"Hi, Octavia."

Vinyl smiled as she opened up the door for the cellist to climb into the sports car. The cellist nodded with a smile, placing herself next to the DJ, and immediately leant in, kissing the spinner on the cheek with a hug. To her delight, Vinyl returned the embrace, brushing her lips against the cellist's cheek. It's a kiss! Octavia squeed mentally. Or, rather... uh. Rather, it was the same action Vinyl had taken when she'd said goodbye to her after the night ride. A half-kiss, maybe? A brushy-brushy kiss? At least, the hug was for sure. Octavia did like to have some certainty, especially considering that now she knew the feeling was mutual. Who will confess it, though?

The cellist took a good look at the disk-spinner and could not hold a chuckle at her outfit. Vinyl was wearing a dark-grey suit, a twopiece with matching cufflinks of amethyst, a blue tie calmly tucked between her bra-held, shirt-covered breasts. Ooh boy, how I wanna rip that shirt apart and lick those boobs, Octavia thought, licking her lips a little on the inside of her mouth, her tongue rolling between the tender skin and the firmness of her teeth. "Vinyl, you're.... definitely overdressed." The cellist chuckled once more at the DJ's blush. "I mean, my shirt-and-jeans outfit makes me look naked compared to you."

Vinyl's face turned even redder at the word 'naked', and Octavia assumed, with some perverse delight, that the DJ had probably - just for a moment - imagined her, Octavia, truly naked. Hope she can see that for real soon. "I...." the DJ averted her eyes to the wheel. "I've never been to a rock concert before. I've only been to classical concerts, and... well, yeah."

Octavia raised her brow. A DJ? At a classical concert? As a frequent visitor and performer at such events, the cellist did have certain, involuntary prejudice regarding some musicians. "That's all right. I'm just so used to seeing you in casual. You look very pretty."

Vinyl took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down and ease the blush. "I..." She could not hold an eep, however, driving Octavia to smile indulgently. "Th-thank you. You... You look marvellous," the spinner let out in barely a whisper, not daring to make contact with the cellist. Octavia, feeling bolder and grateful, leant in once again and planted a tiny peck on the already-pink cheek that now turned a deep crimson.

Vinyl closed her eyes, her mind reeling in pleasure. "Are you... I mean, that is..." Wow, my thoughts really are all tangled up, aren't they? "I thought you liked formalwear more than... you know, casualwear." Not that you don't look unbearably hot in both, the spinner added mentally.

"Just because I am a classical musician?" Octavia smirked. "But yes, you're right. Wearing a tailcoat is just as natural for me as wearing a T-shirt." The cellist laughed a jingly laugh, prompting Vinyl's uncomfortable blush to fade and be replaced with a very kind and comfortable smile. "Hell, jeans are more of a rarity than twopiece suits, to me." The cellist smirked, shaking her head at her own clothing preferences.

Vinyl chuckled as well, feeling a little more at ease. "So, are we good to go?" Because I so want to go there... With Octavia's nod, the spinner withdrew her left hand from the gearbox and placed it on the wheel, concentrating her attention on the road ahead of her as she pressed the pedal softly, making the car jerk only a little before it jumped to the only lane, buildings soon disappearing on their left.

"Vinyl, may I ask a question?" Octavia wondered as the car sped up to the busy, yet mostly traffic-jam-free road.

Vinyl nodded, not diverting her attention from the road. "It's kinda hard for me to drive and talk at once, but, for you, I'm making an exception." Immediately, she flushed at her bold reply. Must be the dominant feeling of holding a wheel in your hands, she thought with both pride and embarrassment.

Octavia looked at the spinner appreciatively. She's definitely getting more... straightforward. I like that, the cellist concluded. Chances are, she'll ask me out in a few days. The woman giggled mentally at such an option, her imagination supplying images of a tomato-red-faced Vinyl confessing her undying love to her in a tiny voice.

The cellist refocused her attention on the talk. After all, Vinyl was, by far, not a very experienced driver; and while it felt extremely nice to know that the sexy DJ regarded her high enough to divert her attention from the road a little, such diversion could be dangerous. Octavia remembered their night ride, and Vinyl's crazy steer as she decided to embarrass the DJ a little by talking about bra sizes. "How come you have so many free evenings?" the cellist asked finally, just as Vinyl took an easy left turn. "I thought you had many concerts, being a DJ and all?"

