Night Train to New Orleans

by Caroline Valdez

  They continued to the third floor, which contained an office replete with a large antique Chippendale desk in cherry and file cabinets of mahogany in mid-Georgian style. He had all the latest tech stuff—a fax machine, scanner, copier, his laptop and a desktop computer—both wireless—and inkjet and HP LaserJet printers.

  Dante whistled. “I’m impressed.”

  “I often work at home,” Alex explained. “You are free to use these, too.”

  It was the perfect opening to be truthful about maybe not moving to New Orleans, but the words stuck in Dante’s throat.

  The bedroom across the hall contained a bed large enough to accommodate Alex. Here the colors were dark and masculine, and that, too, was Alex. The sun’s rays could be completely blocked at the windows and doors by thick shades and heavy shutters. Dante had noted that each upper floor had a small balcony with a wrought iron balustrade and tropical plants that jutted out over the street. He wondered if Alex ever sat out on this one at night.

  The master bath was off this bedroom. It held a huge white tub on claw feet, and the toilet was flushed by pulling a chain attached to the water tank above.

  “Of course, bathrooms are a late addition as they didn’t exist in early New Orleans.”

  “Thank the gods they do now,” Dante said with a light laugh.

  When they reached the fourth floor, Alex said, “This will be your room. You may use the tub if you prefer, but the shower is here, and there are towels, soap and shampoo in the cupboard.”

  “I’d like to shower. Thanks.”

  “I will be in the living area when you are ready.” He leaned in to brush a kiss over the nape of Dante’s neck and let his hand drift down his spine and slide meaningfully over Dante’s butt before he left.

  The unease in Dante’s groin now spread to his neck and spine where Alex had touched him. He’d thought Alex had wanted to do more, and he’d warred with himself because he’d wanted that, too. It would have been easy to have turned his head and captured those full lips with his mouth, but he was relieved to be alone now. He’d been afraid Alex would join him in the shower, and he wasn’t ready for that kind of closeness. Or sex. Back in Naples, they’d only known each other about a week, and his decision to declare his feelings and pledge to come here was a rash, impromptu act.

  Being apart for two months had brought him back to his senses. He’d promised to come, and he enjoyed being with this vampire, so he was here. But he wasn’t ready for intimacy and wasn’t sure he would be. Tingling and threatening to erect didn’t mean he had to act on it. There were many things that caused a man’s dick to change into a fuck-hungry cock, but you learned to control it.

  Dante didn’t bother to close the shutters when he stripped. Standing naked before the windows, he felt like the king of the world as he looked over the rooftops to the brown, muddy waters of the Mississippi River. After showering, he felt clean and refreshed, despite his wrinkled slacks and shirt, as he joined his host downstairs.

  §§§§

  Alex smiled. Dante had forgotten his amazing emerald eyes, with their layers of depth, and how they could center on him and draw him into their orbit. “We’ll walk to dinner. It will be safe for you to explore tomorrow morning, but I do not advise going out at night without me. Getting lost would be too easy. Do you have American money?”

  “No. I need to find a place to exchange euros for American.”

  “I’ll do it for you, so there’s no exchange fee.”

  “Alex, I can’t let you—”

  “It is not a problem.” Alex closed in on him and ran his knuckles down Dante’s cheek. Then he tipped his chin up, and the pressure of his lips against Dante’s was soft and undemanding. He broke the kiss and moved away. “The next time I’m sent to Europe, I’ll need euros and I will have them. Right?”

  Reeling from the sensations he’d felt, the hunger to return the kiss when Alex’s mouth was on his, Dante had to recover before he responded, “Good. That’ll work. Thanks.”

  “Leave your jacket here. The warmth lingers after sunset and the humidity is always high this close to the river.”

  After they’d walked for a time, Alex took Dante’s hand, intertwining their fingers.

  “Is this all right?” Dante asked in Italian, unsure of how gays were accepted here.

