Octavia's face was shining with anticipation as she danced from foot to foot before Vinyl's door, her cello case seemingly light, just like her whisky-soothed head, her legs heavy after the fresh-air walk, her mood brighter than it had been in days, if not weeks, the familiar piece of paper in her hands, with scribbles all about the notes, music dripping with happy ink. However, the cellist's joy was hindered somewhat by the fact that she had a certain urge that was pressing her to tap at the floor fervently, waiting till her watch would finally show seven.

Five to seven. Octavia jumped up and down, crossing her legs violently. God, I really really REALLY have to pee! The cellist cursed her cheery disposition towards whisky, wine, tea, and liquids in general as she finally pressed the doorbell, the button hard and cold beneath the tip of her finger, as she decided, at last, that being a little early was way better than peeing in her trousers.

The door opened swiftly, with Vinyl standing in the doorway. "Yes, is- oh." The spinner flushed fiercely at the sight of Octavia standing at the other side of the door and staring at her with wide eyes. And there was something to stare at indeed. My God. Vinyl was practically all but naked, wearing a white bra and matching pants, her bare arms and legs so intoxicating to the cellist, her hair still not in the least dishevelled, the blue spikes bright and mesmerising, little black eighth notes on both bra and pants, immediately commanding Octavia's utmost attention. "I... You're early, and I didn't get dressed and sorry, I'll just-"

"Uhuh." Octavia nodded slowly, her eyes still fixed impolitely on Vinyl's breast, her mind reeling, her senses taking in the sight of the beautiful woman before her, her nose sniffing in the scent of lavender perfume, mixed with a soft, touchy strawberry soap. I wonder if she washed her boobs with that soap. The cellist was all but drooling, Vinyl's breasts the only sight before her eyes. "Uuuuh." The natural urges took their toll, and Octavia finally managed to avert her eyes to meet Vinyl's deeply embarrassed and surpirsed gaze. "Uh. Can I use your bathroom?"

Vinyl nodded softly, pointing with her hand towards the bathroom door, her blush still covering her cheeks and neck, fading away gradually as she watched the cellist drift away to the WC, dropping her case against the wall on the way. Was she... checking me out? A weird (and arousing) mix of embarrassment and pride washed over the young woman as she reached the couch and took up a well-worn white T-shirt, putting it on with trembling fingers. She was checking out my sexy boobs. Vinyl put on her jeans, unsure of what to think. She was checking out my body, and now she's... The DJ's eyes drifted towards the shut bathroom door suspiciously. Then widened in a sudden realisation as the now-dressed spinner stood in the middle of the room. She's-! Only I can scratch my record in my bathroom! However, Vinyl's indignation faded at once as she pondered over the issue soberly. She caught me masturbating, and I caught her staring at my boobs. We're quits. Vinyl sighed and walked a little circle about the room, glancing at the cello case that was losing its upright position, crawling along the wall towards the floor, ready to fall. We're adults. She won't mention what she saw, and I won't mention what I saw. The DJ took the case, placing it on the floor horizontally. Easy as that.

Looking way more relieved, Octavia stepped out of the bathroom, a smile on her face. Vinyl noticed faint traces of alcohol in the cellist's breath as she approached the spinner, moving towards her cello case. "Were you drinking?" Vinyl asked cautiously, unsure of what to expect from an inebriated stranger. She can rape me... her mind supplied eagerly, with both fear and heartbeat-raising excitement. You'd like that, wouldn't you? the devil Vinyl whispered from her shoulder. No! the angel Vinyl protested from the other shoulder sternly.

"A little." Octavia raised the paper that she'd been holding in her hands all this time. "I needed a touch of inspiration, you know?" The cellist chuckled, swaying a little in place, as Vinyl wondered if the paper had been with the cellist as she'd gone to the bathroom. It definitely was... Eww. It must be sticky. The devil Vinyl on her shoulder wiggled her brow with a wink. The angel Vinyl was on the verge of fainting, still showing the devil Vinyl an angry fist. "A little alcohol gets the creative juices flowing, right?"