"Gigs," the DJ corrected her friend automatically, her eyes still fixed firmly on the road. "Not concerts. 'Gigs'. And I'm on a break currently, recording songs for the new album and... stuff," Vinyl finished lamely, cursing her lack of conversational skill. And yet, it seemed to be enough for Octavia, who fell silent with a nod, and remained thus till the end of the trip.

And the trip hadn't been that long. Some five minutes after the small talk, spent in complete silence at Vinyl's insistence not to turn on the radio, lest it disrupt her attention, Vinyl parked the car near the spacious, yet very low-roofed building that seemed to be made out of sheer metal, with enormous metal doors wide open, people queueing all about the place, in three, four, five queues! And the outlook of the people made Vinyl even more insecure: getting out of the car, followed by the cellist, she saw that, while some of the people were common hipsters or young adults in jeans and tees, there were also quite many hard-blown rockers, in black leather jackets, parking their bikes all about, with beards that would make a pirate proud. 'Romantic' indeed.

"So..." Vinyl came closer to the vast metal structure, her eyes drawn to the bulky bouncers in the way as she stopped not far from one of the queues. Are the queues any different? From the sheer number of people in each queue, the spinner could conclude that there were no priority ones. "Are you sure this is the club? It kinda looks like a hangar."

Octavia laughed softly. "It is a hangar." Suddenly, she touched Vinyl's chin with her tender, lovely fingers and lifted the dumbfounded spinner's head so that Vinyl could see the neon lettering on the building: The Hangar. "See?"

Vinyl saw. And yet, she didn't see. All she could see was the face of the cellist as she turned her head towards her, Octavia's fingers still on her chin, soft, gentle, loving. So tender. So beautiful. "You... You're touching my face."

"Oh, um." Octavia withdrew her hand at once, blushing a little at her boldness, but Vinyl only took a step towards the cellist, the distance between them merely negligible.

"I liked it," Vinyl confessed, as if in a daze. "When you touched me. Your fingers are soft, and..." She leant in, her eyelids practically closing. Is that it? How a kiss should happen? Am I doing it right? Won't she reject me? Isn't she rejecting me now by not kissing me first?

"Are you going to queue up or not?" a rough voice interrupted the sacred moment, prompting Vinyl to turn round and eep in surprise at the sight of a tall, fat biker in a black shirt that proudly read, Rock for Life. "You're one of those queue-jumpers, aye?"

"N-no," Vinyl began to say, but Octavia grabbed her fiercely by the elbow, casting a dark glare at the biker. "We don't need a queue," the cellist said defiantly as she fished out two golden rectangulars of thick paper. "VIP guests of the club, buddy." With that, she marched towards the bouncer, dragging a very surprised Vinyl along, and presented the tickets to the bouncer, who nodded and let them inside, while the biker just stood there, gaping his mouth at the two women.

"Golden passes," Octavia said with a smile as the two women made their way through the virtually empty space of the Hangar, with a closed something-or-the-other on the right, and a narrow way towards the WC. "Those bikers." The cellist huffed indignantly, making her way through the yet-few people towards the stage. "I wanted to have a beer, and now, thanks to that guy, I don't." Maybe it's for the better, Vinyl thought, following the woman to the right of the relatively-empty patch before the stage. I like sober Octavia. Sober Octavia is best Octavia. The sound of whispering, shattering shouts and laughter, and the stomping of feet, and the dragging of tech, and what-not - all of it assaulted Vinyl's poor ears that just wanted to listen to the pretty cellist's voice.

"So..." Vinyl looked around cautously, looking for rows of seats, but finding only a remote bar at the right side of the club, a huge No Smoking sign above the green neon-lit counter and the no-less-lit display of bottles, the barman puffing on a cigar nonetheless while a security ox next to him smoked a cigarette. So much for the laws. "Where do we sit?"

Octavia laughed, looking at the spinner indulgently, her beautiful lavender eyes calm and kind. "Vinyl, there are no seats. We don't sit. We stand." The cellist paused, searching for the right words. "Like at your gigs." Seeing Vinyl's expression of uncertainty, Octavia took a deep breath, breathing in the scents of sweat, excitement and discussion, and placed a comforting hand on Vinyl's shoulder, making the spinner blush but shift a little closer in the already-crampy space.

