It was June once again. Time for final exams over at the university and Jane Carroll found herself in the music building, preparing for her final flute jury. With the completion of this last test, Jane would finally receive her Doctorate in Performance. There would be one more lesson first before that however. Her teacher was Lisa Moyse, flute professor for many years, who was looking forward to her long awaited retirement and last session with her prized pupil Ms. Carroll. Jane clutched her flute bag as she made her way for the last time, down the long hallway of office doors. Her footsteps on the old wooden floor echoed as she approached the correct door. She remembered back to their first meeting, so many years ago. Professor Moyse was known for her slightly unethical and unusual teaching methods. But she always got results, and that was all the university was worried about. She came to the door. A metal name plate beside the door read: Professor Lisa Moyse, flute. There was space for the word emeritus next to her name. "Would I ever have a office like this?" Jane thought to herself. She listened at the door, to make sure that the professor wasn't in the middle of another lesson. It was hard to tell. The rooms were designed to be sound proof naturally because of all the musical instrument noise that would otherwise ensue. Jane hearing nothing (strangely enough) knocked on the door. The door immediately swung open and Professor Moyse, practically beaming greeted her pupil.
"Come in, come in! How lovely to see you..."
The room was like a museum, dedicated to the art of flute playing. There were scores of pictures hanging on the walls of famous flute players; James Galway, Jean-Pierre Rampal, Ian Anderson, Peter Gabriel, and she was in each picture as well.
"Please sit down Jane, and tell me how your jury pieces are coming."
"Well" Jane said, "I am having some problems..."
"Oh?" The professor's dark eyebrows raised at the astonishment of the reply.
"Yes" Jane continued, "I can't seem to stay focused. I know the pieces surely, but I am having trouble concentrating."
"Is that so?" The professor scratched her chin in a thoughtful gesture. "I think we can fix that." She motioned to the black chair behind the music stand. "Get your flute out and have a seat."
Jane wiggled the head joint into the body of the flute and took a seat.
Dr. Moyse moved over to her rather large work desk and began pulling file drawers in and out, like she was looking for something. "Go on..." she said, as she continued to search.
"Well, it's the opening to Debussy's 'Prelude à l'après-midi dun faune' I am having some sort of mental block or something. I can't play it properly."
"I see... can you play me some of it?" She came out from behind her desk, with her hands behind her back.
Jane started playing the famous flute opening to "The Prelude to an Afternoon of a Faun." The first two measures of arpeggios came off clear and shimmering. But when she got to the high G sharp in the third measure, the sound was weak and thin.
"Yes... I see. You need to focus all you attention." Dr. Moyse took a nearby chair and placed the back of it in front of Jane.
"Now Jane, I want you to slip your feet in between the back of this chair and the seat."
Jane slowly replied, not sure where Dr. Moyse was going with this. Perhaps it was some new kind of breathing technique. It was a snug fit, but she was just able to get her feet though the opening in the back of the chair. Her legs were now straight and the back of the chair hid her feet from her view. The professor then sat in the chair, facing away from the now pinned Doctoral student. Jane panicked at her immobility, but said nothing. After all, this IS Professor Moyse we're talking about. "Perhaps it's a breathing thing after all." she thought to herself.
"I want you to play the passage again." Jane felt her shoe loosening. She blinked her eyes. What was happening?
"No matter what happens, you MUST continue to play." Jane felt the cool air on her exposed soles. OMG, you've got to be kidding... (However, she dare not say this out loud.) Her mind was screaming, it was all happening so fast... Does she have any idea just how ticklish I am??
She flexed her toes, testing her wiggle room. The professor had taken up that slack by sitting in the chair, next to her bare feet. There was no room for meaningful movement of any kind.
"Begin." the authoritative voice commanded. With trepidation, Jane started the piece again. As she got halfway through the first measure, when she felt a feathery "glissando" up the sole of her left foot. She fought back the necessity to giggle and made it to the end of the second measure. The third measure... there were only two eighth notes to play before the high G sharp. She felt the feather racing up and down her soles. Control... control... she played the C sharp. She wanted to laugh so badly. It was pure torture... the C sharp melted into the next note, a whole step up. One tear ran down her cheek. D sharp. The feather played all over the soles of her feet. One more note to play... Up a perfect fourth... She could really feel the tickling growing and growing... It actually pushed her up to the top note, a G sharp sitting on the top of the staff. She played it through pure will and determination, but could not finish the measure as the tickling sensation took over and she began to giggle like a child. The teacher then finger tickled her soles like mad, half out of punishment for not completing the phrase, and half as reward for making it to the high G sharp. Jane laughed for several minutes as the doctor continued tickling her feet... it was like a celebration, a bonding...