  “No one will bother us. Right now, we’re in the gay part of the French Quarter. The oldest gay bar in the country isn’t far from here, and the biggest and most popular one in the country is just blocks beyond it.”

  Just before they reached the doors of a straight bar and grill, Alex hesitated and tilted his head a bit to one side. To Dante, it was as if he listened for something. He lifted his chin and his nostrils flared as if testing the air.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Although his eyes glittered, Alex turned a radiant smile on him. “No. Let’s go inside.”

  They entered a bar and grill alive with patrons. People were dancing on a small wooden dance floor to a DJ’s music. The upbeat air of the place invaded Dante’s spirits, too.

  After he’d eaten, and Alex had pretended to enjoy a beer, Dante put his utensils on his now empty plate. Not a smidge of roasted Louisiana shrimp or chicken jambalaya remained. “That was fabulous. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

  “New Orleans is famous for its French Creole and Cajun foods. I am glad you enjoyed it. It smelled good even to me.”

  When they’d finished their drinks, Alex stood. “Care to dance?”

  Dante had downed three beers with the spicy food and now had a slight buzz. Between that and the happy atmosphere in the place, he felt terrific. He rose. “Why not?”

  People bumped together as they danced on the crowded floor, but no one fussed about it. Everyone was having fun. Dante almost drooled as he studied Alex dancing opposite him. Others wouldn’t see it, but he saw the young Greek and the easy power and athletic grace of someone he’d once seen in a knife fight. When Alex, his golden hair gleaming under the lights, opened his arms and danced toward him while he shimmied his upper body, Dante chuckled, but spoke quietly in Italian as he moved closer and circled him, “Watch it, Signor Nicolaides. That’s dangerous,” while enjoying the sudden surge he felt in his briefs.

  They walked home in the darkness, arms around each other’s waists. Dante was sated with the food, the dancing, and being with Alex. At one point, Alex stopped, turned and drew Dante close for a long kiss. Alex’s body was a coolant in the hot and humid air. Dante had always liked kissing Alex, liked the way he tongued the corners of his mouth and let his tongue’s tip follow along the outline of his lips, then the sudden thrust of it into Dante’s mouth would not only demand entrance, but send electric sparks through him. As they approached the house, he felt the first quiver of nerves.

  Open-mouthed kissing and that kind of arousing tongue diving had often been their prelude to sex, and as fat and aching for release as his erection was at this moment, emotionally Dante wasn’t ready. He remembered all too well what it would be like to be lost in Alex’s lovemaking, to know the feel of his firm form pushing his hard cock against Dante’s, and Alex’s mouth as it tongued and sucked his nipples until he growled and let his fangs graze them, threatening to draw blood. He knew how this lover’s hands would traverse skillfully across him until they’d fondled and ignited every sensual place. Dante, his cock and ass on fire, would give in and they would fuck. And he would be lost to rational thought in the throes of passion.

  If he yielded tonight, he’d override his ability to think clearly about Alex and the two of them together. He knew he was probably prolonging the inevitable. It was cowardly to be inviting a powerhouse of a hangover with the words, “Do you have any wine?”

  Alex’s eyebrows lifted and his green eyes flared for a split second as he puzzled over the request, but he produced a superb Chardonnay and they sat on the balcony outside his bedroom, while Dante downed the wine faster than was wise. He left the cheese and crackers untouched on
the china plate.

  When the buzz had turned to drunkenness, Dante rose to go to his room and the world swirled around him. “Oops,” he said.

  Before he could grab something for support, Alex was up and beside him. He lifted one of Dante’s arms over his shoulder, then steadied him by securing his arm around Dante’s waist.

  Dante tried, without success, to walk without weaving, but it took Alex’s arms just to keep him upright. Once they’d reached the bedroom, he released Dante, who stood swaying as he pondered how to remove his clothes.

