Love Lessons

by diamondwine

A young musician living in New York City receives cello lessons from Loki, the God of Mischief, who has been parading the world as a regular man.

If you ask me a question, I'm going to give you my answer. Sure, I might give you a long winded response; it doesn't mean I'm crazy. If that alone bothers you, it's not my fault. I can't not express myself to the fullest extent that I am able. That is exactly what I was doing. I was paying my way through music school. No one knew it like I did what it meant to come from almost nothing and create something. I didn't even hear the door at the entrance of the auditorium close, but the vibrations against my knees was all that concerned me as I delved into Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 in G. Arpeggiated chords coursed through my veins with every stroke of my bow, from my brain down to the tip of my toes. Little did I know, I was not alone. The stage was where I felt at home, and I never wanted to leave when I sat up there and played. Past seven at night and I was alone, or so I thought. The improv club I had joined, mainly to use the stage space when they were done every Tuesday and Friday night, had adjourned what felt like fifty minutes earlier. My closed eyes never detected the presence of anyone else as my fingers did all the seeing.

I wasn't hearing anything other than my instrument. It wasn't really mine, but I pretended that it was. One day I would buy my own. I practised until my fingers were numb, and I spoke nothing but the notes that I had memorized from sheet after sheet of music many countless nights. Nightmares couldn't touch me here, not even my broken past. My fingers began to burn and I winced, but kept on. I knew I was ripping open a recent little bruise, but I had to go a bit further—gasped and stopped, my finger slipping over the strings. I kept my eyes closed out of anguish and inhaled, staring down at my finger. The cut bled afresh and I cursed at myself beneath my breath.

"The true artist suffers for her work," sauntered a nearly conniving voice. I looked up with surprise and scanned the empty audience, the lights that rested on me from the stage having finally blinded me, for my eyes had been closed nearly an hour. I heard the shuffle of feet and squinted in the lights. I was about to ask who was there when my gaze rested on a very tall figure in the aisle way. It was stepping closer to the stage. The gusto with which it stalked forth was almost theatrical, and I wondered for a moment whether it was just Elliot, the head of my improv group, come to spy on me practising again. But as the figure made it deeper into the limelight, I knew it wasn't Elliot. I started to stand up.

"I didn't mean to startle you," the stranger said. There was a fluidity about his voice that suddenly calmed me, and I stayed seated. I listened as he started up the steps of the stage. He stood in front of me a couple of feet away. I looked up at this tall, pale man. He was in a black trench coat and matching trousers. The deep verdant collar of the button down shirt he wore seemed to be fastened tightly about his pale neck. He held what looked like a cane of sorts, except he appeared to be perfectly able to maneuver, as he was holding it so that the end didn't touch the hardwood floor of the stage. I looked at it a moment to realize that it must have merely been an item of fashion, not an ambulatory assist, as it was rather ornate with what appeared to be engravings or etchings of some sort. Luminescent green eyes intently looked down at the cello in my hands. The man's inky hair fell a few inches past his shoulders as he leant his head down slightly, almost as if he were trying to see something very far away, but I knew that he was looking at the cello between my knees. Suddenly, I felt the need to stand up, hastily pulling on the hem of my a-line skirt. I straightened up slowly.

"Sebastian sounds alright," he said, a smile lighting his lips. A drop of water vaguely slipped down the bridge of the man's nose, and I looked down to see that he was holding an umbrella. I shook my head slightly for a moment, as I swore it had been a cane.

"Albeit, I do trust Warren not to lend it to reckless players," he said. Warren was the professor from whom I borrowed the cello. I began to understand that this strange man must have known my professor. I felt that I had been hypnotized, listening to this complete stranger speak. I looked in his eyes and he looked in mine.

"…Jasmine Lucille? I suppose that's who you are?" he asked me. I nodded absently. He extended his hand and I reached for it slowly.

"I didn't mean to impose, but I came in for the night lessons I teach and I passed this auditorium. I couldn't help overhearing what you were playing. I'm Leonard Larsson, the musician who owns this instrument," said the stranger, nodding slightly to the instrument still perched against my knees.

"I'm a professor here—more or less. I'm more of a private instructor..." Leonard's emerald eyes were flitting up and down the cello, but it felt as if he were scanning my legs which were exposed just above the knees, "I teach at night. You know how busy most art students are," he said, laughing very slightly. The sound tickled me in an odd way. I came to the realization that he was still holding my hand, shaking it slowly. His grip was pleasantly firm, but not too strong. I glanced down at the fingers wrapped around my hand. Leonard's fingers were long and pale, and cold, their pallor reminding me of snow. I looked up at his face and he was still looking down at the cello. There was a slight curl to his inky black hair, the kind that occurred as a result of humidity. It was nearing the middle of spring, and I assumed from the look of Leonard's damp trench coat that it was raining outside. He met my gaze again.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you. I merely wanted to see who was playing," he said. I nodded, again feeling as though I were in a trance. It had been a very stressful couple of weeks; I had been practising my heart out for the concert I would give at commencement in the next few weeks. I was pulled out of my daze when I felt Leonard holding my index and middle fingers in his chilly hand. There was blood on the blister at the tip of my middle finger. Leonard made a slightly dissatisfied movement with his slim lips. He looked me in the eyes.

"You don't want to play with that. Get a thimble, Jasmine. You will find it more painful to practise when your fingers are out of commission," he said in a semi-imperative manner. He did sound half concerned about my bleeding finger, turning it in his hand. For a moment, I felt as if I were with a doctor who was trying to diagnose me. I already had a diagnosis; anxiety. The stress of the end of the semester had been getting to me so badly that I had started nightmaring about performing, something I'd never dealt with before. I lacked stage fright. One would lack fear with a past like mine…

"It will only get worse," Leonard said, looking up at me again, "I can already tell. Take it from someone who has personally made the same mistake," he said.

"I'm sorry," I said. The long, raven eyebrows travelled skyward on Leonard's face for a moment.

"Do you need this back already? I was only borrowing it. Warren said I could—" I started to explain, looking down at the cello.

"Not at all," Leonard grinned pleasantly, "There's nothing to be sorry about. I know that you need Sebastian until the end of the semester. I wouldn't have leant him to Warren if I didn't have a clue where he was going." It was my turn to raise my eyebrows, but I did it out of utter confusion.

"Sebastian?" I asked.

"Oh, you'll have to excuse me," Leonard started, grinning, "I have a tendency to name my instruments. Coincidence that that is exactly who you were playing," he said. My heart beat rapidly against my chest when Leonard's smile widened.

"Oh," I said, laughing, "that's nice."

"You see," he continued, keeping my gaze. I felt his hand touch the scroll of the cello and I looked down where his hand rested, slightly touching my right one upon the fingerboard, "I treat them as…people, you could say. They sing when you play them, almost as if they have stories to tell you," he said, his eyes travelling down again, but I felt that he was looking past the instrument at my exposed legs. Slowly, Leonard let go of the cello.

"I never thought of it that way. That was very deep," I said, feeling as if I would faint from the trance I seemed to be falling into.

"Please, call me Leo," he said, "Any student of Warren's is a student of mine. You are welcome to borrow from me whenever you have need to," Leonard said. I nodded and heard a crash of thunder. It had startled me and I jumped slightly. Leonard's mouth became an unpleasant frown upon hearing this interjection, gazing up at the ceiling as if he could see what was taking place outside. He turned to me again with a smile.

"Carry on, Jasmine," he said. There was something so soigné about Leonard Larsson that I couldn't quite ignore as he descended the stage and walked out of the auditorium, leaving me standing there alone with his cello. His voice seemed to echo in my ears, its charming accent reverberating off the front of my skull. I checked my watch to find that it was going on eight o'clock. It was a Friday night and I had no plans; I had planned to stay in the auditorium and play as long as I wanted to, until I perfected the piece, but I looked at my bleeding finger and decided it was best to heed Leonard's advice. I went for the case and carefully put Sebastian, as I now smiled at the thought of calling the cello, away, closing him up securely.

There was something about Leonard that had intrigued me. I thought perhaps it was due to my lack of sleep. I had to start treating myself better. I had been forgetting things, and getting locked out of my apartment wasn't one of my favourite pass times. At the thought of this, I hurried down off the stage and into my bag. My keys were there and I sighed with relief upon feeling their cold metal against my fingers. I decided now was the best time to go and develop those pictures I had taken for the photography class I had decided to teach assist on a whim. I knew that the dark room would still be open to students who worked late at night. I carried the cello and my bag out of the auditorium and made my way to the elevator. When I got into the basement where I needed to be, the professor was still working there. He welcomed me in, but asked if I would lock up for the weekend, as he was just leaving. I was in there for about an hour and a half developing pictures before I decided I was too tired. I started to put things away and I locked up the dark room when I was finished.

On the train, I wished I had brought my iPod, because I honestly couldn't stand the homeless men that constantly eyed me and smiled, or the crazies who said things to me where I sat. I glanced to my left about ten minutes into the ride and saw a pair of very pale hands holding up the newspaper from that day. They reminded me of Leonard's, and I glanced down at my fingers to find that the cut was beginning to scab over on my middle finger. I looked again to my left where someone held a newspaper and was just turning the page as the train began to slow down. I could tell it was a man by the shoes on his feet. He had one leg neatly folded over the other. The train stopped and the man folded up the paper hastily. He was the only one to get up, and when he stood, I saw that it was Leonard. He picked up what I could make out to be an elaborate cane. I felt confused for a few seconds; I had sworn that it was an umbrella the last time that I saw it, a cane the first time that I saw it, and then it was a cane of some sort that he gripped in his pale hand, a briefcase in the other. His black trench coat billowed as a breeze came in through the sliding car doors. Another train was passing by on the opposite track. I knew that Leonard couldn't see me from where he stood, but momentarily, I wondered if perhaps he had been watching me for part of the ride.

I submerged myself completely. The warm water wrapped around my head and flooded my ears as I disappeared beneath the surface. It wasn't the nicest apartment, but it was mine, and I had been calling it home ever since I'd been working as a barista at the coffee shop not far from campus. Deep enough underwater so that my head touched the bottom of the tub, I exhaled, causing a frenzy of bubbles to surface. Leonard's voice was in my head again when I stroked my stomach to feel that sting where the blister had broken open. It will only get worse…When I got out of the tub, I searched the medicine cabinet for a bandage. I had just one left, and feeling rather thankful, I dabbed my cut with an antiseptic and bandaged it. I had to practise, though, there was no getting around it…

I worked most days of the week, but especially on the weekends. It was almost eleven on a Saturday morning when a familiar pair of pale hands was waiting patiently on the counter. I saw them upon coming up from the cabinet under the counter, where I was grabbing extra lids, to find Leonard Larsson gazing intently up at the menu. I looked where he was looking for a moment, forgetting that it was there. I replaced the caps in their holder, not taking my eyes off of Leonard who hadn't yet realized I was waiting there. His fingers tapped the counter methodically as he glanced at the menu; "I'm sorry," he started, his eyes still scanning the letters up on the wall, "I haven't been here before. Do you serve tea?" Finally Leonard looked at me and when he realized who I was, smiled pleasantly.

"Jasmine," he said, "How is the Suite coming along?" he asked me, his voice soft and sweet like honey pouring from between his rosy lips.

"Uh…" I looked at my bandaged finger and Leonard's gaze rested on it with a slight frown, "It's great. I'm just trying to take it easy with this blister. Tea?" I asked him before grabbing a small menu board that sat beside the coffee maker. I handed it to him and he said, "Thank you." It wasn't more than five seconds before Leonard handed it back to me.

"I'll just have a medium bergamot," he grinned, tapping on the name as he handed me back the tea menu. I nodded and he started towards the end of the counter as to move out of the way, although there was no one else waiting behind him. He never took his eyes off me as I prepared the tea. I had to wait a little bit for the water to heat up.

