Wolf Tones (Standalone Psychological Thriller)

by JJ Marsh

  Rolf stopped and searched her eyes for any sign of anything other than a bizarre coincidence. She was giving him her seductive look with a predatory smile.

  “You’re baking bread? Wow, I’m impressed. That sounds lovely, but let’s eat on the balcony and I’m going to skip the wine. The maestro had some hard words for me this morning so I think I’ll stop drinking alcohol altogether. The next couple of weeks are going to be an uphill struggle and I need to keep a clear head, get lots of sleep and behave like an athlete. That’s not to say that you can’t enjoy the Riesling. I’ll be fine with some sparkling water, OK?”

  Leonor walked away from him into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder. “Not tonight. If you want to give up drinking, you can start tomorrow. I’ve prepared a lovely meal with the perfect wine and we’re going to eat it in the garden. It’ll be ready in half an hour. Why don’t you have a shower? That way you’ll be clean and fresh when you come to bed. My toilette is already complete. Right down to my toenails.”

  He stood there, in the living room, his fists clenched. Why seafood? She couldn’t possibly suspect anything because he’d been careful. There was no way she could have known what he and Anton ate last night. Not unless she’d been through the bins. She couldn’t make him drink wine if he wanted to have an alcohol-free evening, nor could she make him eat in the garden if he preferred the balcony. That said, he knew any kind of protestation against her plans would probably result in an epic row, meaning another late night and a distracted morning. He pressed Play on the CD player without checking what was in there, kicked off his shoes and lay on the sofa, a knot of frustration building in his stomach. He couldn’t eat seafood in the garden with his girlfriend, mere metres from Anton’s door. The situation was impossible and it was all his own fault. The tension in the air agitated his thoughts, whipping up a conflict which could only be resolved by an explosion. Thankfully, that was exactly what happened.

  Lying there with his eyes closed, trying to understand how the hell he had risked his future and twisted his life into such a knot, he thought he was imagining the threatening rumble of a bass drum. The light on his eyelids changed as if a shadow crossed his face and a gentle patting sound intruded on the low volume of La Damnation de Faust. He opened his eyes and sat up, a smile of relief cracking his face when he saw how the weather had changed. Slate-coloured sky threatened thunder and irregular spatters of rain hit the balcony, the curtains blowing inwards like possessed wraiths. He got up and shut the windows, sending grateful thanks to the weather gods.

  “Bloody hellish storm!” cursed Leonor. “Can’t even eat on the balcony now. Why is it everything I try to do turns to shit?” She dragged the bread out of the oven and slammed it on the counter. “I spend hours cleaning the house, doing the washing, preparing lessons for ungrateful little screechers who don’t even turn up. I go shopping for a nice meal, chill the wine and even make crappy bread for my little prince of a husband, who has now decided he doesn’t drink wine during the week after getting completely pissed over the weekend. Our lovely reunion meal is now wrecked by a thunderstorm and the evening is a washout. I am so sick of all my efforts getting flushed down the pan. I hate my life. I hate it.”

  Rolf took her in his arms, stroking her hair and kissing her tears. “Shh. It’s all right. We can still eat your meal. I’ll taste a bit of the wine, just tonight, and we have a perfectly serviceable dining table instead of the garden. As for all your efforts, who found Blue and saved the hour? You’ve spent all day being a domestic goddess at the same time as giving professional lessons and helping out the neighbour. In my eyes, you’ve achieved a lot more than I have.”

  She held him tight, breathing into his shoulder. Then she lifted her head and looked him in the eye. “Go and set the dining table. Use the good glasses, because we’re celebrating.” She switched off the oven and began rummaging around in the cutlery drawer. “Oh, and switch off that damned French singsong.”

  Handel’s Water Music was a cliché but its chirpy, exuberant flavour was uplifting. They allowed themselves ironic smiles while enjoying its familiarity as they ate. He accepted a half glass of wine but drank at least three gulps of water for every sip of Riesling. She talked at length about her weekend, who she’d seen, where she’d been, what she’d said and the compliments she had received. A friend of hers was getting married next month and she wanted to be there. Rolf encouraged her to go. That would be just before the dress rehearsal and première, by which time he would be 100% focused on the orchestra and their upcoming season. His accompanying her to nuptials in Bratislava was out of the question.

