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#i was at a cello lesson and one of my teacher’s cats jumped on my lap and when she tried to take him off he hooked his claws into my pants
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Kiku's trying to pick the cats off of Alfred, but they hook their claws into his hoodie and just cling😍
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This is a challenge of territory
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Overture
Jil stepped back and surveyed the sitting room. Everything appeared to be in readiness for her first lesson. She'd gotten two dining room chairs and sat them together in the middle of the room. The music stand she'd purchased stood in front of one of them, a book of beginning cello music propped on top of it. The hated instrument was still in its case, lying alongside one of the chairs like a harbinger of doom. She wondered if she'd ever become more fond of the giant monstrosity. Depended on how good this music teacher was, she supposed. Lord, she was nervous. She checked her watch for the umpteenth time, chiding herself for being such a nitwit. There was absolutely nothing to be nervous about, she told herself. Perhaps it was because she had absolutely no idea what to expect. The fear of the Unknown. What would he be like? He could be anywhere between twenty and two hundred, this cello teacher. She'd been given no indication, and although he sounded pleasant on the telephone, that wasn't really indicative of anything at all. Her mind conjured up an older man, possibly in his fifties or sixties. Old enough to be her father. Maybe even older than that. His voice had held a certain gravitas, after all. Yes, she was sure of it now. Ancient and strict. She would probably be shouted at every time she played a wrong note. There was a knock at the door of her flat and she nearly screamed with fright as she jumped with a start. She'd been so busy trying to imagine what this teacher was like, and now he was HERE. She smoothed back her hair as she quickly walked to answer it, taking a deep breath as she opened the door. 'Hi.' It was a squeak rather than the cool and composed voice she was hoping for, but oh well. 'Hi!' He smiled at her widely, putting down his case to offer his hand. 'Jamie. I believe you're expecting me?' 'Jilomena.' Oh bloody hell, he was CUTE. Young, probably only a little older than she, with slightly too-long caramel coloured hair that flopped over his forehead. A small moustache, nothing too ostentatious. 'Yes. Please, come in.' She stepped back to allow him inside. He picked up his case again, and she showed him into the sitting room. He soon set himself up in one of the chairs, leaning over to get his instrument out of the case and set it up. It was just as big and impressive as hers. He sat it between his legs and smiled at her. 'Take a pew. I don't bite...much.' He grinned at his own joke as he patted the other chair. 'Have you gotten the beast out its case yet?' Rolling her eyes at how flustered she suddenly got inwardly, she took her seat. 'No, I haven't. I was...waiting, I guess.' 'Okay. That's fine, don't worry. Something so big can be intimidating to the uninitiated.' Good Lord. Was he DELIBERATELY trying to talk in innuendos?! 'Take the bow out first, the long thin thing. Don't touch the horsehair - the white bit! That's it, hold it by the wood and set it aside. Or hand it to me. Good. Next, take the cello out - you okay with that? Good. And adjust the pin on the bottom so that you're happy with the length...yes. Like that. And now just slide it in between your legs. Bit further...' He actually put her hand on her knee and pulled her legs slightly further apart. She resisted the urge to try to clamp them together. Good job she was wearing jeans and not a miniskirt, or this might have gotten incredibly embarrassing. He pulled the instrument closer into her body. 'Okay?' She was squeaking again. Mortifying. 'Yes. That'll do, I think.' He grinned. 'Now. The first and most important thing. How to hold the bow. Are you right handed or left handed? Okay. Hold it between the second joint of your middle finger and the tip of your thumb on your right hand. Then your other fingers just rest on it, like...so.' He curled his hand over his to show her, adjusting her fingers slightly so he was happy with their positioning. She was blushing furiously the entire time. 'Can you read sheet music?' 'A little bit. I used to in school. I sang in the choir.' Her voice was a near whisper. 'Good! Fab.' He was grinning at her again. 'I'm sure you'll remember in no time. Like riding a bicycle. And I can remind you what you've forgotten, don't worry. Okay. Good. Now the next thing, is how to position the fingers of your other hand - your left hand - on the strings. The first string - here - is the C string. This one is the G string.' That grin again. She blushed harder, certain he was doing it deliberately. 'The D string. And finally, the A string. How you position your fingers on these strings, makes the notes. Yes? So, for example, to play a "C," you don't place any fingers on the C string at all. One finger on it will give you a "D," three an "E,' and four fingers, an "F." Here.' He stood up and walked behind her to help her place her fingers on the string for the various notes as he had indicated. She was glad he couldn't see her face, because she was sure she was beetroot red by now. 