After a few beats, the cello resumes. When our duet is done, I scan the dark windows for my unseen partner.As if reading my mind, a dim light appears,...just bright enough to reveal the slender silhouette of girl who holds an upright cello in an impossibly sensual embrace. Where the glow spills over her shoulder, I can make out a naked breast pressed into the cello's amber belly.Is it possible to be jealous of cello? Somehow I restrain myself from shouting, 'please play me instead,' or something. " I am wrenched up. From the sensations and sounds, I ammarched through a metal doorway into a bare concrete corridor, heading intothe depths of a building that smells of disinfectant and ozone. It is chillin contrast to the air outside, and the hairs on my arms bristle as goosebumpsturn my skin coarse. At the end of the first corridor, another heavy door isopened by a guard, and we descend stairs, the metal icy to the soles of myfeet. With my arms roped behind me, my ribcage is bare to the. More

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