Chapter Four

I lay on my stomach in bed. Across the room, Rebecca sat at my desk. The only light in the room happened to be the monitor, which gave her pale skin a strange blue glow. There was a fair amount of that skin because she was wearing only the coverlet from my bed. It fell around her like an exotically oversized black toga, slipping here and there when she moved.

"We're on this one, too." She used the roller on the mouse to scroll down the page, skimming the text. "Not much, really, just says that we've 'been seen together frequently in the past month, sparking rumours of an affair.'" She glanced at me, but I didn't really have a comment to make.

It had only been a matter of time. No one had gone so far yet as to point a finger at me and scream 'Cradle-snatcher!' but there were plenty of radio hosts and entertainment presenters making quips about a possibly inappropriate relationship between us. So far I'd been ignoring the problem, but it had really started to snowball. And it worried Rebecca a little more.

She sighed and closed the window. Pushed her glasses along her nose – she'd taken her contacts off for the night – and tucked some of her soft hair behind one ear. I think her words yesterday had been, "If those fuckers do anything to my reputation to hurt Triple T – " her charity, 'Tots, Toys and Technology' – "I will cut off their goddamn balls and feed them to a fucking teddy bear."

The bizarre image gave me a very uncomfortable feeling. I didn't mention that if her last boyfriend – a nineteen year old visual kei rocker – hadn't hurt her credentials then a mogul like myself couldn't do too much worse. In the event of all hell breaking loose, I'd come off much more Satanic than she would anyway.

In a moment she commented, "You have an email reminding you about a concert next weekend."

"Mmm." I'd almost forgotten that. It was probably in my schedule.

"From… Your professor?"

"That's the one."

"Piano, wasn't it?"

"Yes." I rolled onto my back. "And violin, and flute."

She giggled.

"Do you have a problem?"

"I didn't know you played the flute."

"The flute is a beautiful instrument." My tone was matter of fact.

"Yes, but – " she paused, probably stifling another giggle, "I have a lot of difficulty picturing you actually playing one."

"Let me guess..."

"Hmm?"

"You play the drums."

I watched a delighted smile grace her countenance. "As a matter of fact, I do."

Too easy.

"So explain the concert, already."

"The professor who oversaw my Masters is playing, alongside some other premier performers."

"Exclusive event?"

"I imagine there'll be rather a lot of high society types." One of my least favourite things in the world.

"…Your security really has issues," she said in a rather distracted voice, before giving a yawn. She shut down the computer, and a moment later, slipped back into bed. "I reprogrammed some stuff for you."

She lay an arm across my abdomen, her head on my chest, and without thinking I moved my arms until they were more or less cradling her. "If it implodes, I'm suing you."

"Speaking of performances, I'm in the first-year play," she mumbled in a sleepy voice.

I blinked myself slightly more awake. "What is it?"

"We're doing an abridged version of Hamlet."

"…Ophelia?"

She snorted. "As if. I'm Hamlet. I convinced them we should do a gender reversal."

That sounded more like Rebecca. "Congratulations." Somewhat sarcastic, somewhat sincere.

"Will you come see?"

I hesitated. Domino High wasn't a place I relished the idea of returning to. "Perhaps."

"You really should let me at your KC security team…" She said a moment later.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't. I tried to distract her. "Coming to the concert with me?"

"You know how I love pianists."

I was too close to sleep to laugh at her lewd tone. We drifted off.

-

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It turned out to be a bad idea. I was distracted. Polite small talk had never been my strong point, after all. After pushing our way past the media outside the concert hall – we'd probably made their night by appearing together – Rebecca and I had some networking to do inside the foyer. She mostly wandered about examining the architecture, which for the most part was nineteenth century French revivalist.

I got stuck with the business men and their wives. And I had a lot of trouble focusing on them when my date for the evening was standing not far off in a black, shimmering dress. It had a low, cross-over top and a series of layers which fell back from mini-skirt length in the front, to a long gown in the back. Instead of the highheels one might expect with the dress, she'd shod herself in a pair knee-high black boots. The only outfit with any personality in the whole place. In short, she looked improbably good.

Regular sex was turning me into an idiot.

I was eventually rescued from the moronic masses by my professor, himself.

"Kaiba!" He greeted me fondly, and I beckoned Rebecca with an almost imperceptible head movement. She drifted over to us.

"Jules, this is a friend of mine, Rebecca Hawkins."

"Enchante," he said, and kissed her hand like I'd known he would.

Rebecca was unphased. "Professor Dubois," she responded in a low, husky voice. "Seto has told me how much he enjoyed working with you."

"He's quite the accomplished flautist, you know," Jules said offhandedly. I saw Rebecca stifle a smile. "And you, my dear, do you play or do you merely listen?"

She laughed. "I only play the drums," her tone was confidential, "But I'm a fan of most musical genres."

Fortunately, Jules prevented us from having to listen to anyone else's banal chatter until we were invited to take our seats. The evening's entertainment was to be a three-part presentation: first, a few pieces on the piano by Jules Dubois; second, he would be joined by three violinists of growing repute; finally, Jules would sit down and the trio would take the stage with a few other strings and miscellaneous instruments.

During the first interval I refused to get out of my seat. We were encouraged to retire to the foyer once again for wine and appropriate snacks, but nobody was getting me back out into that social menagerie. Rebecca was of a like-minded opinion. She'd seemed a little restless, to tell the truth. Jules' piano had been excellent, but I'd noticed her shifting in her chair. At the interval she did pay a small visit to the little prodigy's room, and returned to me ten minutes later with a decidedly odd expression on her face.

"What?"

"Nothing."

I shrugged and returned to looking at the programme. I'd been over it several times already, but there wasn't much else to do other than people-watch. And I, as a general rule, loathe other people.

"…They have a unisex bathroom."