  “Completely out of the question,” she agreed. “This might sting a little, but you aren’t invited. No, my only concern about leaving you so close to the opening of the season is guilt. I feel I should be here to support you twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

  Rolf waited a moment before responding, because in his heart he wanted to jump to his feet and say, ‘Oh go, please go! Go for a week! Go for a fortnight! I’ll be absolutely fine.’ Instead, he dipped some bread in the squid marinade and took a bite.

  “That was a beautiful meal. Thank you for being so considerate. It’s up to you, of course, but I think you should go to the wedding and enjoy yourself. Be there for your friend. Everything I have is due to you and your support and I will never stop being grateful for that. But now that we are one step closer to our dream, you should be able to take some time off. You deserve it, Leonor.”

  Her eyes didn’t leave his as she drained her glass. “There’s one oyster left. It’s yours.”

  This was his cue to try and foist it on her before she insisted and he finally capitulated and swallowed the thing. She thought she was being kind, he supposed, but in truth, he detested oysters. In his mind, it was like swallowing salty snot. He played for time and ate another chunk of bread.

  “Why did you describe Dieter Fitz as an insufferable little shit? I don’t know the kid, but he seems polite and well behaved, same as Susana. I’m not his teacher, of course. What’s he like as a pupil?”

  His deflection hit the mark. Her eyes slid away to look at her napkin, scrunched in her left hand. “There are many qualities I dislike in adults which seem much worse in a child. Dieter Fitz is sly. He plays people off against one another for no other reason than he can. Most likely he’ll grow up to be a nasty little despot. I doubt he’s ever had genuinely rigorous tuition before now and it doesn’t suit him. He is spoilt and expects to be indulged, even by his tutors. Although it seems it was the other way around with Anton.”

  Rolf tried not to jump at the mention of Anton’s name. He picked up the oyster and offered it to Leonor. “I want you to have this, my love. Please.” She arched her neck towards him and opened her mouth. He poured in the oyster and she moaned in ecstasy, her eyes closed.

  “I interrupted you, sorry. Dieter was Anton’s student?”

  Leonor topped up her glass but Rolf kept his hand over his. She didn’t make a fuss, merely shrugging. “Anton said he passed on a couple of his students to me because he had too many – which was not the whole truth, it appears. Dieter asked to change tutors, according to his parents. Apropos of nothing, Dieter told me that Anton made him uncomfortable and he didn’t like being alone with him in his apartment. Kids! Who knows what to believe? Do you want some dessert? I bought some chocolate mousse but to be honest, I’m completely full. I say full, but not completely satisfied.”

  Rolf could see no way out. She had signalled from the minute she got home that she wanted sex. The dinner, the wine and even the dessert were flags indicating seduction. He should know because he’d pulled the exact same trick last night. He debated showing her the maestro’s message but opted to leave that until she was in an exceptionally good mood.

  “In that case, why don’t you finish your wine in the living room? I’ll clean up here and we can go to bed. By the way, are you going to the stables tomorrow?”

  Her eyes flashed with anticip
ation. “Yes! I’m leaving here just after nine and I won’t be back until nine in the evening. Maybe tomorrow you could get yourself a takeaway.”

  Rolf gathered up the plates and took them into the kitchen to stack the dishwasher. “Twelve hours riding horses?” he asked.

  Her laughter echoed from the living room. “The train journey takes an hour and a half and I have to walk another twenty minutes until I get there. I’ll arrive about eleven, maybe do some helping out and then stop for lunch. We’ll have about six hours to exercise over a dozen horses. My plan is to catch the 19.10 train back to Salzburg, meaning I’ll be home just after nine. I might grab something on the train so you go ahead and eat without me. Are you sure you don’t want one more glass of wine?”

  “Nope, I’m done. Let’s go to bed and then I need my beauty sleep.”

