Two Cellos

"I think what I'm trying to say is, your question... Connor, is it?" Imaani smiled, "It becomes irrelevant unless you're looking at what we're doing here and thinking of it as a revenue stream. We're not here to tell everyone to become working musicians; we're just here to show you how your life could be richer if you decide to pick up an instrument one day."

Quinn wanted to stand up and applaud as he beamed at his partner. They rounded out their set and had barely left the stage when he stopped her.

"Where did that come from?" he queried, wondering what Claire and Imaani had discussed in all the time they'd spent together at Claire's place. Imaani kept walking to where her instrument case lay in a corner between the thick red curtains of the stage. She only turned to answer him once she'd put her cello inside.

"I just..." she shrugged, "I guess I just realized in the last few days there are a lot of things I stop myself from saying or doing because I'm secretly afraid of what people will think. What happened Saturday night made me rethink a lot of things." She watched as Quinn put his own cello and bow away, then stood up to face her again.

"Are you going back to the music academy or home?" she asked him. "Remember when I said earlier I'd fill you in after the show?" Quinn nodded and quickly recalled he didn't have any classes scheduled until 4 p.m. It was only 11 in the morning now.

"Let me help Ethan pack up the van and he can drop me off at my place," he said. "I'll meet you there."

A half-hour later, Ethan pulled up to his building with him to see Imaani waiting by the entrance.

"My spider sense is going crazy," Ethan told him. "Something's up, man."

"She's talking to me and things aren't anywhere near as embarrassing as I thought," Quinn replied before opening the van door. "That's more than enough."

Once he and Imaani entered his apartment, Quinn hung up their jackets, oblivious that Imaani's eyes hadn't left his body.

"What do you say we just do something simple for lunch, like soup and a bag--" he started, turning around to see her piercing stare.

Imaani closed the gap between them and before Quinn could respond, pulled on his collar until her lips met his. She kissed him softly at first, then more hungrily the second time. As she went for a third, Quinn put his hands on her shoulders and held her away, all but reeling.

"Imaani, what are you doing?" he whispered in alarm. What the hell are you doing, you idiot? his brain screamed at him. You're getting everything you always wanted in this moment and you're fucking it up! "You're still married," he said aloud.

"Separated," Imaani retorted. "Nat and I are staying with my sister for now until Clayton moves out next week. Then we're back in the house, which I'm pretty sure I'll be getting in the divorce." Quinn's face was a mix of shock and confusion.

"You'd be amazed what kind of leverage you have for a quickie divorce when there's video evidence of a community figurehead fucking his employee," Imaani added.

"You... you taped Clay having..."

"Yup. I guess with all the excitement Sunday morning, I forgot to mention it. She had a wide screen door and a backyard anyone could just walk into with no fence, so I stood there recording them for a few minutes.

"Then I went back home before Nat woke up, got her ready for an all-day robotics tournament, then came here to see you." Quinn shifted and looked at his feet at the memory of Imaani bursting in on him and Fiona.

"I went to Claire's place after that," Imaani continued, "...and the first thing I did was show her the video. Then we finished a pint of ice cream together and looked for divorce lawyers. I spent most of Sunday with Claire, picked up Nat, packed our stuff, and texted Clayton we wouldn't be back until he moved out. He hadn't come home that entire day.

"I chose the lawyer who could serve Clay the fastest, and that was done..." she glanced at her watch. "...oh, about the time we were on stage playing Feelin' Good by Nina Simone this morning. Fitting, don't you think?" She gave Quinn a smug smile and stepped toward him. His head spun, not least of all because Imaani's delicate fingers were laced in his again.

"Look, I want you to be happy, but you're not divorced yet. Are you sure this isn't going a little fast?" he made sure.

"No, Red," Imaani widened her charcoal eyes and stared directly into his icy gray ones. "It's actually gone much too slow. I know you want to kiss me back, right? You want me, don't you?"

"Not like this," he said, staggering and falling backward into the closet. He caught a glimpse of the hurt on Imaani's face on his way down, but scrambled to his feet and caught her forearm while she was reaching for the door. "No, not again," he said. "You're not going to run out on me again."

"Let me go, Red," she said sharply.

