Bluff Ch. 04

The flat rhythmic tick of the metronome echoed off the living room walls. Alex put his hand over the pendulum to silence it and listened for a second round of knocking at the front door. Most people used the bell, particularly when his piano playing could be heard from outside, but he was sure he'd heard a knock. He pressed the button on his mechanical watch and a small tinny voice said the time was 3:47 p.m.

"Come in," he yelled, just in case his four o'clock appointment was early. Getting used to new students was such a pain in the ass.

The door opened and closed; high-heeled shoes clicked in the front hall.

"Hi," he said, turning on the bench to face the door. It was something he'd learned set people at ease. "I'm Alex."

She muttered a quiet hello, not bothering to introducing herself.

"Come on in," he smiled. "Jackie, right?"

She didn't answer, but the floorboard creaked near the sofa.

"On the phone the other day, you said you had no previous piano experience – starting from scratch." When she didn't respond he cleared his throat, wondering if she was nervous or something. "I'm blind, if you didn't know or haven't figured that out. If that's some kind of problem for you, I'll understand. But it's a little disconcerting for me if you don't speak."

The old hardwood creaked again, right behind him. He turned his head. "Jackie?"

The seat on the bench shifted as she sat beside him and the smell of her perfume hit his nose. Subtle, something she hadn't put on this morning, but a fragrance she wore habitually that had ingrained itself in her clothing, something he couldn't smell until she was up close.

"No," she whispered in his ear. "Not Jackie."

The breath went out of his lungs and his heart skipped to triple time. The woman who'd somehow found him at parties and in the shopping mall, who'd taken him behind closed doors for varying degrees of sexual play while refusing to tell him her name: she was in his home.

Her tongue swept over his ear lobe, sending the skin on his neck into goose bumps. "Hi, Alex."

"How did you...?" he trailed off, running his hand over his neck to calm his agitated skin.

"I'm an FBI agent."

"Is that so?"

"Or maybe I just own a phone book."

He laughed and rubbed at his neck again, trying to gather his thoughts, to figure what to say or do next. "So you're not Jackie," he said pensively. "Not Jane."

"No." She kissed him. A familiar heat ignited in his belly, following a fuse that ran to his dick and back up to where her mouth was pressed to his. He pushed his tongue forward and tasted her cinnamon Altoids. He put his hand on her neck and felt himself getting hard already. Dammit. If he didn't find it all so exciting, he might have been embarrassed at what an easy mark he was for her.

Breaking the kiss, he said, "I guess you're not here for a piano lesson, either."

She laughed. "I would love to hear you play, though."

"Oh." It was about the last thing he expected her to say. "Okay."

She laughed as he teased her with the opening notes of "Heart and Soul" while he took a moment to decide what he wanted to play for her – something current and groovy, or maybe a romantic ballad? She didn't strike him as the sentimental type, so he gambled on her level of refinement and settled on Bach. "The Musical Offering" was the piece that first made him fall in love with piano, long after he'd gotten over the resentment of being forced into lessons by his parents, in the hopes it would help alleviate some of the profound introversion that overcame him after losing his vision. She slid off the small bench as he began, leaving him to get comfortable and have full range of motion to play. Halfway through he felt her tugging at his shirt, pulling it out of the waistband of his pants and up his chest. He laughed but raised his arms over his head, letting her lift the shirt off.

Her nails trailed down his back, little more than a sharp tickle. "Keep playing."

He did his best. But there were many sour or missed notes as her lips moved slowly across his back, her tongue swiping at his skin. He mentally berated himself for every mistake, perfectionist that he was. But this was new, something no woman had done to him before, the novelty of the sensation was exhilarating and he wanted to focus on enjoying it. His hands stilled on the keyboard.

"Keep playing," she whispered again.

"I can't." He lowered his head and arched his back forward.

He felt her lips curl into a smile against his back, her laugh ghosting across his skin. "You like that?"

Her fingers were cold as she touched his shoulders, a contrast to the inferno he was accustomed to from her, her lips working down along his spine. The gentle warmth of her kisses stopped at his pants, in the small of his back. Her tongue left a wet fire, trailing like the tail of a comet back up to his neck. With a discordant bash, he dropped his forearm across the keyboard and leaned into it.