  The brief thunderstorm was all blown out by the time they entered the bedroom and all that remained was a brisk breeze lifting the curtains. While Leonor was in the bathroom, Rolf closed the bedroom windows and undressed, his mind on whether he could risk visiting Anton tomorrow afternoon.

  She sauntered into the room naked, her hands reaching for him. He ducked, laughing and ran to the bathroom. It was all he could do not to lock the door. He cleaned his teeth and washed his face, putting off his entrance.

  The moment he lifted the duvet, she pounced, forcing him backwards against the pillows and straddling him. She knew which buttons to press. Her hands gripped his upper arms as she manoeuvred herself on top and began grinding herself against him. He responded with Pavlovian obedience, pulling her closer and thrusting deeper. She was vocal tonight and Rolf was grateful he’d shut the windows.

  The initiation of their relationship had been a secret, which had been part of its excitement, and they had learned to be silent in their enjoyment of each other. Tense hot breaths to Rolf’s ears were even more erotic than wild moans and screams. Yet tonight, Leonor seemed determined to broadcast her pleasure to the rooftops. She thrashed and groaned and released howls of ecstatic delight long before she reached climax.

  Eventually she rolled off him and lay panting at his side. Staring at the ceiling, her breath ragged, she said, “That was the best sex I’ve ever had. At least as far as I can remember. Rolf Jaro, you are my stallion.” This time, there was no trace of irony in her voice, and for some reason that bothered him. Did he look like the kind of guy who’d be flattered by such a comparison?

  Their breathing returned to normal and hers gradually deepened into sleep. Once convinced she was no longer awake, Rolf rolled onto his side, facing the window. For some reason, his mind was full of rodeos, animals bucking, rearing, whipping and gripping; a battle of wills between two beasts that only one could win. His head grew heavy and his body relaxed under the duvet until a chilly tendril of air brushed across his nose. His eyes flicked open to see the curtain blowing in the wind. He eased himself out of bed, took two paces to the window and closed it, before realising he had done that just before they went to bed. Leonor must have opened it again while he was in the bathroom.

  Rolf placed his hands over his face and knelt beside the windowsill, his face scrunched in shame, willing his apologies out of the window, down the wall and into the apartment downstairs.

  11

  “Alright everyone, we will leave it there and break for lunch. Back at one pm please.”

  Trudi prodded Rolf with her bow. “You coming for lunch?”

  “Not today, thanks. I’ve got some errands to run.”

  “Please yourself. Bertrand, what about you?”

  Rolf left them arguing over optimal lunch venues and hurried to put his cello back in its case. He checked his phone again, even though he had memorised the number:

  Dressing room 506 booked for first practice session today.

  He all but ran down central stairway to the basement dressing rooms and went ten paces in the wrong direction before he figured out the numbering system. He retraced his steps, found room 506 and with a glance both ways at the corridor, rapped lightly on the door. Anton opened it immediately and pulled him inside, locking the door behind him. They faced each other, both awkward and wearing shy smiles.

  “Thank you for your message,” said Rolf. “I was so relieved to hear from you.”

  Anton reached out and his fingers traced Rolf’s jaw. “I couldn’t wait till Saturday to see you again. Meeting here is risky, I know, but I needed my Rolf fix.” He kissed the corner of his mouth, his nose, his cheekbone, his eyelid, his neck and finally his lips.

  The gentleness of his touch almost caused Rolf to forget his manners. Emotion tempered his desire. Sex would have to wait until he had apologised

  “Anton, listen. I’m so sorry about last night.” He couldn’t prevent a blush from creeping up his neck and flooding his cheeks.

  Anton tilted his head to one side in an expression of puzzlement. “Last night?”

  “The noise,” Rolf said, squeezing his eyes shut at the awkwardness of the situation.

  “You mean you were responsible for the thunderstorm?” asked Anton, his lips twitching. “You’re more influential than I thought.”

  “No, I meant later. You didn’t hear anything?” he asked, incredulous.

  “I have a confession to make. I’m afraid of thunderstorms. As soon as I heard the first thunderclaps, I put in my ear buds and closed the curtains. I listened to every upbeat album on my iPod until I fell asleep. I didn’t hear anything. Now are you going to kiss me or what?”