"Like hell," he told her, stepping between her and the door, then wrapping her up against his chest. She tried to push him away at first but he tightened his grip until she stopped struggling. Then, he felt her chest heaving and looked down to see her tear-streaked face.

"I feel like I've been doing nothing over the last week except making a fool of myself," she whispered, her voice shaking as she gingerly hugged him back.

"That is the absolute last word I'd use to describe you," Quinn murmured into her hair. "I'm not putting the brakes on this because I don't want you. You are all I've wanted since the day of our first lesson together." She looked up at him and he wiped her tears with the back of his hand.

"I'm putting the brakes on this because I want to do it right. Your divorce has to be a done deal. And I want to make sure you want me as Quinn; not as a revenge lay."

"How can you say that?" Imaani asked, recoiling as though insulted.

"Well, this is the first time you ever seemed interested in me."

"That was because I was married to someone else, not because I didn't love you!" Quinn looked blankly at her with his mouth open as they fell into a pin-drop silence for several beats. "And there I go embarrassing myself again," Imaani added ruefully, breaking eye contact with him and crossing her arms over her stomach.

"No, no," he said slowly, his voice hoarse. "I... you--was that a mistake?"

"What I just said? No," Imaani replied. "The mistake was not recognizing how far my marriage had deteriorated, and not ending it sooner." She cocked her head to one side and shot her partner a quizzical look, then spoke slowly.

"Were you thinking all this time that if you and I ever ended up in this spot, that the only reason I'd want to be with you would be for sex? Or revenge? Or something that didn't have to do with me falling in love with you?"

Quinn simply blinked at her.

"I'm baring my heart here, Red. You have to say something."

"I... I was wondering if it was too late to go back on what I just said about waiting until your divorce is final."

"Did you say that?" Imaani asked innocently, her lips curving upward. "I didn't hear you say that."

The next second, Quinn had picked Imaani up and was taking the longest strides he could toward his bedroom. He put her down on his bed and curled up beside her, crushing her mouth in a series of bruising kisses.

"You're sure this is right?" Quinn panted, searching Imaani's eyes.

"Red, I've wanted this since we were trapped in the Ford Flex together," Imaani smiled, touching her forehead to his. "I mean, I wasn't in love with you then, but I'm only human. I couldn't help but notice how perfectly we fit when we were holding each other.

"Even a year ago, Clayton was just falling asleep before we got the chance to cuddle. It makes me wonder how long his affair had been going on, or whether it was just with the one aide. We haven't been intimate in maybe five months, at least." She tilted her chin forward and kissed Quinn again, and he responded with a low sigh.

"When did you know you loved me?" he asked. Before she could answer, he gripped her hips and turned her away from him, spooning her the way he had when their engine died that night a year ago. As she giggled, he pulled down the floppy neckline of her sweater dress and dropped short kisses on the back of her neck.

"It happened somewhere along the way when I wasn't looking," she said, clasping his hand that rested on her stomach. "You don't know how hard it was for me to say no to you again last week after the Arctic Monkeys incident." She could feel Quinn's muffled laughter against her shoulder, then sat up to take off her sweater and t-shirt underneath.

"Because for sure by that point I knew you were more of a partner to me than Clayton had been in a long time. I just didn't know how checked-out of our marriage he really was." Now simply wearing her bra and leggings, Imaani pushed Quinn onto his back and then knelt between his legs to slowly unbutton his flannel shirt.

"Maybe we wouldn't have drifted apart if he hadn't gotten into politics, or maybe we would have, I have no idea," she continued, a wistful note in her voice. "But what's worse than drifting apart is realizing it's happening, then pulling out an oar and rowing further away."

"He's a clown," Quinn said, holding her hips and watching her undress him. "Every time he came to pick you up after a show, I was jealous at what an amazing life he had. Not just you, but also Nat, being solid and secure with his family, being respected throughout town. I can't believe he threw all that--" Quinn's voice jammed in in his throat as he felt Imaani unbutton his jeans and carefully unzip him.

He lifted his hips as she wedged his pants downward, his erection tenting out of his boxers. Imaani was on top of him, kissing along his collarbone while lightly holding down his upper arms. All that stood between him and her full breasts was that scratchy piece of lace that he desperately needed to toss on the floor. As she made her way down the light nest of hair in the center of his chest, he reached around her back.