  With one quick movement, Alex whipped the bedcovers back. Next, his deft fingers undid the buttons on Dante’s dress shirt and removed it from his shoulders and off. Dante looked down at those quick hands as they unbuckled his belt, unzipped his slacks and yanked them down. Dante stared down at Alex’s head as he knelt to slip Dante’s loafers from his feet.

  “Spun gold,” Dante muttered. He tried to run his fingers through the long strands, but Alex arranged him so he was sitting on the edge of the bed while he removed the last of his outerwear. Dante started to stand to take off his briefs, but his head spun and he tipped.

  Once again, he felt Alex’s hands on his shoulders, forcing him to sit. Alex left the room and reappeared with a glass of water and two white tablets.

  “Open your mouth.” Alex popped the pills onto his tongue. “Now drink all of this glass of water.”

  Aspirin, Dante thought, as the tablets began to release an acidic taste on his tongue. He swallowed them with the water and handed the empty glass to Alex before collapsing on the bed.

  Alex drew the covers up to his chin. As he leaned down to kiss Dante’s cheek, his words penetrated the drunken haze. “Goodnight, my lover. Use anything you like in my office tomorrow. On my desk is the airport’s phone number if you wish to check the status of your luggage. We have taxis here, but I’ve left city maps and transportation schedules there, too.

  “We have a soccer league, by the way, and an academy where you might enjoy teaching young people. Also, I have invited my only undead coworker at Global to meet us for dinner at sundown. I usually waken before that and will see you when I do.”

  Dante rolled onto his side and let the alcohol numb every feeling.

  §§§§

  Alex studied the man in the drunken stupor. Where were the welcoming arms, the sexual passion and heat, the fucking he’d anticipated with his lover tonight after such a long separation? This reunion had not only fallen short of his expectations, but Dante’s behavior puzzled him. For starters, he’d never seen Dante have more than one drink at a meal. For another, he’d sensed guardedness even over a simple kiss. Dante had withdrawn instead of stepping forward into the kiss. Tonight, Alex suspected Dante had used overindulgence to shut himself off from lovemaking. At the moment, he wasn’t sure why because Dante’s response to his kisses and his touch had signaled how much Dante wanted to make love with him.

  Alex sighed. So he’s shut me out, and here I am, my cock as hard and tight in its skin as a boulder and my body trembling with wanting him.

  Slipping off his shoes, Alex lay on his side on top of the covers behind Dante and propped himself up on one elbow. Dante’s hair was in his eye, and Alex brushed it back, enjoying its silken feel and the view of the elegant lines of Dante’s facial bones. His skin was warm. Alive. Alex especially loved that about him and intended he would stay that way. Dante didn’t stir as Alex’s finger slid down the bridge of his nose, which was just as aristocratic as Alex remembered it. In sleep, Dante’s dark lashes reached well beneath his lower lids. Only their upward curl kept them from touching his face. Like men with dark hair, his jawline and upper lip were shadowed by the hint of new growth.

  Alex found it very sexual.

  Dante remained still, even when Alex ran his hand over his hip and spread it wide across one buttock to press the firm roundness covered by bedding and briefs. His hand retreated to Dante’s shoulder and the delectable place where it met his neck. Alex’s eyeteeth, pointed and sharp, lengthened as he smelled the blood coursing there and detected the alcohol tainting it. Leaning forward, he closed his eyes and listened to Dante’s heart as with its every pump blood pulsated against the vessels in his neck. The blood magic enthralled him, called him…to drink. No one else’s blood tasted like Dante’s. No other human intrigued him as much.

  Alex inched closer, spooning with the curve of his lover’s body. It would be wrong to sink his fangs into that neck unless Dante knew of it, but Alex’s aching cock and marbled sac demanded release and almost leaped into his hand as it found them. Pleasure absorbed him as he toyed with himself, then seriously stroked, kneaded and pulled until his body sang with sensation and he knew he was close to the zenith of all he could feel. It was time. Only then did he bend over and sink one fang carefully into Dante’s earlobe.

  As the sweet taste of Dante’s blood hit his tongue, his body remembered how it was to be inside his man-love. He arched more tightly against him.