  Sex with Anton reminded Rolf of a ballet, each gesture delicate and exquisite, the graceful lines of his lover’s arched back, the sensitivity of his fingers on Rolf’s skin and every caress a question rather than a demand. They lay naked in each other’s arms, Rolf blinking in wonderment. Anton was a cautious, generous lover, ensuring Rolf was comfortable and enjoying himself at every stage. The erotic charge his tenderness added to the friction lifted Rolf into ecstasy.

  “By the way, I brought you a sandwich,” said Anton. “Seeing as I stole your lunch break, the least I could do was bring you something to eat.” He rummaged in his rucksack, bringing out two small packages wrapped in tinfoil. “Beef and horseradish, or cheese, mustard and gherkin?”

  “That’s so decent of you. Let’s have half and half each. You know, I was going to call on you this evening. Tuesdays, Thursdays and weekends, Leonor goes to some stables out in the country. She leaves the house at nine and comes back at nine in the evening. Maybe we could … see each other while she’s away?”

  “Here you go,” said Anton, handing him half a sandwich. “On my free weekends, definitely, but I usually have pupils on weekday evenings. I should reduce my teaching hours, but I find it so hard to say no when kids at the conservatoire need some extra help. Anyway, I really enjoy coaching them. There’s a pair of twin sisters who are going to be classical superstars if only they can get over their chronic shyness. Hey, that’s an idea. You could come and listen to them play and give positive feedback. As a professional cellist with the orchestra you would carry some major clout. Then after they go home, it’s playtime for you and me.”

  Rolf wanted to kiss him, except he had a mouthful of cheese sandwich. He contented himself with wide eyes and an enthusiastic nod.

  They cleared up, got dressed and kissed a reluctant goodbye. Rolf left the dressing room five minutes before rehearsals were due to start. He speed walked along the corridor and was just ascending the steps to the ground floor when the maestro came around the corner.

  “Herr Jaro. Exploring the building? You should ask Helmut on Stage Door to give you a guided tour. He knows the place better than anyone.”

  “Thank you, maestro, I will do that. I imagine the building has quite a history.”

  The maestro reached out a hand, brushing his knuckles over the stone wall of the stairwell. “The very fabric of the Konzerthalle could tell many stories, which is why I feel it such an honour not only to perform within these walls, but to be able to rehearse in our
natural home. I’m a superstitious old fool and had a sense of homecoming the moment I set foot in this …”

  At the bottom of the stairs, Anton appeared, his gaze on his mobile phone. He was halfway up the stairs before he noticed Rolf and the maestro. He faltered and continued past them with a breezy smile and a polite ‘Good afternoon’. They responded in kind and he swiped his way out of the building. Rolf found he was holding his breath until the maestro spoke.

  “Well, we can’t stand around here chatting all afternoon, we have a rehearsal to attend. Shall we?”

  That night, Rolf managed to dodge sex with Leonor. When she got home, he was still practising in the music room. She looked in, blew him a kiss and got into the shower. He knew the routine. She would come bouncing out of there, naked and boisterous, eager for another ride. He packed away his instrument and made a herbal tea to take onto the balcony. He rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. Sure enough, ten minutes later she stood in the doorway, one hand against the doorjamb in a seductive pose.

  “Hello, lover boy.”

  “Migraine,” he muttered. “Full-on monster migraine. Sorry, I just need to lie down in the dark. I’ll go in the guestroom. Must have overdone it today. Sorry.” He walked past her, his hand still over his eyes and fumbled his way into the spare bedroom. She said nothing and watched him go.

  On Wednesday morning, Rolf left early before Leonor was out of bed. His phone, which he had set to charge as soon as he came home, was on the dining room table and showed less than 50% battery. Had she been checking his messages? Thank God he’d deleted everything before leaving for the Konzerthalle. He slid a note under Anton’s door on his way out.

  Don’t call or message me on my mobile – not secure. Meeting at the Konzerthalle again is way too risky. I’m desperate to see you but we may have to wait until tomorrow. I’ll come round at 6 to listen to the twins as agreed. I miss you like crazy. Rolf x