“Tavi, I think we should have a talk.”

“What?!” Octavia yelled without turning her head in Vinyl’s direction, her eyes darting about the little parking lot outside the tiny Tivat airport. “It seems there is no taxi this early in the morning!”

Wincing, Vinyl grabbed her cellist’s head and turned it forcefully towards her. “Tavi! Stop! Shouting! My ears! Are! Sensitive!”

Octavia blinked in awe, her jaw dropping a little. “Sorry,” she lowered her voice, shaking her head. “My hearing’s always a little low after a flight.” Not that I take the plane that often.

Vinyl blushed. “Um, sorry for, um, grabbing you.” Still. “I think you and I should have a talk.” We need to have this talk, and the sooner, the better.

Octavia resumed looking about the empty lot, searching hopelessly for a vehicle of any kind. “What talk? Can it wait?”

“About your father,” Vinyl pressed on gently, grabbing Octavia by the arm. “I’ve heard what you and Neon were saying… Tavi, that’s horrible. I think you want to talk about it.”

“And I think I should spank you for eavesdropping,” the cellist countered with a sly smile. “Your point?”

Despite the blush that was attempting to cover her whole face (and, to be precise, her whole body), Vinyl still managed to protest. “Tavi, this is no joking matter!”

Octavia nodded sagely. “Of course. Spanking is never a joking matter. Do you prefer hand or belt?” Satisfied with Vinyl’s little hyperventilating and the reddening of the spinner’s pretty face, the raven-haired woman smirked. “Both, I guess. But here’s a deal. We talk about it, then I spank you. How’s that sound?”

After a few minutes of Vinyl silently breathing and battling her blush, the spinner finally spoke “Here’s a better deal. We talk about… your father, and, um…” The spinner’s voice trailed off quietly.

“What was that, love?” Octavia focused her attention on the sexy spinner. It better include sexy times. Or else.

“We talk about your father, and then… We talk about mine.” Vinyl lowered her eyes. “How’s that for a deal.”

My God. Octavia suddenly felt awful. She… She just wants to talk. And she’ll feel more comfortable if I talk too. Jesus, I’m a horrible girlfriend. Angel Octavia nodded sternly: Also, you take God’s name in vain. Octavia glanced at the other shoulder. Devil Octavia seemed to be burying herself in copious amounts of post-flight rum.

“Sure thing, Vinyl.” Octavia nodded with a smile. “As soon as we get to- Oh, taxi!” Invigorated, Octavia trod towards the just-arrived yellow cab.

With a sigh, Vinyl followed, preparing herself for the uneasy talk.

“I didn’t know you spoke Montenegrian.”

Octavia chuckled as the two women descended a steep, narrow path. “There’s no Montenegrian. People here speak Serbian.” She smiled. “And I don’t speak Serbian. I spoke Russian with the driver.”

“You speak Russian?!” Vinyl exclaimed in amazement, almost tripping over a rock.

Octavia smirked. “I also speak German, French, Italian, and a little Chinese and Japanese.” Proudly, the woman tossed her long jet-black hair. “Languages just come to me naturally. You might say…” The cellist grinned. “I have quite a skilled tongue.” Angel Octavia cried at the terrible pun. Devil Octavia withdrew to her room with a bottle of rum in hand.

“I don’t speak any foreign languages,” Vinyl observed, admiring the scenery: the tall, looming mountains that shone black in the rays of the early morning sun, the quiet splashing of the sea somewhere up front, the chirping of faraway birds, the buzzing of hidden insects. The kind of unsilent silence she’d dreamt of. And this is not a dream, the spinner assured herself.

“I thought you spoke Italian.” Octavia took a turn right, onto another desolate narrow path.

Vinyl followed her promptly. “If I’m Italian, that doesn’t mean I speak the language,” she explained, a little sheepishly. “I’ve never even been to Italy. I think that maybe we could go there too?” she wondered, sharking her shoes after her girlfriend.

“Um.” Octavia seemed like she wanted to say something, but closed her mouth, proceeding in silence. Must have something to do with fear of flight, Vinyl assumed.

Finally, the two women came to a stop before a solitary villa, three-storeyed, with a tiny garden and a swimming pool on the roof, sunlight reflecting in the water gorgeously. There seemed to be no one around; not a single building, not a person in sight. Peace and quiet.

“Okay, Vinyl, I just need to tell you before I forget.” Octavia’s serious tone made Vinyl genuinely curious. “If we ever are in town - which I doubt - it’d be best if we didn’t…” The cellist sighed, shaking her head. “Well, if we didn’t show signs of affection. It’s an Orthodox country,” she explained. “The people here are mostly conservative villagers.”

Vinyl nodded slowly. “Sure thing, Tavi. Though, if this is where we are staying…” The spinner let a tiny smile on her face. “I doubt we’ll need to go to town.”

Octavia shut her eyes. Must. Not. Commit. Innuendo. “Yes, about that… I’d rather you didn’t, well… talk much in front of Francisc. You’ll know why.”

“Who’s that?” Vinyl raised her brow. The thought struck her. “Oh, the owner of the mansion.”

Octavia nodded. “The one and only. He is… peculiar.” With a sigh, Octavia pressed the bell button engraved into the simple chained fence.