Vinyl shrugged, mild disapproval overwhelmed by a certain neutrality. "I wouldn't know. I never tried alcohol." She added, before Octavia could suggest anything, "I'm an abstainer."

"Oh." Octavia paused, staring at the spinner in surprise. Vinyl, by God, you are strange. "You are seriously missing out some finer things in life, Vinyl." Like getting drunk and having drunk sex... And drunk driving. And drunk... everything. The angel on Octavia's shoulder made a pledge to reconsider the value of alcohol in the cellist's life.

The spinner merely shrugged, taking a somewhat defensive state, her shoulders propper outward, her arms crossed below her breasts, only accentuating their round form. Octavia made a terrible effort not to stare at the DJ's chest, keeping her eyes deliberately fixed on her neck instead. "I guess." Vinyl looked aside, deliberately not paying attention to the cellist's strain. She wants me to get drunk and then she'll seduce and deflower me. The angel Vinyl nodded solemnly, crossing her eyes in the same manner as the real Vinyl, whispering, And you don't want her to play you like a flute and leave you, right? The devil Vinyl only made a motion of licking her lips with her tongue, making sure to wink several times and wiggle her brow suggestively.

"Well, here's the music!" Octavia announced proudly, handing the sheet music to the disk-spinner, beaming with joy as Vinyl took the fruit of her hard labour and began to scrutinise it. "So?" she asked impatiently just as the DJ seemed to have skimmed the paper. "How's it?"

Vinyl smiled indulgently - a gesture that, to Octavia, seemed a little unusual and, frankly, quite strange, coming from the obviously younger and less socially-open woman. "Octavia, I can't understand a word you've written. Or a single note." Vinyl scrunched her nose and narrowed her eyes, inspecting the paper closely. "I am pretty sure it's indistinguishable."

Octavia grabbed the sheet a little more roughly than she'd intended, taking great offence in the DJ's inability to read perfectly proper handwriting. However, she immediately realised that Mister Tummers would have done a much better job of writing down her tangled thoughts, and with a drunken and excited hand, no less. I can't understand a line, and I'm the one who wrote it! The cellist sighed in defeat. "Sorry. I... My hand is not well."

"Oh..." Vinyl's face all but faced the floor, a frown meeting her face.  "I... That means you can't play today?" She lifted her eyes, and Octavia could swear that, with an expression like that, Vinyl could easily ask her to murder a sleeping kitten with a kitchen knife, and she'd do it without breaking eye contact.

"I..." Octavia facepalmed, realising the depth of the trap she'd thrown herself into, albeit involuntary. "My hand's well. It's just that I'm a little inebr- inebri- drunk. Hence the trembling hand." She sighed. "Hence the indisting- in- messy handwriting." Great. Admitting your weakness is a sign of... erm. Weakness. The creativity that whisky gifted the cellist with was definitely compensated with the decrease of her analytic capacity and general thinking capability.

Vinyl smiled and rubbed her bare toe against the carpet shyly, definitely scoring a point to non-drinkers. Octavia noted, with a degree of pleasant amusement, that the DJ's feet did not emit the unpleasant, rotten smell most feet had, even through the shoes; Vinyl's feet were clean and nice, letting a pleasant, strawberry-soap-soaked smell. Without thinking, Octavia took a deep sniff, her eyes closing involuntary. And yet, this was her mistake, she realised, as she staggered, unable to hold her balance without seeing the room around her.

At once, she opened her eyes, and yet could not stop her fall, faceplanting towards the couch, her arms too slow, unable to break the fall. Suddenly, she felt Vinyl's hands on her shoulders, keeping her in place. A jolt of electricity ran down the cellist's spine, her every nerve tingling at Vinyl's soft, yet distant, touch. She should've caught me with her boobs, Octavia thought off-handedly, standing straight and placing herself on the couch immediately upon, lest she be prone to more falls. "Thank you, Vinyl," she said earnestly. "Sorry for that."

