Gray

Nothing was happening and that was something that I simply couldn’t stand. I was lying on my bed, entirely and utterly motionless. Everything was dead silent, except the sound of a fly buzzing around my room. Normally, I didn’t like flies, but I was glad that something was breaking the silence. Other than that, the silence was so thick that I could cut it with a knife and eat it for breakfast.

I was waiting for something – or possibly someone – but I didn’t know what. It was killing me and my skin itched in anticipation. The fly continued to buzz, only raising my curiosity about what I was anticipating.

My bedroom door opened then and a figured entered my room. It just looked like a shadow from what I could see, but there weren’t any lights on in my room, so I couldn’t tell. The shadowed figure came onto my bed then, crawling toward me slowly. I wasn’t sure whether or not I should have been scared, so I just stared blankly as the person came closer, eventually hovering over my body.

“Why are you here?” I heard myself whisper, but my voice sounded faraway and like it didn’t belong to me. It was as though my mind didn’t know what was happening, but my lips knew exactly what words to speak.

“For you, of course,” the figure replied as though I should have known that. The person’s voice was something familiar and rich and masculine. I suddenly knew that the person hovering over me was none other than H.

We didn’t speak anymore as H slowly lowered himself down on top of me, pressing his lips against mine softly. He was so gentle, and yet so forceful at the same time; it was something that I hadn’t ever experienced. Slowly and delicately, he kissed down my neck, biting softly at my collarbone. I felt myself shiver with delight as he ran a hand up my shirt and to my breasts. My back arched as he cupped one of my breasts, squeezing gently. His other hand was placed behind my head, fingers entangled in my tresses.

Slower than I thought possible, H began sliding the hand that had been on my chest downward, toward the edge of my underwear. He played with the band on my underwear and then, his hand began plunging down…further still…until…

My eyes shot open suddenly and I stared at the ceiling with a look of pure shock on my face.

No. That didn’t happen. I did not have a sex dream about my piano teacher.

“Good god, Tawny,” I spoke to myself, “You need to get you some. This is just pathetic.” I groaned, rolling over onto my stomach and blankly gazing ahead at my headboard. Well, maybe it wasn’t so strange that I had had such a dream. After all, H was very attractive. Plus, women often have sex dreams about people whom they work with (or so I heard once on Tyra). On top of that, I had just seen H the previous night.

I spun around on my back really quickly, making sure that I was in my own home. Once I had made sure of that, I realized how strange it was. H couldn’t have possibly known the location of my house, so I must have been sober enough to give him directions. No…No, I remembered passing out, not long after I had thrown up on the street. That left me with a stirring question in my mind: How had I gotten home?

I noticed that I was still in my clothes from last night, so I stood up out of bed and began stripping, walking toward the shower with nothing whatsoever on. That was one of the perks of not having a roommate – there was no one to get freaked out when you strutted around the apartment in the nude (which, by the way, happened to be my favorite way to strut).

Once in the bathroom, I turned on the shower and stepped in, enjoying the feeling of the water caressing my body. I felt sore for some reason that I didn’t know, but I guessed that I had probably fallen a lot the previous night.

After my shower, I wrapped the towel around my body and went out into my kitchen to make myself some tea. I had a pounding headache due to my copious amounts of alcohol consumed the night before; I always had terrible hangovers, and yet, I continued to drink on occasion. I never learned, I guess.

My dog, Jubb, was still sleeping, even though it was nearly noon. He was just lazy. I smiled when I saw him twitch in his sleep.

As I began making myself some mint tea, I dared to look at the calendar on my fridge. The only things I ever kept track of on there were my piano lessons. And it just so happened that I had one today, in approximately one hour.

