Make Me Bad: Private Lessons Read Online Free PDF Page A

work with her now. I'm the
instructor she's the student.
    “Let’s go over the piece you played for me earlier.”
    I sit down across from her, and we spend the next hour going
through her beautiful piece of music. She explains to me her thought process
behind it. I help her with a few points and show her some different ways she
can change up the chords to make the piece just a little more complex and
interesting than it already is. She's already magnificent at sweep picking,
which is arguably the most difficult technical guitar skill to master, and her
arpeggios and progressions are flawless. I can tell Madison is an eager and
open student, which shouldn’t surprise me but it makes me like her more. I’ve
always hated working with little snots who think their power tabs are some
fucking gift to the world.
    And here, Madison’s music is a gift and she isn’t
pretentious or arrogant about it at all.
    The hour flies by, and I realize we need to wrap things up.
The energy in the room is beginning to shift, and I’ve scooted my chair about
as close as can be to Madison’s.
    “I think that’s all we have time for today.” I say softly,
looking down at Madison’s face.
    “Yes, my shoulders are getting a little stiff,” she
breathes, staring back at me.
    I swallow and stand up, turning my back to her as I begin to
place my guitar back in its case. After a few moments, I hear Madison get up as
well. When I turn back around, her back is to me and she’s locking her guitar
up in its case.
    I admire her from behind, remembering what it felt like to
slide my hands across her ass, and pull her hips close to mine. I have half a
mind to do it again, but I’m not that foolish. I already risked my job and
reputation last night when I lured her back to that bathroom. I can't risk
fucking things up even more by trying to screw her on campus, let alone in a
classroom.
    For all I know, she could've been completely smashed last
night and barely remembers what happened. Part of me wants to bring it up, but
I don’t.
    Madison turns back around to face me and it’s almost as if
she can read my mind. I take a step towards her and then hesitate. We should
leave things at last night and let it be. I’ve already screwed up enough in my
life, and I don’t need to add this to my list of the mistakes.
    And yet, deep down I don’t see it as a mistake.
    She looks at me, searching my face for permission with those
big blue eyes. I hold strong. I don't waiver.
    In an instant she’s in my arms. Her mouth is moving against
mine and I can’t fight it any longer. I groan, returning her kiss, needing her now
more than I ever could've realized. I run my hands through her hair, kissing
her hungrily, trailing kisses along her jaw line as she moans softly. I can
tell she loves every moment of this as much as I do.
    “I thought you’d forgotten.” she breathes between kisses,
grabbing my face and gazing into my eyes.
    “I couldn’t.” I admit. “I won't ever forget last night.” I
finally mange to break away, worried that someone might walk into the classroom
at any moment. “We can’t do this here. This is too risky.”
    “I’m 21 and I can make my own decisions. Who gives a shit?”
she says defensively.
    “You’re still a student. My student. And Christ,
you’re an undergrad. And I’m supposed to be your advisor on this trip.”
    Madison smirks. “An advisor who drinks with his students.”
    I shrug. “As you said, you’re all of age, and this is
Paris.”
    Madison bites her lip nervously, which is endearing and unintentionally
sexy at the same time. “I should go. I told Cleo that I would be back in time
for dinner...”
    “It’s early for dinner in Paris.”
    She smirks, “Well we're getting wine first.”
    “Ahh.”
    She picks up her guitar and bag and turns back to me. “So,
will I see you before next week’s class?”
    “I hope so.”
    “A bunch of us are going to that new restaurant by the opera
house on Friday