Vinyl smiled simply. "That's all right." She eyed the cellist with mild concern in her eyes. "Octavia, are you sure you can play today?" Vinyl took her place next to the cellist on the couch, putting a hand on her shoulder - a gesture that made Octavia want to moan. "I mean, you could come tomorrow-"

"Nonsense, Vinyl." Octavia smiled back, freeing herself from the spinner's grasp reluctantly as she avoided touching the hand. "I'm not that drunk." Great, the cellist chided herself mentally, seeing Vinyl lift a brow almost imperceptibly. Now she thinks I'm an alcoholic and that my current state is not my limit. She pondered. Which is partly true. "I'm just a little tipsy," she corrected herself. Way better. "I can play just fine. Especially," she added, getting up from the couch with some difficulty, "given that you can't read the music I wrote." She tapped her forehead. "It's all here. I'll play it, and, hopefully, you'll get the idea."  

Octavia began to stagger towards her cello case, the carpet below her posing a serious obstacle on her way, gripping with its hairs at her shoes. Maybe I should've taken off my shoes, Octavia thought belatedly, watching Vinyl outspeed her easily and hand her the case, pushing the chair close to the cellist. Octavia nodded with a grateful smile and a mouthed, "Thank you". I should have definitely taken off my shoes. However, doing it now would come off as a drunken and ungraceful act.

Octavia opened her case and took out the instrument with sober precision, placing it between her knees delicately, grabbing the bow tenderly, the wood soft and warm at her fingertips. Just like Vinyl's hands. The cellist closed her eyes and began to play from memory, the simple passage written by Vinyl growing into a weird mix of jazz and rock and classical, with eighth notes on downbeat, firm, rocky, furious, the notes that Vinyl already had, only accentuated with a pedal tone; and the sixteenth notes, dacing on the upbeat of the downbeat of the upbeat, the invisible rhythm structure that was simply not there - and could not be written in ink, naturally - but could be well-played. And a classical melody, a melody of her own that mixed into Vinyl's notes, entwined with the DJ's melody, cried out in its minor, sombre undertone. Now, she was playing two melodies in place of one. Now, she was still playing a single melody. Now, she was playing both what was there and what was not there - and it sounded so damn beautiful.

Octavia remained silent for a few moments upon ending the piece, her eyes still closed, the scent of music wavering in the air. She had never been able to decipher what music smelt like - but she knew for sure it must have an odour of its own. Like everything. The cellist opened her eyes and looked at the spinner, who was staring at her with those mesmerising pools of reddish magenta, her mouth slightly agape. "Um..." Octavia blushed a little. "That's basically it."

Vinyl was silent for a moment before she closed her eyes and sat on the couch, her eyes closed, the cellist's music still resonating in her ears. That... That was the single most beautiful piece of music I've ever heard. She opened her eyes and looked at the inebriated cellist. She saw me masturbating, she's a heavy drinker, and now she's conquered my heart with a simple melody. Immediately, the woman wanted to reconsider her inner wording. No. I can't fall for her. I can't fall for anyone. She leaned forth, placing her hands on her knees quickly. I would regret it later if I did. I... will regret it if I do. "That... That... It was so beautiful," she said finally, making the cellist flush just a little.

What's wrong with me? Octavia wondered to herself. She'd been praised many times, but she'd never felt this... warm. This content to hear praise. Must be her eyes, she concluded. And the boobs. Definitely the boobs. "Thank you," she replied calmly, placing the bow on the little table, making a mental note not to forget it this time. "I-"

"I wanted to make a classical trance song, but after this... god, this is not a genre," Vinyl said in awe. "It's pure music." In itself. Vinyl stood up and walked around the room. "It's new. It's... refreshing. It's invigorating. It's not what I had in mind." She smiled, looking at Octavia, taking in the sight of those beautiful lavender eyes.  "It's better than what I had in mind." So much better.

"Um..." Octavia chuckled sheepishly. "So... We can record it now?" And then I'll have my money and a congratulatory sex, please, the cellist added mentally.

"No." Vinyl kept smiling, but her tone was firm and unwavering. No? Octavia blinked. "I need to rework the whole structure of the song now. I need some time to work on it. We'll record your part when I have an idea of what the song will become, now." Vinyl dropped the smile, her mind already pondering on the rhythm section. "I need to rework the whole thing to match the new cello part."