“Shit, I’m gonna be late again,” I growled, going to my bedroom while the water for my tea began to boil. I quickly got dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and then went to the bathroom to do something with my hair. I stared into the mirror, noting that I looked like a hoodlum, as usual. I wanted to look pretty, though. I wanted H to look at me and think, “Wow, that is one foxy dame.” (In my mind, he’s apparently a 1920’s gangster and I’m a 1970’s babe from the future, who taught him what the word 'foxy' meant. I don’t know where I come up with this shit, but my grandmother thinks I need help.)

Suddenly, my cell phone began ringing on my bedside table, blaring Devo.

“Hello?” I answered it, not bothering to see who was calling. Fuck caller ID, you know? I had always liked surprises.

“Tawny, it’s your grandmother.” Speak of the devil.

“Oh, hey Grandma,” I greeted her, “Listen, I’d love to talk, but if I don’t get a move on, I’m going to be late for my piano lesson.”

“Are you still taking lessons from that devil-man?” my grandmother demanded to know.

“Well, yes,” I confessed, almost feeling ashamed, “He’s a really good piano teacher.”

“Good god, you have a little crush on him, don’t you?”

“What?! No!” I protested, “I like the way that he teaches.”

“Is that code for some sort of sexual innuendo?” my grandmother asked suspiciously, “Is that how you kids term it these days?”

“No, Grandma,” I tried to hold back laughter, “I sincerely mean that. He’s the best piano teacher I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, yeah? And why’s that?” she demanded to know, “Is he giving you a little something-something on the side?”

“Grandma!”

“Don’t ‘Grandma’ me, young lady,” she scolded, “I know how you young people operate these days. You use sex as a form of currency when you’re low on money.”

“Grandma, I assure you, only prostitutes do that,” I informed her, “I think.”

“Well…I thought I told you not to trust this man.”

“You did, Grandma,” I sighed, “And I don’t. I remain very suspicious of him. Even so, however, I have to go or I’ll be late again.”

“Fine,” my grandma replied bitterly, “Just leave your old grandmother. Who knows if I’ll even still be alive next time you try to call?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” I told her, “Grandma, I lo –,”

Click.

My grandmother had hung up on me. What a bitchy, old lady.

I didn't have time to dwell on how inconsiderate and rude my grandmother had been, however; I had to get to my piano lesson ASAP. For once, I was going to be on time, maybe even early. Wouldn't that be incredible.

I heard the tea kettle whistle so I quickly ran to the kitchen in order to turn the stove off. I looked at the clock, which read that I had forty-five minutes before my piano lesson. Had fifteen minutes really already passed by since I had checked the time? Unbelievable. Pouring myself a cup of hot water, I chose a tea bag of the mint variety and began steeping it in the mug.

Before grabbing my keys and heading out the door, I poured food and water into bowls for Jubb.

Rudy was leaning against my car door when I reached it. He was smoking a cigarette, looking as scruffy as ever.

"Get lost, Rudy," I shooed him away with one hand, my other hand holding my mug of tea.

"Fuck off," he retorted, taking a drag on his cigarette.

"I'm serious, Rudy, I have to go to my piano lesson or I'll be late, so get off of my car," I told him.

"You're always late anyway."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to be late today."

"Can't you wait just a little longer to see your boyfriend?" Rudy continued smoking his cigarette.

"He's not my boyfriend!" I shouted, exasperated, "God, why does everyone think I have a creepy crush on him?"

"Did I say that?"

"That's it, I'm running you over."

I went to the driver's side and got in, locking the doors before Rudy could get in, as well. He just gave me a goofy grin through the window, so I stuck my tongue out at him. I turned the car on and began backing out, slamming on my breaks suddenly when I heard a cry of pain. I jumped out of the car quickly and went around to see Rudy.

"You ran over my toes, you fucking psycho!" Rudy shouted at me and I gasped, going over to him.

"Oh jeez, Rudy, I'm sorry," I apologized, wishing I could do something about it, "Are they broken? Are you okay?"

"I'll probably never walk the same again."

"Don't say that," I ordered, feeling genuinely sorry, "I told you to move. I shouldn't have been so mean, Rudy. I'm sorry." After a few moments, a silly grin spread itself across Rudy's face.