"Please tell me your name."

She tugged on his knee. "Turn around."

He lifted his legs over the bench and swung around to face her. Her breath exploded in a volcanic wave across his chest as she unbuckled his belt and released the button of his jeans.

"I told you at the party that next time I saw you, you'd be taking your pants off. Don't make me a liar." Her hands pressed against his knees as she got to her feet and tugged on his wrists. "Up you come, big boy."

Alex smirked as he stood, reaching out to place his hands on her waist, skimming his fingertips down her hips over the light, soft cotton of her dress. Her hand covered his crotch and he moaned as she unzipped his fly.

"Happy to see me already, are you?"

He snorted a little laugh. "How could I not be?"

She worked his jeans over his hips, her breath further warming his dick as she knelt to push them to his ankles. She tapped his foot and he stepped out of his pants obediently. Her lips grazed his stomach, nimble fingers tugging at his underpants. Alex pulled away.

"Wait." He grabbed her wrists and pushed her hands from his hips, taking a step backwards. "I'm not going to do this anymore until you tell me your name."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Look," he said, scratching at his temple, "I know I'm not exactly beating the girls off with my cane ..."

The floorboard creaked as she got to her feet. "Is it really that big a deal to you?"

"Yes. I like you. This whole thing ... it's hot. It really is. I'm not complaining about it, by any means. But you're here. We've got time today – privacy. If we're going to go further than we have, I need to know your name now."

A thousand manic birds took flight in his chest when she didn't reply. It was an impulsive ultimatum, and he began to fear he'd lost the wager. He clenched his teeth together, waiting for her to either speak or walk out. Finally, she spoke.

"Hank," she said softly.

"What?"

"Hank. My name is Hank."

A wave of nausea crested in his throat and he stepped backwards, losing his sense of where he was in the room and almost tripping when the back of his knee hit the coffee table. "You're a dude?"

"No."

"You just said your name is Hank."

The floor creaked under her feet. She took his hand and placed it on her breast. "Do I feel like a dude to you?"

Alex swallowed. "Those could be fake."

"You've had them in your mouth. Did they feel fake?"

"No," he admitted, but remained unconvinced. He'd never felt fake tits before, at least, not as far as he knew. He couldn't be sure he'd actually know the difference.

"And when I was rubbing up against you at the party, did you feel a cock?"

"No." He pulled his hand away from her chest. "But there are ... operations."

"I'm a woman. My name is Hank."

"Hank?"

"You know, I used to go to school with a girl named Alex."

"That's different. It's not like my name is Tina, or Jennifer, or something."

"I wouldn't lie about this." Her bare feet shuffled on the floor. "Besides, if I were transgender why the hell would I use a name like Hank?"

"Hank," he repeated, testing it out. "That's what your parents call you?"

"Actually, yes."

"Seriously? I don't get that."

"I like it better than what's on my birth certificate, okay?"

He couldn't imagine what would be on her birth certificate to make "Hank" a preferable option, but said, "I guess."

He heard fabric rustle and swish, a small low sound of gathering material and the click of a button hitting wood that told him her dress had dropped to the floor. "Can we get to the naked now?"

"Say something."

"Something," she whispered.

"No. Say something in a normal tone. Stop all the fucking whispering. I want to hear your voice."

She shuffled her feet again. "I don't want you to recognize my voice."

He frowned. "Should I?"

"You might." She sighed heavily. "I'm not a man. I never have been a man."

Hank grabbed his wrist and shoved his hand down her panties. His fingers brushed past the closely trimmed strip of hair and into the slick burning folds of her skin. Alex grunted.

"See? One hundred percent real vagina. All the parts I was born with."

He pushed his fingers further, investigating the exquisitely smooth skin between her legs. She moaned and leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. If she was a man, she was rather a short one.

Her tongue lapped at his collarbone. His fingers rocked gently against her clitoris as a sudden rush of wetness coated them.

"Aw, fuck," he moaned, feeling himself getting hard again. "A woman named Hank."

She laughed and stepped back from him. He instantly missed the feel of her on his fingers.

"Sorry about that. I could tell you Jane or Jackie again. But the truth is my name is Hank."

"Okay, Hank." He took a deep breath, turning over the things she'd said. "Where would I know your voice from?"

