Octavia stared at the paper, hoping that, maybe, after an hour of silent contemplation, the sheet music would open up a whole new world of experience and sacred knowledge to the young cellist. Unfortunately, it did not seem to have such an intention, just lying there on the table silently, staring back at the dumbfounded musician.

Octavia got up with a sigh, stretching her arms and jumping in place. Not even Monk's records had helped her understand the concept of playing what was 'not there' - a concept so bizarre that it still eluded her. The cellist walked towards the table, picking up her tea. At least, she thought, sipping the barely-warm liquid, Straight, No Chaser had been good for relaxing, the previous evening. Yesterday...

Octavia blushed slightly as she made her way back to the chair, looking at the stately notes once more. For now, her mind was content on assuming that both Vinyl and she were adults (even though Vinyl seemed a little younger than her) and could act as if nothing had happened. She had just seen Vinyl... pleasuring herself. And went home afterwards. And took a bath, listening to some jazz in order to understand what her new employer wanted of her. And masturbated while thinking of her. Octavia sighed, closing her eyes. Yes, that too. After all, she thought, it was perfectly natural. So what if I don't know her closely? She had found herself more than once masturbating to the thought of random people she'd seen on the street. Nothing wrong with that. Not to mention that she hadn't had sex for quite a while, ever since she and Freddie decided to remain mere friends. Thanks God we still have quickies sometimes. Though, those quickies had greatly reduced recently, with both the pianist and the cellist realising they felt way more comfortable as friends without benefits. And, Octavia observed, groaning at the notes, it seemed that they no longer would have sex. Thanks God we had quickies, she corrected her initial statement. Frederic had his own life, and she had her own life. But, with Vinyl...

Octavia stood up once more, pacing the room. No such thoughts. The cellist shook her head, her hand ruffling her already tangled hair. Think think think. The clock struck two. Music thoughts. It was five hours till she had to hand in the work, and she had done... Absolutely nothing. Unless listening to the records counted, of course.

The woman sighed, shoving away a wine bottle laying on the floor, having been consumed by the crafty cellist as soon as the clock showed ten-thirty, a time at which her conscience allowed her to indulge in alcohol. And yet, it seemed that the situation demanded a harder drink. For a moment, Octavia just stood in the middle of the slightly-littered room, pondering as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. A little devil Octavia on her shoulder pushed her cheek with a trident and swished her tail. "It's two in the afternoon, for fuck's sake. Have a whisky," the little devil whispered in Octavia' ear. The cellist nodded and looked at the other shoulder. The angel Octavia nodded with a shrug. "Just don't get totally wasted before you go to see Vinyl," the little angel asked. Once more, Octavia nodded and departed with haste towards the wine cabinet that rested by the wall, easily accessible, weekly refilled, and daily emptied - a fine wooden cabinet with expensive glass showing off the contents that Octavia was incredibly proud of.

Her utmost pride, a bottle of sixteen YO Jura, Diurach's Own, a beautiful bottle, a masterful work of art, with amber liquid swishing playfully and yet stately, occupying way less than half of the bottle, took the central place in the cabinet. Can't really get drunk on so little whisky, Octavia observed calmly as she extracted the precious bottle and a couple of glasses. Humming, Whisky, whisky, the magical drink, the cellist guided her feet towards the kitchen, the sink calling out for her longingly. With a frown, the woman picked up an empty bag that had once hosted delicious crisps, the entirety of which had been consumed by the cellist the previous evening after her... heated jazz-fuelled bathroom activities.

The raven-haired woman flushed just a little as she placed the empty bag in the dustbin and started washing the glasses. The salty scent of morning's scrambled eggs was still floating in the air, mixing with the blend of curry-and-pepper prepared for the chicken Octavia had decided to roast for dinner. The fresh fruit on the table emitted a pre-stale odour, the kind of smell that told the cellist to consume them as soon as possible before they went bad. After dinner. Why don't we have best-befores plastered on fruit? Octavia wondered to herself. Immediately, however, her brain jumped onto a new thought.