"Don't worry, Vinyl." Octavia smiled at the cute DJ. "I'm sure you'll love it."

"Come feed the rain~" Octavia sang in a shout, her hands in the air, her head shaking furiously back in forth in near-narcotic rapture, her beautiful hair messed up in bliss. "'Cause I'm thirsty for your love, dancing underneath the skies of lust!~"

Vinyl couldn't help but smile at the ecstatic form of the cellist, who seemed to be so involved in the music, much more than the people around them, who did not sing that loudly, nor did they shake so vigorously; and yet, Octavia was way calmer than the bikers in the centre who formed a circle pit and were jumping and running like mad. Vinyl once more thanked Octavia for choosing this exact spot for their dislocation.

And still, everything considered, the concert was... fine. The music was wonderful, and the singer's voice was smooth as silk, and so powerful. The loud music drowned out all other sounds - apart from Octavia - just like her gigs, putting Vinyl in a pleasant state of tranquillity. Contrary to the terrible array of sounds haunting her every single day, a single sound, no matter how loud, was a pleasant change. This whole 'rock concert thing' had turned out to be rather nice, Vinyl mused as the song ended wtih a soul-shattering "Don't walk away~" outro that set Octavia's eyes wet. Contrary to classical concerts, where she had to suffer constant coughs and snotgreen snorts, the rock music drowned all the sound, all apart from Octavia, her singing, her breathing, her jingling laughter. I want to kiss her so badly, Vinyl realised in the heat of the moment, just as the band left the stage - presumably, for a break. Why can't I just kiss her? If only I could gather the courage... Vinyl followed Octavia to the exit, glad to finally be able to get some fresh air. It was getting unbearably hot in the spacious, yet people-packed, place. But what if she doesn't feel the same?

"So, how did you like the concert?" Octavia wondered, taking a deep breath once outside, the night stars winking at her, the cool scent of the night carrying smells of sour sweat and cold asphalt, mixed with rusting metal.

Vinyl yawned, stretching up. "So far, it's been good. When's the second act?"

Octavia giggled, covering her mouth with a hand as she gazed at Vinyl... dreamily? "The concert is over, Vinyl. That was it." Silly little DJ~ she cooed mentally, taking delight in how innocently Vinyl blinked in surprise.

"Oh. Uh." The DJ yawned again, unable to hold her urge to fall asleep, despite having woken up later than usual.

"Sleepy already?" Octavia near-cooed, chuckling as she made her way to Vinyl's car. "I thought you were used to late-night parties, being a DJ."

The DJ followed her friend, chuckling as well. "Parties don't make me any less sleepy." She pressed the button on her keys, the car winking its lights in greeting.  "I try to wake up early. I usually do. And I feel really sleepy late at night."

"Oh, and here I was, thinking about us going somewhere else," Octavia said, getting into the car, her left hand lingering on the handle before closing the door. "Still, I think you're tired of clubs and there's not much we can do otherwise." Apart from having sex in your car. Right now. Mmm, sex.

Vinyl took the driver's seat, turning her head left to look at Octavia in the darkness of the car. If this were a book, that's the point where I kiss her. The DJ shook her head. Such thoughts were unacceptable. "Thank you for taking me out, Octavia. I... I'd love to go out with you again. Somewhere. Not necessarily a concert," the spinner added hastingly. Always ask for a second date, the little devil on Vinyl's shoulder said sagely.

"How about a cinema?" Octavia wondered with a kind smile. "Wait." She lifted a finger playfully, with a smirk that sent Vinyl's heart aflutter. "Have you ever been to a cinema?"

Vinyl snorted with laughter, having a sudden desire to launch a pillow at the smirking cellist. And yet, the otherwise perfect car had no pillow arsenal to peruse. A shame, really. The industry is losing a lot. "Of course I have. I... I just like classical concerts, is all." Vinyl nodded to herself. "I've been to the bowling, and the billiards, and what-not." Once. But Octavia doesn't need to know that.

