"Hi, dad. How's  it going?"

Thick silence brushed about the room, swishing about, impenetrable quietness, the sound of serenity that blared about in its imperceptible finesse. The batteries in the old clock still had not been replaced, and the face showed ten-fifty-six, as always. Always a bright, sunlit, cheerful morning.

"I'm fine," Vinyl continued, smiling as she looked at the photograph, her heart fluttering at what she was about to say. "I... I've told you about Octavia already. My session cellist." The 'my' came out warm, maybe too warm for Vinyl not to be embarrassed at least a little. "Well, she... I gave her a lift yesterday. Drove her home." Pausing, Vinyl frowned, listening to the silence intently. "Yes, dad, I was careful. I'm always careful." Tears appeared in the DJ's eyes, her voice breaking a little as she kept talking, with a wide smile. "Well, she hugged me!" The woman paused for a moment, the image of Octavia embracing her before leaving the vehicle, a nice sports car bought by Neon, still vivid before her eyes. "She... It felt so nice. So natural. So... friendly, you know?" The DJ lowered her voice to a whisper. "I... I think I may be falling for her."

The man in the photograph stared at Vinyl, and through her, at the far wall, the smile in his eyes never fading, his hair greying with age, his cheekbones still square enough to assume that he was a bouncer and not a renowned cellist. Nini doesn't look much like him, Vinyl observed in silence, as she tried to contemplate her own feelings for the cellist. How could she ever have feelings for her? They weren't even friends... Nini looks like Mom so much. He has her eyes... "No, dad!" Vinyl hissed suddenly, her ears catching a firm disturbance in the silence of the luxurious office. "I told you, I'm not into boys!" The spinner groaned in exasperation, her mind shifting through the possible arguments she could present.

There was a loud, ear-shattering, sudden, painful sound of knuckles slamming against wood, a fist knocking at the door. Vinyl jerked up, a hurricane of anger veiling withing her, fury shielding her vision, her usually calm and tranquil demeanour shattering into tiny shards, tingling pieces that floated in silence, the huffing of her nose, the rhythmic beating of her heart, erratic gulps - everything that destroyed the sacred symphony of silence. Nobody interrupts my private time with Dad!

Neon slid into the office, closing the door behind him quietly, his shoes brushing against the carpet quietly as he barely brushed his feet against the floor. His arms looked limp, a stack of papers in one, his eyes averted cautiously as he stopped in the middle of the office, a few steps away from the chair Vinyl was occupying.

"Get out!" Vinyl yelled, much like she'd yelled at Octavia some two days ago; only now, she was radiating fury, shedding drops of anger, all embarassment forgotten as Neon dared enter her shrine and interrupt her prayer. "Get out get out get OUT!" Vinyl drummed her feet against the floor, the brass of her voice breaking into a fierce hiss. "I told you never to come here when I'm here!"

Neon gulped, still looking away. "Vinyl, please, calm down. I just need you to sign this paper. It's very urgent." He extended his hand with the papers on his palm. Vinyl slapped them away, watching the sheets float in the air, landing on the chairs, and the table, and the floor, and the carpet, and one even finding its way to the photo. Vinyl grabbed the offensive paper with sheer determination and crumbled it into a rough ball, throwing it towards the window, where it bounced helplessly against the glass.

Neon shrieked, rushing towards the window. "You idiot! You stupid, ridiculous idiot!" He jerked towards Vinyl, lifting her from her seat by the shoulder. "Do you realise what you've just done?!"

"I told you to sign all contracts by yourself!" Vinyl yelled back, trying to break free from her brother's deadly grasp. "I told you!" she cried, teary eyed, as Neon eyed hopelessly the paper-induced disaster around him.

