She began to play the sonata again. This time, as well as the cold brass of the pedals, Jessica was sensitive to the rough fabric of the piano stool across the backs of her thighs as her legs moved. But rather than jump at each touch, she was starting to seek out the feeling and revel in it. She would anticipate each tap of the damper pedal and let the feeling course through her.

“Good! Good! Or better, at least,” Miss Ashdown said, reining in her praise lest Jessica thought the work was done for the day. “I can see your legs and feet really working here and, more importantly, I can really feel them working through the music. Can you feel it?”

Jessica nodded. It was like there was something different about the air itself.

Read the rest of The Pianist, and 11 other ENF stories, in Naked Women in Shorts