"Would you like that for here or to go, Professor Leonard?" I asked him, turning around momentarily.

"Please," he laughed slightly, "Call me Leo," he insisted, lifting his pale hand up in a somewhat meditative way, "I'll have it here, please," he said. I opened the cabinet where we kept the small infuser teapots. I picked one out and spooned tea leaves into the infuser. Once the hot water was ready, I poured it into the infuser and grabbed a mug and spoon. I brought them carefully over to the counter where Leonard was waiting, watching. There was something about his gaze that just felt familiar, as if I were drawn to it. Leonard thanked me again and I gave him the price. He swiped a credit card and I printed his receipt, and I was captivated by his beautiful long fingers as he took it from me, speaking again.

"Are you excited for commencement?" he asked me, "Warren told me you were playing the Cello Suites for your graduating class—for the ceremony." I nodded and Leonard smiled, picking up his tea and mug, thanking me again. He sat by the window and I watched the sun pour in on him as he opened a book I was only now realizing he'd kept tucked under his arm. I couldn't help watching him intently. He was…peculiar. He wasn't dressed like a professor; the long sleeved deep green shirt he was wearing clung to his frame, slightly revealing a sculpted chest beneath, and his legs were long in a pair of dark denim jeans. His black hair was mostly pulled back in a quaint tail at the base of his skull, the rest tucked behind his ears neatly. I started to think as I watched him read, that he was beautiful. I wasn't able to spy on him long before my coworker came out and said that she needed help in the pantry to unpack some new mugs. By the time I walked back out into the café, Leonard was already gone.

Tuesday night arrived and I went along with my improv group, but I mostly watched. Elliot finally worked up the guts to ask me out, but I told him I had to focus on my piece for commencement; maybe I could go out with him another night. It wasn't that Elliott wasn't a nice guy, and good looking on top of that, it was really more so that I had a one-track mind quite often. My last relationship had been rocky, and ended in abuse. I sort of had a difficult time trusting most men. I was playing Leonard's cello for the better part of twenty minutes until I really couldn't take it with the stupid band aid on my middle finger. I decided to give up for the night and I packed Sebastian away and started for the door of the auditorium. When I came out, it was as if in perfect timing; Leonard was walking past me, carrying a violin case that was slung over his shoulder. He appeared to be headed towards the auditorium where I was exiting, but he paused when he saw me. I stopped.

"Leonard," I said casually.

"Jasmine," he said, "we meet again," he grinned, "I didn't know you would be here." I felt my heart race. His voice was pleasant to my ears.

"Oh, I was just practising in there. There's no one around."

"I can see that. There's not too many people around this time of evening," he said. His smile was bright with an odd sly, almost mischievous hint to it.

"Well, it's all yours. I can't really play like this," I said, re-wrapping the band aid which had been trying to come off around my finger.

"You know, I actually have just the thing for that," he said, pulling the case off of his shoulder. He reached into a zipped compartment and pulled out a few bandages. I was happy I had run into him then. He gave them both to me.

"Here, you need them more than I do," he said kindly. I don't know why, but I hesitated, looking up into his verdant eyes. Leonard held them closer to me. He was a little more than a foot taller than me, and I felt as though I were a child taking something from a complete stranger when I reached out to take the bandages from Leonard.

"Thank you," I said honestly. He nodded.

"Goodnight, Jasmine," Leonard said, and started past me into the auditorium. The door closed behind him and I put down the cello case to fix one of the new bandages around my finger. I walked over to the trash can and threw away the application pieces, tucking the other bandage in my blouse pocket. I walked back over to the door of the auditorium and leant over to pick up Sebastian the cello. I paused upon hearing the sweetest melancholy melody coming from inside the room. I knew that it was Leonard playing the violin I'd seen him carrying. I picked up his cello and just stood outside the door, very close to it, for a handful of seconds. A full minute passed. It was the most beautiful tune I'd ever heard, but it stopped when I pressed my hands to the door of the auditorium. I backed up for a second, feeling as though I were being watched. I looked around, but there was no one in the corridor. The violin picked up again. I didn't want to leave. The music was so beautiful and comforting. I wanted to stay and listen. I felt compelled to stay, and found myself pulling the door open and closing it quietly behind me. I walked slowly towards the stage where Leonard stood there like a tall wonder, statuesque, like…a god. As I got close enough to make out his face, I could tell that he was looking directly at me. It became clear that he had seen me coming in the entire time. Leonard didn't play with his eyes closed like I did, but he needn't have looked at the strings to know he was playing the correct ones. The adroitness of Leonard's slender, pale fingers dancing upon the fingerboard was captivating. I stood in the aisle and watched him, watching me.

The serenade went on and he never stopped playing…He started to grin slowly. I felt my cheeks flare; it was as if I had been told to come and watch as I gazed at him, spellbound. I put down my bag and Leonard's cello slowly, as the weight of them was growing on me, I'd been standing there so long. Leonard stopped as the song came to an end. He stepped a few paces to the right, and then a few to the left. I watched him the entire time.

"I'm sorry. I never meant to interrupt you," I said, snapping out of my trance. Leonard descended the stage with such speed and grace then that I swore momentarily he had floated. I checked my cell phone and gasped to find that it was almost midnight.

"I'm going to miss the train," I said to myself, reaching for my bag.

"I apologize, Ms. Lucille," he said suddenly, "but would you prefer me to give you a ride home? I drove to work today, and I wouldn't mind dropping you off," he said, his eyes travelling down towards my feet where the cello rested, "It's rather late for a young lady to be riding the subway alone." I pondered a moment, and then decided to take Leonard up on his offer. I was still trying to figure out how so much time got away from me. It didn't seem to make sense.

"I…" I was at a loss for words. Leonard was rather close to me then, the violin in one hand and bow in the other, "Don't you instruct students for night classes?" I asked dumbfounded.

"Generally, yes, but my only student for the evening couldn't make it."

Leonard stepped away from me and walked back on the stage where he picked up the violin case and put his instrument away gracefully.

"I'd like that ride," I said.

It was raining heavily again when Leonard pulled open his car door for me. He had held his own umbrella over my head chivalrously as we walked out to his car. He waited as I carefully placed the cello in the back seat, until I was securely inside, before closing the door. I saw a quick flash of lightning and gasped; it had taken me by surprise. Leonard climbed into the driver's seat and closed his umbrella, and then the door, placing the soaked device in the back seat on the floor.

"Some storm," he said, taking a deep breath and putting his keys in the ignition. I started to tell him which way to go. His pale hands on the wheel were nearly luminescent in the darkness, and I could hardly see through the rain pelting the windshield, even as the wipers constantly swept over it. When we made it to my place not more than twenty or so minutes later, Leonard paused in front of my building on the street. I turned to him.

"Thank you so much professor—"

"Leo," he corrected me, "And it's no trouble, Jasmine…"

I had opened the door and could feel the rain dampening my leg as I had paused to look at Leonard.

"Leo," I corrected myself, grinning shortly. I pulled my bag off my lap and stepped out into the rain. I didn't have an umbrella, so I was getting soaked relentlessly as I hurried up the steps. For a second, I glanced back down the stairwell where I could see Leonard's pale hands on the wheel inside his car. They were somewhat ominous, and I just stared at them, the rain finally soaking through my clothes so that I felt it against my skin. Someone opened the door for me before I could turn back and enter the code into the lock. Leonard's car drove off into the treacherous night, illuminated once by the flash of lightning that filled the sky.

I didn't even notice that I'd forgotten the cello until I was sitting in the tub, shaving my legs. I gasped upon remembering that I'd forgotten it, and in that moment of distraction, I cut myself. The blood leaked out like the juice of a ripe cherry, thin and watery, a beautiful crimson. I closed my eyes and was reminded of the way it felt when my ex had sliced into the skin on my shoulder. Before I even felt my hand on the still fading scar there, I had fallen back into the memory, a place I hadn't wanted to go. I looked over my left shoulder and pulled my fingers over the scar there. I remember screaming under the weight of Jared's body, the slicing sensation of a blade against my skin, the deep gash it had left. I shook my head and sunk my shin under the water, watching the blood diffuse and disappear.

It was difficult for me to focus in class on Wednesday morning. I remembered the cello I'd forgotten in Leonard's car. I was going to ask Professor Warren where I might find Leonard, as I'm sure he knew I needed the cello to practise, and had left it accidentally in his car the previous night. I was about to walk up to my professor and ask this at the end of class when I felt the urge not to. Had it been inappropriate to accept a ride from an instructor? I knew that I had felt attracted to him; I didn't want Professor Warren to think anything of it, ask why I was on campus so late. I shook my head. My finger hadn't yet healed completely, and I knew it would have been difficult to practise, anyway. I roamed campus idly after my last class, just hoping I would bump into Leonard. I wasn't sure what time he'd be around, so I just went to the auditorium where I'd usually practise, but there were students rehearsing there and I could hardly focus on my work sitting in the same room. When I decided it was futile to wait, not knowing whether Leonard would even show up at the auditorium again, I put my stuff away and started to leave. As I stepped out, I was disappointed to find that it appeared to be raining again. I didn't have an umbrella and I needed to take the train home. I really should start checking the weather. There was a pleasant slight breeze that had passed me as I'd opened the auditorium door. I glanced to my right and saw a tall figure walking by. I could tell from the balletic cadence with which it walked that it was Leonard.

"Leonard," I said, turning in place where I stood. The figure stopped walking and turned around, nearly to the end of the hall. He was holding the same case that I knew contained a violin. He grinned over at me.

"We have to stop meeting like this," he said darkly, in a manner that sent chills through me, yet he was smiling pleasantly as he approached slowly.

"I was actually hoping I would run into you again. Sebastian is waiting in my apartment," he said. I smiled shyly as Leonard giggled. I felt my cheeks redden a bit. He stood right in front of me, close enough that he had to look down to meet my eyes. I felt so small around him; insignificant. His smile faded and his expression was replaced by one of disgust or hate, I couldn't really tell, as he looked out towards the glass doors to find that it was once again raining. I began to wonder if Leonard hated thunder storms. His face was pleasant and friendly, though, when he looked at me, "I'm sorry I didn't bring Sebastian here. I didn't think I'd see you again. I was going to bring him to Warren so he might give him back to you," Leonard explained. I opened my mouth to speak, but found myself mesmerized by Leonard's green eyes. I swore they shined like a light out at me, one that I couldn't keep ignoring. I felt a chill against my legs and glanced down at my skirt which seemed to be fluttering at a bizarre draft coming in from somewhere.

"If you'd like, I could give you a ride home, and stop by my apartment to get the cello for you," Leonard suggested. There was no way I was going to say no. But for some reason, I made up an excuse to make him stay.

"Don't you have students to instruct?" I asked. The sun had already set outside. Leonard glanced in the direction of the glass doors.

"Not this week," he said calmly. I wasn't sure whether or not that was true, but I believed him.

"If you really don't mind, I would like a ride. I keep forgetting my umbrella," I admitted. Leonard smiled.

I knew that I didn't have to accept his offer, but I did. Leonard asked me questions as we drove, about where I was from, why I came to New York for school, about my future plans. I spent the ride talking, but I wished it was Leonard instead. I wanted to hear his sinuous voice, for it to lick my eardrums. I was drawn to Leonard the way that a moth is drawn to the flame of a candle, even to its own death. And yet I didn't sense anything dangerous about Leonard; he was mysterious, and I longed to learn of him whatever I possibly could. My eyes kept wandering to Leonard's hands on the wheel. They were beautiful hands. I remembered the way the fingers had held mine the first time we met, how the stony eyes in his face had scrutinized my blister. I felt hypnotized again, and then found myself beginning to tell Leonard about Jared, my ex. But as he finally turned to me and gave me the full attention of his gaze, I stopped right before I got down to the gory details. For a moment, I feared we would veer off the road; Leonard had completely taken his hands off the wheel. We were parked. His verdant eyes narrowed a bit and I read the somber expression on his face. I thought I had said too much.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking away from his eyes and feeling foolish, "I'm sitting here telling you my life story." I shook my head and closed my eyes, pushing my hands nervously through my hair.