"See!?" "What did I tell you?" Lisa scratched around the base of her toes with a well manicured fingernail. Jane was hysterical with laughter and now she wanted it all to stop. But the professor had other plans.
"Now you will always be able to play the Debussy correctly, no?
"Yessssssssssssss, pleeeeeeeeseee..... haha haha hhaaaaa....... STOP!!!!!!! HAHAHA!!!!!!
This jerked Dr. Moyse back into "reality" and she stopped tickling Jane's soles. It took a minute or two for Jane to regain her composure, and as she did so, Dr. Moyse moved back behind her desk and sat down. Jane secretly enjoyed this "new teaching technique" which was so effective so she remained in this seated position. As the giggles ebbed, Lisa asked her student a question.
"And how is the other piece? The... um.... Dance of the Seven Veils?"
Jane grew pale. She wasn't sure if this was because of the tickling or because of the question.
"Please play it for me my dear..."
Jane silently gulped and pulled out the flute part to Richard Strauss' Dance of the Seven Veils from his opera "Salome."
"Start at letter D please." Jane already knew exactly where this excerpt started. It was a notorious passage. It was a flute solo in the opera depicting Salome's dance before King Herod, or in this case, King Herodes. Jane tripped through the thirty second note scales dryly. Dr. Moyse stopped her before she even finished the first line.
"No, no, no! You play this as though you were having a chair try-out in high school!" Jane looked at the floor. She knew the professor was right.
"Where is the soul, the drama, the erotism? You must make the audience believe that you ARE Salome. They must hear in their mind's eye the silk veils falling off, one by one with every phrase."
"Play it again!"
The second run through was slightly better, but only to the trained ear.
"Just relax my dear and try again..." Now where had she heard this before? It made her thrilled and scared at the same time. The doctor walked over to her stand and turned on the light which was clipped on the top of the stand. The music was so bright that Jane squinted slightly at the glare. Then Dr. Moyse walked over to the wall and turned off the rest of the lights in the room. Jane was now in total darkness, save the music on her stand. A voice from the pitch blackness muttered...
"Remember, you must not stop... don't stop... concentrate... focus..."
Jane hesitated, then began the solo again. The voice whispered in her ear.
"Feel every note... feel..."
Jane did feel something, though what it was was quite unexpected. She dismissed it as some hypnotic trick and continued playing. With each upward scale, her clothing seemed lighter. Perhaps the darkness of the room just appeared cooler. She felt a feathery wisp under her right breast. It tickled, but she kept playing. Light fingers were playing up and down her sides. She squirmed, but kept playing. She felt naked. Her concentration was so well focused that this condition hardly mattered. The point was to keep going. After all, she was not in the position right now to be able to confirm nor deny her change in attire. She kept playing. She had reached the peak of the first phrase, just as the tickling was becoming uncontrollable. It sent a shiver down her spine. She finished off the phrase expertly. The next phrase was coming up. The voice, barely audible whispered: e r o t i c... She felt the lightest feathery touch on her mons pubis. Arpeggios gently descended as her shaved part was exquisitely teased. She spread her legs, inviting the tickling sensation inward. She made little gasps air as the music passage reached it's most low point, and was beginning to ascend once more through the staff. Jane contracted her pubic muscles as the melody wrapped itself around the ledger lines. The erotic nature of the melody began to mimic her bodily desire for release. The melodic tempo increased as beads of sweat formed on Jane's forehead. She could see the musical orgasm coming up on the next line. The tickling grew very focused, centering around her clitoris as she played the Salome motif. She felt the unstoppable orgasm coming as she raced up the chromatic scale. It was terrific! The scale ended on a elongated high trill which simulated exactly the rapid feathery tickle, directly on her wet clit. She closed her eyes and savored the orgasmic trill to the fullest. As the last musical veil floated to the ground, the trill trailed off too leaving Jane emotionally and physically well spent.
A long pause...
Then the room filled slowly back with light. Jane was covered with perspiration. She was seated normally, as would one in a music lesson. Dr. Moyse was sitting next to her side beaming with pride.
"That's it my dear! I couldn't have played it better myself!"
