"Do you think you could talk to them for me first?"
The teacher leaned back and decided to give the kid a break. "Okay, I'll intervene once. After that," he jabbed an index finger, "it's on you."
He picked a book from his shelf and photocopied a few pages. "Learn this, and see me at this time next week."
Craig grabbed Jake's hand and shook it. "Thank you, thank you for this chance," he gabbled. Olaffsen permitted a smile at last. "Don't get your hopes up too high, Mr. Stewart. It's not a done deal."
After the hopeful one left, Olaffsen made a copy of his own. Then he pulled out a clean sheet of lined paper, and started writing out symbols. Just the root positions, he thought. That would make it easy.
* * *
At the same time, David yelled, "No way!" and Allison shrieked, "What?!" Only Stan Katz, Allison's father, remained silent. He looked to Jake to see if there was any more information.
When the outburst died down, the music teacher continued. "Obviously a lot of conversations need to take place, but I hope you won't dismiss this notion out of hand. Consider that the school as a community would find some healing. Consider the musical benefit to our group — we sound great but our sound could be much fuller. And finally —" he looked into the teenagers' faces to underscore his next words "— consider how you have felt, when you made a dumb mistake and you wished you had a second chance." Olaffsen thought to himself that his last point might be somewhat tenuous. It had been decades since he'd experienced high school as a student. In his observation, today's young people weren't typically seasoned enough to develop a strong sense of empathy.
He stood up to go. "Please think about it."
As he left, he thought to himself, Why am I making such a pitch for this kid? The clear cold night offered no answer. But the response was in his soul, solid and steadfast, as it had been for many years. He'd become a teacher in hopes of helping kids blossom into their fullest possible selves. And though he hadn't said so, he thought it rather brave of young Mr. Stewart to try to make amends. The boy's family money, and resultant political connections, could have smoothed an easier path. It would be interesting to witness his students' choices.
The desire to make amends, he thought. To be given a second chance. He walked on alone.
After the teacher left, Stan told his daughter and her boyfriend, "I expect you two have some talking you want to do. I'll be upstairs if you need me." He disappeared up the steps. He had his own thinking to work through.
David was flatly against the idea of Craig Stewart joining their band, and said so, but Allison wavered.
"How can you even consider the idea! Allison, he was going to rape you."
"I know, I hear what you're saying. It's just—"
"What?" David was angry. "Don't tell me you have some kind of sick crush on this guy."
"No!" Her own temper was starting to heat up. "Listen, it's what Mr. Olaffsen said. Haven't you ever done something really stupid, and wished you could push the Undo button?"
"I guess so," the pianist grumbled. "I'm still against it."
"I feel like there's some other reason, something you're not telling me."
"Okay. Okay. Allie, I—" He stopped. The piano could not help him now. A few months ago, when he had longed so badly to tell her of his deepest feelings, music had enabled him to do so. But he could not think of a song that went, "I saw the way you used to look at that guy and I'm terrified you'll do it again, even though you said you love me."
David lifted a hand in a gesture of helplessness. "I just don't want to lose you."
Allison's brow furrowed. Then she relaxed into a smile and hugged him. "Love of mine, you can't lose me. I'm right here."
He turned his face to find hers; their kiss deepened. They had first made love at Thanksgiving, staying indoors while everyone else went for a walk to shake off Turkey Coma. The memory was fresh in David's mind...
* * *
After twenty minutes of increasingly passionate kissing, she pulled back and gently framed his face with her fingers. He saw desire in her eyes, and a question: "Do you want to?"
"God, yes. I love you, Allie, I want you."
"Okay," her voice just above a whisper, "let's go to my room."
She took him by the hand and led him upstairs. David's heart was beating so hard he thought it would fly out of his chest. He followed her swaying bottom up the steps.
They settled on the twin bed with low voices and the occasional giggle.
"Have you done this before?"
"No. Have you?"
She shook her head. "Uh-uh."
"And you're sure?"
Her voice dropped. "Yes. I want you to be my lover." The word felt strange on her tongue, but somehow right.
They kissed some more and were soon horizontal on the fluffy goose down. David slid his hand up her thigh. One negative image popped into his mind: Craig Stewart, pushing Allison's white formal dress up her legs while she yelled at him to stop, Jeff Mullins pinning the girl's arms behind her back...
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm here now." He gestured with his head. "Roll sideways a little."
This enabled him to get at the zipper of her velvet party dress. He pulled at it, marveling at her consent. She lifted her arms, and he raised the hem of the full skirt, helping her toward nudity; and he fell speechless.
Underneath, the burgundy lace of her bra and boy-short panties perfectly matched the shade of her dress. He murmured his awe at the beauty of her creamy skin and did his best to touch her everywhere at once.
"That tickles. And you're wearing too many clothes." She giggled and tugged at his shirt.
David needed no further encouragement. In less than sixty seconds he stripped to his underwear.
"Can I touch you?"
"Sure, yeah." He laughed a little. "Go ahead."
Allison's touch was shy at first. She looked in her boyfriend's eyes for guidance. "Like this?" She practiced the downward strokes she'd seen online. Then, boldly, she slipped her hand inside his pants. He felt hot and alive, firm, and yet the skin was so soft. She made the OK gesture with her thumb and forefinger, moving the circle up and down. The monster springing between his thighs was fascinating, a little frightening, yet hypnotically alluring.
"Yessss..." David threw back his head, moaning with pleasure. Then he grabbed her hand. "Stop."
"Did I hurt you?"
"No, no," he laughed. "I just don't want to come too soon." He blushed. "Let me touch you for a while."
In answer she guided his hands to her breasts. He peeled aside the lace cups and her nipples peeked back at him. They were lovely, a muted coral pink, exactly the same as the skin of her lips. He fell to kissing the twins, first one and then the other.
Allison writhed and grabbed the back of his head. "Harder," she moaned. "Oh god yes. Don't stop. Don't stop." The new sensation sparkled through her body like magic.
David grunted. Instinct was thundering to the fore. He kept his mouth on her breast and put one hand between her legs. She was wet, and getting wetter. Impatiently he pushed aside the satin crotch and slid his middle finger into juicy virgin territory.
Allison gave a soft scream of pleasure. This was nothing like the mouthpiece of her clarinet. True, her lover's finger was not big, but she had not counted on the sheer eroticism of the intimate touch. David moved inside her in different ways, feeling around, and Allison squirmed and begged breathlessly for more.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes-yes-yes! Oh god, yes." Then a thought occurred to her: "Do you have any protection?"
He nodded solemnly, hunting around for his wallet, and produced a condom. "Do you want to put it on me?"
"Okay... show me how."
It was easier than she expected. David got the thing started, and together they rolled it down. Their hands together on his cock nearly got the best of him. Then they figured she might bleed, so she grabbed an old band t-shirt and spread it under her hips.
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