"No," Leonard said softly. I felt something cool and soft on my knee and flinched very slightly for a second. My eyes opened and I came to find Leonard's hand resting on my knee. He moved it away after an awkward few seconds, "I inquired, you answered," he said, his expression very soft then, understanding. Thunder clapped and Leonard looked out through the windshield, his expression hardening almost instantly, angrily, but it was soft again when he looked at me. I gasped after another flash of lightning startled me.

"Marvelous weather we're having," he said sardonically, "I feel that it would be very rude of me not to invite you in for some tea. It has gotten chilly out," he added. I nodded. I didn't feel unsafe around him.

"Let me get your door," he said, and in a flourishing movement, he got out of his car. I waited momentarily as Leonard walked around and shortly pulled open the door on my side. He was holding his umbrella out over where I would soon be standing so that I wouldn't get wet. I saw his pale hand extend downward and I clasped it. Leonard's grip was sturdy as he helped me out of his car. I had never experienced such chivalry before. I was surprised by how humbly he behaved. I soon found myself looking up at a rather luxurious brownstone. Ivy engulfed a good portion of the building, stretching territorially up the banister. I knew I was in a richer part of town, and for a fleeting moment, felt embarrassed that Leonard knew where I lived; my place was no Ritz. Leonard held his umbrella over my head the entire time he walked up to the front door. When we made it inside to the lift, he closed the umbrella. The handle piece was ornate, like a metallic statue with embroidering or engravings of some sort, like the head of the cane I swore he'd been carrying the first time I met him. The umbrella switched to Leonard's right hand on the other side of him, where it was shortly out of sight. I looked up to find that Leonard was looking down at me as we stood in the elevator. He grinned, and I felt silly for having stared. There was just something about that umbrella. Buttons for each floor lit up consecutively, until we reached the ninth floor of the brownstone.

"Here we are," Leonard said in an almost singsong way. He was charming ad nauseam as he bowed slightly, signaling for me to get out first. I stepped out of the lift shyly and waited until Leonard started to the left. Someone was coming out of their apartment as we walked past. It was an older woman with short gray hair. She still had all her teeth when she smiled. She looked rather put together, and I knew that the people living here must have had money.

"Ms. Andrews," Leonard said casually, nodding to her once as we strolled past.

"Evening, Mr. Larsson," she said just as casually. We walked until we were at the very end of the hall, where Leonard paused and let his umbrella rest against the wall. He picked the right key, looking at me and grinning all the while, even as he pushed the key into the lock and turned the handle. His pale hand reached forth to flick on a light switch just inside the door on the wall.

"Be my guest," he said. Again his voice sent chills through me and I physically shook for just a moment. Hoping Leonard hadn't detected this paroxysm, I stepped in front of him and went inside. The door closed behind me shortly, and as I walked further into Leonard's home, I wasn't surprised that it was very tasteful in style. I immediately recognized the rococo inspired curtains and felt as if I were in a museum. This place was by no means cheap. I felt something tug at the sleeves of my coat. I was so distracted drinking in the style of Leonard's apartment that I didn't realize he was trying to get my attention.

"I'll take that. It's a little bit hot in here," he said, his voice right at the back of my head. I froze; it felt as if he were practically on top of me where he was standing, not that I seriously minded. It was in fact hot, and I allowed Leonard to remove my coat.

"Silly, I left the heat on all day," he said, and I turned around and saw him turning back the dial on the thermostat which was on the wall. His fingers moved so delicately, and I felt a heated swish of air as Leonard turned and sauntered towards the coat rack to hang my spring jacket.

"Oh, and if you wouldn't mind taking off your shoes, I try to do the Japanese thing. It keeps the floors cleaner," he said, smiling as he removed his coat and shoes not far from the entrance. I felt rude for having practically just barged in. I nodded, apologizing and hurrying over to place my shoes beside Leonard's in front of the coat hanger. My gaze met his pale feet and I swore I saw blue in a vein on his foot. It almost looked as if maybe he were cold to the touch. I put my shoes down and Leonard gestured mellifluously towards a chair where the cello was sitting open and waiting near a window.

"If you would like to crack a window, please feel free. It's about as hot as the eighth circle of hell in here," he said, tugging uncomfortably at his collar. I laughed at his comparison and he smiled before disappearing into another room, which I assumed to be the kitchen, as a light flicked on and I could make out cabinets from where I stood. I knew he was putting the tea on. I stepped towards Sebastian and eyed the glossy, dark hardwood that felt warm under my bare feet. There was no doubt in my mind that Leonard was a very learned and cultured individual; there were works of art on the walls, and even a small statue stood stolidly in one corner. I walked to the window and pulled it open. A gust of fresh air rolled inside. It was a relief, considering how warm it was inside the apartment. There was a piano which rested uncovered, and I sat on the bench, wishing I had continued to take lessons past the time that I was in elementary school. I pressed a few keys, playing what I could of Für Elise. I didn't make it far before messing up. I kept tapping the same keys, wishing I could remember just how to play it. I kept telling myself that I was wrong, no, that's not right. I was so engrossed in trying to play it that I didn't even feel Leonard sit beside me, or see him until he began to play a few keys, and I stopped.

The tune he began to play was melancholy and sweet at the same time. I watched his delicate, long fingers play precisely. I looked up at the place where there were a few music books resting on the piano, yet all of them were closed. I knew that Leonard was playing from memory, especially when I looked up at his face to find the eyes closed in a way that made his expression seem nearly pained. By Jove, he was beautiful to look at. I couldn't bring myself to look away from his face for a full minute. The somber tune never ceased as I then looked down at his graceful fingers as they soared over the keys. I began to feel very sleepy then; the song could have been a sweet lullaby.

"Chopin, prelude in E minor, opera twenty-eight, number four," he said when the song ended. I knew that it had sounded familiar. I looked at Leonard's face again, and he was grinning down at me. I had to look away for a moment because I felt the heat in my face. Leonard began to play the fast paced Fantasie Impromptu and I watched him with amazement as his fingers moved with such speed that I swore they became a blur. He looked at me for a straight handful of seconds, his hands neither faltering nor missing a note. The more I stared into his verdant gaze, the more I felt…at peace. He was amazing. I watched him play, spellbound, until he stopped abruptly and excused himself. I felt the gust of air as he left. I was confused for a minute until I detected the howling of a tea kettle in the nearby kitchen.

I picked up a book of sheet music by Chopin which rested on the piano. I flipped it open to find pages of the music, along with these elaborate handwritten notes, although they weren't in English. In fact, I didn't recognize the language at all. It seemed almost alien, like nothing I'd ever seen before, and I was fluent in Italian, Spanish, English, even a little bit of Arabic and Polish, but this language looked like something I couldn't even at the very least define. I closed the book with a start when I heard something being placed on a table only a few feet behind me. I looked over to find Leonard's gaze on me with the sheet music where I sat at the piano. His black hair was brushing over his shoulder where he was still leaning over the table, in mid motion after placing the tea down. A few pages of his elaborate notes flew out of the book and onto the floor.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I said stupidly. I got up to go pick them up where they had fallen. Leonard beat me to them.

"It's quite alright," he said calmly, "just some sheet music." I was still holding the booklet from which the flyleaves had fallen. I felt it leave my fingers as Leonard took it from me slowly, tucking the pages back in. He grinned without teeth and placed the book back in its holder on the piano. It was finally then that I realized he had unbuttoned his crimson shirt a ways, just enough that I could make out his pale chest.

"The tea is ready," he said gently, gesturing towards his sofa behind the coffee table before tucking his inky hair behind his ear. I wanted to touch that face, the sculpted cheekbones, the slick jaw line, the small, pale parted lips. Leonard waited until I was seated before moving past the table.

"I'm going to get the sugar. Do you take it with sugar, Jasmine?" he asked me, starting towards his kitchen once again.

"Yes," I said, stirring my cup absently. I picked it up, and with delight, I admired its design. These weren't ordinary old mugs; they were real tea cups. I was quickly realizing that Leonard was a classy man. It wasn't long before Leonard returned with a beautiful piece of China, into which he dipped a small spoon and told me to say when. I watched his fingers as they lightly gripped the spoon, as he dipped it into the white grains and emptied a small spoon into my cup. I let him do this twice before thanking him and stirring it with my own spoon. Leonard then added the same amount of sugar to his tea and sat not very close to me, and yet not very far away on the sofa.

"Thank you so much, again," I said.

"It's nothing at all," he assured me.

"At first I was afraid I'd lost it," I said, looking over at the cello which sat there in the loveseat by the window. Leonard laughed. His voice tickled my ears. I liked it.

"I didn't notice you left it in the back seat until I got home," he admitted, "I've taken the liberty of tuning it, sounded a bit off," he added. I wasn't going to be able to sit there with Leonard for that long and not go insane staring at him. We blew our tea in silence for a few moments.

"I really like your place. It's beautiful," I explained, "You have good taste."

"Well, thank you. I don't have many guests, but I do enjoy keeping it in shape," he said, his eyes flitting across the room for a moment before landing on me again. I felt my heart palpitate.

"Yes, I'm a bit of a collector," he said. I could tell this by the artwork all around me. I finally noticed what appeared to be a loft where there was a full bookshelf. The staircase that led to it spiraled to the hardwood floor, and I longed to climb it.

"I haven't much room left for paintings, unfortunately. But these are some of my favourites," he admitted. The tea tasted like mint and woke me up a bit. I glanced at Sebastian sitting in a loveseat by the piano.

"Perhaps it's a bit forward of me," Leonard began, turning to me slightly, "but I thought you played Bach beautifully, better than I've heard in years," he said. I felt the heat rising in my face again.

"Would you play for me, before I drive you home? I haven't had the liberty to attend any recent recitals, though I play for myself all the time." I could not possibly have denied Leonard's request. His eyes were on me already. Without a word, I stood up and approached the loveseat, picking up the cello gently. I sat down and parted my knees, wishing I'd worn tights that day so that I wouldn't feel as if Leonard's eyes could see underneath my skirt, but I knew that the cello would block his view of unmentionable parts. I reached for the bow which rested on a pillow. Leonard sat back against the couch, let his arm fall over the back of it, and the way that his shirt was open at the chest, untucked from his trousers, was fervently distracting to me. His pale foot swung from under the table as he strew one leg over the other. He made himself comfortable; I was anything but comfortable as I began to play a bit nervously. I had never felt this way before, having played in front of much bigger audiences. I knew my nerves were because it was only Leonard who was focusing on me as I played the Suite. Being alone with him had created an intimacy that made me nervous. I played anyway, closing my eyes as I most often did, trying to ignore Leonard's piercing gaze. I was playing for about ten minutes straight, getting lost in the way my memory was taking charge.