Vinyl laughed. “Come on, it’s not like he dyes his hair blue.” Chuckling at her joke, she ran her hand through her own blue hair.

From the open steps connecting the second storey to the ground descended an elderly man, in a bordeaux robe, in dark blue slippers. Vinyl gasped in disbelief. Not only was his hair dyed blue - also his impressive moustache that he rubbed as he came up sleepily to the fence.

“Octavia, my dear!” the man exclaimed eagerly, all sleepiness forgotten as he threw open the gate, motioning the women in. With gusto, he embraced Octavia and immediately performed the same gesture upon Vinyl, who was too awestruck to even mumble a greeting.

“Hello, hello there, my dear!” The man exclaimed, walking hecticly about the garden. “You must be really tired from the trip, ah, here is the stunning maid I have heard so much about, Vinyl her name, is it?, I am so glad to see you both, I know we haven’t been talking much recently, but you know how it goes, work work work, but of course you must be terribly tired and where are my manners, oh but I guess you would be better off alone, after all you are a grown woman now, not the little girl I used to know who always fiddled with my violin, if you pardon this old dog his terrible pun, we were just off on our way, and no don’t ever apologise! we were just on our way back to old good Italy, to Milan, the latest fashion collection, oh yes! you have the villa fully to yourselves for two full months, more if you want, ah, but I remember you only took a fortnight off, Frederic must be insane with such a hiatus, but no, don’t bother telling me, you’ll tell me everything after your wonderful vacation, this new word I’ve picked up, ah, don’t bother, don’t bother, just come to the kitchen and get something to drink, you must be hungry? we still have a lot of food in the fridge after the little soiree, pardon this rotting immigrant his poor French, we won’t bother you at all, just come to the kitchen, we’ll be on our way at once, we’ll lock the fence so just off you go, eat, drink, and get some beauty sleep, ah, but youth does not need sleep you might say, well, I am no expert, but a few hours of good sleep are worth a fortune- FLEUR!” he roared on top of his voice. “Fleur, darling, would you pick up the purse? We don’t want to keep our guests waiting, do we?”

Vinyl made a motion of opening and closing her mouth a few times as her brain tried (poorly) to process the tidal wave of rapped-out information. Octavia chuckled. His wife, she mouthed to the stupefied spinner.

Down the steps came a gorgeous blonde, her silk dress light and by no means provocative; yet, her body was slightly visible beneath the cloth - which made Vinyl blush fiercely as her stubborn mind naked the aforementioned body and placed it next to a latex-clad Octavia. “Francisc, stop shouting!” she demanded angrily, her voice booming with authority. “You are scaring the guests.”

“Yes, dear.” The man hung his head low, like a puppy being scolded.

“Hello, Octavia,” Fleur greeted the cellist with a smile. “And you must be Vinyl.”

“Uh.” Vinyl nodded. You have very very nice boo-

“Francisc, why are you standing here?!” The woman snapped at her husband, holding in her hands a spacious purse. “Take your suitcase and leave! Can’t you see the poor girls need some privacy?!”

“Yes, dear.” The man hurried up the steps.

Fleur smiled again. “You two go on to the kitchen and start enjoying your holiday. We will be off in a minute,” she assured. “We’ll lock the fence door on our way out.”

Octavia grabbed Vinyl by the shoulder, and, with a dropped, “Good luck”, hurried the spinner into the kitchen, the entrance to which could be found a little way from the steps, on the first storey. “The first floor is occupied by the kitchen,” Octavia explained as she closed the door behind her, ushering Vinyl towards the large dining table. “The living quarters take up floors two and three and can be accessed from the kitchen or by the steps outside,” the cellist lectured in a guiding tone.

Vinyl nodded slowly, her head beginning to ache from the general weirdness and awkwardness of the situation. “You been here before?” she asked, immediately adding, “Boy, the host - I don’t mean to, um - but he’s… strange.”

“Peculiar,” Octavia corrected with a smile, proceeding to the fridge. Outside, the fence door clicked and the voices of the man and his wife (or, rather, the wife and her man) faded away. “I’ve been here many times. Francisc is a good friend of my father. I used to go here on summers on my father’s yacht.”

“On a… yacht?” Vinyl blinked, trying to estimate the distance.

“I grew up in Italy,” Octavia explained. “It’s not that far.” Fishing out a bottle of ice cold water, she sighed. “Francisc is pretty much the only friend of Father’s that… that I still talk to. Sometimes. Usually after a drink or two.” She laughed. “As I’ve said, he’s… peculiar.”

“So I see.” Vinyl nodded, taking up the water gratefully and getting a gulp. “Octavia. Your father.”

The raven-haired woman sighed, rubbing her forehead as she sat next to her spinner. “Okay. Okay. Just… If we’re going to have this talk, I need some whisky.”

Vinyl scrunched her nose, but nodded nonetheless. If Tavi needs it… Then let her have her booze.

Vinyl sighed, closing her eyes as she heard the cellist open the wine cabinet. And then we’ll finally have this talk.

Next Chapter: 2. The Talk Estimated time remaining: 3 Hours, 36 Minutes