Vinyl Scratch woke up to the sound of Octavia snoozing in her armpit, beautifully naked, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, her mouth slightly open, her nose wheezing a tiny half-snore. Happy and content to be by her lover’s side (Lover!), all shame gone, feeling so tranquil, so at ease, lacking embarrassment, feeling so natural, the spinner connected her lips with Octavia’s, waking up the cellist by a gentle, breezy kiss.

Octavia murmured something in her wake, grasping with her lips at Vinyl’s tongue sleepily. The cellist opened her eyes slowly, the image of her naked lover materialising before her: the best sight to wake up to. Waking up, the woman rolled over, the spinner now beneath her, and proceeded with the kiss, delighted by such a wonderful opening to the morning.

Breaking the kiss, the two musicians just lay next to each other, naked and content, smiling at the ceiling. “Tavi,” Vinyl broke the silence finally, her fingers toying idly with Octavia’s long, dishevelled hair.

“Mhm?” Octavia purred back, cosing up next to her spinner.

“I… You, um.” Vinyl blushed slightly, trying to fight insecurity. “Yesterday, I mean. You, uh, you didn’t…” God, that’s awkward...

“I didn’t..? Oh!” The cellist understood. “That’s all right,” Octavia assured her DJ immediately. “I was just so focused on you.” The cellist tickled Vinyl’s breast. Mmm, it feels so good to finally be able to touch these boobs whenever I want. “There are still many-many orgasms for us in the future.” Octavia kissed Vinyl’s shoulder.

“I. I, um.” Vinyl shut her eyes and counted to ten, taking a deep breath. Come on already! She deserves it, and you know it! “I, uh, I want t-to… Um, that is…” Vinyl’s face flushed crimson. Octavia found herself amused by the cuteness to no end. “I want to return the favour!” the spinner blurted out, finally, hoping that the wording she had chosen would relay the message to her cellist.

Octavia blinked in decent surprise. Vinyl’s getting much bolder, she noted with satisfaction. And not losing her cute side in the slightest. “Well, my dear Vinyl…” Octavia shifted out of the bed, a devious idea in her mind. So glad I have taken you with me~ “Instead of you just returning the favour…” She searched through her package, taking out socks and underwear, much to Vinyl’s interest. A-ha! “I suggest you familiarise yourself with Sir Morning Glory.”

Vinyl blinked dumbly, staring at her girlfriend with equal parts of dismay and awe in her eyes. “It’s… Um.” She blinked again, snapping out of her self-induced sleepy morning trance. “It’s- You… You named your dildo.”

Octavia nodded, beaming. “He has been my faithful companion for years, and now I am ready to share him with you!”

Vinyl managed a smile. “Um, I, uh, I am really honoured…” Now this is awkward. “But… I mean. It’s purple,” she said, not knowing what else to say. Racist! Devil Vinyl claimed. Angel Vinyl silently took out a familiar stick in a weird reversal of roles.

“Isn’t it?” Octavia approached Vinyl, holding the purple toy in her hands. “Trust me, Vinyl,” she lowered her voice sensually. “It’ll only hurt for a moment, but then I’ll make sure that we both feel so good…” Vinyl gulped. “Come on, love,” Octavia begged. “You have to lose your virginity at one point or another… It’ll allow us to do so many things…” she sultred. “Besides, we’ll both be able to get our pleasure at the same time…”

Vinyl shut her eyes for a moment, gathering her courage, bracing herself. “I love you, Tavi,” she said finally, a smile appearing on her face, her fear evaporating as she took in the sight of the woman who loved her, the woman with whom she wanted to spend her life. The woman who would never hurt her. The woman she could trust. “And I trust you. Let’s do this.” The DJ smiled shyly, casting her glance about the room. It felt good to be here, undisturbed, sharing the pleasant segregation from the world with The One for you… “One thing.” Vinyl raised her finger, frowning. “I can’t make love to you while he’s watching…” The spinner pointed at Mister Tummers who was sitting on the bed, between the two pillows.

Octavia laughed. “Come on, Vinyl! He didn’t concern you yesterday~” Seeing Vinyl cross her arms, the cellist sighed. “All right. Mister Tummers will look away. Right, Mister Tummers?” She turned towards the bear, who did not show any sign of recognition whatsoever.

“Tavi,” Vinyl urged softly, but sternly. “I think Mister Tummers wants to leave.”