Quinn groaned at the sight of Imaani's bra falling between them, her dark chocolate nipples begging for his touch. He sat up and got her to straddle him, then cupped her rear to bring her closer. Imaani let out a throaty moan as Quinn ravished her left breast with his mouth, alternately sucking and licking her nipple until she gripped his shoulders to steady herself.

Without looking up, he moved his face and took her right nipple between his teeth, lightly gnawing on it while stroking the left one with his thumb.

"Awww, Quinn..." Imaani wailed, acutely aware she needed to take off her soaked panties.

"Call me that from now on when it's just us," he instructed while gently twisting both nipples between his fingers. Imaani could barely focus on what he was asking but she nodded, her head swimming. "'Red' is fine when we're outside, but in a few minutes you're going to be screaming something and I want it to be my name."

"Quinn... Quinn..." she gasped, her lips against his forehead.

"Good, just like that," he smirked, reveling in seeing the woman he loved losing control under his strokes. "What do you want me to do, sweetie?"

"Take off my panties."

In a flash, Quinn shifted Imaani off his lap and onto her back beside him. He exhaled slowly at the incredible scent that wafted from between her legs as he slid off her leggings and panties. She's gonna be the death of me, he slowly shook his head in amazement as he took in the sight of her lithe, mahogany body outstretched on his bedspread.

He shrugged off his open shirt and dropped his boxers, then covered Imaani's naked body with his own and pulled the sheets up around them. Sighing at the feel of her warm skin against his, he began to gently kiss her mouth. She ran her hands up and down his back, then pulled his head back a bit.

"Quinn, please just take me," she whispered against his lips. "We can take our time afterwards."

"Thank god; I wasn't going to last anyway," he joked, kissing her again before reaching into his nightstand drawer for a condom.

Imaani grabbed a pillow and wedged it under her hips, then bent her knees on either side of Quinn's waist. She was barely settled back when she felt his tip at her entrance, and his nose burrowed against the curve of her neck.

Her whimpers as he pushed forward were the most beautiful music Quinn had ever heard. When he was in to the hilt, he felt her muscles give him a little squeeze and he grunted into her hair.

"I was kidding about not being able to last but if you keep doing that, Imaani..."

"I don't want you to last, Quinn," she purred, tangling her fingers in his auburn hair. "I want you to fuck me the way you imagine whenever you're alone in this bed."

"Tabarnac," he swore under his breath, before partially drawing out and thrusting back with full force. Imaani cried out and Quinn was alarmed for a second until he saw the tranquil smile on her face. He tried not to speed up too quickly, but he was soon past the point of controlling himself.

He pumped faster and faster, his movements spurred on by her adorable little whimpers, which sounded almost like hiccups to him. He stopped for a moment to suck Imaani's breasts again, but not before he buried himself all the way inside her.

While he flicked her rock-hard buds with his tongue, he was intensely aware of her feet scrambling on either side of him. Imaani frantically squealed Quinn's name, his bedspread balled up in her fists, her knees shaking as they gripped his torso.

This is when Quinn resumed pistoning in and out of the woman he never thought he'd know in this way. He didn't even let up when she tossed her head from side to side in ecstasy, and he mercilessly pushed her through her climax and straight toward another one.

"Quinn, you're going to make me..." Imaani panted. "Come with me this time, baby."

Quinn held on until he saw his lover's gorgeous dark eyes start to roll back in her head. As she writhed and tightened around him in an iron grip, he gave in to the waves of pleasure that wracked his body and then emptied himself dry.

His low groans vibrated against the skin of Imaani's shoulder and he was paralyzed in bliss for a moment. Quinn wasn't able to think coherently, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he was never going to be with anyone other than the perfect woman gasping for air beneath him.

He slowly propped himself up on his forearms and kissed Imaani's cheekbone, then the corner of her lips. She smiled and gently scratched him between his shoulder blades, then gave him a tender peck on his chin. Quinn opened his mouth to tell her he loved her but at that same moment was interrupted by her stomach growling loudly. They both dissolved into giggles.

"Oh man, I feel terrible," Quinn said. "I was supposed to feed you but instead I carried you off to bed."

"You fed my soul," Imaani said, pulling his head to rest on her collarbone. "I feel kind of silly admitting this, but I needed to know you found me desirable."

