12 April 2004

Story: Practice Still Makes Perfect

Part of the Practice Makes Perfect mini series.  Amy's senior year in high school, she is given the opportunity to play with a college orchestra.  Little did she know that she would come into contact with Jeremy again.  They strike up a conversation about the past... literally.

Practice Still Makes Perfect
by Breanna Carter

When I was a sophomore in high school, I was admitted into the advanced orchestra class. That was an interesting year, to say the least. I became fairly decent friends with the first chair guy named Jeremy, who was a senior. In fact, by the middle of the year, he’d taught me enough that I became second chair and sat next to him in class. After that, we were even better friends.

The thing that got us close, though, was the fact that he taught me private lessons. And after getting very irritated at me for not practicing, he ended up spanking me. That was a weird and kind of delightful experience. I can’t say I’d change anything.

After Jeremy graduated, things in high school were very bland. I had talked to him a few times since he left school, found out he was going to a local college, but really, I didn’t talk to him much. I really hated that cause he was such a great friend.

By the time my senior year rolled around, I still remembered him. I kept wondering what it’d be like to run into him somewhere... what he’d say to me, what I’d say back, if we’d talk about the spanking he gave me, if he’d threaten to spank me again. All of these thoughts kept going through my mind, but I knew it’d never happen. After all, I hadn’t seen him since he graduated.

One day, though, a man came to our orchestra to speak with the class about the music program at Centenary College. Actually, he came to help us out with some Allstate music, but while he was there my teacher urged him to talk to us about Centenary.

“And if any of you want to play with the Centenary Orchestra this year, it’s fine...” he said, concluding his speech.

As the person who sits in the front of the room, I couldn’t very well pass out, though I wanted to. This man had just said that I could join a college orchestra... and you know what was going through my head? No, not that it was a college orchestra where there’d probably be a lot of hott guys (well, that was going through my head, too), but I was thinking, “wow, Jeremy goes to Centenary... maybe he’s in the orchestra!”

When I was finally able to breathe again, I noticed that everyone around me was migrating towards the door to put their instruments in their locker. The orchestra conductor and my teacher were standing in the front of the room talking. I felt bad interrupting, but I knew that I had to join this orchestra.

“Hey, girl!” my teacher said, instantly patting me on the back. “This is Amy, our first chair violist. She’s a wonderful player!”

I tried to refrain from blushing, but you just can’t help stuff like that when someone’s bragging on you.

“Hi,” the man said, extending his hand for me to shake. “I’m Dr. Golabsky.”

I smiled. “Hi. I was wondering,” I said, fidgeting because I always get nervous when I talk to new people, “if I could be in the Centenary Orchestra...”

He smiled. “Sure. I’ll just need to hear you before-hand. When is the best day for me to hear you?”

I blushed a little. “I dunno. Any time is fine..”

The bell rang dismissing us to our next class. “Okay, how about Wednesday?” he asked.

I nodded. “That’s fine. I gotta go!” I nearly fell over trying to run away from the room so I could get to class on time. I was nervous about playing in front of people, but I was morely nervous about getting to see Jeremy again. I ran through the conversations we might have in my head. Would he remember me? Would he remember the spanking? I tried to reason with myself... I wasn’t even sure if I’d made the orchestra yet or not.

Surely, though, I made it... and not because I tried out, but really because musicians are lazy and forgetful and I never really had the chance to be heard. The days he came, I wasn’t there. So he took my teacher’s word for it and relayed the message to me to be at rehersal on Monday at seven.

That Monday before practice I spent about an hour trying to get ready. I’m not the type of person to spend hours on end putting on makeup and doing my hair, but I think I was so excited about seeing Jeremy again that I wanted to make sure my hair looked a little decent. I even paid attention to what clothes I was going to wear! (Thin black pants and a T-shirt, white cotton panties, in case you’re wondering..)

At six-thirty I hopped in my car, hands already shaking. I’m not one who likes going to new places. Especially by myself. As far as I knew, I would know nobody there.

I pulled up to the Centenary parking lot about twenty minutes early. I’m also the type of person who hates to be late, but hates more to be early. So I sat in my car for about three minutes until my anticipation got to me and I had to get out. Somehow I managed to find the music building and I ambled up the stairs. I opened the huge door and stood in the hallway stupidly for a few minutes, then saw someone with a cello case and decided to follow them. Good thing they were going to the practice room else I’d have been lost. Word of advice: always get directions when you’re going some place new.

The room was nearly deserted when I got there. I saw a few chairs scattered around and about seven people were wandering around. I even recgonized some of the people that were wandering around. I stood there dumbly for a few minutes until one of the girls who plays the flute said hello.

“Hi, I’m Amanda,” she said, smiling.

“Amy,” I replied, throwing a nervous smile back.