Jane who was rather flushed, slowly dismantled her flute and packed her bag.
"I must say that it has been a real pleasure teaching you this year... I mean that."
She took Jane and gave her a quick hug. Then they looked into each other's eyes as equals.
"Bye... and thanks again." Jane whispered.
A tear formed in the professors eye. Jane left the room and closed the door behind her. She walk down the long hallway to the exit. Just before she opened the door to the outside, she inexplicably turned around. Dr. Moyse, Professor of Flute, poked her head out into the hallway and said in a rather dry, unmoving tone of voice: "Next!"
Jane walked out into the sunshine.
"Come in, come in! How lovely to see you..."
The room was like a museum, dedicated to the art of flute playing. There were scores of pictures hanging on the walls of famous flute players; James Galway, Jean-Pierre Rampal, Ian Anderson, Peter Gabriel, and she was in each picture as well.
"Please sit down Jane, and tell me how your jury pieces are coming."
"Well" Jane said, "I am having some problems..."
"Oh?" The professor's dark eyebrows raised at the astonishment of the reply.
"Yes" Jane continued, "I can't seem to stay focused. I know the pieces surely, but I am having trouble concentrating."
"Is that so?" The professor scratched her chin in a thoughtful gesture. "I think we can fix that." She motioned to the black chair behind the music stand. "Get your flute out and have a seat."
Jane wiggled the head joint into the body of the flute and took a seat.
Dr. Moyse moved over to her rather large work desk and began pulling file drawers in and out, like she was looking for something. "Go on..." she said, as she continued to search.
"Well, it's the opening to Debussy's 'Prelude à l'après-midi dun faune' I am having some sort of mental block or something. I can't play it properly."
"I see... can you play me some of it?" She came out from behind her desk, with her hands behind her back.
Jane started playing the famous flute opening to "The Prelude to an Afternoon of a Faun." The first two measures of arpeggios came off clear and shimmering. But when she got to the high G sharp in the third measure, the sound was weak and thin.
"Yes... I see. You need to focus all you attention." Dr. Moyse took a nearby chair and placed the back of it in front of Jane.
"Now Jane, I want you to slip your feet in between the back of this chair and the seat."
Jane slowly replied, not sure where Dr. Moyse was going with this. Perhaps it was some new kind of breathing technique. It was a snug fit, but she was just able to get her feet though the opening in the back of the chair. Her legs were now straight and the back of the chair hid her feet from her view. The professor then sat in the chair, facing away from the now pinned Doctoral student. Jane panicked at her immobility, but said nothing. After all, this IS Professor Moyse we're talking about. "Perhaps it's a breathing thing after all." she thought to herself.
"I want you to play the passage again." Jane felt her shoe loosening. She blinked her eyes. What was happening?
"No matter what happens, you MUST continue to play." Jane felt the cool air on her exposed soles. OMG, you've got to be kidding... (However, she dare not say this out loud.) Her mind was screaming, it was all happening so fast... Does she have any idea just how ticklish I am??
She flexed her toes, testing her wiggle room. The professor had taken up that slack by sitting in the chair, next to her bare feet. There was no room for meaningful movement of any kind.
"Begin." the authoritative voice commanded. With trepidation, Jane started the piece again. As she got halfway through the first measure, when she felt a feathery "glissando" up the sole of her left foot. She fought back the necessity to giggle and made it to the end of the second measure. The third measure... there were only two eighth notes to play before the high G sharp. She felt the feather racing up and down her soles. Control... control... she played the C sharp. She wanted to laugh so badly. It was pure torture... the C sharp melted into the next note, a whole step up. One tear ran down her cheek. D sharp. The feather played all over the soles of her feet. One more note to play... Up a perfect fourth... She could really feel the tickling growing and growing... It actually pushed her up to the top note, a G sharp sitting on the top of the staff. She played it through pure will and determination, but could not finish the measure as the tickling sensation took over and she began to giggle like a child. The teacher then finger tickled her soles like mad, half out of punishment for not completing the phrase, and half as reward for making it to the high G sharp. Jane laughed for several minutes as the doctor continued tickling her feet... it was like a celebration, a bonding...
"See!?" "What did I tell you?" Lisa scratched around the base of her toes with a well manicured fingernail. Jane was hysterical with laughter and now she wanted it all to stop. But the professor had other plans.
"Now you will always be able to play the Debussy correctly, no?