Why was the cute DJ so unbearably hot? Those breasts, Octavia thought, turning off the tap. That cute blush when she rubbed her little pussy. The woman felt heat once more crawl into her nethers, unwanted and yet not entirely unwelcome.

Entering the overly-spacious living room, Octavia sighed at the wine bottle still rolling on the floor. God, I so don't want to pick it up... With another sigh and carefully averted eyes, the cellist pushed at the bottle with her toe, rolling it under the bed successfully. Done and done. With that, the cellist put the glasses and the bottle on the table, proceeding to her tiny sleeping corner. With a smile, she picked up an old, worn Paddington bear, with eyes replaced by two dull buttons, a red and a purple one. "Come on, Mister Tummers, it's time for a drink." Octavia picked up the plush toy and kissed it on the nose lovingly before taking her life-long companion to the living room. She aged, and Mister Tummers aged with her; in her childhood he used to be her tea-drinking partner; when she was a teenager, he was the one with whom she shared her deepest crushes and secrets; and now that she was an adult, Mister Tummers was her faithful drinking buddy. After all, he was of age too.

Taking her seat in a green armchair, the cellist sat the bear opposite her, pouring a little whisky to him and half a glass to her. "You don't want too much, Mister Tummers," the cellist said in a lecturing tone. "You know you have liver issues." The bear stared at her with his button-sewn eyes. "And don't look at me like that. No means no." Octavia downed half of her glass, wincing as the amber liquid hit her belly with pleasant warmth. And, immediately, the burn in her throat followed. An experienced drinker, Octavia immediately drank what was left of the whisky to soothe her burning throat.

The cellist sighed and leant back, her hands on her knees as she waited for the alcohol to hit her head and give her an edge of inspiration. "What should I do with the music, Mister Tummers?" she wondered, looking at the Paddington. The bear offered no reply. "I don't even know if I should come, after I saw her... going at it." The cellist blushed slightly as the whisky finally hit her mind with a sledgehammer, making her head light and empty. "Maybe she won't even want to see me after that." The images of Vinyl moaning, rubbing her pussy, her eyes closed in bliss, her cheeks red, her nipples peeking through the shirt, made their way into Octavia's head, which soon spun into a daze. "Maybe she will..." Octavia's finger nibbled at her pants, as if in hesitation. "Maybe she'll.... She'll want me to come. And... make me..." Octavia moaned, sliding her fingers into her longing pussy. "Cuuuum~" Suddenly, her eyes shot wide open as she realised exactly what she was doing and where she was doing it. The cellist stared at the plush that stared intently back. Her cheeks flushed a little. "Mister Tummers, you are a pervert." With a sigh, Octavia withdrew her adventurous hand. How could she not get aroused at the thought of the shy - most possibly virgin - DJ, and her jiggly breasts, and her fine-looking ass, and... "Maybe we can become friends with benefits," Octavia observed aloud. But, to do that, an inner, reasonable Octavia told her, First, we need to become just friends. The cellist filled her glass again, watching the clock show half two. Vinyl was so pretty, and so unbearably cute... And I want her. No matter how many partners Octavia had had in her life, she was absolutely sure that, so far, Vinyl was the sexiest woman she'd ever laid eyes upon. Yes, as if a shy virgin like her will let me seduce her. Octavia downed the glass, wincing painfully, and looked sternly at the bear, who had no intention of moving.

For now, she had to make sure she hadn't lost the job. For now, she had to work on the music and present it to Vinyl in the evening. For now, there was no hope for incoming sex with the cute DJ. For now, unfortunately, it was just her and her hands. With a sigh, Octavia got up, staggering a little and downed whatever Mister Tummers had in his glass. "Mister Tummers, wait for me here. I'll go take a bath."