'It's a lot to take in,' she mumbled, and then instantly regretted it. 'Yes. It is.' Thankfully, he sounded amused. 'So let's try playing a few notes, hmm?' He helped her to position her finger for a "D," and then helped her place the bow against the strings. 'Ready? Relaxed, soft hand; no pressing with the thumb, use the WHOLE arm from shoulder blade to fingertip! And...like...this.' With his hand over hers, he pulled her arm back so that a note was produced. To her, the resulting noise sounded like something a cat might make. She cringed. Lord knows what the neighbours must think. Thankfully, the windows were closed. 'Sorry about that,' she muttered, realising she probably sounded incredibly bad tempered. 'No, I think it's probably been ages since it was tuned.' She could hear the amusement in his voice. 'I'll have a look at it in a bit. You're doing very well.' He helped her do it again, and then again. By the third time it almost sounded halfway to decent. 'Try a few on your own.' He sat back down next to her, watching her like a hawk as she practiced the same note over and over until she was thoroughly sick of it. He offered gentle corrections and suggestions here and there, but for her the most flustering part of it was his close scrutiny. 'I'm probably the worst student you've ever had the misfortune to teach,' she sighed. Her neck and shoulder were starting to ache outrageously. She carefully put the bow down and stretched out her arm. 'No! Not at all. You're doing very well,' he reassured her. 'The instrument is a little big for you to handle, perhaps, but I understand the sentimental attachment to it.' 'I'd sell it to you for one corn kernel.' But she was smiling, not really meaning it. He laughed, and his whole face lit up. Oh bugger. She was in big trouble, here. 'Hand it over. You have a little rest. I'll tune it up for you, and then I'll give you a little demonstration what it's capable of, how's that sound?' 'Sounds good.' She handed it over and he pulled it into his lap almost like a guitar. He alternated between twisting the things at the top - 'pegs,' he said they were called - and plucking the strings with a finger until he was seemingly happy with the sounds they were producing. 'Right.' He placed the pin back on the floor and positioned it properly between his legs. 'How about a little Bach?' She nodded, and he began. Suddenly, the most beautiful, yet melancholy music flowed through the flat, through her. She stared at him, transfixed. Unbeknownst to her, her mouth was actually hanging open ever so slightly in awe. She didn't even realise that she was crying until she felt a tear run down her cheek. He stopped when the piece concluded and looked at her. 'What's wrong?' he asked softly. 'Nothing. I'm an idiot.' She laughed through her tears. 'It's just...so beautiful.' He reached over and gently wiped the tear away with the ball of his thumb. 'So are you,' he murmured so softly that she thought she was imagining things. 'Sorry!' He pulled himself back abruptly. 'I shouldn't...sorry!' 'No, it's okay. Don't worry.' She smiled at him, and meant it. 'Are all of your students reduced to a pathetic ball of tears? You probably say that to all of them.' And he probably did, she said to herself ruefully. 'Oh, no! All of my previous students were secondary-school aged! And I haven't...I'd never! Oh, God!' He hung his head, shaking it. Christ, what a balls-up! 'You can ask Pierre. I've never done anything...remotely inappropriate!' 'Pierre?' She tilted her head to the side. 'The old man. At Hooters. One of my closest friends. He said he'd given my details to a beautiful young woman, but I didn't believe him.' He placed a hand over his face and chuckled ruefully. Now he was making it far, far worse. 'And now that you've seen me, you still don't believe him?' She couldn't help needling him, a little. 'Oh, no. He was right. He was SO right.' He looked up, and she could see the earnestness in his eyes. 'Oh, good. I'm glad you weren't disappointed. So that means you'll come back for my next lesson, next week?' She smiled. 'Of course! I'm looking forward to it already.' He reached for his notebook to write it down and happened to notice the time. 'Oh, God! I've overrun by fifteen minutes! Sorry about that. You probably can't wait to get rid of me.' 'No!' She cleared her throat. 'No, not at all. It's been...fun. But you're not going to charge me extra, are you?' she teased. 'No. In fact, I don't think I should charge you at all.' He shook his head. 'Oh no! I insist! I want to make sure you come back for the second lesson, after all.' She got up to get her purse and came back with a few bills in the agreed amount. After a few minutes persuasion, he took it, then began to pack his instrument away. 'I expect you to practice a little every day. Until next week. Goodnight, Jilomena.' He gave her an absolutely heart-melting smile. 'I will. Until next week. Goodnight, Jamie.' She returned the smile, and then he turned and walked down the path. She closed the door and leant on it, grinning like an idiot. Oh, she was going to practice, alright. She was going to learn to play that damned, thing, and play it well. Because suddenly, she had SO much incentive to do so.
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