Dana stayed late at work, hoping to hear from Jennifer again, but learned that she had gone home to her aunt. She sighed and left for her apartment, entering the darkness alone as usual.
She didn’t want to need a man or anyone. Music was everything to her, and it made her feel anxious enough.
How would bringing someone into my mess help the situation?
Dana decided to channel her anxiety by practicing for her audition that night. She kept her cello in the corner of the living room, hidden from guests and even from herself. Looking at it made her nervous but exhilarated at the same time.
She often felt an intimacy with the instrument that sometimes felt like she was having an affair. She spoke about her music and her education often, but she rarely spoke about her cello.
She felt guilty when she left it alone without touching it for a day or two. But when she did, her fingers stroked the cord with a passion no human had ever inspired in her.
That was until Rux had popped into her life.
Dana thought about him as she sat on her stool in the corner. She had the window open to listen to the rainfall on the metal roof. She loved the natural scent of the night. It was where she thrived. It was always rich and bursting with stimulation.
She began playing with the image of Rux in her mind, that tight sweater around his arms, his torso, and his powerful neck. She closed her eyes and bit her lip as her fingers moved faster, feverishly, imagining her teeth sinking into that neck, his hands on her waist, and taking her fully and deeply.
Dana played into the night, blending her passion for her cello with her newfound appetite for the strange man from the yacht. It didn’t seem completely appropriate, but that was what drove her to touch, strike, play, and own every inch of that instrument that evening.