Octavia huffed. “No, he doesn’t.”

Vinyl narrowed her eyes. “Yes, he does.”

For a moment, the women held their gazes. Then, both broke into laughter. “Okay, okay,” Octavia agreed, putting Sir Morning Glory the dildo on the bed and taking Mister Tummers away to put him in a drawer. “Sorry, Mister Tummers,” she whispered to the serene bear. “I’ll tell you how good it was later,” she promised, closing the drawer away. “Now.” She turned back to Vinyl, who was already trembling in excitement and anticipation. “Let’s get to bed and have those ten seconds of ecstasy~”

“TAVI!”

Neon put down his mobile phone with a sigh. The angry sky menaced with something like rain, and the clock boasted two. The man flicked open the pack of cigarettes, only to find out he was short of any. The walls of the room shimmered a dusty grey, reflecting the meagre light cutting through the window. Neon glanced at the phone once more.

Madeline came in, humming, tiptoeing all about. Neon took a good look at her. Was this the woman he’d proposed to? The woman he was ready to tie himself to? The woman to whom he was ready to pledge allegiance? No! How? This can’t be true. See, here, this was, what?, despair? desperation? He needed someone to cling to, he was afraid of losing Vinyl, and needed a safe haven, a stepping stone. Isn’t it? Run, run while it’s not too late!

The woman leant in to peck his smoke-stained lips. Had he expected her to refuse? Was it - the joke goes - “I really thought she’d refuse, Ben!” - she didn’t. She didn’t. Oh, by God, what a mistake he’d made, a simple, silly bride’s mistake! And it can’t, won’t, can’t, cannot be rectified.

The man returned the gesture. He’s like that book, right here: where is the Jeeves to his Wooster, to free him, to show him the right way, to deliver him, to bring him back his bachelor’s freedom? Away, by the sea, with the woman who’s snapped her away from him! The woman his Jeeves was in love with… That’s not just breach of trust. That’s breach of love.

“What are you reading?” Madeline wondered, scuffing over the paperback Neon’d been reading. It’s always paperbacks, see; there’s only so many hardcovers, and soon even first editions will be paperback only; perhaps, perhaps. There’ll still be all those anniversary editions and what-not; perhaps, perhaps. With the e-reading and book production moving to China, Latvia, etc etc: what hope there is for literature?

“Aww, Winnie-the-Pooh!” The woman exclaimed, hugging her man. “That’s so sweet!”

Neon hugged back emotionlessly. “Sometimes, when the world is too dark, children’s literature can be of some solace.” And- Great. Now I’m speaking like an eloquent fucktard. Is that even a word?

“What’s wrong, honey?” she enquired. Casting a brief glance at the phone, she came to a conclusion: “Vinyl? Is she out of reach?”

“I don’t know where she is,” Neon explained. “Octavia snarked at me, saying she’d be taking Vinyl somewhere… on vacation, I guess?” Up he went and sharked his feet about. “I don’t remember the exact wording of hers.”

“But you said it yourself,” she soothed, “that Vinyl’s fine and safe with her.”

Neon nodded, casting a solemn look at the empty pack of cigarettes. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised. “I need to buy cigarettes.”

She tsked at his habit but nodded with reluctance. “And when you return, we’ll be looking for a venue for our wedding,” she concluded with warmness.

“Sure thing, honey.” Neon kissed the woman dryly and went out slowly, his light coat tugging at him fiercely. Distantly, he heard the sea roaring. What is it? What was it again? What are you whispering to me with your conch shells? Usurper. That’s right, from what? The Telemachiad, he called it, in a skilful attempt at word-sorcery? Usurper. Sounds about right. Was he the Telemach, then? Ha. No, no.

In stylish rags and money to blow, and freedom to give away - for marriage, et alias, he was as far from Telemach, as from Daedalus, as possible. What he was is Scaramouche. Neon smirked. He smirked. And smirked again, directing his feet to the Temple.

Time to do the fandango.

“I have to admit,” Octavia said, stretching in bed, her body sore to no extent. “I did not expect that.” Vinyl smiled bashfully, averting her eyes as she lay next to her sweaty lover. “I mean… Wow. Just wow.” Vinyl shrugged shyly. “You totally compensate your fast-coming with such… endurance.”

