Sex?

Chapter 92

"Welcome, come on in, here, here,"

I hear him say as he guides me into the room where I had last played, with that one special piano. The room I had secretly entered without permission.

I settle in his words, but the tall man is too quick for me to reply.

The room looks the same but I'm still in awe at the wide space.

The piano is open this time, more inviting as it faces me, urging me on as I continue walking across the room. The man's voice booms the room.

I smile.

"Alright, I have your sheet music here." He guides me towards the bench, moving aside some papers on the music rack. Informing me of the materials as I cautiously take my seat at the piano, staring wide-eyed at him, he pays no attention to my silence as he continues playing with the papers on the rack. "A teaching book where you'll learn how to read, and write music, and play, and study, oh and just in case I haven't said- play!"

I manage a smile after.

He finally looks at me.

"Well, there we go." He smiles at me, banging his arms against his hips, his rubbery pants making a sound.

He stares at me and I stare back at him.

I'm still in a faze after my cry session that I feel I'm missing pieces of the puzzle. I don't remember what June told me at the front desk and if I signed in or just walked through the hall to find my new piano teacher, Mr.Lens. My eyes still feel watery or my cheeks just feel cold after the exposure.

Whatever it is, I have no power over what I'm feeling and I don't know how to react, so I don't.

"Ms. Nina, this class will be taught by me and you can call me Juma- James Emmanuel Lens! Also known as Mr. Lens, or well, me." He smiles proudly. I nod. "I know we don't really know each other because I only occasionally sub for Remmy, so I was unsure if you knew my name. My name's long, my family didn't know what to call me. They had so many options, either Black American names or Tanzanian names, so they did a mix."

"Cool,"

"You can call me whichever you prefer, I like all of them," he whispers the last part out, leaving a wink at the end and a giggle involuntarily comes out on my side.

He smiles.

"We'll learn the history of music too because music comes from everywhere and is created by everyone. We'll learn Jazz, African, Musical Theater, Pop, and just the intro, of course. It'll all lead up to those amazing cultural songs that build the world."

He speaks so highly of it that I'm left amazed, though I try to contain it in my abdominal.

"We'll learn the classical way, that is the foundation, we'll get right to it! No more messing about. I already wasted enough time as it is." He turns back to the piano before suddenly facing me again." I wanted to keep the intro short," he adds, whispering again as he winks. I think I'll find out that this is one of his quirks and I'll learn to love them. Just as much as music.

We get right to it as he said. His fingers demonstrated the scales and the placings of my hands. Exercising my own fingers as he articulates each movement on the piano like a pro. Each time he explains, I'm left in wonderment and he just laughs saying, "Come on, girl,"

So, I do.

We mostly work on placement because I can't seem to put all five fingers in the right spot, or is it in the right key?

Either way, he teaches me to relax my five fingers and then relax my other five and I realize, I never knew how much tension I had built up on these very small, yet important muscles.

We laugh about it as I groan about how hard it is, but we keep at it until it's the end of class and I've already played a scale and learned how to massage my fingers. He's not only teaching me piano but how to take care of my hands.

I love it.

I never knew I would love it so much.

But now, I know.

This was meant for me.

And I found myself skipping out of class.