No question Blaire was the most talented member of the high school jazz band. A master of every horn, he’d get a solo in every piece at the jazz concerts, and if it were possible the band leader would have had him play sax and clarinet, too. “If we could only clone you,” Corelli said more than once. So it was understandable if Blaire was a little full of himself, but most of his classmates thought he was a decent guy. “All the praise doesn’t really go to his head,” Gemma’s friend Alicia told her after school one day when Gemma mentioned she and Blaire were getting together. “He’s not as cocky as you’d expect.”

Gemma chuckled and refrained from mentioning to Alicia that he may not be cocky but he had a delicious cock. “We’re meeting in a practice room,” she said.

“So are you going to jam or something?” Alicia asked.

“Or something,” Gemma said. “Actually he said he was going to sketch me.”

“That’s right,” he won some kind of prize at the art fair last year,” Alicia remembered.

The practice room had two straight-backed chairs, one music stand, and a couch. Blair had a case out of which he removed a large sketch pad which was covered by some kind of fabric. “Where do you want me?” Gemma asked.

“On the couch would be good,” Blaire said. “Here, wear this.” He handed Gemma the fabric which had covered the sketch pad—a lacy scarf.

Gemma took the scarf. “It kind of clashes with my dress,” she said.

Blaire cocked his head and smiled. “Take the dress off.”

Gemma returned the smile and stepped out of her dress. She watched Blaire’s eyes go to her nipples. Then she put the scarf over her head, arranged it against her chest, and sat on the couch.

Blair pulled a chair close and set to work with pencils and sticks of charcoal. While he sketched, Gemma asked him how he got to be so great at music. “Practice,” he said. “But I’m not really great. Only good. I’ll never be truly great.”

“I could practice forever and I’d never be even good,” Gemma said.

Blaire nodded. “I know what you mean.”

“Thanks for the compliment. Are you about done? I’m getting cold.”

“Can’t rush great art,” Blaire said.

“Oh, so you’re a great artist?”

“No, but you’re a great subject. All finished.”

“Wow,” Gemma remarked, when Blaire showed her the picture. “That’s amazing. One thing, though. You left off my panties.”

“You shouldn’t wear panties,” Blaire said.

“No?”

“No. They get in the way.”

“In the way of what?”

“Should I show you?” Blaire asked.

Gemma shrugged a yes.

Thirty minutes and three heart-wrenchingly powerful orgasms later, Gemma tasted herself on Blaire’s lips and tongue.

“That was good,” Blaire said.

“No, not good,” Gemma contradicted. “It was great. But if you want to practice more, I won’t object.”