Chapter 3

Elisha and Mariel Briggs couldn’t understand why their five-year-old daughter Myra was throwing such a fit when the piano movers began moving Elisha’s father’s baby grand piano out of the living room. Neither parent played the piano. It took up so much room that they had decided to get rid of it. But the little girl remembered the times her grandfather would play the piano with her sitting on the bench beside him. When Grandpa Briggs died Myra would sit on the bench and bang the keys or she would walk around the giant piano smoothing her hands over its surface or hugging one of the legs and humming tunes she remembered her grandfather playing. On the day of the proposed move, Myra’s parents had to pry the screaming little girl from the leg of the piano. The movers tried coaxing her too, but she only cried and screamed louder. Elisha finally told the movers to forget it. He called the piano company and told them the deal was off. Myra was so exhausted from her tirade that she went to bed early but was satisfied that the piano would stay.

Since Elisha’s father had been a good musician the Briggs decided to find the most accomplished piano teacher, they could find to teach their daughter, deciding on Eric Copley, the most highly recommended. As he did with all his students, Copley insisted that he interview the little girl and take her through some rudimentary exercises. When he finished, he told Elisha that his daughter had an outstanding musical aptitude. He was eager to see what he could bring out of her. Having looked forward to getting rid of the piano both Elisha and Mariel were pleased that they didn’t pedal Grandpa’s piano on a whim.

Just as he had an eye for talent in musicians Copley noticed beautiful women and how they became that way. The Ugly Duckling was a fairy tale about a duckling that everyone made fun of because it was unusually large. Through their eyes, it was considered quite unattractive. As it grew though it turned out that the ugly duckling was a Swan that would become an amazingly beautiful bird. Copley had seen that in many little girls, knowing that many of these plain little girls became classic beauties. Myra was one of these. He was confident she would become a musical gem as well as a beautiful woman.

Just as he expected, within six months of lessons Myra leapfrogged his other students who had been with him for more than a year. She seemed more attractive as well, but he wasn’t sure that it was his regard for her natural talent that made her seem so in his eyes. Regardless, Myra made his heart sing. Three years later when Myra was ten, she reached a musical level beyond some of those who were eighteen.

She was also sprouting breasts and developing the wasp-like shape of a lithe, young woman. Though Copley had never made advances to one of his students he had become so infatuated with the Briggs girl that he had to make a conscious effort not to let his hands wander. As a true professional, he knew he would never do anything foolish. His feelings for Myra Briggs were suffered in secret. Eric knew that only his top-level students would go through puberty and adolescence while still maintaining their dedication to higher musical levels. He fully expected Myra to be one of these.

At seventeen Myra was a girl with a shy, sweet demeanor, a female everyone expected might get herself into trouble sexually. It was during the summer vacation between her sophomore and junior years—after the fourth of July—when Myra came for her lesson. Copley realized immediately that she was deeply preoccupied. Ordinarily well prepared and rarely making mistakes she routinely hit “clinkers.” At first, he thought it strange. But after she kept missing the mark he asked if there was a problem. Accustomed to Myra’s iron-clad self-control at her music Copley was taken aback when she burst into tears and began sobbing into her hands. Initially, he thought it might be a hormonal imbalance that happened with girls in their teens. But when her sobbing continued, he asked, “Have you talked with your mother about this, Myra?”

With her face in her hands, Myra’s body shook as she said, “No,” then moaned, “I can’t tell my mother about it, I can’t tell ANYBODY about it. What am I gonna do, Mr. Copley? What am I going to DO?”

He didn’t like the picture. But he didn’t know how to formulate the words to address a seventeen-year-old girl about the sensitive situation he suspected. She wasn’t even family. Going at it from a different direction he asked, “Are you having trouble with your boyfriend?”

She had never spoken of a boyfriend, nor had she given any indication that she was even interested in boys. Sniffling she said, “I don’t have a boyfriend, Mr. Copley. But...” Her body trembled as she began sobbing again.

Perplexed at why she was even addressing something with him that was so traumatic he asked, “If it is THIS serious Myra shouldn’t you be discussing this with your parents ... at least your MOTHER?”

Her body shook “No,” again. Sniffing repeatedly, she tried to clear her nose enough to talk. “I-I simply CAN’T Mr. Copley. Both my mother and father are religious people. They will be angry with me and disappointed at what I let HAPPEN to me. But I can’t go through with it, I won’t. My life will be RUINED.” She began sobbing again.

Copley knew he had to get her settled down. He had an idea what the problem was but needed to talk it out with her. Taking her hand, he coaxed her to her feet and hugged her. She melted into him like he was a featherbed, sobbing until she had no more strength to cry, resting against him and wrapping him with her arms.