Vinyl averted her eyes, her body heating up in the wake of being praised by her more experienced girlfriend. “I… I guess I’m just pretty tired,” she mumbled, feeling the warmth of her cellist, the sound of her breathing, her intoxicating smell, all evoke deep passion, unspeakable boldness, erotic determination within her.

“Tired?!” Octavia exclaimed, trying to catch her breath. “Vinyl, you made me come four times! In rapid succession!” The cellist rolled to the side, locking her eyes with the DJ’s. “You are not only the most beautiful, most passionate, cutest, all-around best woman I’ve ever met…” The cellist nuzzled in at the spinner’s neck. “You are a sex machine! Who would ever have thought?” she said, more to herself, in deep awe of her lover.

“Um,” Vinyl replied, unsure what to say, Octavia’s praise turning her on more than any porn flick.

“You,” Octavia said, pointing her finger at the DJ’s chest, “are the only person in the world I’ll ever have sex with, ever again.” With a sigh, she admitted, “I’ll even give up my dream of a threesome.” Vinyl mumbled something incoherent. “What was that, love?” she wondered, nibbling at Vinyl’s ear playfully.

Devil Vinyl kept tugging at Vinyl’s shoulder: Come on come on come on! Impress her! The spinner glanced at the other shoulder. Angel Vinyl shrugged. Impress her… gently? she suggested. “Um, maybe, um, that is…” Vinyl took a breath, counting to six. “Maybe you needn’t give up on that dream, Tavi,” she blurted out in one go, breathing heavily and blushing her way into oblivion.

Octavia’s mouth fell agape. “What.”

“I mean, um, since we’re not, uh, married or anything, and, um, if there was, erm, a decent girl…” Vinyl began uncertainly. “I mean, that is, we’re still dating, and we love each other, but, um, since it’s your dream and all…”

Octavia’s eye twitched. “Vinyl Scratch,” she said seriously. “You don’t stop surprising me.” The woman smiled. “I like it so much.”

Without further words, Vinyl rolled herself on top of the raven-haired woman, locking their lips in a kiss, unleashing years of sexual deprivation upon her lover. Breaking the kiss for a moment, she smiled goofily. “And it seems I’m no longer tired.”

What’s that? Bottle number one, glass number four. Is it?

Neon winced at heat as he drank the brandy, the thick smoke collecting inside the room. Regulations, psh. I can smoke in my own office. Fuck the ban, I’ll pay the fine. Fire me, Dad. Go ahead and try. It’s my office now, and I’ll hold it. Just for this one day.

With a sense of delight and urgency, he took off the clock with his bandaged hand - it cried with six already - and smashed it against the wall pleasantly. There was a knock. He didn’t answer. The door was locked.

Another glass, another cigarette. Just like that. Neon stood up, gazing at the chair beneath him. Here, I have sat in the Chair of Kings. Here, I drank my wine. Here, my being on top. Wordlessly, he took up the chair and smashed, smashed, smashed it repeatedly against the table, taking pleasure in the dents it left in the redwood, shielding his eyes against the wooden debris. There. All better now. This composition is somewhat simplified, don’t you think, Dad? It lacks percussion. Here, let me give it percussion.

Slam goes the paper stand. Ah, that’s the kick drum, Dad, it gets better. Bang bang bang the pens against the wall. The drumsticks are toyious, Dad, see; a good drummer knows how to use them now. Now. Another glass, another cigarette.

Wham! with effort - goes the shelf. Oh, Dad, sorry, that’s your records there, right? Riiiight. Didn’t see those. Here. Lemme fix them. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. All better now. See how I improved your office? Now, now aren’t you just so damn proud of me? Another glass, another cigarette. Where did the bottle go so fast?

Shaking, Neon approached the still-shattered remains of the photograph. “There you go, Dad,” he said lowly. “We’re quits.” He struggled towards the desk and put up the phone. Surprisingly, it still worked. “Send in the cleaners,” he barked. “Yes, in the office. Yes, fuck it, it’s my goddamn office, send in the fucking cleaners. No, not now, you idiots. In an hour. I need to make a call.”

With a deep sense of achievement, he looked over the mess. Feels a little something like Apocalypse, Dad, isn’t it? Heh. You liked it most. Finally, he took up the phone again and dialed the familiar number.

“Freddie?” He smiled. “Remember when you said you wanted a recording label of your own?”

And lit goes the final cigarette. “Well, rejoice. It’s yours.”

Next Chapter: 5. The Plan Estimated time remaining: 3 Hours, 6 Minutes