She stepped forward again and stroked his shoulder. "It really doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

"I've been chasing you around for months now. I'm not going anywhere, Alex. I really like you, too." She combed her fingers through his hair. "But once I tell you everything, the game is over. The new car smell is gone. Can't you let it be a sexy little mystery just a little while longer?"

She pushed her lower body forward, grinding her hips against his in a pale imitation of the Halloween party.

He pretended a pouty voice, "This game of yours sucks."

"Really? It doesn't turn you on, even a little?" She moved away from him, only far enough to slide her hand down the front of his underwear and run her fingers over his semi-hard cock. "Because it kind of seems like it does."

"I never denied that it turns me on – how could I? – it just sucks."

"Well, now you know my name. You're a clever boy; you'll take it from there."

Alex scoffed; he was pretty sure he'd remember if he'd met a woman named Hank. But before he could puzzle over it further, her talented slender fingers were stroking him to distraction.

He leaned his head back, her mouth warming his neck with kisses and gentle swipes of her tongue as her fingers curled around his cock. He exhaled slowly.

"Are you going to spend all afternoon fretting about my name, or are you going to notice that I'm naked?"

His breath caught in his throat.

Her skin was cool, velvety soft over the hard, prominent hipbone his fingers explored. No lace panties to impede him today – just a wondrous expanse of curves and textures. Alex dropped to his knees. Pressing his lips to her thigh, he murmured "beautiful" against her skin. Hank brushed his hair back as she laughed.

He leaned backwards, stretching out on the floor and reaching for her. "Come lie down with me."

She lowered herself onto his hips, hands sweeping across his chest.

"No," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and rolling her onto her back. "Just let me ..."

He kissed her neck and climbed over to cover her. Except for his underpants, it was the first full-body skin-to-skin contact he'd made with her. She was surface-cold, probably still chilled from the autumnal winds outside, but he could feel the heat within. He followed the solid line of her collarbone with his tongue, working inward, swirling up her neck.

She sighed as his lips busied themselves at her neck and earlobes, hands creeping up to cover her breasts. Her nipples hardened under his palms; he caught one between his first two fingers and squeezed gently. Her body jerked beneath him.

"There," she whispered. "My boobs are smaller when I'm lying down. Means they're real."

He smiled and shifted to trace the hardened tip with his tongue, feeling it give under his considerations, always flicking back to attention. His hand wandered down along the smooth flat plane of her stomach until his fingers brushed the tuft of soft hair.

"I'm still not convinced," he said, pressing along the heated crease beneath. "I should investigate further."

Hank laughed and shifted her leg outward, opening herself up to him. "By all means, search me thoroughly and interrogate me, officer."

A thrill of quicksilver ran up his spine, his cock twitching in reaction to her words. Spicy minx. He brushed the clean-shaven skin, skimming her clitoris, and pressing to the delicate ridges of her inner lips. Slick heat engulfed his fingers, coating them to glide wetly back over her clit.

She inhaled sharply, her breasts pressing into him as he felt her nipple harden even further against his mouth. He kissed and tongued at it, still drawing soft moans from her with his stroking hand. Her breath hitched and her body twisted beneath him.

"Please," she murmured.

Alex moaned around her breast. His body burned. Her heat, no longer content with just his hand, wound its way along, seeping through his skin, spreading, then moving out again to wrap around him like an electric blanket set to high on a winter morning. It held tight, tucking into every crevice and fold of his body, making the backs of his knees start to sweat.

His fingers moved in tiny circles, rocking back and forth, around and over the little nub of flesh. Hank's chest rose and fell against him as her breath deepened, tiny sighs and moans, synched to her exhalations. Her short strip of hair tickled his palm as his hand worked her body, his fingers losing purchase, finding it harder to build friction as she got wetter.

The urge to tear off his underpants and simply push inside her was overwhelming. But he also wanted to savor every moment, every first. Who knew how long she would keep finding him, keep coming back. Despite what she'd said, perhaps now that he knew her name, the fun was over for her. Maybe this was the last huzzah and whatever happened today would have to sustain his fantasies until ... well, whenever someone else was interested in him.

