Piano Lessons - How It Began - Sex Stories

Piano Lessons - How It Began

... own ways. Though we were never the Cleavers. By the time we are in the car to go to school and work, they're giggling and talking about the school dance in a few weeks. It doesn't take much for them to forget silly arguments. Once they're dropped off, I exhale, taking a moment of silence before getting into work. I even shut off the radio, listening to the sound of the tires hitting the pavement and the occasional car zoom by. My job is far from glamorous as one would think, I'm the receptionist at a radio station, but it pays well enough. The people I work with are also great. It's a rather small station, we have about twenty employees at any given time, not including the boss and manager. Meaning, everyone knows everyone, and their business. Thankfully, there isn't any drama or catty work relationships. “Good morning, Genevieve,” Marcus greets me, as we meet up at the entrance door. “How are you doing this fine morning?” Marcus is three years older than my forty two, though he looks a lot older, due to being a heavy smoker. “I'm wonderful. It's Friday, how can I not be? I get to make cupcakes this afternoon, I have a lesson and then catch up on my Dvr stuff, and the kids are going out for the evening. How are you?” I've been working at the station for a little over eleven years now. Once both the kids were in school full-time, I thought it best to have a job. Christopher wasn't exactly pleased about that, he wanted a little house wife. But it looks like I made the right ...

... choice in finding a job and having that savings account that I didn't inform him of. My mother always said, better safe than sorry. If she were still around, she would have said “I told you so.” Which makes me smile every time I think of that memory. “I'm just fine, Miss. I'm looking forward to my weekend. I'm going to visit my daughter and her newborn. She gave birth last night. I can't believe I'm a grandfather. I'm too young for this,” his laughter that follows, says otherwise. “Weren't you like sixteen yourself when you had your first kid, Marcus?” I jab him with my elbow playfully. “Sure as hell don't feel like it's been that long ago. Ah, to be sixteen again. I don't think I'd change a thing. I love my kids more than life itself.” The pride on his words, the way he says it makes me think of my ex husband, wishing he felt the same. “You're a great dad, Marcus. Make sure you take lots of photos of your grandchild. I can't wait to see her. Babies are fun, but a lot of work. As I'm sure you recall.” “Sure can. Don't worry, lots of photos will be taken. I'll see you at break,” he waves me off, as he heads towards the back of the building. I put my lunch in the staff room, making small talk with my other co-workers. I pour myself a cup of coffee and head to my desk, writing on a sticky note, 'cupcake stuff'. Most days work can drag for me, not doing a whole lot. I'm often chatting with others who are not doing that much either, when you're not actually the host of a radio show, ...