It wasn't until I felt as if the light had been blocked from my closed eyes that I opened them. I never stopped playing, even as Leonard stood in front of me, gazing down intently, his hands behind his back. For a moment, he looked as if he might have been hiding something there, but then he slowly knelt, somewhat at my side, until he was sitting on his knees next to me. I had gotten so lost in playing that I didn't hear him get up off the couch and stand in front of me. Now he was kneeling next to me, his eyes scanning me up and down. My legs felt somewhat chilly then, but there were no hairs there to rise as his delicate hand touched my shin. I didn't stop playing as his eyes and fingers travelled slowly up and down my shin, even as his lips fashioned into a little O and I felt a tantalizing breeze against my kneecap. I didn't even try to stop him. In fact, I wanted him to continue touching me. Leonard looked up into my eyes as I was moving casually through the Suite. His fingers grazed the scab where I had accidentally cut myself while shaving and I winced, pulling my leg back a tad, the piece I was playing coming to a halt. Leonard's hand moved to my knee, and I continued to play again until I was at the most dramatic arpeggios of Suite 1. Leonard cupped my knee, sitting back on his feet, gazing up at me. I closed my eyes again and continued playing. I gasped lightly when I felt his hand travelling firmly over my thigh, burrowing beneath my skirt, the nails dragging gently over my skin. He used his other hand to part my knee from the cello, and I opened my eyes again as Leonard pressed his hand between my legs. I stopped playing then, gasping where I sat. But I didn't tell him to stop. He had his hand over my womanhood, separated solely by the thin veil that were my panties. Leonard's hand was cool there in comparison to the heat emanating from my inner thighs. He gazed up at me with a just about pleading expression. I felt hypnotized by those emerald eyes. I couldn't find words, and as Leonard lowered his head, he never lost my gaze. He was looking at me up from under his eyebrows as he applied his lips to my knee, waiting for me to tell him to stop. I didn't.

When it was clear to Leonard that I wasn't going to resist his advances, he pressed hard between my legs, his fingers attempting to gain entrance through the thin fabric of my panties, and a moan escaped my lips. I dropped the bow. Leonard's lips left my knee.

"I want you to finish," he said, and there was a sinful shade about his voice as he picked up the bow with the hand that wasn't exploring me, which was now trying to make its way inside my panties. I stared down into Leonard's eyes and felt him pressing the bow back into my hand.

"Finish the Suite, Jasmine," he said. This was a command, not a request. Leonard removed his hand from inside my underwear and slowly dragged it back down my thigh until it was no longer hiding under my skirt. He inched in front of me and pushed the cello back between my knees, forcing them to close on it gently.

"I want you to play for me," he said, grinning. I tried to remember where I left off, and started again three-quarters of the way through. Leonard's eyes travelled up and down my legs which were exposed to him. He gently rubbed my shins with the backs of his fingers, that almost pained expression he had worn while playing the piano returning to his face. I thought I could see a desperate bulge just beneath the crotch of his black trousers. I felt his lips when they pressed against my calf as I ended the Suite. I allowed a full forty seconds to pass as I watched Leonard romance my right leg. And then without warning, I felt Sebastian lift suddenly from between my knees and I gasped. Leonard had swiftly moved the cello, so quickly, and placed it down gently on the floor. His movements were so fast when he did it that his limbs had momentarily become a blur to me. With a silent fear, I began to wonder if Leonard had slipped me something in that tea, but I had felt alert after drinking it, and I knew I was probably wrong.

I felt myself being pulled by the legs a ways off the loveseat, towards Leonard's head where he pretty much groveled in front of me. A pleasant sigh and partial moan escaped Leonard's lips, and he rested his head gently on my legs, folding his arms around the back of them. His hold on me was inviting and tight. I thought perhaps I was dreaming as I raised my hands as if to surrender, feeling only slightly confused. His eyes were closed.

"Len…Len," I could hardly speak. Slowly, he lifted his head and there was a vacancy in his eyes that I did not understand. He almost looked lost, as if he did not know what was going on. And then his green eyes dropped to my skirt and he uncurled his arms from around my legs, slowly pushing the black fabric back with both hands until I was exposed to the upper thigh. There was an utter longing in his expression, and I swear that the Adam's apple at Leonard's throat dropped slowly as he swallowed hard, pausing right where he was touching me. He exhaled and I felt his breath on my bare skin. It tickled, and I liked it. He closed his eyes in a slow blink and applied his lips again to my knee, and then to my thigh on the inside, turning his head so that his dark hair tickled me relentlessly. I scratched my neck, tilting my head to the side. I wanted to touch Leonard back, but something was deterring me from doing so.

I was reminded of the way a cat reacts to catnip when Leonard began to stroke and play with my leg. He gripped down the length of my right leg several times, massaging it down to the ankle before taking my foot in both his hands, his head turning in my lap so that his lips began to work on my left leg where it had been ignored initially. What is happening? I thought with some uneasiness, but it wasn't necessarily an uneasiness… he was touching me. I knew that I wanted to react in concurrence with what Leonard was doing. He moaned against my skin, pinching my big toe between his fingers, and at that point, I knew I had to stop this perfect stranger from touching me. Though this felt good, I knew that it was wrong. Leonard wasn't my professor directly, but I didn't want something to surface about me and a staff member. I was trying to create a reputation for myself, and I wanted to be seen in positive lights.

"Stop," I breathed, hating myself at the same time as I spoke. Leonard's lips detached from my leg, and his hands stopped passing firmly down my calves. He looked up at me with that same vacancy, and then his expression grew unsure. I knew that the look on my face was telling him to continue; I could feel it. Then I stood up, which caused my skirt to momentarily fall over Leonard's face. His visage had disappeared from me completely. I didn't think this moment could get any more embarrassing than it had already become. Almost immediately, his white hands began to creep around the hem of my skirt, creating an obvious contrast between Leonard and the black fabric. I knew my face was as red as a tomato at that point when his eyes met mine again. Leonard stood up slowly, and when I found him in front of me, he was so close that I felt the urge to fall back a little so that his body wouldn't brush against mine unintentionally. I found myself sitting back down in the loveseat, staring up at this magnificent man.

"I'm sorry," he said with an extremely apologetic, almost remorseful look on his face. My heart did back flips and the wind felt knocked out of my lungs. Leonard was so beautiful and proper, and sensual all at once.

"But you are…" he said, taking a step back so that his clothes didn't even touch me, "the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. I don't know what came over me…"

I was momentarily distracted by what he'd said. I placed my hand over my chest where my heart was beating out of control. It started to make me feel a bit queasy, and I was swooning.

"I deeply apologize," he continued, beginning to re-button his crimson shirt, his green eyes flitting back and forth in a nervous way, although his expression was hardly nervous, considering what he'd just done.

"I'll just drive you home—"

I had stood up so fast that I nearly lost balance as I hurried to the tips of my toes, grabbing onto Leonard's shoulders. He had been taken by surprise and had jerked his head back momentarily, but then he caught me and held me tightly against him. As my waist met Leonard's waist, I felt his arousal beneath his pants. He looked down at me with a sudden rubor in his pale cheeks. Screw it, I thought. No one had ever made me feel so worthwhile. I felt my feet leave the ground as Leonard lifted me up towards his waiting mouth. The kiss started off gently, and then I felt my back against the wall and it roughened as Leonard gripped me. I moaned into his mouth and he pulled my legs open, pushing one to either side of his waist, forcing my skirt back, rubbing up between them eagerly. Leonard passed his hands beneath my back and placed them on my shoulders. When he touched my left shoulder, I pictured the scar there, and I gasped, not wanting to fall back into that unpleasant memory.

"No—don't," I whimpered, my eyes squeezing tightly, though they were already shut. I felt Leonard's lips leave my neck where he had placed them. He let me go and I slid down the wall to my feet. His hands fell to my waist and when I looked up at him through my tears, his green eyes were wide, an aghast look on his face. I pulled his right hand away from my left shoulder, and the other one followed suit when Leonard let go of my right one.

"I—I…did I do something wrong?" he asked me, sounding out of breath. I was clutching my left shoulder where the scar was.

"Did I hurt you?" Leonard asked worriedly, leaning in towards my face before slowly backing away. I shook my head.

"I'm sorry…no, it wasn't you," I said, taking a deep breath.

"I—I should get home. I have work in the morning and class all afternoon."

I still hadn't opened my eyes.

"Jasmine?" Leonard said carefully, although his voice was quieter and I knew he had taken a few steps back. There was tangible distance between us. I did not have to open my eyes to see it.

"I promise, it's not you," I admitted, finally looking over at Leonard who stood there with dazzling eyes, looking concerned for me. He nodded and then I turned to pick up Sebastian and secure him into the case that waited against the wall.

I was barely alive that morning at work, and I had nearly screwed up orders four times in a row. Natalie, a girl who had become a good friend of mine, suggested we switch tasks, so I ended up in the storage room, checking an inventory list. I had not been able to stop thinking about Jared, my ex, the scar on my shoulder, Leonard's cool hands all over my legs. I was still dealing with what had happened with Jared. The things he had done to hurt me was making it difficult for me to react the way that I knew I really wanted to with Leonard the night before. As I thought about the past, I couldn't help tearing up. It really wasn't that long ago that I'd still been in an abusive relationship. At first it was perfect, for nearly my entire experience as a student in New York. I had met Jared a few months into my freshman year. He was a beautiful man, and had almost the same mystery to him that I saw in Leonard, probably the reason why I was drawn to Leonard in the first place. Jared was a decade my senior, having taken time away from college to pursue music in a band before giving that up and returning to school. He would lavish me with gifts and spend money on me whenever I wanted anything, though it was never the reason I'd fallen in love with him in the first place…the spring semester of the previous year was when our relationship soured. Jared had started getting jealous. The pottery club I was in at the time was full of other guys who were probably inspired by the pottery scene from Ghost, because I constantly found myself getting hit on. I would never have cheated on Jared, but he decided to go with me to the club one evening, after I told him how other students constantly made passes at me.

He just sat in on it, really, but he'd seen me joking with one guy who was honestly nothing more than a friend. He never said anything about guys hitting on me all the time, but I knew it bothered him a little bit. It turned out to bother Jared a lot more than I knew when he pulled the phone out of my hand one night after he found me talking to the instructor about a project. I didn't think much of it at the time, until he refused to let me go to the pottery club alone. He'd gone so far as to get into a fight with one guy who was a friend of mine, Elliot. I remember the fight he and Jared got into. I had been across the room, so I didn't hear what the hell was being said, but when Jared lunged for Elliot and started beating him, I knew that something was wrong.

I was living with Jared at the time, in his apartment, so there was no way to evade him when he approached me about Elliot, about a lot of other people who were really nowhere near as significant to me as Jared was. The day he tried to tell me that I wasn't to participate in that club anymore, I just started to yell at him uncontrollably. I'd thought he was overdramatic about it. One thing led to another and he'd pushed me. Things spiraled out of control from that point on. I forgave him and decided our relationship wasn't worth losing over something as simple as a pottery club. I stopped showing up to the meets, but I was lucky that Elliot liked me and wouldn't let his altercation with Jared go. Elliot was in a few of my classes, so he became a frequent acquaintance. He was the first one to notice the bruises when Jared started hitting me in the face. At first Jared had been really subtle about the way he abused me, simply shoving me against the wall, doing things that wouldn't leave obvious signs in places where anyone would have noticed. But he just kept getting worse. He started accusing me of cheating on him when he'd catch me talking to Elliot…I shook my head, not wanting to relive all of this, but I was already sitting on the floor, hyperventilating, crying. Natalie had come in to check on me after the breakfast rush and found me a mess on the storage room floor. She had been one of the only close friends I really had. If it weren't for me meeting her at the coffee shop and working there shortly after I left Jared, I don't think I'd have still been alive. She told me to go home, so I did. I didn't bother going to class that afternoon. I just stayed home and played Leonard's cello. When I did this, I quickly found myself to be distracted by feelings of ardent arousal. All I could think about as I tried to play through the song was Leonard touching my legs, the way he'd touched my most private parts. I was actually wet when I decided to give up practising.