Octavia paused, her eyes staring off in the distance. "Vinyl, I... May I ask you a question?" I hope there's no great realisations to come after it. Octavia crossed the fingers on her left hand after Vinyl's nod and an easily-dropped, "Sure." The cellist looked at the woman, her eyes lingering on her breasts, the DJ's shirt salty, sweaty and unbearably clingy after the concert. "Why do you like classical concerts so much? I mean, I thought that, being a DJ, you did not... um, value classical music that high."

"My dad was a classical musician," Vinyl replied simply. "He took me to a lot of concerts. I was always there when he performed." The DJ stared off in the distance dreamily. "He was the soloist. Always in the lead. Always a delight to listen to."

Octavia nodded in thoughtful silence. "He... What instrument did he play?"

Vinyl smiled, meeting Octavia's lavender gaze. "A cello, just like you."

Octavia raised her brow with a tiny smile. "I know most of the famous soloist cellists, if not all. Maybe I have heard of him. What was his name? Scratch who?"

Vinyl chuckled. "Vinyl Scratch is the name I chose for myself. My full name's Vincenza. Vincenza Staccato." And now that sounded like "Bond. James Bond," Vinyl chucked internally, toying with her keys.

Octavia's mouth fell agape. That means... The cellist blinked, unable to form coherent thoughts. "I... You... Could that meant that your-"

"My father is Immanuel Staccato," Vinyl said with a simple smile. "He was a good cellist." And a terrible father.

"A good cellist?" Octavia shrieked, unable to restrain herself. "He was the best! The best of the best! His skill! His perception! His technique! My God." The cellist stared at Vinyl, seeing her in the new light. And yet, she hasn't changed at all, Octavia observed. Vinyl Scratch hasn't changed by becoming Vincenza Staccato. "Immanuel Staccato was your father," Octavia repeated dumbly, staring at the DJ in awe.

"He is my father," Vinyl corrected with a soft, sad smile, staring away at the winking stars of the night. "Will always be."

Octavia danced into her penthouse on the tips of her toes, humming to herself happily as her face shone with a goofy smile. The cellist closed the door behind her, turning on the light, illuminating the relatively-messy room. With a shrug, Octavia took off the T-shirt, throwing it away to the floor, where it met a set of dark-blue jeans and a black turtleneck. Taking off the jeans, she threw them away in the same general direction and proceeded straight to the kitchen, where the roast chicken was waiting for her on the table.

As Octavia grabbed the food with her bare hands, not caring to wash them in the slightest, and bit her teeth into the tender meat, her brain finally decided to emphasise the fact that the concert had been quite a success. Not only that, Octavia reminded herself, but also a new meeting had been set for tomorrow: going to the cinema. And she's a Staccato. Down came the bird as the cellist tried to get her emotions straight. All right. I like her regardless of who she is, but... Damn, fucking the daughter of the famous Immanuel Staccato would be so. Hot.

Octavia wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, all proper manners forgotten once at home, and rose to leave the kitchen. And yet... The cellist imagined having sex with Vinyl in her bedroom, the potrait of Vinyl's father staring sternly from the wall. Yeah. How about no. Down to the bedroom she went, turning off the lights on the way. While sleep did not yet have a grip on her, she wanted to get up a little earlier to make some necessary... arrangements. See the place for herself. Not that it was a bad cinema...

Octavia surprised herself with a yawn as she lay in bed, grabbing Mister Tummers and keeping him close to heart. Mister Tummers, should I call her Vincenza now? she wondered mentally, reminding herself of her childhood, when she conversed with the bear mentally, knowing very well that her parents thought her fast asleep. Apparently, Mister Tummers had mastered telepathy. "You're right, Mister Tummers," Octavia said, closing her eyes. "I should stick to 'Vinyl'."

For a moment, the cellist thought how nice it would be to hold Vinyl in her hands like that, just pressing her against her chest, kissing that forehead, feeling her snores reverberate through the upper half of her body. For some reason, Octavia was sure Vinyl had a very cute snore.

Smiling, Octavia kissed Mister Tummers on the forehead. "Good night, Vinyl."