Unusual, but not unheard of. I raised an eyebrow. "…So?"

She crossed and uncrossed her legs. "Nothing."

"Don't they teach you geniuses how to be less cryptic?"

"Oh yes, and you're so vocal."

I learned closer to her, muttering in her ear. "Vocal? I'm not the vocal one."

She blushed. She knew I wasn't talking about her habit of singing in the bathroom. Ah yes, the bathroom.

I sat back in my chair, and lazily surveyed the rest of the room. People were returning to their seats. Rebecca moved in her chair again, accidentally nudging my foot with her own. I glanced back at her. She was toying with the string of pearls around her neck.

"Meet you there after the next interval?"

She met my eyes. Her own had a very come-hither look to them. "Sure."

I'd never heard such a casual tone. Brat.

The lights dimmed.

-

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People were taking their seats for the third and final part of the evening's entertainment.

"What the hell is taking her so long?" I heard myself mutter more loudly than was necessary. I stood and made my way out of the seating. I expected to be accosted and waylaid at any moment, but it didn't happen. I actually made it out into the foyer. A few stragglers were still sipping their wine and I ignored them, striding straight for the bathroom.

I pushed the door and found a spacious and luxurious room. It was panelled in a dark, rich wood and red velvet, with seating to match. There was even a small fountain in its centre. Ooh la la. Although it was unisex, the very large room was still clearly divided in two sections, male and female. Rebecca was standing at the mirror, chatting with a middle-aged woman. I caught the words 'passion purple' and 'red sunset' and assumed it had something to do with makeup.

I strode past the two women deep into the bathroom, to the men's section. Rebecca paused mid-sentence as I caught her eye. Fortunately, the other woman smiled, patted her on the hand, and commented that she was going back to her seat.

I walked to the long row of marble basins - trying to look inconspicuous – and washed my hands. That woman seemed to take a long time to leave the room. As the door shut behind our unwanted third party (hopefully on her ass; she'd been moving slowly enough), the lights above us dimmed on and off to signal that the music was beginning once again.

Rebecca and I met halfway and instantly started to snatch at each other. In the middle of the bathroom. I must have been losing my fucking mind. I put my hands around her waist and steered her towards the end cubicle. She tugged the ends of my shirt out of my suit pants.

"This isn't very dignified," I managed to say as she fumbled with my buttons and I slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders. The comment was meant to be disdainful, but I was too out of breath for that.

The door clunked shut behind us with a reverberating thud, and Rebecca slammed the lock across, throwing my jacket across the hook on the back of it in the same movement. (I'd always wondered what those were for.)

"Never done it in a bathroom before?"

"Like you have, Little Ms Expert."

"Only that time in your shower."

More kissing. She was tugging at my tie and unbuttoning my shirt as I was kissing her… And then it quickly became apparent that we had a problem. I had to lean down too far to kiss her neck. Too tall; or she was too short. Damn petite little thing. I pulled back and looked around the cubicle. She did the same. Our eyes fell on the toilet.

Then our gazes snapped back to meet.

"No." One word, two voices. We were not having sex on a toilet. Nice to know we could agree on the important matters.

I blinked. "Take off your boots."

"What?"

I grabbed the back of her neck and swept her slightly upwards, onto her tiptoes, crushing her mouth. "Your boots," I insisted a moment later when we came up for air. "Take them off."

She shrugged and bent to comply. A mutter – "This is out of character." I liked her shoes. I liked her in shoes. So sue me.

She stepped out of the knee-highs, for a moment making her even shorter. I kicked their black leather out of our way, to the back corner of the stall. Then I grabbed her and lifted, one arm around her waist, the other at the top of her thighs. I turned as I did so, manoeuvring so that I faced the one solid wall our cubicle had – I knew there was a reason I'd chosen the end stall – and smashed her into it, careful not to hit her head.

Though she still threw her legs around my waist, the air was knocked out of her for a moment.

"Jesus," she exclaimed. She tugged on my hair for revenge and I bit her lower lip. "Can you hold me up long enough?"

"I have plenty of stamina," I assured her. I might be thin, but that doesn't mean that I'm weak. And this would have to be quick.

"Well, you're stubborn enough, anyway."

"Be quiet." I pushed her harder against the wall – and consequently against myself – and started kissing her neck.

She started to moan and I shifted my mouth quickly to cover hers, eating the end of the sound as well as her. "I said shut up," I mumbled into her lips. Hell, it was a public bathroom. Someone could walk in any moment and we'd be caught. Or stuck in there until they left.

"I'll be good," she whispered back, tugging at the waistband of my pants.

I stifled a laugh. "I know."

-

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-

"Seto! What did you think?"

I'd promised Jules I'd say goodbye before leaving. I'm not the sort of person who makes promises that often or that lightly, but Jules was one of the few of the species who had managed to impress me. He was talented and creative, but not one of those impossible, flakey types who let work and progress slide – hence why he had been an appropriate supervisor for my masterate work.

"Very impressive."

"And you, young lady! Did you have an enjoyable evening?" Jules made a small bow to Rebecca.

"Oh, yes." She smiled. It was her Aren't-I-The-Cutest-Most-Innocent-Thing smile. Too bad he didn't know she was really the devil's spawn. "It was a very pleasurable evening."

See? Demoness. I was tempted to stamp on her foot. Instead, I cleared my throat. "It was a good concert, Jules. It's always wonderful to hear you play. Unfortunately, we have to be on our way."

He wasn't particularly disappointed. It was his triumph; he had plenty of people there to kiss his ass.

"Brat," I growled at Rebecca as we made our way out the door. Lights flashed at us from the garden of camera bulbs lining the path.

She lowered her voice to a whisper. Sweet smile still plastered on her angelic face. "…That's not what you said in the bathroom."