I meant to stay in that auditorium Friday night, and I knew exactly why. I wanted to see Leonard. I played my heart out for almost an hour and a half, before I started to lose hope that I would see Leonard at all. I just kept playing anyway, and when I was deciding that I would just go home, the door opened at the back of the auditorium. My heart leapt like a frantic animal inside my chest. I squinted past the bright lights of the stage, praying that it was Leonard walking towards me, but I knew that the gait wasn't his.

"You're still here?" Elliot asked. So he had stayed. I realized then that I hadn't shown up to improv and sighed. He walked up onto the stage as I was zipping Sebastian up.

"Hey, you don't have to run off. I was just wondering why you missed our meeting. You never miss meetings," he said, "Not since…" Elliot trailed off. I didn't want to even think about my ex.

"I haven't been feeling very well this week," I said with a weak smile, "I think I'm just going to go home and sleep it off, before I get worse."

I started past Elliot. He was a nice guy, but not the one I had been wanting to see. I started up the aisle and Elliot chased after me at last, making his way in front of me.

"Are you okay, Jasmine? I'm just worried about you. Is it Jared? Has he been bothering you again?" Elliot asked me. With a painful pang, I started to think about my ex. He was the last person I ever wanted to think about. I had managed to get a restraining order against him some time in the spring of last semester, when I finally left him. He'd been expelled from my school, but I knew that he still lived in the city. Elliot knew this, too.

"Please—he's the last thing I want to talk about. I appreciate your concern, but I just want to go. I'll see you next week," I said, eying Elliot a good moment before rushing past him. I didn't really know where I was going. I just felt the panic growing again. I knew that I was probably going to break down soon if I didn't stop running. I found myself going up flights of stairs and rushing down a hall. Only half of it was lit up, and I saw another light coming out of a room at the end of the hall, but before I even reached the exit that I could see illuminated by a red neon sign above a door, I bumped into somebody. I started to scream and I felt this person grab hold of me. I had dropped Sebastian and I was flailing madly in the hands of someone I couldn't see.

"Jasmine," Leonard said desperately. He gripped my wrists as I attempted to hit him as hard as I could. I felt my back make contact with the wall and I stopped struggling slowly.

"Jasmine," he said again. I was panting when I stopped. I felt an odd sense of relief as Leonard let go of me and I could see him pick up the cello in the dimness. His hand met my shoulder and he led me down the hall carefully towards the light that was coming from another room. It became clear to me that this was Leonard's office. I sat down, still catching my breath and Leonard sat on his desk, his eyes looking down on me intensely and full of worry. After a moment, I spoke.

"I'm so glad I ran into you," I said, covering my eyes lest tears fall out of them. The way that Leonard said my name so gently was soothing to me.

"What's wrong?"

And then I just told him almost everything about my ex, my last relationship. I even admitted to not feeling safe being by myself after thinking about him. All this time had passed, but it was as if the nightmare was resurfacing, probably because it was exactly a year ago that day since I ended it between Jared and I. It felt as if I were reliving that whole nightmare tonight.

"Do you want me to take you home?" Leonard asked me.

I shook my head and told him I didn't want to be alone there. He asked me whether I simply wanted him to stay with me for a while, until I could relax. I stared in those green eyes and never felt more comfort.

Leonard was sitting on the other end of my couch, my feet in his lap as my hands quivered around a mug of tea. The TV was on, but muted. I hadn't said a thing since we'd left his office. But the next thing I knew, I was leaning against Leonard's arm, just holding it.

"About the other night," I began, looking up into Leonard's eyes, "I wanted it to go…where it was going," I said, feeling my cheeks flare and I looked towards the wall. Leonard passed his arm comfortingly over mine.

"He used to rape me…sometimes," I said in a whisper. It was still difficult to talk about, difficult to believe any of it had actually happened to me. I'd told Leonard about the time Jared stabbed me. His eyes were watery when I looked into them again. He looked horrified, disgusted, pained as I told him everything, but he never stopped showing me comfort. It was even in the way that he tilted his head slightly to the side. He was holding my hand and the pain wasn't so unbearable then.

"I'm so sorry," was all Leonard could think to say. He didn't have to speak; I knew he felt my pain. It was starting to grow warm where I was leaning against him on the couch, but he just stayed still and held my hand and listened to me. When I couldn't bear to speak about Jared any longer, I just rested my head on Leonard's shoulder and he held my hand, and we watched the news. It was getting late and I started to nod off a bit. I opened my eyes abruptly, almost as soon as I'd closed them. I slowly pulled my head back from Leonard's shoulder and looked at him. He was leaning back so that his face tilted towards the ceiling. His grip on my hand had softened a little bit. Those iridescent green eyes were shut and it looked as if he was sound asleep. Very quietly I spoke.

"Leonard," I whispered. I thought he was sleeping, and I had been so quiet that I barely even heard myself, but to my surprise, his eyes opened instantly and he lifted his head and looked down at me, grinning slightly without teeth.

"Yes," he said quietly, tightening his hold on my hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were asleep."

Leonard shook his head and his inky tresses tumbled over his shoulder slightly. His thumb massaged the back of my hand.

"Do you want to go home? I didn't mean to keep you," I said politely. Leonard looked a bit surprised.

"Do you want me to go home?" he asked gently. The way he'd said it told me that he had intended to stay as long as I felt his presence necessary. Leonard gripped my hand tighter and I stopped being hypnotized by his green eyes long enough to respond.

"No," I said, shaking my head. Leonard smiled. A vicious growling sound met my ears. Leonard glanced down at his stomach, then looked at me from the corner of his eyes without turning his head.

"I'm sorry. That was so rude of me. I should make you something," I said, standing up slowly. Leonard followed suit, holding my hand firmly.

"Don't be sorry. Let me make you something instead, for both of us," he said. He was towering over me when he stood to his full height.

"You should sit down. Relax," he said, slowly urging me down by my shoulders. I didn't try to abject when he did this.

"Yeah?"

I nodded. Leonard smiled and I felt a pleasant little gust of air as he walked to my kitchen. He had no idea where I kept things, so I imagined him to be pulling open multiple cabinets and drawers, the refrigerator door. No one had taken care of me like that in a long time. He didn't have to stay here and take care of me; he hardly knew me, yet he was insisting. I was glad that I had recently stocked up on groceries. The sound of chopping and the smell of garlic and herbs soon cascaded throughout my apartment. I stood up to go to the kitchen and see how things were coming with Leonard. When I stood quietly in the doorway, Leonard's back was to me and he was standing there in bare feet, stirring something at the stove. His head lifted, and slowly turned sideways a bit. Despite what I had thought was stealth, he'd heard me coming. I walked into the kitchen and went into the cabinet to get a glass.

"Are you alright?" Leonard asked me and when I turned around, he had moved without a sound to the counter where he was chopping some garlic. He was doing this very quickly, meticulously, all the while not looking at his fingers moving so quickly across the cutting board with the sharpest knife that I owned. I was a bit shocked at this, as his delicate hands moved so quickly, even as he did not see what he was doing. But Leonard never cut himself. I nodded and went into the refrigerator for the water filter. When we had both eaten a perfectly sautéed salmon, I started to feel sleepy again. I was once again leaning against Leonard's shoulder. I excused myself to go wash my face and brush my teeth, and as I was starting for the bathroom, Leonard asked me whether I wanted him to leave. I paused as he stood there like a great mountain. I knew that I didn't want him to leave, but I didn't want to make him stay if he wanted to go.

"Only if you want to go," I breathed after a handful of seconds. Leonard eyed me curiously, and his gaze sought the door momentarily.

"I simply mean not to intrude if you would prefer to be alone."

I shook my head.

"I just don't want to be alone tonight," I admitted. Leonard nodded and I headed for the bathroom. When I came back, he was sitting on my couch still, a mug of tea in his hands as he watched the weather report. I sat back down next to him and he placed the mug on my coffee table.

"Are you sure you want me to stay? I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable," he said. I carefully slipped my hand into Leonard's, which was much warmer due to the mug he had been holding. I leant against his shoulder again and he made himself comfortable. Eventually, I started nodding off again and my head started sliding over Leonard's chest. He steadied me up a few times, and the next time I found myself falling across his lap, he casually swung his long legs up over the couch and laid back so his head was resting on the arm. My head followed directly against his chest and he sighed, draping his arm around me. We hadn't spoken for a while, but I just felt comfortable with Leonard. I knew that it felt the same way for him. I imagined his eyes to be closed as he placed his other arm around me, so that his fingers were intertwined in each other over my waist. And this is how I fell asleep.

When it was morning, I awoke to find myself in the same position as I had fallen asleep on Leonard's chest. He no longer had both arms folded around me, but one arm laid heavily across my midsection, the other languidly over the edge of my sofa. I glanced over to find his hand resting on the floor. I sat up very slowly, as not to wake him. Yet as I did so, he inhaled very deeply, coming into a waking state. Leonard looked up at me, his black hair fanned out under his head like the shade of a starless night sky, and his eyes were the stars twinkling up at me. I felt my cheeks redden. I had been lying atop Leonard's lean muscular frame, and I realized for the first moment the hardness that I felt against my hip at his waist. Leonard seemed to have noticed it, too, because his eyes widened briefly. He sat up swiftly, suddenly, taking himself out from under me so that we no longer made contact.

"I'm sorry," he said almost sheepishly, but there was no hint of embarrassment on his face when he looked down at me. His black hair was disheveled. Before I knew it, I was smoothing it out over the back of his head. He leaned in a ways towards my touch, seeming to enjoy the caress of my hand. That inky hair was softer than anything I'd ever felt before and slipped with a silky soigné through my fingers. Leonard blinked heavily and slowly, sighing. I was momentarily reminded of the way a cat stretches into one's caresses and purrs with delight. Leonard looked directly into my eyes. I was completely enamored with him at that point.

"May I use your bathroom?" he asked.

"Of course," I said. He stood up, still looking down on me before he turned and walked away with such grace that I stared until he disappeared around the corner and I heard my bathroom door open and close. I liked him a lot. I felt comfortable around him, for the most part. There was an almost frustrating mystery about Leonard that I was still dying to unravel. I wanted him to stay and lie with me there all day. Something told me he would have done just that had I asked. I looked to find that the TV had been turned off. Knowing that Leonard had done this, I knew I'd fallen asleep long before he did. I wondered briefly whether he had watched me sleep with the same amazement while he was still awake. I picked up the mug from which he'd been drinking hours earlier. It was empty. I brought it to my kitchen and placed it in the sink, staring down into it. After a while, I picked it back up. I could see the faint stain of tea on the rim where Leonard's lips had sipped. Slowly, I brought the mug to my lips. I closed my eyes as I pressed mine where his had been, tasting the slightly sweetened cranberry that was still present. I tasted it with my tongue and tried to imagine what Leonard's lips would feel like against mine…

I heard him say my name from nearby. I put the mug down hastily and stopped daydreaming. Leonard appeared in the doorway of my kitchen. I turned to him. He had put his shoes back on.

"Good morning," he said pleasantly, bowing towards me slightly. He had put on his coat and the brief case he'd been carrying the previous day was in his hand.

"Hi," I said a bit shyly, those moments where he woke up on my couch replaying on a mental film reel in graphic detail.

"I apologize for being so abrupt, but I must get back to my place. I have…a few things to take care of. But I will come back later if you would like," Leonard said, stepping into my kitchen. I nodded.

"Let me give you my number," I said. Leonard fished in his jacket pocket for a phone and I gave him the digits.

"I'll call you as soon as I'm around," he reassured me, pocketing his phone again. He stepped closer to me until he was looking down over me. My heart raced as Leonard leant down a ways to kiss my forehead. I closed my eyes; it lasted a good four seconds, and I still felt heat where his lips had touched me once they left my skin, creating a little puckering sound that caused my heart to leap. I smiled. Leonard grinned at me and started for my door.

"Bye," I said quietly. He cast me a glance as he walked down my hallway.

