Bonnibel was in a predicament of sorts. She squirmed in her chair while the exquisite notes of sound vibrated her whole body. She should have seen it coming. She's been feeling this peculiar feeling of redundant frustration for a few days. Like a well of energy inside her chest that just couldn't stop bugging her. She attributed it to hormones, after doing a little math in her head and realizing it was about that time in her cycle when she should be ovulating. She was walking around, ready to punch or fuck the next person who looked at her wrong, depending on the person of course.
With this mindset, the current situation has probably been a colossally terrible idea. Her cheeks felt hot, probably red as a tomato, no thanks to her pale skin, as she stared at those long, graceful fingers skid along the black and white keys.
A relaxing night of Chopin for making herself look more cultured, my ass. Not when she was horny and gay as hell, and the lead pianist was the object of her current darkest fantasies. Not that they were really dark or kinky. She exhaled loudly and rubbed her sweaty palms on the sides of her thighs. It has just been a hella long while since she last had any type of intimate contact with another human being, and apparently, she was deadly attracted to talented, musically inclined ladies.
Such talented hands, fuck. She gulped again and thumped her head back at the seat. She has been stalking this particular talented lady, Marceline was her name, for a while. She was friends with one of her acquaintances, from her job as a part-time teaching and lab work assistant at the university, Finn Mertens, a far too enthusiastic undergrad student, who just couldn't stop pestering her with unwanted attention when she held seminars for the students. She had seen her a couple of times at a local coffee shop, giant headphones over gorgeous black locks while working at a computer. Bonnibel liked to frequent there when she had free periods and she had no work at the lab, where she was working on her Ph.D. thesis. Reading science papers was much less dull in an environment with actual windows, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and friendly chatter in the background.
Marceline. As it turned out, was an all-around musical prodigy, as she worked for the local philharmonic orchestra, produced music and was the lead singer and bass player for her band. And as it turned out if that hadn't been enough to make Bonnibel literally fall from her chair at the coffee place, when she was doing the stalking, seated just a few tables from the apparently genius person, she was also drop-dead gorgeous and hot. Smoking hot. The kind of sexy, that made Bonnibel feel like she was a gross sweaty trucker guy, with inappropriate thoughts about slapping the woman's behind.
She shook herself. Internalized homophobia at herself was not helping, she reminded herself that she was allowed to think that women were sexy. She was not a gross trucker about to violate a woman, she scarcely had enough courage to talk to a girl she found attractive, never mind flirt with her. But tonight was different. She was spectating from afar, feeling deliciously frustrated, drunk with the movement of the pianist's hands, how her long hair flowed, even though it was pinned up in an elegant high ponytail. She indulged herself in an internal debate of which was sexier, the relaxed skinny jeans, worn band T-shirt and sneakers combination, Marceline usually wore to the coffee shop, or this impressive skin-tight red gown she was wearing right now. Who was she kidding, the latter was definitely what she was envisioning lying on the floor of her bedroom right now. The thin straps revealed patterns of flowers snaking up Marceline's left arm, from her elbow to her scapula. It flowed like water with the movements she made, while her hands danced on the huge piano. Bonnibel hadn't noticed the tattoos until today and she didn't know how the woman would possibly be more attractive, but she was.
The music suddenly stopped, the people around her applauding enthusiastically. She was apparently so out of it, she didn't notice it was time for the break. She was glad she came alone, and sincerely hoped nobody would notice her glowing, sweaty face. She stood up, tucked her pencil skirt in place and made it straight for the bar outside. She could get two drinks down in fifteen minutes and hoped it would calm her down for the second half of the performance.
After having downed two glasses of champagne, the bartender gave her an accusing look, because seriously, who feels the need to get drunk in the middle of Chopin, she stomped through to her seat and prepared herself for another forty-five minutes of self-torture.
At the end of the concert, she clapped with the crowd, until she couldn't feel her palms anymore. She would have howled if it was socially acceptable. As the people started clearing out of the giant concert hall, she stalled. She couldn't just go home… Not in her current state of angry frustration.
She had half a mind to keep drinking, get herself mind-blowingly drunk, maybe call her friends and let her frustrations out on some dancefloor, surrounded with anonymous bodies. Who knows, maybe an anonymous body would be willing to fuck her tonight. Or be fucked by her, she mused, as she took account of her almost violent mood. Deciding that she didn't care if the bartender was judging her for her poor life decisions, she plopped herself at a now half empty bar, ordering a gin tonic, and taking out her phone to text Lady-her roommate.
B: I'm half drunk at a piano concert, please tell me you'll take me clubbing tonight?
L: Oh Bonnie, I really want to take advantage of the rare occasion when you actually wanna go out, but I'm on a date, and it's going really well for a change…Pleaseeee, call Fionna or someone from the lab, and I'll write to you after the super fancy ass dinner that I'm currently thoroughly enjoying.