"Yessssssssssssss, pleeeeeeeeseee..... haha haha hhaaaaa....... STOP!!!!!!! HAHAHA!!!!!!
This jerked Dr. Moyse back into "reality" and she stopped tickling Jane's soles. It took a minute or two for Jane to regain her composure, and as she did so, Dr. Moyse moved back behind her desk and sat down. Jane secretly enjoyed this "new teaching technique" which was so effective so she remained in this seated position. As the giggles ebbed, Lisa asked her student a question.
"And how is the other piece? The... um.... Dance of the Seven Veils?"
Jane grew pale. She wasn't sure if this was because of the tickling or because of the question.
"Please play it for me my dear..."
Jane silently gulped and pulled out the flute part to Richard Strauss' Dance of the Seven Veils from his opera "Salome."
"Start at letter D please." Jane already knew exactly where this excerpt started. It was a notorious passage. It was a flute solo in the opera depicting Salome's dance before King Herod, or in this case, King Herodes. Jane tripped through the thirty second note scales dryly. Dr. Moyse stopped her before she even finished the first line.
"No, no, no! You play this as though you were having a chair try-out in high school!" Jane looked at the floor. She knew the professor was right.
"Where is the soul, the drama, the erotism? You must make the audience believe that you ARE Salome. They must hear in their mind's eye the silk veils falling off, one by one with every phrase."
"Play it again!"
The second run through was slightly better, but only to the trained ear.
"Just relax my dear and try again..." Now where had she heard this before? It made her thrilled and scared at the same time. The doctor walked over to her stand and turned on the light which was clipped on the top of the stand. The music was so bright that Jane squinted slightly at the glare. Then Dr. Moyse walked over to the wall and turned off the rest of the lights in the room. Jane was now in total darkness, save the music on her stand. A voice from the pitch blackness muttered...
"Remember, you must not stop... don't stop... concentrate... focus..."
Jane hesitated, then began the solo again. The voice whispered in her ear.
"Feel every note... feel..."
Jane did feel something, though what it was was quite unexpected. She dismissed it as some hypnotic trick and continued playing. With each upward scale, her clothing seemed lighter. Perhaps the darkness of the room just appeared cooler. She felt a feathery wisp under her right breast. It tickled, but she kept playing. Light fingers were playing up and down her sides. She squirmed, but kept playing. She felt naked. Her concentration was so well focused that this condition hardly mattered. The point was to keep going. After all, she was not in the position right now to be able to confirm nor deny her change in attire. She kept playing. She had reached the peak of the first phrase, just as the tickling was becoming uncontrollable. It sent a shiver down her spine. She finished off the phrase expertly. The next phrase was coming up. The voice, barely audible whispered: e r o t i c... She felt the lightest feathery touch on her mons pubis. Arpeggios gently descended as her shaved part was exquisitely teased. She spread her legs, inviting the tickling sensation inward. She made little gasps air as the music passage reached it's most low point, and was beginning to ascend once more through the staff. Jane contracted her pubic muscles as the melody wrapped itself around the ledger lines. The erotic nature of the melody began to mimic her bodily desire for release. The melodic tempo increased as beads of sweat formed on Jane's forehead. She could see the musical orgasm coming up on the next line. The tickling grew very focused, centering around her clitoris as she played the Salome motif. She felt the unstoppable orgasm coming as she raced up the chromatic scale. It was terrific! The scale ended on a elongated high trill which simulated exactly the rapid feathery tickle, directly on her wet clit. She closed her eyes and savored the orgasmic trill to the fullest. As the last musical veil floated to the ground, the trill trailed off too leaving Jane emotionally and physically well spent.
A long pause...
Then the room filled slowly back with light. Jane was covered with perspiration. She was seated normally, as would one in a music lesson. Dr. Moyse was sitting next to her side beaming with pride.
"That's it my dear! I couldn't have played it better myself!"
Jane who was rather flushed, slowly dismantled her flute and packed her bag.
"I must say that it has been a real pleasure teaching you this year... I mean that."
She took Jane and gave her a quick hug. Then they looked into each other's eyes as equals.
"Bye... and thanks again." Jane whispered.
A tear formed in the professors eye. Jane left the room and closed the door behind her. She walk down the long hallway to the exit. Just before she opened the door to the outside, she inexplicably turned around. Dr. Moyse, Professor of Flute, poked her head out into the hallway and said in a rather dry, unmoving tone of voice: "Next!"
Jane walked out into the sunshine.
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