After a pleasant lunch with Celine’s parents at a little diner, Celine took me on a little tour of her hometown. Clearly it was struggling. Many of the shops were boarded up. Celine mentioned the closing of the factory on the hill had a strong adverse effect on the community. She paused in front of a pharmacy. The sign on the door said open. “I’d stop here for a candy bar on my way home from piano lessons,” she said. “If I’d played well, the chocolate would be a reward, and if I’d played badly, it would be a consolation.” I told her I couldn’t imagine she’d ever play badly. “Oh yes,” she admitted. “Sometimes I’d come out in tears. One time I was so despondent I shoplifted the candy bar. I felt very bad about that. I was sure Mr. Nickens, the pharmacist, was going to catch me. I hurried around the corner and gobbled up the candy without even tasting it. I was so sick with worry and guilt. A week later after my lesson I skipped going into the store. The next week was even worse. By then I knew I wouldn’t be caught, but I felt so bad. So the next week I gathered up all my courage. I went into the store and paid for a candy bar. But when Mr. Nickens turned away, I walked out of the store without taking the candy bar. Since then I’ve never had a chocolate bar.”

“Shall we go in now?” I asked. “I’ll buy you a chocolate bar as a reward.”

“Oh no. I’d just get fat and you wouldn’t love me anymore.”

“You wouldn’t get fat. I’d fuck the fat off of you. Five fucks for every bar of chocolate.”

“That is tempting,” Celine said, but we were well down the block and then around the corner. She stopped in front of a shabby brick building. “This is where I had my piano lessons.”

Celine tried the door. I think she was surprised when it opened. We went in. We walked down a hallway to another door, and Celine tried it, and it opened too. We stepped into a large open room, empty except for an upright piano against one wall. “This was also a dance studio,” Celine explained. “Mrs. Weir gave dance lessons, and Mr. Weir taught piano.”

“Did you take dance, too?”

“I wanted to,” Celine said. “I can’t believe the piano is still here.”

We walked over to it. A booklet of music was open on the stand. “I know this piece,” Celine said. “I even played it at a recital. I was so nervous. I told Mr. Weir the week before that I didn’t want to play. I was just too nervous. He said I shouldn’t worry. He told me that what he used to do before public performances was to practice playing the piece naked.”

“Did you practice naked?”

“No. What if my mom or little brothers saw me? But I thought about it. I imagined playing naked. I imagined all the people in the audience were naked. It helped, I think.”

“I wouldn’t mind watching you play naked,” I said.

“Ha ha, I would but there’s no bench. No piano stool. I can’t play standing up.”

“Excuses, excuses. What if you sat on top of the piano? You could play with your toes.”

“You’re so silly.”

I could tell the suggestion interested her. “I might consider it,” she said, a twinkle in her eye, “but don’t forget, everyone in the audience has to be naked too.”

Accepting the dare, I stripped off all my clothing.

“I can’t believe you,” Celine said. “What if someone...?”

“I really really need to hear you play naked,” I said.

“Can’t you close your eyes and imagine it?” she asked.

“No.”

I watched her take off her clothes. I lifted her up onto the piano.

“I can’t really play with my toes,” Celine said.

“Try.”

A few notes sounded.

“That’s beautiful,” I said. “You’re beautiful.”

“Can I get down now?”

She slid over to the side, but instead of helping her down, I spread her legs and buried my face in her pussy. It took Celine longer than usual to come, but when it came, her orgasm was glorious and sustained. When finally I helped her from the piano, my face was awash with her pussy juice.

“That was my favorite piano piece ever,” I declared.

“Mine too,” Celine said.

“Will there be an encore?”

Standing on tiptoes, she kissed my juice-smeared chin. “I love you so much,” she said.

“Me too,” I answered.

On the walk back through town to her parents’ house, she pulled me into the drugstore. “I think I’m ready for my chocolate bar reward,” she said, “but don’t forget: five fucks.”