Vinyl tumbled into her flat silently, manoeuvring about the empty beer cans and bags of half-eaten crisps and nachos, no doubt consumed by Neon in abundance in his wait for his sister, and reached for the wardrobe immediately, taking off her tie and ubuttoning her collar, taking a deep breath of relief. God, I need to lose some weight. Vinyl eyed herself in the mirror, her moonlit form looking strangely vampire-ish. Vampires don't have reflections. ...Do they? The DJ slapped her rear playfully. No, I shouldn't lose weight. Octavia seems to like my fat ass. If her lingering eyes are any indication. And yet, how could she be sure that Octavia liked her, and not just her breasts and rear?

Vinyl sighed, picking up nearby rubbish and walking into the kitchen. One way or another, she had been bold enough to kiss Octavia this time: just a peck on the corner of the cellist's lips; but she kissed her back. And yet, it's not a real kiss. A friendly good-bye, nothing more. Throwing the offensive litter in the dustbin, the DJ sighed. Why can't I read her mind? Then, I'd know if she liked me like I like her...

Vinyl reached for the tap, filling the glass with water. The sounds of the street had nearly died - a rare, silent occasion for this city, the ugliest, the most beautiful city in the world, a silence interrupted merely by the lazy traffic and Neon's peaceful snoring. The DJ downed the glass greedily and walked back into the room. With another sigh, she began undressing. Off came the jacket, thrown onto the chair. Off came the trousers, with some difficulty - and onto the chair they flew. Off came the shirt, drenched in sweat, dropped under the chair tiredly. Off came the bra and the pants, sweaty and clingy, uncomfortable and embarrassing. Holding both pieces with two fingers at a distance, Vinyl walked into the bathroom and dropped them into the dirty laundry bin, scrunching her nose.

The DJ turned on the light, locking the door behind her. For a while, she just stared at her naked body, admiring her form in the mirror. No wonder Octavia likes my boobs. Hell, I want to have sex with myself. With a sigh and a reminder that there were no cloning apparati yet, Vinyl climbed into the cubicle and turned on the water. First, as always, it came unbearably hot; but Vinyl, skilful enough, turned the shower away from her until the water became freezing cold, and only then pleasantly warm.

The DJ washed in silence, too tired to even hum a tune. Exhausted, she leant against the wall, closing her eyes and letting the steamy water wash the sweat and grime away. Octavia... Swiftly, the spinner's hand made its way to her pussy, but quickly found out that the woman's body was too exhausted to enjoy even a little physical stimulation. Octavia, I so want you. I want to be with you, she said mentally, as if the cellist could hear her. But it's so hard. Why don't you make the first step?

Vinyl staggered out of the cubicle upon turning off the water, soap and shampoo be damned, dying herself off with a large towel. Brushing her now-straight hair away, knowing very well that it'd become just as spiky in the morning, Vinyl obeyed the sudden demand of her stomach and proceeded out of the bathroom, and straight into the kitchen. Only upon reaching the kitchen and opening up the fridge did she realise that she had not put on any clothes. Eh. Vinyl fished out a conveniently-made morning sandwich. It's not like Neon hasn't seen me naked. Munching on the sandwich, Vinyl closed the fridge with a yawn that almost made her choke and left the kitchen at once, her eyelids heavy, her eyes closing automatically.

The desire to sleep outweighed Vinyl's desire to stuff her stomach and thus the spinner dropped the sandwich onto the little table, barely staggering to the wardrobe, stumbling on the carpet as she fished out a new set of pants-and-bra, putting them on with weary fingers. With that, she let out an exhausted sigh and fell down on the couch next to a snoring, boxers-wearing Neon.

The woman snuggled closer to the man, throwing the blanket both over her and him, lying in her brother's armpit, his breath smelling of beer and lipstick, his body warm and comforting. Vinyl yawned, closing her eyes. What if?.. How would it feel, to lie like that, only with Octavia? Sleep in Octavia's embrace? Share the warmth of her body. For a moment, Vinyl's sleepy mind pictured it vividly. Octavia's naked body, that beautiful, sexy ass, her flat, alluring breasts, unconcealed by the bra, her fingers holding her shoulder, her nose snoring a tiny snore, her lips beautiful  and welcoming in the moonlight.

Hazily, Vinyl kissed Neon's cheek, mumbling as she fell asleep. "Good night, Octavia." Next Chapter: 9. The Date Estimated time remaining: 5 Hours, 3 Minutes