“You play the viola?”

“Yeah,” I murmured.

Another flute player and an oboeist came and sat down, too, and introduced themselves to me. All I could think was, “wow, these people are really nice.”

“What school do you go to?” one asked.

“Are you a senior?” another asked.

“Are you coming here next year?” the first asked.

I was going crazy trying to answer their questions and look for Jeremy at the same time until finally the questions died down and I was able to ask them if the seat I was trying to sit in was taken. It wasn’t.

I sat there for a little while, heart thumping, biting my lower lip. I glanced at my watch: 6:52. Eight more minutes then I’d find out for sure if Jeremy was in the orchestra.

It wasn’t even eight minutes before I saw him shuffling inside, half-asleep look on his face, brown hair almost to his chin and fallen in front of his blue eyes. He was wearing baggy jeans, just like I was used to him wearing, and some ADIDAS sandals that looked a few years old, and he had on a polo shirt. He flopped into the first chair spot and opened his case, pulling his beautiful instrument out. It took me a minute to realize that I was staring at him. My stomach becoming uneasy, I decided to take my own instrument out and not speak until spoken to.

Minutes later, another person came in and sat down next to me, and by now I was giddy as hell. “Hi,” I said. “I’m Amy.”

He smiled then exclaimed that his name was Jordan. He put the music on the stand and said that it was Haydn. I was excited to be playing Haydn... he’s my favorite composer. I was more excited when Jeremy stood up and walked towards the flute player, Amanda, and began talking to her. I heard her say something like, “did you meet Amy?” and I was trying my hardest to pretend like I wasn’t listening but I knew that Jeremy was looking at me and this was the moment of truth...

“Oh! I didn’t even see her!” he said.

I turned around and smiled, face red as a firetruck. “Hi,” I muttered. “I’m Amy.” I extended my hand and he his, and we shook then he pushed his brown hair out of his eyes.

“Hey, I know you!” he nearly shrieked, huge grin on his face. “Hey, Amanda, she used to go to school with me,” he explained and I desperately prayed that the next thing he said was NOT that he spanked me once because I neglected to practice. It wasn’t. “She was a pretty cool kid. We were stand partners. How ya been doin’ Amy?” he asked, punching me playfully.

“I’m okay.”

“That’s awesome! You still in high school, right? Senior this year?”


“That’s awesome. I remember my senior year. It was the shit.”

I grinned, totally glad that he remembered me and even more glad that he was being nice. I wanted to know all about how he was doing in college, what groups he had joined, the new friends he’d made, what he was majoring in, all that good stuff, but we were interrupted by the conductor who meerly tapped his stick on the stand and Jeremy hopped back to his seat.

“Hello everyone,” the conductor said, then smiled at me. “Glad you could make it,” he mouthed then addressed the orchestra. “Guys, this is Amy. She’s going to be playing with us this semester.”

Everyone looked at me and I could feel my face turning hot again.

It was an amazing practice. I didn’t know I was so good at sight-reading until that night. I played the songs really well and when I got lost, I just kept going, pretending like I knew what I was doing. And the Haydn song was amazing. It was called Miracle. The conductor even made a joke and said, “it’s called Miracle as in, it’ll be a miracle if we can perfect this song by the concert.” All in all, I liked the orchestra a lot, especially since I could stare at Jeremy the whole time.

After the practice I was packing up my instrument, watching all the people pass by me and listening to some of them murmur how much they were glad I was playing with them, when Jeremy approached.

“Heya,” he said, pushing the hair out of his eyes, again.

“Hi,” I said shyly, putting Jimmy the Viola in his case and closing him in.

“So things have been going okay lately, huh?” he asked as I stood.

“Yup, they’ve been pretty good,”I admitted, walking with him.

“That’s awesome. Keeping up practicing and all?”

I blushed. Maybe he did remember. “Yeah.”

“That’s cool.” He opened the door for me. “First chair this year?”

I smiled. “Definitely. I had the best private lessons teacher when I was a sophomore...”

He grinned back. “And what made me the best private lessons teacher?”

We were finally in darkness. I decided to fess up, especially since I wanted it again so badly. “Because,” I began, looking behind me to make sure no one was in hearing distance, “you spanked me.”

He stopped walking. “Really? You remember that?”

My face was now on fire and I was about to say, “gotta go” and run for my life, but he said something before I got the chance to.

“I remember it, too... Did you, er, like it?”

Okay, saying my face was on fire before he said that was a lie... now it was REALLY on fire.

When I didn’t answer him he said, “I did.”

“Oh my gosh,” I muttered, holding my head in my hands.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry...” he said, and I could tell he was blushing, too. “Sorry, Amy... I just... I... Ugh, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s not that. I did, I liked it... I...” I couldn’t think of what to say.