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Quinn replied, looking up at her and grasping her bare left hand. "The only thing holding me back all this time was that ring on your finger."

"I left it on the kitchen counter Sunday morning," Imaani smiled wryly. "On top of a sticky note that said 'go straight to hell.'" Her stomach rumbled again and Quinn all but bolted up.

"Let me clean up and run across the street to get a pizza," he said on his way to the bathroom. "The ones they have ready for pick-up don't have toppings on them but I need to get some hot food in you, fast."

A minute later, Quinn came out wearing unzipped jeans and looking for his shirt. Imaani found herself admiring his lean stomach and shoulders, forgetting for a moment she was still nude. Quinn couldn't tear his eyes from her as he did up his buttons.

"I'll be back in a few," he softly told her, kissing her lips. "I love you, Imaani."

***********

Quinn had hardly exited the front entrance of his building when a figure hopped out of a silver convertible in the side parking lot.

"Quinn!" Clayton called out.

Salaud, Quinn cursed at him in his mind when he spotted him. Then he shook his head and upped his pace toward the plaza.

"Hey, Quinn, slow down," Clayton said, breaking into a fast walk to catch up.

"Save it, Clay. I know what you did to Imaani. We all know, and you're a breathtaking piece of shit."

"Well, I know my wife's up there in your apartment and she's been there with you for at least 45 minutes," Clayton said, scooting in front to Quinn and bringing him to an abrupt stop. "Her car's right there. I just want to talk to her and she's not answering my calls or texts."

"Gee, I wonder why," Quinn flatly replied.

"Just what have you two been doing up there?" Clayton asked pointedly, blocking Quinn from darting around him.

"How the fuck do you have the gall to ask about Imaani's activities, nevermind imply what I'm sure you're implying?" Quinn spat out. "Don't you have anywhere else to be, like balls deep in your assistant?"

"No need to be crass, Mr. Michaud," Clayton said in a low voice, putting his hands in the pockets of his three-piece suit.

"Right. Instead, let's just behave crassly and--" Quinn's phone pinged and he reflexively fished it out of his jacket pocket.

Remind him of the restraining order attached to the divorce papers, Imaani's text read. He glanced up at the window of his apartment, only to see the curtains ruffle.

"Do you know you could be arrested if you try to contact her?" Quinn asked. "Did you even read what she served you or did you just hand it off to--" He started laughing. "Jesus, Clay, you're a city councilor for a mid-sized Canadian city; not a United States senator. "You are way less important than you think you are." Clayton bristled and crossed his arms.

"You're just another guy getting a divorce, man," Quinn went on, visibly more relaxed. "She doesn't want to talk to you anymore; that's what she was trying to do way before now and you blew her off. Now she just wants an amicable split." He made his way to the crosswalk and Clayton followed.

"I'm sure you'd love that, wouldn't you?" he goaded.

"Imaani's one of my best friends. So yeah, you're right. I love it when my friends are happy," Quinn replied as they stopped at the red light. He wasn't sure if he imagined it, but Clay seemed thrown for a moment at his response.

"But this is just a misunderst--"

"There's a video of you going at it doggie-style," Quinn interrupted. "So this can be as clean or as messy as you choose. Good luck convincing a judge you deserve joint custody of Nat if you become Internet famous."

"Is that a threat, Michaud?"

"It's literally you fucking around and finding out, Councilor Farah," Quinn said crisply before the light turned green and he started walking again. "Just tell everyone some bullshit about your job taking its toll on your marriage and sign the damn papers."

He glanced back when he reached the plaza parking lot, relieved to see Clayton still standing where he'd left him. When he emerged from the pizza place a few minutes later, the older man was gone.

"So you were watching me walk away, huh?" Quinn winked at Imaani as he entered his apartment. She rolled her eyes with a smile.

"Is everything okay? Did Clay threaten you?"

"He didn't, but he seemed like he was going to get upset when I called him on his bullshit. Your text couldn't have come at a more perfect time." Quinn put the pizza down and gathered Imaani in his arms. "He hadn't even looked at the papers and didn't know there was a restraining order in there."

"I knew this is what he'd pull, trying to track me down," she replied, hugging him back. "He just wants to keep me and Nat for appearances. Did he accuse you and I of having an affair?"