The Flautist. Part Two

The cold light of the street lamp enveloped the naked bodies of two girls. A breeze outside seemed to match the excited breathing of the lovers. The black-haired girl looked deep into the wise brown eyes of the blonde, who could not help but admire the sapphire hue of her partner's irises. They savoured the moment, touching each other as they had never done before.

The excitement of the first time was slowly fading. The brunette tried to give her partner as much pleasure as she could, but at the same time the blonde's fingers felt awkward. It was strange, she wanted her so much. It was not uncomfortable, it was just clumsy. And the more she felt that, the more awkward her own movements became. The blonde felt the same. She wanted the brunette's fingers, enjoyed them, but not quite. Then, in a bright moment, she had an idea. She copied the movement of her lover's fingers. 

The raven-haired lover, who at that moment had started to move her fingers faster, was surprised to get the same back and stopped. The blonde stopped immediately. Her partner smiled, she understood the game. For the next few fascinating moments, the girls mirrored each other's movements, adjusting the speed, the shape, the pressure, asking each other for the movement they liked best. Eventually they found a common rhythm and went through a crescendo of moans in perfect unison. 

***

The winter morning promised good weather. The sun was shining brightly, glittering in the snow. Kate looked through the window, smiled at the memories of New Year's Eve and decided to go for a walk. She just needed to burn off some of the energy that filled her. 

Winter wonderland! The snow creaked under the girl's boots, steam came out of her mouth with every breath she exhaled, and the white-covered trees were beautiful. Kate took out her phone to take some pictures and then it hit her. She turned and ran back to her house, almost crying. 

"Mum," she muttered into the phone. "A terrible thing has happened."

"Thank you, and Happy New Year to you too, darling."

"What? Wait . . yes, of course, Happy New Year! Mum, I am so sad!"

"Are you home? Make yourself a big cup of cocoa and tell me all about it."

"Cocoa? But, Mum!"

"Kate, Kate, Kate. I hear you are upset. Just do what Mummy says and everything will be all right."

"I'll get a cup, but it won't help. Mum, I met a fantastic girl yesterday!"

"So far so good . . . "

Kate poured some milk into the pot, added cocoa and sugar and sat down at the table.

"Yes, that would be good, but I didn't take her phone number!"

"So . . . ?"

"'So'? What 'so'? 'So' what?"

"Call your friends and ask them if they have her number."

"Mum, this is the 21st century, you can't do that anymore!"

"Your friends can call her and ask her permission . . . "

Kate tried not to shout.

"Mum, I would die of embarrassment!"

"Oh, dear! Then go to her place . . . "

"MUUUUM!"

The cocoa bubbled up.

***

The rays of light moved slowly up the bed as the sun rose. Eventually, the light fell on Michelle's face and the girl woke up. She stretched and looked at the clock. Was it really that late? 

She jumped out of bed, put on her bathrobe and went downstairs. Paul was drying his hands. The dishes were all done, the rooms cleaned. No sign of the night's big party. 

"Paul," Michelle said softly. "You're an angel."

"I guess I am," her brother agreed. "I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd start with the mess."

"And there wasn't enough of it for me?"

"It seems so. Breakfast?"

"Mhm ... some eggs would be nice."

"Madam . . . "

Michelle watched as her brother picked up a pan and started frying eggs. She was thinking about a girl she had met that night. Somehow she wished the little blonde would make breakfast for her . . . for both of them. Michelle reached for her phone and yelped softly. 

"What's wrong, sis?"

"Remember that funny little blonde?"

"Cath?"

"KATE."

"Kate. The one with the nice round bum?" 

"Maybe. I mean, yeah. The same one."

"What about her?"

"Have you got her number?"

"Eggs first! And some toast and coffee ... Here you go."

Michelle dug her fork into the eggs but ate nothing. 

"Eat it before it's cold. And don't play with your food."

"Yes, Mum," Michelle mumbled. "Got the number?"

Paul searched his phone contacts for a while. 

"No, I'm afraid not. Not under Cath and certainly not under Kate."

"Damn!" Michelle stood up and picked up a bottle of wine. "Bring me a glass."

Paul looked at his sister. He recognised her harsh voice and sudden lack of manners. When she was upset, it was best to work your way around her. Paul approached Michelle and gently took the bottle from her hand. 

"Don't drink if you feel like it."

Michelle looked at her brother with a sad smile on her face. She knew the demons he had to fight and she knew he was right.

"What should I do? What do I do?"

"I can give you a warm hug. Then you will eat your breakfast like a good girl and then we will try to find the people who know her."

"Thank you, Paul. But I have no idea who brought her here . . . "

The beautiful winter morning turned into a freezing cold night.

***

Light green looked fresh on the trees. The new leaves that had been shy and unsure of themselves a week earlier were now reaching out for the warmth of the sun. 

Kate entered the hall of the Music Academy. She hesitated a little. She was a bit early, should she go to the canteen or straight to class? 

Then . . . what was that? She could swear she saw Michelle's raven hair at the end of the corridor. Kate started running in that direction, not minding the heavy guitar case she was carrying. But the crowded hall was not wide enough for Kate and her instrument. She almost ran into the cellist, who was holding an even bigger case. 

"WHOAA! Mind your step!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry... Sorry!"

Kate made sure nothing happened, smiled at her colleague and turned back to where she thought she saw her friend.

The corridor was empty. 

***

Michelle was waiting in the corridor outside the Dean's office. She had just come to pick up some papers she needed for a scholarship. All of a sudden there was a noise in the back of the hall. She looked in that direction. Some people seemed to be arguing about the right of way. Wait . . . who was that little blonde?

"Next!"

Michelle sighed and walked into the office.

***

Spring was in full bloom. Kate was sitting outside the Academy, looking out at the trees. A light breeze played with her hair. She reached into her pocket.

"Never knew you smoked." The brunette sat next to her, facing the same view.

"I don't. This is the first pack of my life. Look, I just took the first one out. I don't even know how to smoke. I . . . I just thought I needed one." 

"Never smoke a cigarette when you feel like it. And if you smoke, you can't play with a flautist."

Kate stubbed out her cigarette clumsily.

"I'm not playing with any flautist."

The brunette smiled to herself. 

"I'm looking for a partner for a tour this summer. Swiss Alps, you know. Small towns, incredibly old churches, fantastic views and a wonderful audience. But there are only three months left to rehearse the programme."

"What's in it?"

"Haven't thought of it yet. Anything. One hour set, no intermission. Two encores, maybe. Do you know a nice repertoire?" 

"I have a lot of music with the flute. But this is for me."

"Could it be for us?"

Kate turned her head towards the brunette for the first time. Michelle had not disappeared. She was there, looking amazing in a leather jacket, her hair kissed by the wind. 

"For us? Sure."

"Great. Here's my cab."

She walked to the car and opened the door. Then she turned around. 

"I'm so glad I found you." 

Then she disappeared into the car. The taxi drove on. 

Fear reached into Kate's chest and squeezed her heart with an icy hand.

"Michelle!" she cried. It was too late. The cab was already round the corner. Kate stood there, shocked and devastated. 

She didn't take Michelle's number.