Having been married for a few years Eric understood a woman’s need to be cuddled. The marriage hadn’t lasted and, as a single man he satisfied his sexual needs with prostitutes and occasional hook-ups, usually older piano students, mostly married. As he continued holding the girl, he hoped she would eventually start talking. He saw his prized student evaporating before his eyes and needed to know for sure what troubled her. After Myra’s weeping was exhausted, she simply let him cuddle her, which seemed to settle her. He hoped he was wrong about his original assumption and that Myra was just an adolescent dealing with hormonal imbalance.

Before each period when hormones surged Myra’s libidinous feelings often led to sexual discovery. When she touched herself during those times the titillation quickly inflamed her imagination, where her fingers became one of the important men in her life—her father or Eric Copley. Though the thoughts brought with them guilty feelings she felt safe in her secret thoughts. But in Copley’s arms that day a combination of endorphins released by her sustained crying and thoughts of her guilt-ridden self-pleasure caused a glow in her body that begged for more.

Having been involved with female students Eric had comforted a few when their discouragement at the piano became overwhelming. Though childless he was sensitive to young people’s emotions and feelings of despair in and around puberty. But Myra was his favorite student for more than just her acumen at the keyboard. He had been watching how she developed from a plain little girl to one growing into a graceful beauty.

As the source of her unnamed dilemma began to clarify he was afraid of what his assumptions might mean for Myra’s future in music. The dread of telling her parents reinforced his fear that she might have become pregnant, which had been a fetish of his since his divorce from his childless wife. As he stood hugging her was unable to control his fickle sex organ as it began to swell. Myra, who had recently acceded to her curiosity about male organs, couldn’t miss the substantial swelling she felt against her tummy. Along with her condition, she was familiar with erections. While penis size wasn’t an issue for her what she now felt pressing against her tummy made her cognizant of the difference of a gargantuan presence.

Funny, she thought amid her meltdown, holding the penis of the boy who impregnated her was titillating. She was curious about how it looked but couldn’t s discern in the dark car anything more than it was hard and longer than the flaccid ones she had seen. Under stress from her circumstances, she couldn’t understand why she dwelt on Mr. Copley’s hardness and thought, After what has happened to me any penis should disgust me. But with the endorphin amplifying the exhilaration of her crying, she was in a state of misunderstood arousal.

Her long association with Eric Copley had bred a kind of familiarity that some would consider inappropriate. She had grown to worship her teacher and had even fantasized about having sex with him. Since she was pregnant with the child of a person, she barely knew she felt cheated of not being able to enjoy the experience with her Eric teacher. As she nestled tighter into her teacher’s body it was unthinkable that he would take advantage of her. But if he did, she knew she would do nothing to stop him.

It was the perfect storm: the teacher, who had become attached to his elegant young prodigy and was overwhelmed by compassion for what she was going through, and the student who ached for his physical attention and comfort. He embraced his student to comfort her. Myra’s body melting into his so willingly made it impossible for him to stifle the erection that had risen so perfectly. Though everything decent in Eric told him to hold the girl until her crying subsided then step back and compassionately show her the door was erased by the girl with a flooding vagina and a man who had reached the limit of his self-control.

Having never had children he lived with a fetish of wanting to have sex with a pregnant woman. And when Myra hungrily wiggled and pushed her tummy against his throbbing bulge the excited piano teacher became helplessly enthralled by the Circe’s song. Unlike Ulysses t, with no mast to be tied to, Myra’s soft bottom magnetized Eric’s hands that cupped each cheek and pulled her tighter. Setting his jaw and closing his eyes he tried to stabilize his resolve but lost it. Kissing Myra’s neck, he humped his penis against her belly which pushed back. “Oh Myra,” he murmured in her ear, “I feel so badly for you.”

The feeling of being held close to the body of the man she had grown to adore, the mature man who had elevated her from childhood and treated her like a grown woman, filled her body with radiance. Catching her breath as if to cry again it was like the ground shook. His hands cupping the cheeks of her bottom, pulling her more tightly against him and making the excitement of his sex so apparent to her, was an aphrodisiac. Though completely foreign it was compelling and acceptable.

Eric Copley was more than just her piano teacher. Over the last few years, he had mentored her in ways that affected her deportment, her feelings of confidence, and her acceptance of becoming a responsible young woman. And here I have thrown it all away. She knew she should have gone to her mother first ... then, if her mother chose, to her father. But she wanted to avoid the preachiness that she would have had to endure, perhaps for no purpose.