"You... You stupid, little, spoilt girl!" Neon supported each word with a slap on Vinyl's rear, prompting the young woman to cry out in sheer humiliation, and pain - that was there, too, but not to such an extent as the embarrassing experience of being spanked. "Locked in your daddy's room, unable to see what's going on in the world!" Vinyl shoved Neon away, back down into the chair, into which she fell promptly, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I do everything for you, and you ungrateful little- That wasn't a contract, you idiot! I have a goddamn tax inspector waiting for me in my office!" Neon hissed, his face red, his eyes made with fear and anger. "How am I going to tell him a page's missing, and my boss is a hysteric idiot?! He wanted to see you, and I, goddamit, I persuaded him that you were busy!" Neon all but spat on the floor. "When you are too busy sulking in a dead man's office!" Now, the man did spit on the floor, his saliva landing on the previously unspoilt carpet.

Vinyl shrieked, her mind hazy as she saw the blasphemy, and jerked up, and ran towards Neon, hitting him repeatedly with her tiny fists, delivering no damage, but pouring out her rage. "That's Dad's office! That's Dad's carpet!" she yelled, over and over again, before collapsing on the floor by Neon's feet.

"Dad would never care." Neon glared down at his sister maliciously. "Dad never even loved us. He never cared about us, and now you're trying to imagine a perfect father who loves you and who is alive in this office! You are going insane!"

Vinyl just stared at her brother, rolling over on the floor and facing the ceiling. Suddenly, she howled, a terrible howl that seemed to be coming from somewhere else, through a prism of speakers - or maybe headphones? - a mad howl of an African native told his gods did not exist.

Neon's fury faded, replaced by sheer fear as he watched his sister rolling on the floor, howling madly, her whole face covered with salty tears. His mouth fell agape just as he seemed to realise that it was his little sister, and that he surely had contributed to such a state. "Vinyl..." He lowered himself to his knees, trying to grab the rolling form of the woman. Finally, he managed to snatch her by the waist, drawing her trembling form close and pressing her head into his shoulder with force. "Shh... I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Vinyl, sis, I'm sorry. Please, don't cry." He kissed the woman repeatedly on the back of her head. "Please, Vinyl. Shh. Calm down." In a trembling voice, he sang, "Hush now, quiet now~"

That prompted Vinyl to cry even more, sniffing ill snot away, her throat bubbling with tears, her whole body aching terribly. For a minute - or a few? - the brother and the sister just sat in place on the floor, the spit-soiled carpet prevented their bodies from touching the cold parquetry. "I hear his voice," Vinyl said in an alien, low, tear-riddled voice. "I hear him reply to me. I hear him in the silence. He's sorry for not paying us enough attention."

Neon gulped down a fresh batch of tears. "Vinyl, let's go see a doctor."

Vinyl sniffed sadly. "We already went to a doctor. She said I was fine." The pressure on the back of her head eased, and she lifted her head to look into Neon's eyes. "But I'm not fine, am  I?"

Neon didn't answer the question directly. "We'll find another doctor. A good one." He hugged his sister tighter. "I promise."

Vinyl sighed, exhaling into the air slowly. "Sorry, Nini. I didn't mean to..." She winced. "You know, the papers."

"Sis, don't be silly." Neon kissed the woman gently on the cheek. "Fuck the papers. My little sister is all that's important to me in this whole damn building."

Vinyl smiled sadly, pressing her nose into Neon's neck. "Nini..." The woman winced, as if in pain. And there was pain indeed, coming from her well-spanked ass. "Dad never really loved us," she said with a certain certainty, a dull, meagre acceptance. The woman sighed. Neon let out a burling sound, trying to compose a phrase, but Vinyl  interrupted him. "I know. 'He loved us in his own special way.' That's what you wanted to say, right?" Vinyl chuckled darkly, tears welling in her eyes. "But he never did."

"No," Neon called out, his voice dull and pale. "He never loved us. He- H-h-he-" The man's voice broke as he gulped down fiercely, again and again. "He never loved anyone, I think." Neon blinked away approaching tears. "He... All he ever loved was his damn music and his damn cello!" Finally, the dam broke, and Neon burst into tears.