A heady mixture of scents flooded his brain. The bass tones of naked bodies hit him first, the rich sweetness of her sexuality, the subtle spice from what lingered of her perfume – even the sugary cinnamon on her breath as she panted, combined with the sharp sting of sweat to fuel his desire. Kindling for the fire that enveloped him.

Alex pulled his hand away and Hank mewled in frustration, grabbing his shoulder, fingers clutching at him like a drowning woman reaching for a buoy. He trailed kisses down her stomach, swirling his tongue around her navel, feeling her muscles tense and quiver, in both excitement and giggles.

"Ticklish?"

"No," she answered with mock childlike petulance.

Skin like velvet under his lips, tiny gliding kisses around her hip and across her inner thigh. The scent of her arousal, so close now, eclipsing the rest of the sexual bouquet he'd admired earlier, providing even more of a challenge to his composure. He wanted his body to dissolve into this flame, let every cell melt into her body – one way or another, to be inside her.

Shuffling on the floor, hardwood cooling his body, he settled between her legs and pressed his lips to hers. A delicious first kiss, letting his lower lip linger and trail before pressing further. If the rest of her body was velvet, the skin here was some material yet to be invented, soft and smooth, a texture for which he knew no words. His tongue explored the ridges and curves there. A miniature version of the hills and valleys and secret retreats of her body. He wanted to map every inch of it – an erotic cartographer exploring and surveying some newfound Eden – until he knew every turn and grade that made her sigh or moan as he did his own.

He brushed and flicked his tongue over her clitoris, tasting her, all slick and sweet and tangy. Alex ran his hands over her stomach, hips, and legs, trying to soothe and arouse her simultaneously. Her writhing stilled momentarily, but her breath continued to come in noisy panting gasps, and her legs quivered beside him. His cock ached with empathy for her mounting excitement, and when a soft cry began in the back of her throat, he moaned against her pussy.

Her muscles tensed. She pushed her feet into the floor and lifted her hips. He tightened his grip around her hipbones and stayed with her, tongue lapping feverishly. The gentle whine grew to a moan, then a throaty shout. The slap of her palm, along with the crack of something metal – some piece of jewelry she wore – echoed against the wood as she wriggled and heaved against his face. Next to his own orgasm, he could think of no purer definition of bliss than this moment. Her whole body shook around him; the jolt of explosion and ensuing conflagration threatening to reduce him to cinders if he didn't climb up there and fuck her. Right now.

Her body calmed, hips slowing and lowering back to the floor. He fought every impulse and remained, kissing her gently, stroking his hands along her sides. Her breathing settled and she sighed. He lifted his head and licked his lips. Perfection. He kissed her hip and ran his tongue along her lower belly, making her giggle again. Reaching to strum his fingers across her nipples, he kissed his way up her body, stopping cold when the doorbell rang.

"Just a minute!" He scrabbled across her stomach to hit the button on his watch. 5:02. "Oh fuck. My next student is here."

He thought he might weep as he felt around on the floor to find his clothes, rolling onto his back and dressing as quickly as he could.

"I'll be right there," he yelled at the door. "Just ... umm. Just give me a second."

He tugged his shirt over his head and smoothed his hair. Standing up, he fixed his belt and quietly asked Hank if she was dressed.

"Yes. But your shirt is inside out."

"Shit." He pulled it off and flicked it in the air, feeling for the tag before putting it on again and calling out, "I'm coming. Sorry."

He opened the door.

"You okay, Alex?" his student asked in that petulant, slightly condescending tone that twelve-year-olds reserved for adults who were acting in strange ways just outside their comprehension.

"Yeah. Sorry, Tricia, my uhh," he paused, wiping his chin, "my last lesson ran a little long."

"Hi," Tricia said, obviously addressing Hank. He usually left a buffer between appointments and his students rarely met each other in the hallway like this.

"Hi," Hank replied, for the first time speaking in a normal tone of voice. She touched his wrist briefly as she passed by on her way out the door. "See you soon, Alex."

She was right. He did know that voice. Soft, a little husky, but undeniably feminine and most decidedly someone he'd spoken to before. It was close, like an itch in the center of his back that he just could not reach. He knew her. It was something in the tone, the way she said his name, and he could almost grab it, but Tricia broke his concentration.

"Is that your girlfriend?"

"No," he laughed. "Well, she ... I don't know. Not really."