We both just stood there for a little while, I trying to steady my pulse and regulate my breathing, and he probably trying to do the same. “Okay...” he began. “Now that we’ve both been totally embarrassed and stuff, I’d like to, once again, apologize, for putting that so bluntly...”

I nodded. “It’s okay. If you hadn’t said anything, I’d have been too chicken... but now that we know that we both enjoy it... well... maybe...” I stopped, not knowing the right way to word this.

“Maybe we could do it again sometime?” he finished.

I smiled. “Yeah.”

“So what are you doing tonight?” We began walking again.

“Nothing, just going home I guess.”

He looked at his watch. “Well, it’s only nine... I have the feeling that you probably need a little reminder that you need to practice. The concert IS in a few weeks, you know, and you gotta have that stuff perfected by then...”

I quivered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about...” I said, implying that I did, yet I was being defiant.

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I think you do, Young Lady. Come on, we’re going to take a trip to my room.”

This scening was actually quite exciting and I allowed him to lead me across the campus to the dorm rooms. We got inside the large building and he was holding my hand, waving to the various people he knew, but keeping the grip tight on my hand to let me know that he meant business. My viola was still thrown across my shoulder, and he across his, and I wondered why the hell I hadn’t just put it in my car while we were outside.

We finally got to his dorm room and he closed the door and locked it. “Do you need to call your parents and let them know you’re going to be late?” he asked.

“Yeah, prolly so,” I answered, sitting my instrument down next to one of the small beds. He handed me the cordless phone and I hurridely dialed the number to my house. I explained to my mom that a friend from orchestra was helping me practice one of the songs and that I’d be late getting home, but I’d call her before I left.

I hung up the phone and watched him turn on the cd player and turn the volume up super loud. Lucky for me, it was one of my favorite bands. “Sorry,” he said over the loud music. “We wouldn’t want anyone to hear now would we?” He grinned that famous Jeremy grin and I couldn’t help but blush and smile back.

He plopped down on his bed and pulled me over to him. “Drop the pants, Young Lady,” he said.

I gulped. “But, Jeremy,” I began, trying to think of a good way to plead.

“Right now!”

I nodded and unbuttoned my black pants then slid them to the floor. He just sat there. “Panties, too,” he said.

I wasn’t prepared for this. Last time he hadn’t asked for my panties to be lowered; he had lowered them while I was across his lap.

“I mean it, Amy.”

I put my thumbs between the waistband of my panties and my stomach then tugged them down to my knees, exposing myself. I couldn’t help but blush more. Jeremy just grinned.

“Okay, kiddo, over my lap.” He guided me into position and I couldn’t help but hear the lyrics to the song... be a good girl like you’re supposed to. Ugh, I love that band so much.

I buried my face into the sheets of his bed. I could barely hear his scolding. “You need to practice so you’ll be a great viola player,” he was saying, hand rested on my bare bottom.

“Okay,” I mumbled.

He smacked my rear end sharply. “That’ll be ‘yes, sir’ to you, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, groaning.

His hand rested lightly on my bottom again. I took a deep breath in and felt his hand raise again and an instant later it was raining down on my backside. I couldn’t help but squirm lots and bite my lower lip to keep from yelping. I knew now why he had the music turned up so loudly.

He was scolding me but I couldn’t hear. I was trying to concentrate on hearing the sound of his hand meeting my flesh. And the music that was playing.

I could feel my face flushing, but morely, I could feel the redness of my bottom. With each smack it began to sting more and more until finally I couldn’t take it and I was kicking and gripping onto the sheets of his bed for dear life. And then, after the end of the third song we were listening to, a good ten minutes into the spanking, I began crying. That must have been some site to see... a senior in high school over the lap of a college guy who was spanking the daylights out of her until she was bawling like a baby.

It wasn’t long after I began crying that he stopped spanking and began rubbing my bottom. He was rubbing in little circles with one hand and stroking my hair with the other. It wasn’t until the forth song was over and the cd stopped playing that I could hear his soothing voice telling me that it was all over and it’d be okay.

“Shhhhhh, Amy, I’m finished. It’s all over, baby,” he said in this soothing voice.

I just nodded, still crying a little. His hands felt so nice rubbing the sting away. Er, geeze, it was great.

Finally, my crying stopped and he picked me up and hugged me tightly. “That was a lot of fun,” he whispered in my ear.

I blushed. “Yeah, it was,” I whispered back.

He reached down and pulled my panties back up then adjusted them, and finally pulled my pants up, too, giving me a slight pat on the rear. “We should do this some other time,” he offered.

I smiled. “Yes, we should.”

He stood up and grabbed my hand and my viola and walked me out to my car. I unlocked the door and he hugged me. “Think about me while you’re sitting on that hott rear,” he said then winked.

I giggled. “Don’t worry, I will.”

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