Piano practices

She settled in front of the keys when the mood took her. The melody always pulled up the same memory—her piano instructor standing over her bench, guiding her wrists, leaning too close. Those moments had stayed tucked away, but now they returned with a tight ache between her thighs. Fingers slid under her robe, past lace. She was already wet, so wet her middle finger slipped in with no resistance. She spread her legs wider, robe falling open, and rubbed slow circles over her swollen clit, the piano humming softly each time she bumped the keys. Her nipples pressed hard against the thin bra, and she pinched them through the silk until a sharp gasp left her mouth. Faster now, hips rocking against her own hand, the notes beneath her elbows turning ragged. She came hard, thighs trembling, breath catching on a low moan that floated over the half-finished tune.