With that, the cellist took her leave, staggering into the bathroom, her legs already just a tiny bit disobedient in the wake of the consumed whisky. For a moment, she considered putting on one of the records - surprisingly enough, bebop was extraordinarily pleasant to masturbate to - but resolved against it. After all, she thought, turning on the tap and letting the slightly hot water rush freely into the finely-plugged bath with steel handles, she could come to an idea regarding the music Vinyl had given her; and, for that, she needed silence. To be truly original, you have to abstract from any foreign sound while composing music, Octavia repeated in her mind the words of the famous Immanuel Staccato, the ingenious cellist and the genius composer, her idol for many years. There is nothing worse for a composer than being eclectic. The cellist slipped out of her shirt and pants, looking at her naked body in the mirror. She wasn't Vinyl, true, but... I could interest her. She's obviously into women, so...

Not bothering to close the door (It's not like Mister Tummers will peek in), Octavia sat in the half-full bathtub slowly, exhaling in relief as warm water enveloped the lower half of her body, swishing around her legs as the tap spat out more and more. Soon, the water was covering her breasts already, and, before it got to the neck, Octavia turned off the tap. For a few minutes, she just lay there, relaxing, bathing in pleasure, and trying to concentrate on the music. However, no music-related thoughts wanted to enter her whisky-hazed mind, which instead decided to focus on the sexy blue-haired woman. I should've stayed for tea, Octavia thought idly as she squeezed her left breast with her right hand, while her left one made its way all the way down to her inner folds. Rubbing her nipple, pinching it slightly, Octavia moaned out as she thought about Vinyl rubbing herself with vigour, on that slightly-stained sofa, her beautiful breasts alluring and mesmerising. The cellist's fingers were already inside her pussy, pressing in, rubbing her sensitive spots, penetrating what ached so much to be penetrated with Vinyl's tongue instead. Mmm, I need her between my legs so much~ Octavia's mind supplied eagerly a vivid image of Vinyl, blushing, on her knees before her, as she, Octavia, patted her head and ruffled that beautiful spiky hair, and pressed the DJ's head into her longing pussy, making her lick her, and lick, and lick, and kiss her, and nibble on her clit... Octavia cried out a muffled yell as she felt deep pleasure awaken within her. Her right hand kept caressing her nipples, squishing her breasts with force.

My breasts are still nice, Octavia thought off-handedly, with a hint of self-hurt pride. Contrary to the current object of her sexual fantasies, her breast was flat, but it wasn't all about the size. Though, size does matter. Somewhat. She just had to make up for what was not there with-

Octavia's eyes snapped open. For a few moments, she just lay in silence, the gears in her mind greasing up with creative juices and rolling, rolling, rolling. Make up for what's not there with... Of course! The cellist smiled and withdrew her hand.

She knew exactly just what to do with the music.

"She saaaaa-oh-oh-oooooow meeeee!" Vinyl wailed in Neon's arms, cowering on the floor of her agent's office, the carpet thick and unpleasant against her elbows as her shocked brother held her with uncertainty in his eyes, unshielded by the lucky shades, stroking the woman's shoulders gently."She ssaaaaaaw meeee!"

Neon pressed his lips against his sister's hair, his skin touching the woman's scalp beneath it, his eyes closed as he tried to cure whatever issue Vinyl had with a simple show of affection. The clock kept ticking towards three, with the busy hum of the street breaking through into the skyscraper, mixing in with the noise of the building itself: the tapping of hundreds of shoes going for a late lunch break, the white noise of the adjacent recording rooms, the vocals, the guitars, the horns, the drums breaking through the not-so-soundproof soundproof walls of the studio, the constant swishing of papers in the law firm and the orgasmic glee of office workers who finally unbuttoned their dirty, sweat-drenched white collars. "Sis," Neon said finally, lifting the crying DJ by the chin. "You've been crying for half an hour already, but I don't know what's going on." He chewed on his lip, offering a weak supportive smile. "I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong."

