch.” she said.

“Whatever happened to whatever is in the fridge.” I asked.

She laughed. “I got carried away.”

Dinner was fantastic. We talked non stop about students, administration, school life, and also about our lives growing up, parents and even past relationships.

When finally we moved from the kitchen to the den, I was feeling loose and sat on her loveseat expecting her to plop down on the sofa next to it in order to continue our conversation, but instead she placed her wine glass on the side table and plopped down next to me, putting her head on my shoulder.

I wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, but tentatively I felt her hand between my thighs. I was turned on instantly as she lightly rubbed the outline of my pussy through my slacks.

“Mmm,” she whispered in my ear, nuzzling up against it.

I couldn’t believe how bold she was. We hadn’t even kissed, but I couldn’t say I didn’t like it. Her hands felt good, and I realized how long it had been since anybody touched me there. It had been nearly a year and a half since I had broken up with my last boyfriend, and I was starved for attention. It felt great to feel her sensual fingers slowly making circles over the thin layer of fabric that covered my clit as if she had all the time in the world, and any misgivings I’d had about sleeping with her earlier in the evening evaporated.

She raised her head, and gave me a sloppy, drunk smile that let me know I was welcome to do whatever I wanted to her, only I had no idea what to do. That and despite drinking a few glasses of wine, I was nervous. I wanted it, absolutely, but there was a part of me that was paralized with fear, even though she had practically been touching my clit.

She seemingly read my mind and laughed. “Just relax.” she said taking control. She then kissed my lips and my heart started to flutter. Her lips were soft. Softer than any man’s I had experienced and there was nothing institant or driving about it. I got the feeling she wasn’t in a mad dash to get my clothing off. She wanted to experience me, which lit a fire in my belly that seemed to dart down to my groin.

A few moments later, she took my face in her hands, looked me in the eye and asked “Do you trust me?”

I said I did, and he then got up from the love seat, held out her hand for me to take and lead me into her bedroom down the hall. It was more like an expensive suite in a fancy hotel that put my small townhouse bedroom to shame. She had a king sized bed with rich dark wood, and was flanked by two bedside tables. Off to the side was a sitting room, and through the sitting room was a bathroom (I would find out later) that had a hot tub with jets and a separate shower.

Most of all though, there were candles. Lots of them on the side tables and the dresser and even on stands dedicated for them. She lit them, and turned down the lights.

When she sat back down with me on the bed, she kissed me. I enjoyed the softness of it, and she touched me for a long time. We weren’t in a hurry. She wasn’t in a mad dash to get in my pants like every man I had ever been with, and I enjoyed the slow pace of it.

For a long time, I touched her over her clothing and she touched me. As we kissed, she fondled my breasts and my butt. She even went for my pussy over my slacks, but kept on caressing me and telling me how beautiful I was.

“I love your tall blonde California girl looks” she said and smiled before placing another feather kiss on my lips. “You know the first time I saw you, I never thought you would be interested in me.”

I put my hand to her head, her body, and her butt. I enjoying the feeling her curly soft hair, her full figure and tasting the last remaining traces of lip gloss, which had to be some kind of sweet fruit flavor.

After what felt like a simultaneously long and short period of time, she reached towards my pants and undid them before pulling them off my legs, and I helped her take off her dress. She then unclasped both her bra and mine, and her large chest sprang to life.

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