Didn't you say that I could just record the cello and you'd mix it in later? Octavia thought but knew better than to speak out against the composer. And my current employer. "So... I'll go home now, and you'll call me when you're done?" the cellist suggested, getting up as well, standing opposite the spinner.

"Actually..." Vinyl rubbed the back of her head, blushing as she averted her eyes. So shy, Octavia observed with delight. So cute. "I was thinking that maybe you could help me out with the rest of the song? For an extra fifty thousand?" Because I so want to... I want to spend more time with you, Vinyl thought in embarrassment and sudden heat washing over her body. Get to know you a little better. Maybe... Maybe Octavia was the one? The one for her?

Octavia did a spit-take on the air, coughing a little in the wake of the offer. "I..." Fifty. Thousand. Extra. A wagon of ice-cream in her dreams was quickly replaced by two full wagons standing next to her very own ice-cream shop. Besides, she wouldn't mind spending some more time with the cute DJ. Becoming friends... Maybe friends with... benefits... "Sure thing!" Octavia nodded eagerly with a smile.

"Great!" Vinyl grinned, jumping up and down in place excitedly, eliciting a chuckle from the cellist. "So... Maybe I could have your phone number so we could, um, coordinate our effort?" she suggested, the blush swiftly returning to her cheeks.

Octavia giggled at Vinyl's shyness and obvious desire to... Wait. She really wants my number. Not just for work. It's clear. The little devil on Octavia's shoulder scored a point for Team Octavia. The little angel Octavia on the other shoulder flew up and high-fived the little devil. "Sure."

Vinyl took her phone from the table, typing down the number Octavia dictated. Immediately, she dialed the number, and, with a nod, Octavia confirmed that she'd got her number. For a moment, the two women just stood opposite each other, unsure of what to say. "Um..." Come on, Vinyl. A little more assertiveness! "Would you like to stay for tea?" At once, the spinner flushed with embarrassment. God, that probably came off very wrong, and she'll-

"I'd love to." Octavia smiled. What do I have to lose? Besides, spending some time with the cute DJ was a nice option, if only because it allowed her to catch glimpses of her beautiful eyes. And boobs. Can't forget boobs, the devil Octavia supplied. The angel Octavia nodded sagely. Moreover, she did want to know a little more about the disk-spinner. And also make a good impression on her.

"Great!" Vinyl pranced in place in anticipation, leading the way to the small kitchen, the only room apart from the bedroom/living room/studio, with Octavia soon taking the lead through the doorway. The DJ caught a fine glimpse of the cellist's rear as the raven-haired woman proceeded to the kitchen, subsequently sitting at the table, her side pressed into the wall in comfort.

Vinyl bounced from foot to foot, smiling as she went to the cupboard, extracting two pristine white mugs, placing one before Octavia and the other one opposite her. Humming,  she brought the teapot towards the table, filling Octavia's mug first. I'm having tea with a sexy cellist~ the DJ sang in her mind gleefully.

"That's enough." Octavia lifted her hand when the mug wasn't even half-full yet. "I like my tea warm, not hot," she explained with a smile.

"Oh, so do I." Vinyl chuckled and filled the mug to the top. "The tea in the pot is always warm." The DJ sat opposite the cellist, filling her own mug. For a moment, she was silent. Come on. Don't be so shy! "That music you wrote. It's amazing. It's like classical and jazz together, and a little rock inbetween. It's... really really something." Great, Vinyl. Your colourful vocabulary never ceases to amaze. And yet, the DJ was somewhat proud that she was able to start a conversation.

Octavia sipped on her tea with a nod. She talked to me. By herself. That's a good sign, I guess. The cellist took a deep breath. The smell of morning bread mixed with the tickly smell of pork sausage and the moldy odour of exquisite cheese, all reaching her nostrils through the fridge door. Stale notes of long-unwashed dishes added an unpleasant touch of disharmony to the little kitchen's symphony of scents, but not enough to actually disapprove. Octavia wondered how she had got used to such smells in her own flat, but could not tolerate in other places. Suddenly, the cellist realised Vinyl was talking.

