“And that’s why you’ve done this?”
“No, Lydia, no. I’ve done this because it turns me on. And you also. I don’t play games.”
“This seems awfully like one.”
“Well, it isn’t.”
They’d reached the door. Von Ritter pressed Milan’s button and waited for him to buzz the lock. He kissed Lydia and hustled her inside.
She watched him wave at her and turn on his heel, hurrying back towards the concert hall and theatre complex.
The Ben Wa balls struck a few notes. She looked down at herself again.
Dear God, how could she pay a call on Milan in this state? It wasn’t as if she was deceiving him or anything but this was so blatant. It was like the first challenge in a duel, with her as the proxy weapon. How would he respond?
Only one way to find out. She called the lift.
Chapter Six
Milan had left the door on the latch and Lydia could hear him rehearsing the Brahms concerto when she wandered into his spacious, bright apartment.
She felt her filthy, sex-mussed condition even more keenly, when it contrasted with the heavenly sounds pouring from his violin. Why had she let Karl-Heinz do these dreadful things to her?
Because you wanted him to.
She peered around the door, seeing him playing outwards towards the city lying beyond his floor-to-ceiling windows. His hair flew and his shoulder and elbow moved like quicksilver, his whole body an extension of the instrument.
She stepped back, her eyes full of tears.
This was not how it should be. She shouldn’t be coming to him like this.
She turned to leave, already thinking of making a dash to the concert hall public toilets and cleaning herself up in there. Not to mention getting all these…things…out of her.
“Not so fast.”
His voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Where are you going, little Lydia?” he crooned. “Do I have to come and get you?”
She coughed.
“Oh. I forgot something. I’ll just go and…”
His hand closed around her elbow and she was drawn unwillingly into the large central room and held at arm’s length for inspection.
“Have you been playing in the mud?”
Milan’s first reaction was to her blackened knees.
“No, just…”
“Von Ritter said he had a few surprises for me.” Milan put out a finger and scratched at the dried semen on the visible part of her breasts. “I had a feeling it would be something like this. Oh, hey, don’t look so upset. What’s the matter?”
Lydia looked away, swallowing a lump of tearful shame.
“If he’s done something to upset you…”
“No, not really, no, it’s not his fault. It’s my fault.”