Now, it was Vinyl's turn to hold him and whisper sweet, calming words into his ear.

"God, Vinyl is so hot."

Mister Tummers stared at Octavia with his button-sewn eyes, no emoton evident on his plush face. The cellist herself was lying in bed, the covers over her, her legs shifting as she tried to warm up. When chill winds blew, sometimes, the little open window beneath the ceiling was not the most welcome element of the decor. Octavia curled up, giggling to herself as she remembered her bold move the previous evening. I hugged her! And she liked it! Indeed, if the rosy blush and a quiet 'eep' were any indication, Vinyl at least didn't mind it. "I should have kissed her, Mister Tummers," Octavia said, thowing off the blankets as her own bodily heat provided high enough temperature. The cellist paused, grabbing the bear and cradling him in her arms, humming happily. God, I so want her. She looked at Mister Tummers, who stared back intently. "No, you're right. It's too soon." The cellist sat in bed, letting out a soft, "Hmm." She yawned and took a glance at her watch that was resting on the bedside table. Two-thirty. Weeeeh. She still had some time till seven... "You know, Mister Tummers, if everything goes well tonight, I think I'll kiss her. A small peck on the cheek, nothing too scary," she elaborated with a grin. God, I just love seeing her blush~

Octavia sighed in content, slugging in bed lazily. A wonderful idea came into her mind as she realised that she still had a lot of time before the evening... rehearsal? What was it going to be? She had no homework, so to speak, and no idea as to what she would have to do, and in what way she was going to help Vinyl develop the song. Octavia checked her phone lazily. No new calls, no messages. Vinyl is just too shy to text me, the cellist assured herself, placing the phone on her naked belly, screen up. Tomorrow - if all goes well - I'll text her myself. Octavia smiled. To solidify a friendship. The cellist licked her lips eagerly, turning Mister Tummers off to face the wall. With possible benefits. Octavia placed her hand on her breasts in delight, giving her left breast a pleasant squeeze. Mmm, maybe... With the other hand, she slid the phone lower, closer to her inner folds. However, she decided against such a form of self-pleasure, ultimately, substituting the device for her hand. It felt more natural. More... More like what Vinyl would do.

Octavia closed her eyes, her imagination eagerly supplying a very flustered and blushing Vinyl next to her, shyly extending her hand to the cellist's inner folds. She would be very embarrassed at first, rubbing the inside of Octavia's legs, shy, tender, inexperienced; but she, Octavia, would guide her, yes, right there, and Vinyl would smile a little kind smile, pressing her finger against her pussy, slipping it in, oh yes, exploring the sacred cave of many wonders that was so new and so enticing to her...

Octavia moaned loudly, enjoying the little scenario she'd drawn, living the dream, as she added another finger, her pussy soaking in sheer arousal. Mmm, Vinyl, you naughty naughty thing~

The phone rang, vibrating next to Octavia's thigh, almost sending her over the edge. The cellist quickened her motions, trying to get off so badly, but the phone kept ringing, and her mind screamed at her to pick it up. It may be Vinyl. The sheer thought of her masturbating to Vinyl while the object of her dreams was calling her made her yell in the wake of a micro pre-orgasm, as she grabbed the phone with trembling hands, taking a quick glance at the screen. Frederic, it read.

Octavia sighed, answering the call with closed eyes as she took the device with her non-wet, yet sweaty, hand. "Yes."

Frederic's voice reached her ears through the speaker, disgruntled and stern. "Octavia! Where the hell are you?"

Octavia yawned ailently with a frown. "Home." Rubbing myself off. Very very private business, Freddie. The woman stood up, her wet pants a sour sight, her bra off, with the flat breasts semi-hanging sadly, her nipples firm and uptight. Octavia danced from foot to foot in the wake of her... wake.

"Home?" Frederic practically shrieked, making the cellist withdraw her ear from the phone with a sour wince. "You ought to be at the rehearsal!"