"She saw me!" Vinyl replied immediately, sniffing and pressing closer into the man's chest. "She ssaaaww meeee!"

Before his little sister could break into hysteria once more, Neon asked a preventive, "Who saw you, Vinyl?"

"Octavia saw me!" Vinyl closed her eyes, shapes dancing before her eyelids. "She saw me!" Once more, Vinyl cried out, tears streaming  down her cheeks in sheer humiliation - not only because of the situation itself, but because she was telling Neon about it. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Vinyl chided herself madly as she cried on and on into Neon's shirt.

"Yes." Neon nodded slowly, his fingers running up and down Vinyl's back comfortingly. "She saw you. Yesterday. When you met." The man fell silent, prompting his sister to elaborate.

"She saw me..." Vinyl sniffed, averted her eyes with a terrible flush. "...Walking my kitten." God, this is so, so awkward... Vinyl shut her eyes painfully, hoping vainly that the ground beneath her feet would open up and swallow her whole.

"What?" Neon blinked, his mind trying to get a grip on the phrasing, his eyebrow lifted, his eyes lost in lack of understanding.

Vinyl flushed even deeper, her neck turning a fine shade of red. "You know... um, scratching my record." Dammit, Nini! Won't you get it already?

"Um..." Neon smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head, his whole face feigning blissful ignorance.

"She saw me masturbating, okay?!" Vinyl jerked up in an attempt to stand, her face matching her eye colour perfectly, but was held in place firmly by her brother, who only gave her a tighter embrace, his arms entwined behind the DJ's back tenderly.

"So..." Neon grinned, unable to miss such a perfect opportunity. "Did she like what she saw?"

Vinyl's fist collided with the man's cheek at once, fires of indignation dancing in the DJ's eyes as she freed herself from her brother's grasp and stood up, her toes facing the door, ready to storm out.

"Sis, wait!" Neon called out, still sitting on the floor, his hands on his knees as he rocked back and forth, trying to contain laughter that was burning inside his stomach already. "I was just kidding!" He smiled at the DJ's fury. "Hey, at least you're not crying any more."

For a few moments, Vinyl considered delivering another punch, but sighed in defeat upon seeing Neon's goofy smile, the smile she'd grown used to over the years. "She arrived. We talked a little," the spinner said finally, proceeding to Neon's chair, in which she took a certain solace as she sat and watched her brother from above. "I showed her the music and gave her some listening material, as usual. And then..." Vinyl's cheeks turned pink as she looked out of the window, the city highline zooming in on her dangerously. "Well, she left, and I... I decided to blow off some steam. And then she returned to get her bow and, well..." Vinyl whimpered something under her breath and kept looking away, unsure whether she'd ever be able to look into people's eyes again.

The hum of the street grew restless, moaning like a tidal wave, like a beast of the sea, crushing the masts of sleepy lampposts and eating up the roar of engines; the people, an avid crowd, marched like an army to and fro, commanding the shaking asphalt; the cars blared and the voices yelled, and even the whispers reached Vinyl's ears in their ill-preserved glory. Such a perfect hearing was her plight, forever.

"Why didn't you lock the door?" Neon wondered finally, making no motion to get up, just analysing the situation in silence. "It... It almost looked like you wanted to be caught."

Vinyl glared at her brother immediately, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Nini, you're walking the fault line. Don't. I just forgot to lock the door, is all." Or, maybe... I really wanted her to... see... The DJ shook her head, getting up from the chair, and looked at the table, not to meet Neon's gaze. It was still littered with papers, as always: cheques and newspapers, drafts and signed contracts, and insider information, and everything Neon could ever need, running the label, which was hers only... Well, only on paper. "What do I do, Nini?" Vinyl wondered with a given-up finality. "I... I have to meet her tonight, at seven." With a sudden touch of fear, Vinyl gulped. "Will she even come?"