I decided to distract myself with work that day, to try and take my mind off of Jared. The previous night, Leonard had told me something about it not being abnormal to experience anxiety on the anniversary of a traumatic event. Talking to him about Jared, despite how horrible some of those memories were, had been cathartic. I wanted to talk to Leonard more. His voice at my ear as I rested on his shoulder was all the comfort I needed. Even while I ruminated, I managed to catch up on a lot of class work, and by nine that night, my phone rang. My heart started jumping before I even heard Leonard's voice on the phone.

"Are you alright, Jasmine?" That was the first thing he asked me when I answered. I smiled.

"I think so," I said.

"How are your fingers?" Leonard asked me. I lifted my hand to look at the place where the opened blister seemed to have closed and scabbed over.

"They're healing," I admitted, "Will you come get me?" I blurted out. I didn't want to spend another moment outside of his presence.

I was sitting in the same loveseat, playing Sebastian for Leonard, who sat comfortably on the couch like he had before. He held a glass of wine which was beginning to stain his pale lips red. I closed my eyes and continued to play for about ten minutes before I felt a presence in front of me. I didn't flinch when I felt Leonard's cool hands on my calves. He gripped them and I tried not to let it distract me as I continued to play. He was fixated by the way that I played the cello. It became clear to me that this must have been arousing to him when I finished and he pulled the cello from between my knees, placing it aside gently on the floor. Leonard was kneeling down in front of me, his hands rubbing my legs.

"Is this okay?" he asked very innocently, his eyes twinkling up at me.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but watching you play…" His green gaze was cast down upon my skin as his voice trailed off.

"It's okay," I said quietly. I wanted him to kiss me again, and just as soon as I wished it, Leonard placed his lips upon my knee, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.

"You smell sweet," he said, lifting his lips only momentarily to speak. Leonard began massaging my calves and I just about swooned, sitting back against the loveseat. He placed his head on my lap and it grew heated there. He merely sat there rubbing my legs. I looked down at him.

"I won't do anything if you don't want me to, Jasmine," he said, lifting his head after a while to look at me, "I lost control the last time. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." My heart was jumping violently out of control at his voice. The tone he was using somehow aroused me, and though his hands did not venture beneath my skirt, it was as if he were already touching me.

"It's okay," I said. Leonard gave me a short grin before kissing my left knee and rubbing his thumb over it roughly.

"You smell so sweet," he said again. He was enamored with my skin and the smoothness of it as he ran his fingers down my legs repeatedly. He did this for a while before I reached out to touch his hair. Leonard paused and placed his chin over my knee, letting me stroke his dark locks, looking up at me intently. I grabbed Leonard's hand which was wrapped around the back of my right leg idly. He watched me take it, while still stroking his hair with my free hand, and I placed it just beneath the fabric of my skirt, enough so that his fingers disappeared up to the proximal phalanx. Leonard gazed up at me with some lechery then. I didn't mind him touching me, and I wanted him to know that. He took the hint and I felt his hands pushing firmly against my legs. Leonard rubbed them up and down slowly, and then when he reached my knees a third time, he placed his palms on them and pushed them in opposite directions slowly, intimately. He looked up into my eyes, pausing, waiting for my tacit approval. When I didn't stop him, he began to roll my skirt back slowly. Leonard then pulled my legs towards him so that I started sliding down the seat, towards his face. I let my head fall back against the seat and Leonard littered my thighs with kisses, pushing his hands up to my waist where he gripped my hips gently. He was just kissing me for a few minutes, his lips on my knees one second, my inner thigh the next.

I wanted to taste his sweet lips, so I sat up. Leonard paused, believing I had wanted him to stop. I slipped down the loveseat and let myself gently onto Leonard's lap, my legs spread so that they straddled him. I wasn't surprised when I felt that he was hard. It brushed slightly against my womanhood and Leonard's lips parted, like he wanted to say something. I slipped a ways down his legs so I wasn't putting pressure on his erection. He glanced down between us momentarily. I gripped his shoulders and let my face venture forth to meet his lips. Leonard let me kiss him, my hands travelling through his glorious hair. Shortly, he opened his mouth, and with some hesitation, began to press his tongue against mine, until I could tell he was very comfortable and he began licking my tongue with some force. Leonard exhaled deeply in my mouth, and I felt his heated breath travel into my throat, where it caressed my trachea.

He began to press me against the chair, but took care not to put weight between my legs at his waist. The kissing became way too passionate for control and I felt myself wetting. He hadn't even touched me, but I felt the heat building between my legs. Leonard then pressed up against me, letting me feel how hard he was. As much as I was enjoying the sensations I felt because of this, I grew uncomfortable when he began to rub fervently between my legs. I could feel his hardness through his clothing, begging for entrance. I gasped and broke the kiss. I closed my eyes and pressed against Leonard's chest to find that it was practically rock hard even through his shirt. I was catching my breath from the heat of the moment. Leonard gazed down at me with what looked like worry. He began to back his waist out from under me. I felt Leonard cup my cheek in his hand after I had turned my gaze away from him. He knew what I was thinking about. I hated that it still affected me so much.

"Jasmine…" I didn't look at him, but his voice was honey sweet when he spoke, "I mean to make love to you, and nothing else. What Jared did to you was unforgivable, and it was not out of love." I felt my face turning then as Leonard forced me to meet his gaze, "I want you to know that I won't hurt you. I won't do anything you don't want me to do." A silent tear rolled down my cheek. I didn't even notice it until Leonard's thumb was brushing it away. He pressed his forehead to mine.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, his voice breathy, seductive. I felt a chill go through me as his green gaze became the only image in my field of vision. I closed my eyes, memories I did not want flooding my retinas. They were tangible memories, too. I could feel Jared pinning me down, screaming in my face. I flung myself against Leonard's chest and just held onto him very tightly. He merely sat there, passing his hands down my back repeatedly, telling me everything would be alright.

I started spending a lot of time at Leonard's, and he would always drop by the coffee shop where I worked most mornings, sit there with his tea and a book. But most of the time, he wasn't even reading, he was watching me work. Knowing this, I constantly felt animated by his presence. When I would look over to the table where he usually sat, he'd smile at me and I would get a warm feeling in my chest. I started seeing him every day at his apartment. He kept watching me practise the cello, and even gave me a few tips. I blossomed in Leonard's presence. He let me watch him play piano and violin. We would talk for hours, just sitting on his couch, touching each other's cheeks, holding hands. It grew closer to my graduation date. I couldn't wait to be done. Leonard was going to help me get professional recitals so I could really start my career. I liked his apartment much more than mine; it was classy. He didn't have a TV because he said it rotted the brain, so he would sit and read to me for hours at a time from his book collection. This alone was pleasant to me. I'd lay strewn across his long legs and reach up to caress his beautiful face from time to time. He had all the classics and things I loved to look at. There was always a story he had to tell me.

I didn't like being away from Leonard. A few weeks before graduation, I moved in with him. I had just been spending so much time with him that he suggested I move in. What I liked the most was that he never rushed me. He never made me feel nervous in a bad way, the way that my ex had. Leonard never showed me anything but kindness and love. There was one thing he kept away from me; his umbrella. I'd seen it a few times before when it had rained, but I still swore to myself that it had been a cane, the one I'd seen the first night Leonard and I met. I didn't ask him about it, but on the first night after I moved into his apartment, I stared at it on the coat rack while Leonard made us dinner. I didn't hear him trying to get my attention until I felt his long arms around my waist and his lips at my ear.

"Jasmine, what are you looking at, sweetheart?" he asked. There were wondrous aromas coming from the kitchen and I could smell the herbs all over him. He kissed the side of my head lovingly. I felt his head lift and he saw that I was looking at the umbrella in plain sight on the coat rack. I felt him maneuver in front of me so that I could see him.

"Dinner is just about ready. Come," he said. I felt him take my hand and I walked into the kitchen with him. The radio was on. He did at least keep a radio to listen to the news, though it was usually classical music playing in the background. I ate with Leonard. He looked at me curiously for a little while.

"Is something wrong?" I asked once I was finished. Leonard laughed slightly, smiling.

"Of course not," he said, "You are just beautiful."

My cheeks flared as Leonard picked up our empty plates and took them to the sink to wash them.

"I'm exhausted," I said, "I'm going to go get ready for bed."

"Alright, love," Leonard said, looking over at me momentarily before continuing to clean up. My heart jumped; this would be the first night I slept with him in an actual bed. I didn't count the time I'd fallen asleep on him at my place. Nothing had happened then, and nothing had happened since. Leonard didn't rush me into anything; he often waited until I came to him first, and yet we still hadn't fully explored each other's bodies. That was perfectly fine with me, and Leonard seemed to be fine with it, too. But on my way to the bathroom, I paused at the coat rack. Leonard's umbrella was still hooked there, but I swear there was a green glow about the engravings in the handle. I glanced behind me in the kitchen where Leonard's back was to me while he cleaned up. I stepped closer to his umbrella. The handle was in fact glowing. I stepped closer to it. I was about to touch it out of pure curiosity when Leonard spoke again.

"Jasmine, are you going to finish your wine?" he called a bit loudly, believing I had already gone into the bathroom. Quickly, I turned around and headed back into the kitchen where he was just turning around. He hadn't seen me by the coat rack again. I poked my head into the kitchen.

"No, you can have it," I said, smiling. Leonard returned my smile and I watched him drink the last few ounces of my glass before taking it to the sink where he would wash it. I went into the bathroom for real this time. When I washed myself in the shower, I couldn't help wondering why Leonard's umbrella was glowing, and why I remembered it so well as a cane and not an umbrella. When I came out of the shower, I heard the piano playing. I knew that it was Leonard. I walked into his room and put on some pajamas. I was just about to walk back out when Leonard came in, bumping into me. He apologized and I laughed as he steadied me, giving me a kiss on the forehead.

"I was just coming to get you. I wanted you to read me to sleep," I said, snaking my arms around Leonard's waist. He smiled down at me genuinely.

"Of course, darling," he said, swaying his hips from side to side as if we were slow dancing.

"Just give me a moment and I will be right with you," he said, kissing my closed mouth. I watched Leonard walk into the room and take off his shirt. It was the first time I was seeing him this way. I leaned in the doorway and watched him with delight. He stretched his arms over his head and the pale musculature of his back moved gracefully. He was beautiful. He glanced back at me casually, grinning as he took his belt off and pulled down his pants. I had the perfect view of his behind when he took his briefs off. He carried them casually to the hamper where he deposited his clothes, wandering over to the drawer for a fresh towel. All of this Leonard did casually, as if I'd seen him naked many times before. The way he grinned at me before heading into the bathroom was just about tantalizing.

I sighed and sat on Leonard's bed patiently, listening to the water run in the bathroom while he shaved and then turned on the shower. After about five patient minutes, I stood up and walked quietly to the bathroom. I could see through the ajar door that Leonard wasn't visible. The shower curtain was closed. I knew that if I was ever going to get a chance to look at Leonard's umbrella, now would be the perfect time. I was simply curious about it. I walked quietly to Leonard's coat rack near the door. The umbrella wasn't hanging on it anymore. I wondered if perhaps Leonard had moved it, and felt a bit unsurely about something. I approached closer and pulled his and my jacket off the rack; there was nothing there. I replaced them and took a few steps back. I just looked at the coat rack for a few minutes.

"Are you looking for something?" Leonard asked me and I gasped out loud, whipping around. He was standing there in a pair of green pajama pants, which were very dark in contrast to his exposed, pale upper body. His hair was still damp from the shower, and pushed back out of his face as he usually wore it. I detected a faint camphoraceous scent coming from him; he was very close to me.