Octavia felt a sudden urge to facepalm. Of course. Her work with Vinyl did not mean complete exemption from her ensemble duties. And yet, the cellist realised, she didn't want to rehearse. If anything, she wanted to be with Vinyl: work with her, laugh with her, hold her hand, see that wonderful blush on her cheeks, and kiss those cheeks, and those full, alluring lips, and caress her bouncy breasts... To hell with the ensemble, Octavia decided firmly. At least, for now. "Freddie, I'm working with Vinyl. I don't have time for rehearsals yet."

There was a moment of silence on the other side. Then, Frederic spoke in a softer voice, "I thought you already recorded the cello. I didn't know."

"I haven't, yet," Octavia confessed, dancing into the living room and towards the drawer to pick up an appropriate bra. "Besides, I..." The cellist bit her tongue. Frederic didn't exactly have to know about the extra deal Vinyl threw on top for her help. So I can have all the shiny moneys to myself. "I'm really exhausted. Working on Vinyl's project takes all my time." Yes, Octavia thought, drying her hand against a towel, I even wake up at two pm, and not three as usual. She picked up a white bra, looking over it estimatingly.

"Is it really that hard?" Frederic wondered, notes of disbelief in his tone.

Octavia smiled, choosing a matching T-shirt from her poor collection. "You can't imagine." With that, she hung up, putting on the bra with dedication. She wanted to look good. She wanted to look perfect. She wanted to look inviting. Reaching the bathroom for a morning brush'n'groom, Octavia looked in the mirror, and, satisfied with her body, proceeded to brush her hair. And yet, she couldn't stand in one place. Soon, she found herself waltzing out of the bathroom, working the brush on her tangled hair, feeling no pain from the torn hairs as her mind supplied endorphines at the thought of meeting Vinyl again tonight.

Dancing into the bedroom, she grabbed the bear from the bed and did a little waltz with him. "Ah, Mister Tummers!" she cooed, holding the toy close to heart. "What a wonderful girl!"

Octavia placed Mister Tummers on the bed, putting the brush next to him as she pondered on what outfit to put on. She smiled, knowing exactly what to wear. Grinning, the cellist bounced out of the room, reaching for the wardrobe. She sighed in delight. "What a wonderful life!"

"Wow, you look... n-nice," Vinyl stammered, eyeing Octavia as she opened the door, her heart fluttering at the cellist's appearance. In her mind, she was already seeing Octavia as a friend, and as a friend to whom she was so greatly attracted. Of course, reality proved otherwise (just colleagues) so Vinyl took a step back, letting the cellist in.

Octavia took off her leather biker jacket, revealing a white T-shirt worn with black leather trousers that seemed to be clenched around her legs so tight Vinyl could actually see the outline of the cellist's pants beneath the trousers; and this was driving her crazy with lust and sheer embarrassment. "Thank you. You look beautiful too." Octavia smiled, making Vinyl's face turn a bright pink, her lower lip trembling in the sheer heat that covered the DJ's face. Did she... Did she call me beautiful?

"T-thanks," Vinyl said, turning round quickly to hide her blush

Octavia put down her cello case, giggling mentally as she scored a point for Team Octavia, glad that she'd decided to listen to Devil Octavia's advice to put on sexy casualwear, with Angel Octavia admitting complete defeat. You look beautiful even without your T-shirt on. Sooo way better without the T-shirt. "You're welcome. So..." Octavia stretched a little, very pleased to catch Vinyl's eyes lingering on her leather-prisoned ass. "What would you like me to do today?" She smiled, her mind picturing what exactly she would like to do with Vinyl.

Vinyl's blush faded as she tiptoed from foot to foot nervously. "Well, have some tea?" she suggested with a small smile, added hastingly, "Oh, and work on the music, of course! Just get the main outline." The DJ chuckled, touching her elbow with a hand, gripping it tightly. "You know, get the idea of what the song is going to be. No key yet, no chord progression, just... stuff." Vocabulary, Vinyl. Amazing, divine vocabulary you have here. The little angel on Vinyl's shoulder tsked disapprovingly. Vinyl turned to the other shoulder mentally to get some support from the little devil Vinyl, but she wasn't there, replaced by a sign that read, in bold orange letters, "Do Not Disturb".