"Listen, Vinyl." Neon got up, brushing off his new twopiece suit as he checked his ridiculous green chequered tie. "She will come. And you will meet you. And you will have a recording session." Neon smiled encouragingly. "Because you are both musicians, and you are both adults. Just pretend nothing ever happened, and I'm sure so will Octavia."

"Adults," Vinyl mumbled, inspecting the toes of her trainers. "I'm not sure I want to be an adult, Nini. Hell, I'm not sure I am an adult." Vinyl paused. "I'm not sure Octavia won't act... childishly."

"Vinyl." Neon placed his heavy hand on his little sister's shoulder. "She's twenty-six. I'm sure she's a responsible woman." Once again, the man gifted his sister with a shining smile.

Vinyl smirked, her tears drying up on her skin in salty drops. "She's that old?"

"Oh, did my little sis want to have a chance with-" Suddenly, Neon paused, watching Vinyl's face break into a grin. "Wait a minute..." The agent's eyes narrowing in a dawning realisation. "That's not old! I'm twenty-eight!"

Now, Vinyl was laughing out loud as Neon frowned and made a great show of being offended, his eyes narrow, his lips curling up, his brows furrowed narrowly. "I'm not old!"

Vinyl kept laughing, feeling her worries dissipate, fade away in the wake of the conversation. Suddenly, she just wanted to talk to her brother, like they so often did; just say random things and laugh about them and hug and go to sleep together under the warm, thick blanket. "Did you know that Octavia's... bisexual?" Vinyl wondered suddenly, a little less embarrassed now that she'd got the talk going.

"Oh!" Neon grinned widely, showing off his teeth. "So I guess I do have a chance with her after all!" He laughed softly, his voice like a pretty, glassy chime of a bell to Vinyl.

"What about Melanie, then?" the DJ wondered with a sly smile, wiggling her brow a little.

"Madeline," Neon corrected automatically. "Yeah..." He rubbed the back of his head. "Well, I could ask if maybe she's into threesomes..." Vinyl blushed involuntary, her body reacting to intimate terms in such a fashion for quite a long time, as long as she could remember. Would help not to be so shy if I ever want to get laid. Then again, when she was alone - and sometimes when she was alone with Neon - she did not feel such embarrassment. Maybe I'm overcoming it, Vinyl concluded as she watched her brother seriously ponder on the topic, rubbing his chin.

"No," Neon said finally. "Now that we're dating, I don't think I should see other girls." The sour expression on his face warped into one of mild acceptance and... pride?

Vinyl gasped. "Wait wait wait wait wait a minute! You? Dating? As in, actually dating a girl?" Vinyl took a step towards her brother. "In a relationship?!"

Neon smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, kinda. We're meeting again tomorrow, you know." His face brightened as he evidently remembered something important. "Actually, I'll drop by today, after you've had your recording session. Will nine o'clock be good?" he suggested, taking his phone out of his pocket.

"It'll be perfect." Vinyl smiled gently in sheer appreciation. "Thank you, Nini." She took a step towards her elder brother and hugged him, clasping her hands around his waist in a tight embrace. The tall man only placed his chin on top of Vinyl's head, his hand patting the woman's back as he typed with his other hand a notification. "Say, I..." She broke the hug. "I'll go see Dad, all right?"

For a moment, Neon just looked sadly at his sister, before nodding solemnly. "Sure thing, sis. Sure thing."

As Vinyl directed her feet to the door, she heard Neon whisper to himself, "Vinyl... When will you ever let go?"

Brushing it off, the DJ made her way to the familiar door. She knocked. She waited. She came in. The office was still the same. It would always be the same. Always. She walked towards the table. She took the photograph. She kissed it. For now, the sacred ritual was complete. With a smile, Vinyl began:

"Hi, Dad. How's it going? ...I'm fine. Remember I told you about a session cellist?" Next Chapter: 5. The Second Try Estimated time remaining: 6 Hours, 15 Minutes