"Uhm," I said, quickly calming down. I watched Leonard's verdant eyes scan the coat rack which I had been looking at seconds earlier, and then they landed on me again. He smiled and I couldn't really read that smile. For a second, I wondered if he'd known what I was looking for.

"I thought I left my phone in my coat pocket," I said, lying. Though it was a harmless lie, I felt badly for lying to him at all.

"It's charging on the dresser, in the bedroom," he said honestly.

"Oh, yeah," I said, as if I'd simply misplaced it. He extended a hand and smiled. I took it, returning his smile.

"Still awake enough to be read to?" he asked me as he pulled me along. His voice was so gentle and seductive that it always made me melt a little. Leonard let me through the door first before walking in where he'd turned off the light and put on the lamp. It was a much lower light and created a very relaxed atmosphere about the room.

"I would like that," I said, climbing into his bed. Leonard picked up the book off the dresser, which was subsequently next to my phone that was charging there. He cleared his throat and I felt the weight of the bed shift slightly as he sat there. He opened the book to the page he had left off on, and curled one arm around me. I snuggled up next to him. He was reading for about five minutes before I closed my eyes with comfort.

"And I became like those who stand as if they have been mocked, who cannot understand what has been said to them and can't respond…" I had begun to rub Leonard's leg and he paused, at which point I opened my eyes. He grinned down at me. I was tired, but I wanted to kiss him. I sat up and gently took the book from Leonard's hand. I placed it on the night stand and sat up against the headboard next to him. He pulled his arm around me and turned to face me.

"Is everything okay, Jasmine?" he asked me. My heart always fluttered when he said my name. His eyes were reading my face repeatedly. I wanted to ask him about his umbrella. It was just so curious and I couldn't get it out of my head. But I thought that perhaps if he had moved it, he'd done so for a reason. I just wasn't sure why.

"Will you kiss me?" I leaned up towards Leonard's face and kissed his lips gently. He grinned down at me and I slowly straddled him and wrapped my arms around his neck. I was looking up into his mesmerizing eyes. He moved away from the headboard, taking me with him. He was quiet a while, just rubbing my hair and observing me. I kept pushing my hands through his hair.

"Always." He kissed me back, but not too passionately. I knew that he was restraining himself. He held my head in both hands and looked at me very intently.

"I love you, Jasmine," he said. I smiled.

"Goodnight," I said. I hadn't worked up the courage to ask him about his umbrella or why he'd moved it, or whether it was really a cane. He pulled the quilt back and laid me down beside him before turning towards the lamp and turning it off. In the dark, I felt Leonard pull me into his arms. I didn't close my eyes, though. When my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, I could see that Leonard's were still open, too. He was looking at me.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, "I thought you were exhausted." I could see the umbrella handle glowing in my mind's eye. Leonard passed his hand down my back a few times.

"Nothing. You are just beautiful," I whispered. Leonard laughed quietly, and I felt his lips make contact with my forehead. I swear that his eyes were glowing in the dark before I felt myself slip off into a deep sleep.

When I woke up, it was because I felt a chill. It was the middle of the night, and as I sat up, Leonard's arm was still around me. It felt oddly cool from what I remembered. When I looked at him, his skin was blue! I sat up and reached over him, turning on the lamp. I wanted to be sure that what I was seeing was true, but as soon as I looked down at Leonard again, he looked perfectly normal. There was nothing blue about his skin. With an odd mumble, he woke up and rubbed his eyes. I had jumped back so that I was nearly over the edge of the bed, away from him. His eyes widened rather quickly and he looked at me gripping the sheets tightly.

"Jasmine?" he asked me, making a move towards me suddenly. I was shivering, as if I had just come from a cold place with no coat. Leonard gripped my wrists before I nearly fell off the bed. His grasp was cool, the way that it always felt. But I'd sworn that moments before he woke, it was as cold as death.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked, that honey voice as smooth as ever. He started to push my hair out of my eyes. I just looked at him, hoping that the strange sensation had truly been nothing more than a dream.

"Jas, you're scaring me," he finally said, concern flooding his voice. I felt his bare skin under my chin when he pulled me into his lap and embrace me. His skin was warm, unlike his hands. I started to relax.

"Please say something," he said gently, rubbing my back. Leonard pulled my face back again and made me look at him.

"Jasmine," he said slowly, clearly. I met his eyes.

"Honey, you're scaring me," he said. I glanced at the clock to find that it was nearly three in the morning.

"What's wrong? Was it a dream?" he asked. I felt Leonard's lips soothingly on my forehead.

"He can't hurt you again. I won't let him," Leonard said, referring to my ex. I was hardly paying attention to what he was saying. I moved out of his grasp and walked to the bathroom. I closed the door and splashed some cold water over my face, the image of blue Leonard popping into my mind. I just tried to forget about all the weirdness. When I walked back into Leonard's bedroom, the lamp was still on and he was leaning back against the headboard of his bed. He sat up straight when he saw me.

"Love, is everything okay?" he asked me worriedly. I tried on my best smile and rejoined Leonard in the bed. He cautiously pulled me into his arms. I nodded and told him that it was just a bad dream.

Leonard was kissing my back gently, his fingers exploring my spine as I woke up slowly to Saturday morning. I had taken off work for the weekend, having only recently moved in with Leonard. I smiled when I felt his hands passing down my arms. I moaned quietly to let him know that I was awake. I felt his body against my back where he was lying, moving my hair out of my face so that he could kiss my cheek. Leonard paused.

"Did you know that you cry in your sleep?" he asked me gently. I started to turn around, and Leonard moved to give me room. I faced him to find his black hair shaggy and disheveled from slumber. I tilted my head to the side. He was wearing a worried look. I shook my head. Leonard kissed my forehead.

"I promise, you're safe with me, Jasmine," he said.

"I know that, Leonard," I said. He smiled, but it soon faded. I asked him what was wrong when he looked away. I cupped Leonard's cheek.

"It's nothing. I was just worried," he said, giving me a reassuring kiss before getting out of bed. He asked me if I was hungry and I knew he was going to the kitchen. We spent most of the day finalizing where my things should go; Leonard had cleared out half of his closet for me, settling on the fact that he'd not worn a few suits in a while, and thought it was about time he gave some of them away. After we finished putting away my things, I sat in Leonard's loft at a desk to get some work done. I had a paper to finish up, my last assignment of the semester. I glanced in the corner beside the bookshelf, and the light shined off of something. It was the handle of Leonard's umbrella. He was in the kitchen making us dinner and out of sight from me. I stood and walked slowly towards the bookshelf. Gingerly, I reached for the umbrella handle, but when I pulled it from behind the shelf, it wasn't an umbrella at all. It extended longer the more that I pulled it out of its hiding place. In fact, it appeared to be some sort of spear. It wasn't a cane at all. I felt my jaw drop a little bit, as it was glowing brighter the more I pulled it from the space between the wall and the bookshelf where it had been hiding.

"Darling, I've just finished the roast," came Leonard's voice, and I could hear him starting to ascend the stairs which led to the loft. I gasped and shoved the rod back between the bookshelf and the wall where I'd discovered it, and just as I was doing so, I managed to knock the shelf so that a few books fell from the top and landed on my head. I found myself sitting on the floor, but not for long. The next thing I saw were Leonard's long legs. He tucked his hands under my arms and lifted me bodily until I was standing again.

"Careful," he said, grasping my waist and kissing my forehead. He glanced at the fallen books on the floor, and for a moment his eyes travelled to the hiding place where what I'd found was seemingly hidden again. He didn't seem too suspicious, to my relief.

"If you want something that you can't reach, just let me know. This whole shelf could have collapsed on you," he said, pushing his hands through my hair and kissing me possessively for a moment.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't be, love," he said reassuringly, letting me go to pick up the few books that had fallen. Leonard put them back with ease, needing only to reach his long arms to place them on the top shelf. He turned to me and smiled and held my lower back, leading me towards the stairs where we could enjoy dinner.

The day of my graduation came, and I knew that Leonard was waiting in the front row to smile up at me when I received my diploma. I played the Suite perfectly and everything went smoothly. I took pictures with the few good acquaintances I had, wondering where Leonard had disappeared to in the crowd, until he appeared behind Elliot, who was taking my picture. Leonard's eyebrow was practically in the sky as he looked down at Elliot with what I thought was a bit of irritation, his lips pulled into a tight grim line. I thought for a second that he was jealous and it sort of made me want to laugh; Leonard was cute that way.

"Hello," Leonard said in a dark voice, catching Elliot off guard. Elliot whipped around to find the much taller Leonard standing right behind him.

"Congratulations on graduating," Leonard began, smiling easily and shaking Elliot's hand.

"Leonard, why don't you take a picture of Elliot and I?" I asked. A part of me wanted to see how far Leonard's jealousy might have gone. He laughed, but I knew that it was one of his fake laughs. Something told me that he didn't want Elliot anywhere near me, but Elliot gladly handed his camera to Leonard and approached me, straightening his tie. Elliot gripped my waist and I couldn't help noticing Leonard's smile falter a little, his eyes narrowing slightly as they zeroed in on Elliot's hand where it casually rubbed my hip a few times. I knew that Leonard didn't like this one bit, but I played along.

"Smile," he said through gritted teeth, though he himself was smiling. I laughed and the camera flashed once, and then a second time, to be sure. Elliot thanked Leonard as he handed his camera back to him. I wished Elliot good luck in the future. Leonard waited patiently with his hands folded as I bid Elliot goodbye.

"Let me know how things turn out for you. If you ever need a studio, just give me a call."

"Thanks, Elliot." And he kissed my forehead for a moment before walking away. I saw Leonard's smile dissipate as he watched Elliot walk away and disappear into the crowd. I laughed and clasped Leonard's hand. His head whipped down in my direction, as though he had been in a daze of some sort. It was clear that Leonard felt protective of me, but I didn't want him to assume that everyone was a threat. I rubbed his arm and he smiled down at me.

"Congratulations, sweetheart," he said, leading me away from the venue. It was all over. I felt as if I were free then. Leonard's long arm snaked around my waist.

"I'm going to take you out for lunch," he said, pulling open the passenger's side of his car door when we stopped where it was parked.

"Would you like that, Jasmine?"

I nodded and smiled at him before he closed the door.

"We're going to have to make a pit stop first," he said, grinning and turning his keys in the ignition. The engine purred and we were gone just like that. We drove for quite a while before Leonard stopped. We weren't in the city anymore. I got out of the car before Leonard could make it to my side. I hooked my arm in his as he lead me somewhere. It was a beautiful spring day, and cherry blossom trees let down petals that fluttered in the wind on the street. Leonard pulled open the door of a flower shop, smiling down at me as I entered. The first thing I noticed was a vase of white callas and I started towards them, mesmerized.

"Ah, Mr. Larsson," came the voice of a bespectacled man behind a counter. He had curly white hair and a mustache that reminded me of the whiskers of a cat. He nodded politely to Leonard.

"Rappaport," Leonard said just as politely. Clearly, he knew this quaint elderly man. The shop was heavily heady with the aromas of flowers. I knew I would begin to sneeze soon, but it was a magical place and I felt almost as if I were spinning as I tried to take in the sight of so many magnificent flowers.

"What can I do for you today?" the man called Rappaport asked, smiling as he moved slowly from behind the counter. His round spectacles had dipped to the end of his nose and he had these keen blue eyes which scrutinized me as he smiled. I felt a gentle push in the air and knew that Leonard was right by my side. I let my nose just inside one of the callas and sniffed.

"The lovely lady is to have whatever she chooses. Today was her graduation," Leonard explained. Rappaport nodded and when he came closer, he extended his hand to me.

"Mr. Rappaport, this is Jasmine Lucille, the cellist I was telling you about," Leonard began. There was something fragile and bittersweet about Rappaport's face. His skin was wrinkled but soft as a baby when I shook his hand.