"Okay, sure." Octavia smiled again, realising that, perharps, Vinyl was dragging on the project just to spend more time with her. And, even though that meant delayed payment, the cellist found that she really wanted to spend more time with the cute (and sexy) DJ too. And not just because of her sexy boobies. Though, that particular fact did play a huge role in her disposition.

Octavia followed the DJ into the kitchen, sitting on the same stool she'd sat on the previous evening; only now she was sitting straight, no alcohol directing her against the wall now. With a shy, beautiful smile, Vinyl poured a faintly-scented fresh Earl Grey - Octavia's nose deciphered the todayness of bergamot with distinguished ease - into two mugs, placing one before Octavia and one before her.

For a while, the women merely drank tea, drawing no conversation, Octavia perfectly content with shifting her eyes from Vinyl's face to her breasts and back, and Vinyl trying to gather up her courage to start a conversation. And it seemed that Octavia was trying her, with that luring, half-sly smile of hers, prompting her to be less shy and start up a talk. All right, just harmless shop talk. Vinyl took a sip of her tea, the mug warm between her palms. Here goes. "So, I've been thinking about the song." Octavia nodded, sipping on her tea in silence. And I've been thinking about your boobs. We're quits. "And I have absolutely nothing," Vinyl confessed with a sigh. "Thing is," she carried on before her spur of confidence could diminish, "I always start with a genre. I can't write a song without knowing the genre. And this..." Vinyl winced, gulping down the remains of her tea. "This... I don't know what the genre even is." If there even is a genre. The spinner stood up to refill her mug.

Octavia hummed, offering her mug for a refill. "Well," she said carefully. "You mentioned that you wanted to make the song a classical/trance collision piece, am I right?" Vinyl nodded, pouring warm tea in Octavia's mug. "Why not make it classical trance, then?" Because such a genre obviously exists.

"Well, you see..." Vinyl filled her mug and took her place, her arms on the table, opening up the exquisite view of her bra-held and T-shirt-shielded breasts to the cellist. Octavia made  an effort not to drool and to concentrate on the topic instead. "The melody - the main theme - the one you played... It's rock, jazz, and classical - all in one piece." Vinyl rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "I'm not sure if a trance background would work with it well."

Well, it's not like the initial melody you gave me was very classical... Octavia did not voice her thoughts, for, she assured herself, Vinyl could not know much about classical music, being a DJ; naturally, she just needed a nudge. Boy, I'd so nudge her. In so many places. "Well, why don't you make the rhythm section likewise?" Octavia waved her hand in the air in a gesture of encouragement and explanation. "Structure it as a fusion of jazz, rock, and classical. Hell, we can even mix in trance!" she exclaimed, her mind realising that she'd said 'we' only after her tongue had already let it out.

Vinyl blushed a little at the cellist's passion and at that wonderful 'we' and nodded slowly. "Yes... That's a good idea. Jazz... That, I know." She sipped on her tea, ideas already bouncing in her head. "Trance - of course. But..." Vinyl flushed a little. "I don't know anything about rock."

"What?" Octavia almost did a spit-take on her tea. And here I was, thinking that classical was her weak point! "Really?" The cellist blinked, diverting her attention breezily from Vinyl's breasts, at which she'd learnt to stare unnoticed (or, at least, so it seemed to her), to look into the spinner's magenta-red eyes, shining with embarrassment and calm humility. "You've never been to a rock concert?" I can't believe it!

"I don't even have any rock albums..." Vinyl blushed slightly. "Just a few singles that I enjoy." I walk alone, I walk alone~ she sang in her head.

