the music teacher

she had him all jumbled up, in the head that is. as he stretched out on his bed, the thoughts about the pretty girl made him smile. she was the prettiest girl in a class of 50 boys and girls, who came to learn music from him. this particular girl always came a few minutes early, always chose a quiet corner, talked little, listened well and practised hard. oh! how he totally aproved of her. when he did his rounds, he was always mesmerised by her delicate and dainty fingers,those nicely painted nails, the whiff of the heady perfume she wore, the truant lock of hair held back by a small hairpin, her lovely smile, those lovely cheeks...

gosh! he could almost visualise the whole of her - sitting in his class with her guitar and practising the lessons without a care in the world. he could visualise her exquisite fingers and painted nails flying on the strings in a wild jerky motion only she was capable of. he laughed out loud at this thought. he'd never understand how someone could be so crude and so out of rhythm. her music caused much pain to his trained and tuned ears, and it was beyond him to set her right. he would have to ask her to leave, he sighed. after all, he had a reputation to protect.

* Weekend Wordsmith prompt93: jumbled