"Ah," he said again, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He was about my height.

"Jasmine, this is Gottfried Rappaport, an old friend of mine," Leonard explained. I felt his lips at my temple and it was like an electric current passed through me a moment. Gottfried lifted my hand casually to his lips and kissed the back of my hand for a moment. Leonard laughed jovially and placed his hand on the small of my back.

"Have a look around, my love," he said, "Anything you want, anything at all," Leonard said. I nodded. I told Rappaport that it was nice to meet him, and he told me likewise, that he'd heard good things about me. And then Leonard said something to him, but I was unclear at first what he'd said, until I realized he wasn't speaking English at all. There was a smile on his face and he placed a hand on Gottfried's shoulder, pure amicability flooding his expression. He seemed to know this man well. Gottfried laughed and I thought it was a beautiful sound coming from the old man. I kept walking away slowly to explore the flower shop. I came upon a door that led me into a greenhouse. I'd never seen anything quite like it. Every scent I passed was unique, and the colours seemed otherworldly. I paused near some deep violet hydrangeas and poppies. I was looking down at them, trying to decide how the hell I would decide on what I wanted; there were just so many to choose from.

I was looking down when I saw white hands position themselves atop my abdomen. I nearly gasped; I hadn't heard Leonard coming at all, and suddenly there he was right behind me. I felt his lips on my neck, and leant into his touch. The scent of the flowers was getting to me, and I even felt a bit of a headache coming on as I stood there.

"Anything you want," Leonard said into my ear again, "and it's yours." I shivered and his arms held me closer. I pointed to the hydrangeas and Leonard moved from behind me to squat there and observe my choice. He delicately handled the flowers, trying to decide which ones were best. When Leonard glanced up at me, I just about died. He was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. He passed his hand down my leg, gripping my ankle momentarily.

"And the callas," I said once he'd stood up again. Leonard smiled and placed his hands on my waist. We stood there a moment and he kissed me. His warm breath rolled deeply into my body. I was glad to be wearing heels, as it made it easier to reach Leonard's face. His hands passed over my bottom slowly, and he squeezed it delicately. We stopped kissing and Leonard led me back inside to the store part of the shop where Rappaport was wrapping the callas I'd been sniffing into a golden sort of paper, along with some yellow jasmine flowers.

"I thought they'd be appropriate," Leonard said before his lips met my cheek again.

"She likes the hydrangeas, Rappaport," Leonard explained. The man smiled and there was a nostalgic look on his face for a moment as he paused in wrapping the flowers.

"They were also my wife's favourite," he explained. I felt Leonard's lips at the top of my head. I picked out a few more flowers and Leonard spoke to Gottfried in a language I couldn't understand as he prepared the bouquets. They laughed a few times and I thought that I saw Leonard blush once or twice, his eyes glancing over at me occasionally . When we finally left the shop, Leonard insisted on carrying out all the flowers for me. The sun was setting by the time we made it back into the city, and Leonard asked me if I wanted dinner. He took me to a fancy restaurant. I couldn't recall the last time I'd been in a place like that. I had never made such intense eye contact with Leonard before as we practically leant across the table to see each other in the dimmed lights.

When we made it back to Leonard's apartment, he insisted on running me a nice bath after our long day out. I stood in the kitchen admiring my new flowers and putting them in the vases Leonard had provided for me. I brought the callas to the piano in the main room, and placed them on top in the center. I could hear the water running in the bathroom. When I turned around, Leonard was waiting patiently for me. He smiled.

"You'll find your bath is at the perfect temperature," he said. I started towards him and he led me to the bathroom. Leonard began to close the door for me when I pulled it open.

"Is something wrong?" he asked me. I just looked at him a while, and then I stood upon my toes and kissed him, pulling his blazer off. It dropped to the floor and I pulled Leonard into the bathroom with me. He was propped against the wall as I leant into him with great force, the tip of his nose brushing mine when I tilted my head to the side. I pulled away after a moment, hastily unbuttoning Leonard's vest and then his button down shirt. He breathed sharply, and then took control and I found myself sitting up on the sink as Leonard pulled my underwear off from under my dress, never breaking eye contact. He reached around my back to unzip the dress. As he was pulling it down off my shoulders, he spoke.

"Do you really want to do this, love?" he asked me, kissing my forehead. My cheeks were on fire. I nodded. Leonard cupped my face in his pale hands.

"Just say the word and I'll stop," he assured me. I wasn't thinking about my ex anymore.

"I don't want to stop," I said quietly. I kept my eyes locked on Leonard's as I pulled his vest off. The shirt followed and as I stood up off the sink, Leonard finished removing my dress, making his way to his knees on the floor. He looked at my naked body with burning want. I smiled at him and pushed my hands through his thick, raven hair. Leonard started on his belt and soon we both stood there naked, face to face. He was going to take his time, this I knew as he led me gently back towards the tub. It was big enough that we could both share the bath. I picked up a sponge and began to rub down Leonard's body where he sat in front of me. His gaze followed my hands as they worked and shortly he laid back a ways to get his hair wet, never looking away from me. I held his head in my hands as it disappeared beneath the clear surface, and he closed his eyes. I washed Leonard's hair and then he washed mine. He pulled the sponge under my arms and down my back, lingering at my bottom where he caressed it roughly.

My lips found Leonard's again. He pulled the plug behind me and the sudsy water went down the drain. Still kissing me, Leonard pulled the curtain closed and started the water again. He turned the shower on and the water rained down over us for a minute before he put up the plug again. I had crawled into his lap so that I was straddling him. Leonard was hard. He stopped kissing me to gaze down at me, reaching between us to grasp himself.

"I want to be inside of you," he said, pressing his forehead against mine so that his eyes were the only thing I could see. With his free hand, Leonard stroked down the back of my head and neck. I nodded. He eased his length inside of me and I gasped, my head dropping back so that the water pelted into my open mouth.

"I love you," Leonard breathed. I gripped his shoulders, focusing on not resisting his girth which stretched me slowly. I felt it settle deeply inside as I gasped and tried to acclimate myself. Leonard groaned, the sound reverberating through my stomach, which was pressed securely against his. Leonard did not move. His hands were pressed firmly against my back.

"Is it too much, sweetheart?" he asked concernedly. I hadn't noticed that my eyes were pinched tightly shut. I opened them and blinked down at Leonard. I responded by kissing him. Leonard reached behind me and turned off the water. The tub was about a quarter of the way full, and my skin slipped against Leonard's as he moved his waist gingerly up between my legs. I could taste the wine on Leonard's tongue. He filled me completely with his manhood. I moved against him carefully to make myself wetter, and soon I felt only pleasure. I was getting close when Leonard grew louder. He gripped me tightly and gazed down at me with those glowing eyes. I gasped his name, seconds away from climax. Leonard grabbed the back of my neck.

"Say my name," he said passionately through gritted teeth, swaying his hips faster. I said it again. Leonard shook his head as if to say no.

"Call me Loki," he said, and a mischievous seduction took over his expression. I was somewhat confused, nearly at the zenith of my orgasm.

"Say it," said Leonard vigorously, "my name is Loki," he demanded, his eyes wide with purpose. I couldn't speak anymore. My body shook with pleasure and I just moaned out of control. I called him Loki, as he wished, but I didn't understand why he'd wanted me to. Leonard finished shortly after me and his thrusts slowed accordingly. He then laid back wearily in the tub, leaving me sitting on him with my legs spread in some confusion. He was still hard inside me, so I placed my hands on the floor of the tub on either side of him and worked myself to a second orgasm. Leonard looked up at me with languid passion as I did so, his lips parting when he moaned. He appeared to be in some kind of trance as his eyes fixed on me. My legs were starting to fall asleep, so I got off of Leonard and sat back in the water. He sat up. I stared at him with my knees pulled to my chest.

"Was I too rough?" he asked, conscious again, holding my head in his hands. I shook my head. He grinned and kissed me.

"Did you come?" he asked me. I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze again, but I nodded and Leonard squeezed the sponge over my back so that the water trickled down my skin. I wondered why he'd wanted me to call him Loki, and then for a moment I decided it was perhaps just a thing he'd wanted me to say. Some people liked getting hit during sex, others liked being talked dirty to, but a man had never wanted me to call anyone's name but his own during sex. I thought Leonard peculiar. He didn't say anything about it, but just sat there admiring me, rinsing me. When I stood up, Leonard watched the water fall down my body with delight. He followed suit and stood out on the rug, grabbing a towel to wrap me in.

"Are you alright, Jasmine?" he finally asked me, wrapping a towel around his own waist and stooping momentarily to unplug the drain. I started out of the bathroom without giving him an answer. It wouldn't have ended so weirdly if he hadn't wanted me to call him Loki. Who the heck was that, anyway?

"Jasmine," Leonard called when I didn't allow him to follow me into the bedroom.

"I just want to get dressed," I said, closing the door in his face.

We didn't talk about the Loki thing, but Leonard kept kissing my shoulder and touching my legs when we laid down for bed.

"Jasmine," he finally said again, and I felt the bed shift when Leonard sat up, his arms on either side of me. I didn't answer him until the lamp flickered on. I turned around where I lay.

"You haven't said a word to me since that bath. Is something wrong?" he asked. I started to sit up. I shook my head, but I knew that Leonard wasn't buying it.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked. I shook my head slowly.

"No, I'm just tired. It's been a long day, but I had fun. I promise," I said, lying down again. Leonard looked down at me for a while, and then his long fingers peeled the blanket back and he touched my hip, pushing them beneath the waist of my panties. He leant over and started to kiss me here. I sighed and pushed my hands through his soft hair.

"I'm tired, Leonard," I said, pulling his head back gently. I smiled down at him.

"Okay," he said, kissing me a moment before turning off the light again…

I dreamt about things and places I hadn't seen before…Leonard, but he was dressed funny. I woke up with a start, feeling an odd chill. Leonard's arms were around me where I was lying on his chest, but as I lifted my head slowly, I knew that the cold feeling was coming from him. I looked at his face in the dark. Though it was dark, I could tell that there was a tint to his pallor. He had a pleasant look upon his face, as if he were dreaming. Quickly, I reached for the lamp and turned it on. I gasped to find that Leonard was in fact blue. He exhaled and I saw his breath as if it were a cold winter day. I jumped up off him and he awoke. His eyes weren't green anymore; they were red. I screamed and jumped out of bed, crawling back against the wall, mortified.

"Jasmine," Leonard said, standing up. He started around the bed, and I know that he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, saw that he wasn't human. The blue slowly disappeared as he stepped towards me, and the red left his eyes as they became green again.

"Stay away from me," I said, standing shakily. Leonard paused.

"I…I can explain, Jasmine," he said. There was only love in his expression. Leonard reassured me that he wasn't going to hurt me. I didn't think that he would, but what I had seen frightened me. I ran out of the bedroom and up the loft stairs. I went towards the hiding place where I pulled out the spear I'd found before. The next thing I knew, I was pointing it at Leonard, who stood in front of me intrepidly.

"Who are you? What are you?" I demanded.

"Jasmine, it's me," he said, stepping closer slowly.

"Stay there!" I warned. Leonard smiled.

"You're not going to use that on me, darling," he said. I swung it and then I felt it leave my hands. Leonard had me pinned against the bookshelf.

"I knew it was only a matter of time before you found out," he said.

"Found out what?" I asked curiously. It wasn't Leonard who had scared me. He sighed.

"I'm not human, Jasmine. I'm not even from here. I am…a Jotunn. I come from Asgard," he said. Some of what Leonard was saying to me made distant sense. I'd read a few things in mythology before. I knew what I had seen in the bedroom was real, but I was having difficulty grasping it.

"I'm not Leonard Larsson. I am Loki of Asgard, and you are the human who has won my heart."