Octavia smiled in determination. "Vinyl, rock isn't about listening albums at home while sipping on tea." She extended her hand and placed it on Vinyl's shoulder, prompting a sharp intake of air from the pretty DJ. "Rock is about going to concerts. It's about the drive. It's about the atmosphere. We simply must go to a rock concert this week!" Immediately realising her implication, she added quickly, "As a contribution to the project, of course."

Vinyl was silent, her mouth suddenly very dry. It's a date. A date? A date. Is it? It is! Please, let it be a date. Oh no, no, it's too... No, not a date. Just... Just a concert.

"You'll pick up a few important things about rock music," Octavia added an argument, watching the DJ have an internal debate. "Or are you afraid of-"

"I'm not afraid of crowds," Vinyl replied with unusual firmness. "I'm a DJ, remember? It's just that... Octavia, are we friends?" she asked suddenly, scrutinising those pools of lavender carefully.

"I..." Octavia blinked. Then smiled, her hand reaching for Vinyl's hand and lying on top of it gently, making the DJ hot from the very tips of her fingers. Did she really ask that? This shy girl? Wow. "Of course we are, Vinyl. At least, I do consider you my friend." Octavia paused, trying to formulate the truth as she knew it. "We haven't known each other much, but I like... I like the way you're so open. So honest. I also like the way you blush," Octavia blurted out, making Vinyl blush even more as she slid her hand away, lest the heat in her body overwhelm her. That's... Wow, the spinner thought. That's... Just... She likes... Uuuh.

"So, you will call me when you find the tickets?" Vinyl wondered, if only to derail her brain from arousing thoughts about how her blush (Do I really blush that much?) was to Octavia's liking.

"I'm also thinking of dropping by tomorrow at seven." Octavia smiled. If only to drink tea and stare at boobs and listen to your sweet blushy-stammery voice. "If that's all right with you."

"That- That's absolutely fine!" Vinyl exclaimed, her heart beating faster at the thought of the beautiful woman offering to come all on her own. I really hope it's not just because of the money... But then again, I don't pay her for each session... "Would you like to-" ...stay overnight? The angel on Vinyl's shoulder nearly fainted. The little devil Vinyl shrugged and shook her head, whispering, That's too fast. Even by my standards. The DJ's cheeks grew slightly pink as she amended, "Would you like me to give you a lift home? I wasn't a very bad driver yesterday, was I?"

Octavia chuckled, placing the empty mug on the table. "You were very careful." The cellist wiped her mouth with a nearby napking, shifting the mug away as she leant back a little, careful not to fall, given the lack of a back to support her. "I'd say extra careful, given the car you're driving."

"Neon bought it," Vinyl explained immediately, putting her own mug away. "I'm not a good driver. Just... I drive occasionally." In fact, Vinyl realised, I haven't driven for months. It was this wonderful cellist who had prompted her to sit at the wheel again.

"Thank you, Vinyl." Octavia stood up and walked towards the DJ. "I'd love it if you could give me a lift again." Now, a friendly gesture. Octavia felt her heart leap to her throat, feeling strangely excited. Friends do it all the time. Here goes nothing. Octavia leant in and placed a soft kiss on Vinyl's cheek - a breezy, minute peck that still made the DJ's mouth fall agape and her cheeks and neck to turn a beautiful crimson. With a small supporting hug, Octavia walked towards the bathroom, calling out, "Give me a minute and we're good to go!"

Vinyl just sat there, touching her cheek, a big, goofy smile of joy and disbelief on her face. She... kissed me. On the cheek, but she kissed me! As a friend, but she kissed me! She kissed me! Vinyl wanted to sing and laugh at the same time. Instead, she stood up, quietly giggling in a spur of sudden happiness and brought the mugs to the sink, placing them away for further washing.

With that, she left the kitchen, ready to wait for the cellist. No matter how long it would take. Next Chapter: 7. Realisations Estimated time remaining: 5 Hours, 38 Minutes