"I'm just kidding," he told me, "You didn't run over my toes."

My expression changed from apologetic to complete rage in .001 seconds.

"Now I'm definitely going to be late!" I screamed at him, taking his cigarette from his mouth and throwing it on the ground, then stepping on it.

"That cost me good money, woman!" Rudy yelled at me.

"Yeah, money that could have been spent on food," I snarled, "Now, I'm going to go to my piano lesson and even if I run over your head, there's no way in hell that I'm stopping." I was true to my word, getting into my car and backing up the rest of the way, before I drove off. The last thing I did before I drove away was make a face at Rudy, who was still mourning over his cigarette.

Once I pulled up to the house in which I had my piano lessons, I immediately checked the time, finding that I had ten minutes until my piano lesson started. I tried not to appear too rushed, knowing that it would be a miracle that I had arrived so early in the first place. As I was usually twenty to thirty minutes late to every lesson, this earliness would be a refreshing change.

My piano lessons were always held at H's house. It was a masterpiece of architecture, looking like something out of old Transylvania (but, of course, not in a creepy way). It was almost as large as a mansion and it was a dark, gray-black color. It had high, pointed arches and turrets, making it look more like Dracula's castle than anything.

In my opinion, it suited the mysterious, sultry H very well. (Did I just refer to him as sultry?)

I let myself in the side door, as was always my instruction, and began making my way to the room that had the piano. There weren't any lights on in the house, which made me wonder where H could be, but I just continued going in the direction of the piano room. Once there, I noticed that the door was slightly ajar. I went to push it open completely, but something happened at that very moment that made me stop.

From the door, I could see the fireplace very clearly. The fire was crackling rather fiercely, but as far as I could tell, there was no activity in the room otherwise. Suddenly, I saw the flames in the fire grow larger, wrapping up the bricks to the mantle. In an instant, I saw a figure step out of the flames very casually, after which, the fire shrank back to a more normal size. H was standing in front of the fire, looking very sophisticated in a suit, which he brushed soot from.

My first instinct was to run away from the door, leave the house, and never have another piano lesson with this man (who I was now thoroughly convinced was Satan) ever again.

My second instinct won me over, though, as I pushed open the door, trying to keep myself from having a panic attack.

H jumped about five feet in the air when I entered the room so suddenly. He put his hand on his heart and gave me a wide-eyed stare.

"Good god, Tawny, what the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded to know, his breathing heavy.

"I'm here for my piano lesson," I told him calmly, one eyebrow raised, "Didn't mean to give you a heart attack." H shook his head, running a hand through his hair; he checked the watch on his wrist for the time.

"You're on time," he noted, regaining his composure quickly, "I wasn't expecting you for another twenty minutes, at least."

"Well, um, shall we get started?" I asked politely, not daring to look him in the eyes, lest he should somehow read my mind. If it turned out that he had some sort of mind powers that came with the job of being The Devil, everything would go to shit. He would know about what I had seen only moments ago. Worse still, he would know about the dream that I had had during the night before.

"Of course," H inclined his head, eyeing me suspiciously. Well, that was it. He knew. There was no way that he couldn't know, I was so fucking obvious.

"Have a seat at the piano, please," he motioned toward the piano bench and I obliged. "Play me some scales, up and down, starting with C major, then moving to G major, and so on." Easy. I began doing as I was told, playing all of the scales in a fairly expert manner. For awhile, there was only the sound of me playing the piano, note after note, until I reached D major.

"I see you've recovered well from last night," H mused, standing a few feet behind me. I could imagine him, standing there with his hands in his pockets, a secretive smile on his face as he watched the back of my head.

"Hardly," I snorted, continuing to play as I spoke, "My head is pounding."

"Perhaps you should take some medicine."

"It doesn't work on me, I've built up an immunity," I informed H.

"Is that so?" he wondered, still behind me, though his voice sounded closer, "To all headache medicine?"