"-and I think I'll drag four mikes from the studio, and we'll record the cello by the far wall." Vinyl grinned, her heart beating, her mind ecstatic about the fact that she was talking freely, without any embarrassment, with a complete stranger who was not a fan or a journalist. Especially considering that she still had some issues while talking to the most excitable fans and the most nosy journalists. The DJ sipped on her tea to calm down a little. Don't blow it. "What do you think?"

Octavia took a gulp of her tea, holding the mug with both hands. The usual Earl Grey. The best brew there is. "Vinyl, if you don't mind my asking, why do you want to record here?" The cellist lowered the mug to the table slowly, lifting her eyes to meet Vinyl's gaze. "You have just said you have a studio." And I really do know the answer, don't I? Still, that was something. A conversation. A talk.

"That's..." Vinyl blushed a little, averting her eyes. Damn. "You wouldn't understand."

"You like the sounds of the busy street, don't you?" Octavia smiled, her eyes never leaving the DJ. "You love to hear the roar of engines, and the chirping of birds, and the beating of soles against the ground when you're working on music, am I right?"

Vinyl's eyes widened as she nodded slowly. "Yes... Do you-" Suddenly, a realisation dawned upon her. "You don't feel that way, do you. You... You don't like the sounds of the street." Vinyl's face all but fell, Octavia's heart almost shattering at the sight of the miserable DJ.

For a second, Octavia considered lying a little white lie, but decided against it, remembering the value honesty held to Vinyl, according to Neon. "No, Vinyl, I don't." She sighed. "I'm one of the people who likes to work in complete silence." She looked into Vinyl's eyes. Should I... Why not? Not like it's a secret just because I haven't told anyone. "I like the scents of the street. The smells. I like the odour of sweat and old oil mixing with the breezy wind. I like the million shades of perfume dance in the air with a thousand tints of coffee. I like the smell of drying paint and cheap petrol. It inspires me." Octavia fell silent. "I've always been... prone to smelling things no one could really deci- deciph- make out." The cellist cursed under her breath at her treacherous whisky-oiled tongue. "For one, I can smell a strawberry soap on you right now."

Vinyl's cheeks turned a dark red as she looked down in shame. "Shampoo. It's shampoo." How does she know? Even I can't smell it...

Octavia winced. "Please, please don't think of me as a freak." Maybe it was just the long-lost effect of alcohol, but the cellist was growing desperate. "I... That's just who I am. I wouldn't bear it if you... That is, if you... I don't want you to kick me out," Octavia wrapped up her tirade lamely, shutting her eyes. I need some sleep. I really, really need to grab Mister Tummers and sleep till I sober up.

Vinyl's eyes widened. Does she... Does she care about my opinion? The DJ gulped, trying to find the right words. Does she care about me? Or... just because she's working for me now... "Octavia, don't be ridiculous. It's totally all right. We all have our quirks." Vinyl tried to smile encouragingly. "You smell stuff, I..." Um... "I use strawberry shampoo." Octavia chuckled through approaching tears. "I dunno." Vinyl grinned, rubbing her forehead. "I'm sure I have a lot of quirks."

Yeah, like masturbating with your door open. Octavia knew better - and wasn't drunk enough - to say that out loud. It would most definitely ruin the little mutual ease they'd built already. Ease that could, with effort, evolve into trust and, maybe, friendship. With benefits~ Then again, it wasn't like she, Octavia, always closed her door when she was... I need to go home and... take a bath. Yep. A warm, nice bath. Octavia downed what was left of the tea and put the mug on the table. "It's getting late and dark, Vinyl. I should go home. Thank you for the tea." The cellist stood up.

"You're welcome. Um..." Vinyl rubbed her cheek. "Tomorrow at seven?"

Octavia nodded with a smile. "Tomorrow at seven." She directed her feet out of the kitchen.

"Wait," Vinyl called out, successfully prompting the cellist to stop. "Would you like me to give you a lift? I have a car, and, while I don't use it often... and I'm not a really good driver... but still..." Vinyl blushed again. Too soon? Immediately, she chided herself, Too soon for what? We're just working on a song together.

Octavia smiled, facing the DJ. "That would be lovely." Next Chapter: 6. Baby Steps Estimated time remaining: 5 Hours, 58 Minutes