L: And girl, why are you drinking at a concerto? :O
B: Ok, definitely enjoy your fancy ass dinner. I might be having an existential crisis. I'm gonna call Fi. Laters :**
Bonnibel groaned. Even though Fionna was one of her oldest friends, they weren't as close lately, and she wasn't in the mood for rekindling old friendships and being awkwardly emotional tonight. She needed to feel in control, and that was hard for her around Fionna.
She heard booming laughter coming from behind her. Glancing away from her phone, she realized she was the only one left seated at the bar, two glasses of gin tonic in front of her. Spinning around she froze and snapped her head back to her drink. The source of the annoyingly loud laughter was none other than the talented finger lady, the source of her darkest fantasies for tonight, Marceline Abadeer. She was chatting with two men, two other orchestra members by the look of their uniform. And by the increasing loudness of their voices, they were coming nearer, until they were just behind her back, by the bar.
»Yo, Starcho! Two shots for me and Guy, as we're not going to be total lame-os tonight, since it is Friday night, and go out like normal people.« the woman's voice had a nice, raspy quality and she could hear a teasing smile behind her words. Not that she had the guts to turn around again, but continued staring at her drink like it had all the answers to the meaning of life.
»Some of us have kids that wake us up at ungodly morning hours, Marcy. And angry wives. Anyway, have fun for me guys. While you can!« one of the men said as she heard his footsteps pass her toward the exit.
»And then there was two.« said the other man, probably the one named Guy? »Unless we get totally lucky and this seemingly lonely lady wants to party it up with us?« she felt someone plop down on the bar stool to her right. She turned her gaze to him, her cheeks red as ever, noticing that he was definitely talking to her. He had shaggy brown hair, warm brown eyes and was grinning at her suggestively.
She chose to remain silent, offering him a small smile, feeling a little too flustered to react.
And then the bartender slipped her a third drink, »Just guessing here, but by the way you were hogging my bar, you are in need of a good night out. And our resident rock stars, Guy the supreme violinist and Marceline the piano queen are nothing if nor reliable.«
She felt someone take the seat to her left. Someone in a deliciously sexy red dress. She braved a look at the woman's face. She was wearing a lopsided smirk, but when she caught Bonnibel's eyes, hers widened a little, a surprised look on her beautiful features.
»Hey, I know you! You're the hot teacher Fin keeps blabbing about! I've seen you around Tree trunks cafe!« her tone was enthusiastic, and she didn't even flinch when she called her hot. Oh fuck, she just called her a hot teacher.
»I'm not a teacher! Just an assistant and a tutor to the undergrads at OOO uni.« she scowled and deliberately ignored that the girl called her hot, she probably couldn't be redder in the face if she tried. She didn't deal well with people aging her, and 'hot teacher', brought to mind images of ladies in their forties wielding pointing sticks that could also be used to spank somebody.
»You should definitely come party with us then! Maybe I'll call Finn so he can finally stop nagging me about you. I'm Marceline, by the way« she offered her a sly smirk again and her hand. Bonnibel didn't know what to do, but take those long fingers, and squeeze them carefully. The hand was rougher than she imagined.
»Bonnibel« she managed before the man on her right grabbed her hand and enthusiastically proclaimed himself as »Guy«.
»Look, I like Finn well enough, but he can be entirely over-enthusiastic and a little bit slow to grasp when someone is just not interested.« she grumbled and took a huge gulp of her drink. It burned down her throat as a warning sign, and she briefly had time to consider what the hell was she doing, turning down an invitation to actually get to know the girl of her fantasies.
»Oh, believe me, sister, I know.« Marceline laughed, »he tries his luck with every female that crosses his path, he even tried to shmooze me at some point, even though we've known each other since childhood, and I'm basically like his big sister.«
»So how about it Bonnibel, wanna let poor Starcho here close the bar and relocate somewhere a lot cooler?« Guy chimed in from her right.
Bonnibel looked at the bartender, who was watching them with an amused expression while wiping down glasses. »Where were you guys heading?« she asked carefully.
»We were gonna hit the Nightosphere, are ya down?« Guy laughed.
»Or is that not the scene for Uni assistants slash tutors?« Marceline teased from her left, bumping their shoulders.
Bonnibel was actually pretty familiar with the Nightosphere, it was one of the few joints in town that were not only LGBTQ friendly, hosting weekly rainbow parties, but also had music that wasn't only mindless thumping.
She laughed and chose not to retaliate »That would actually be the perfect afterparty for Chopin.« she giggled instead.
»I know, right?! I'm 100% positive Chopin would have been proud of us.« Marceline laughed that annoyingly loud laugh and stood up. »Come on, let's call a cab and boogie!«