my tender flesh and put on fresh underwear. The naughty part of me loved feeling the signs of his effect on me. I couldn’t believe I had come that way. I couldn’t believe how he’d inflamed me. Even now, just thinking about it, holding his hand innocently as we walked, his thumb rubbing the tender skin of my wrist, caused new heat to bloom in me.
At my door, he dropped his head to kiss me again. Chastely. Probably a good idea at this point. Apparently, it didn’t take much to get me going.
“Get some sleep. When you’re ready, if you’re ready, we’ll start back up tomorrow,” he said. “With practice,” he added with a grin.
“Sure.” I had been going for flirty, but a big yawn came out instead. Sleepiness hit me hard. Never underestimate the power of a great orgasm. But it was so much more than that.
“I want to be good for you Devlin,” I said. “That’s all I want. To be good enough.”
He closed his eyes as though pained. “You’ve always been good enough. I didn’t mean to make things worse. I was just trying to dig out the Kim that I remembered from camp.” He shook his head with a frown.
“I’m trying to find her too,” I said.
He smiled. “Well, good night. And thanks for that,” he blushed, and was so sweet I could die.
“Are you kidding me? You just moved to the top of my Christmas card list,” I said.
He coughed out a laugh. Moving into my space, his face fell serious again. “Watching you come was a gift.” He bit my bottom lip gently before kissing me.
He walked away, and with him went my heart.
Sleep had hit me so hard, I woke up in the same exact position I’d fallen asleep in, wondering what year it was. My phone illuminated the dark room telling me it was still very early the following morning. Devlin would still be sleeping.
I dropped my head back to the pillow and sighed. I felt lighter than I had in years. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to talk to somebody about my past. I would still need time to heal, but fear didn’t grip me as it had.
To my immense relief, when I replayed the night before, shame didn’t come crashing down on me. Only drowsy pleasure. But a niggling something else tickled the back of my mind. Like remembering that you left your curling iron half a day later. No, that wasn’t it. A bigger something. It had been years since I had experienced this. I sat up in bed.
There was no time to wait. When the feeling struck, you didn’t wait. I slid a robe over my nightgown and into some slippers. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. Just move.
It was inspiration. I was desperate to play my cello. It had been such a habit for so many years, I didn’t have time to miss it. Now, I felt it. An excitement to play. I wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore, knowing Devlin was nearby. I shuffled through the dark house and down to basement where my cello waited for me. It glinted in the soft light, winking, like it knew I’d coming crawling back. It was ready. I was ready.
Time to play. I didn’t bother with turning on the brighter overhead lights. I wouldn’t be reading music and the soft glow from the recessed bulbs was enough. The scratch of the rosin along the hair of my bow instantly soothed. The cello tuned perfectly in the climate-controlled room. It nuzzled into my body and I warmed up my fingers with scales and arpeggios. When I was ready, I didn’t even have to decide what to play. His piece had been welded into my brain. I knew every note.
But as it was currently written, it didn’t fit my current state. My mood was a slow gondola-ride through an underground lagoon with swirling mist and stacked candles all around. His piece was written as a roller coaster ride on a sunny summer day.
I took his composition and wrapped my emotions around the music, slowing the tempo to suit my mood. And just like that, the notes flowed out. I was connected to my instrument and the music felt transcendent. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was able to let go of my regret and fear and just focus on Devil’s words. What would be the message I left behind? How