It’s peaceful to watch the fish swimming around within the confines of the tank, the subtle lighting illuminating them as they do. I watch, entranced, not sure how much time passes before I finally blink and step away.
I head for the couch to curl up in one corner, wishing Ilya hadn’t had to leave. It’s not like I’m not used to being alone; I am. Adam is gone for hours on end, and there’s nothing much to do beyond practicing my cello and cleaning up after him.
I bite my lip, thinking of the instrument that’s in the other room. I could play, but if Ilya returns while I’m playing and thinks it sounds horrible now…
It would crush me.
But I crave the feeling of playing, the sounds I can coax from the bow and strings, and I head into the guest room instead of continuing to feel sorry for myself.
There, I’m able to find something familiar in unfamiliar surroundings. My hands are shaking as I sit down in the chair in the corner of the room and run the bow across the strings.
I start to play, but I can only hear Adam’s voice ringing in my ears, and I stop as the first several notes carry through the room. Ilya was lying to me, probably to get into my pants. Should I give him the chance to flatter me again?
I sigh, hoping it doesn’t sound like caterwauling, and begin to play again. At first, it’s hesitant and I can tell that I’m disconnected from it, but as the moments pass, I get more absorbed in my playing.
It comes easily then, and I play and play, venting some of my frustrations and sadness through the instrument.
When I finally stop, I’m breathing hard, and I close my eyes. I feel better, refreshed, and I carefully put the cello back into its case. I wonder if Adam knows that we broke into the house to get my cello and wallet. He hasn’t texted or called me, so I don’t think he has.
Or maybe he’s just waiting to confront me.
I check my phone. It’s late, and I contemplate going to bed. Instead, I leave the room, heading for the kitchen. I stop in mytracks when I see Ilya sitting on the couch, and my cheeks heat up.
“Oh,” I say dumbly. “Hi. You should’ve… You should’ve interrupted me. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Ilya shakes his head. “No. It was beautiful. I was glad to hear it.”
Was it really? Or is he only saying that?
“Thanks,” I say, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “I was just going to get some water. Is that okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Ilya gets up. “Here, I’ll get it for you.” He laughs quietly. “Or a different drink. Do you enjoy vodka? I have a Russian vodka, better than what Americans drink.”
I shake my head. “You don’t need to. I can get it.” I follow him as he goes into the kitchen. “I’m not really a big drinker, but thank you.”
I only drink wine when Adam gets it because he expects me to.
Ilya fills up a glass of water and hands it to me. I clutch it with both hands, unsure of what to make of this gesture.
“I wanted to ask you a few questions,” Ilya says.
I tense up.
Does he know why I’m here?
Has he figured out that I lied to him?
“It’s personal though. If you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll understand.” Ilya sits down at the kitchen island. “You said you like the flogger. How do you like it?”
The question is both terrifying and a relief, all at once, and I take a sip of my water to give myself time to think. “I don’t know how to describe it,” I admit. “But there’s a place where it stops going from shards of pain to pleasure, and there’s another point where I just… drift.” I smile wistfully. It’s been a while since I’ve reached that place. “Subspace, I guess. Everything feels so good, and it’s an escape from everything else.” I fiddle with my glass.“I guess the whole experience is an escape from thinking, if only for a little while.”
Ilya nods, and I have the strange feeling that he’s really paying attention to every word.
When I talk to Adam, it doesn’t feel like he’s listening at all.
“I went to the BDSM club,” Ilya says. “I watched a man spank another man. And he used a paddle. Then my friend showed me how to use flogger.”
I blink at him. “You did?” I ask. “Why?”
