She pretended to look away while pointing to it with her left hand. Her hand came so close that I couldn't resist grabbing it and pushing it in my fly. She got up. quickly, looking pale and frightened. By this time my prick² was out of my fly and quivering with delight. I closed in on her and I reached up under her dress to get at that hand-woven rug I had seen through the keyhole. Suddenly I got a sound box on the ears, and then another and she took me by the ear and leading me to a comer of the room she turned my face to the wall and said, "Now button up your fly, you silly boy!" We went back to the piano in a few moments - back to Czemy and the velocity³ exercises. I couldn't see a sharp from a flat any more, but I continued to play because I was afraid she might tell my mother about the incident. Fortunately it was not an easy thing to tell one's mother. The incident, embarrassing as it was, marked a decided⁵ change in our relations. I thought that the next time she came she would be severe with me, but on the contrary; she seemed to have dolled herself up, to have sprinkled more perfume over herself, and she was even a bit gay, which was unusual for Lola because she was a morose⁶, withdrawn⁷ type. I didn't dare to open my fly again, but I would get an erection and hold it throughout the lesson, which she must have enjoyed because she was always stealing sidelong glances in that direction. I was only fifteen at the time, and she was easily twenty-five or twenty-eight. It was difficult for me to know what to do, unless it was to deliberately⁸ knock her down one day while my mother was out. For a time I actually shadowed her at night, when she went out alone. She had a habit of going out for long walks alone in the evening. I used to dog her steps, hoping she would get to some deserted⁹ spot near the cemetery¹⁰ where I might try some rough tactics. I had a feeling sometimes that she knew I was following her and that she enjoyed it. I think she was waiting for me to

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