"Everything that I've tried," I sighed, moving onto A major, "It's rather exhausting, trying medicine after medicine, only to find that none of them work. It's the main reason that I don't drink very often. Hangovers are just not very fun to deal with and -"

I stopped mid-sentence, due to the simple fact that I felt fingers on the sides of my head that had to belong to my piano instructor. Suddenly, H began to massage my temples, distracting me from my scales and what I had been saying completely.

"And?" he prompted.

"And I...um, well," I swallowed, feeling extremely nervous due to the skin contact. We never touched and that was just how it had been since the beginning of my piano lessons. We never even so much as shook hands. Now that he had his hands on my face, I could see that it was for good reason. One, simple touch from him and I suddenly forgot how to speak, like the dumbass that I was.

"Are you going to continue playing?" H asked me in little more than a whisper.

"Well, um...I would," I cleared my throat, finding my sense and rationality, "But you're distracting me. And I would like you to please stop doing so." H didn't oblige immediately, however, and continued rubbing my temples. His method was definitely helping to soothe my headache, but I knew that this was over-stepping the boundaries of our professional relationship.

"Would you?" I could practically hear the smile in H's voice. No. Of course I didn't want him to stop, for multiple reasons, the main two being that it felt incredibly good and I clearly wanted him to touch me. My dream had been proof enough of that. I did not want to dwell on the dream, though, especially if it turned out that H could read my mind.

“I pay you to teach me piano, not massage my temples,” I told H brazenly, once I had discovered my courage and reason lurking behind all of the dirty thoughts that I was having about H. It was as though I had no self-control whatsoever. H retracted his hands from my head so quickly, I would have thought that he had been burned.

“My apologies,” H sighed, though I could still hear the smile in his voice as he sat down next to me at the piano bench. The first thing I noticed after he removed his hands from the sides of my head, however, was that my headache was entirely gone. I stopped playing the piano immediately, the result being a loud, obnoxious combination of five notes. I turned my head to H, my eyes wide with wonder. Instead of looking away, as I was accustomed to him doing, he locked his dark eyes with my own, staring back at me with a rather fierce intensity.

“Something wrong, Tawny?” H wanted to know, his stare seeming to become more dangerous the longer I looked. Never once did I avert my eyes, however.

“My headache is gone,” I replied in a very quiet, timid voice. A smile twisted H’s lips upward.

“Excellent,” was all he said in response.

“How’d you do it? Do you have some sort of witchy voodoo that you use?” I narrowed my eyes at H menacingly. I hadn’t wanted to hint at what I had seen, but sometimes, my stupid mouth had a tendency of speaking before my brain had time to process anything. I believe that that is what’s called Foot-In-Mouth Syndrome. I also couldn’t figure out why I was glaring at H; he had, after all, cured me of my pounding headache.

“You could say that,” H replied in his smooth, silky voice, mysterious as ever.

“Tell me,” I pressured him, “I’m curious.”

“It’s a secret,” he told me, “You’re not allowed to know.” He sounded just like a little kid when he said it like that; so, naturally, I responded the way an eight-year-old might.

“But that’s not fair!” I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation. And then I heard a noise that I never thought I would hear.

H began to laugh.

I raised my eyebrows at him as though he was crazy (and as far as I was concerned, he was).

“What’s so funny?” I demanded to know. H sobered in a matter of seconds.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, a smile still across his face, “It’s a –”

“Secret?” I finished his sentence for him, watching as he stared at me guardedly, “Yeah, you seem to have a lot of those.” Suddenly, H wasn’t smiling anymore; he was watching me with a cold, stony expression.

“Continue your scales please, Tawny.”

I did as I was told, not wanting to anger him any further.

The image of H emerging from the flames continually played in my head, over and over again. As I continued my scales, a thought crossed my mind and I began plotting. If he wasn’t going to tell me anything…

I would just have to figure it out by myself.