  “Alex?”

  At the sound of that voice, rough and sensual in sleep, Alex pumped his palm down hard on the tip of his cock to drive himself over the edge. His orgasm exploded. For a time he remained tense, suspended in ecstasy as his balls tightened and spasmed until spent. Even after he had relaxed and all desire for sex had evaporated, he remained curled against Dante. Only the sound of Dante’s breathing broke the silence. He hadn’t responded or spoken again.

  Pushing up on his elbow again, Alex licked the bloody earlobe and the spot where it had bled until it was clean. Because of the healing power in his saliva, by morning, any sign that he’d bitten Dante would be gone. It was a small deception, and one he would admit to at some point when their relationship was once again on solid ground, but not now. For now, he would hold the experience close to his chest.

  After he’d showered, he dressed in worn jeans and a sweatshirt and checked Dante’s shaving kit. Finding clean undershorts there, he returned to the bed and reached under the covers to remove Dante’s. For a long moment, he held the briefs to his face and breathed in the scent left by his lover’s skin and his sex. Then he gathered them up with Dante’s shirt, socks, and slacks and took them to the entresol. The label on the new slacks indicated they could be run through the washer and dryer, so he plunged everything into the washing machine, added the requisite soap and rinse softener before pushing the on button.

  As he waited, he stepped into the courtyard, where blossoms scented the air with their sweetness, and felt prompted to listen once again, as he had outside the bar, for some sign of a threat. Frogs croaked near the fountain, and he heard an occasional bird call in the humid night, but otherwise there was nothing. He opened his vampire senses to full detection mode, but found no specific danger to Dante or himself. If he’d truly sensed something as they’d approached the bar and grill, it was gone now.

  Still, after he’d put the wet clothes in the dryer, he was cautious enough to head for his office to call Naples. Then he remembered day had broken there, and the sleep of everyone he needed to reach would be too deep to waken. Fighting a rising frustration because he wanted an immediate answer to quell his sudden concern, he switched on the fax machine and sent a simple message: Have you captured Giacomo? He signed it Alexandros.

  Work waited for him on his desk, so he lit into it to keep from pacing the floor, and left only when the dryer timer dinged and he went down to remove Dante’s clothes. He hung them up in Dante’s room before they wrinkled. As he looked at the sleeping figure in the bed, now minus his briefs, he hoped he hadn’t been a fool not to inquire about Giacomo sooner. Knowing the powerful reach of the vampires in Naples, he’d assumed they would have found him by this time and meted out justice for what he’d done to him and Dante. But the truth was they probably would have notified him if that was the case, and no one had.

  Dante still slept as dawn approached, and Alex leaned down to kiss his cheek once more before seeking his own sleeping place. Maybe the pills would help e
ase the hangover Dante had wished on himself last night. Alex pledged to see it didn’t have to happen again.

  As a plan for this developed in his mind, Alex smiled and left the room.

  Chapter Three

  Sunlight streamed into his room, and Dante wished he could hit himself in the head with a sledgehammer. Maybe that would be easier to survive than the horrendous pounding in his head this morning. He vaguely recalled taking some aspirin Alex had given him; if he had, they didn’t seem to be helping.

  Eyes shut, he stumbled to the window and closed the shutters, then fumbled in his shaving kit for his darkest sunglasses. Once they were on, he managed to get into the bathroom to pee. He hadn’t been drunk since his early twenties, and he didn’t need memory to know your mouth felt like cotton the morning after. It did. Afraid to look at himself in the mirror, he settled for brushing not only his teeth, but the tongue and roof of his mouth to get rid of the dreadful taste and bad breath.

  Every breath out probably reeks of alcohol. I must be a walking brewery. Wincing at what he’d done to himself, he spent a long time in the shower and felt only minimally better once he was out. That was when he discovered Alex had laundered his clothes. A wave of guilt ran through him. He determined tonight to maintain control over his cock without the aid of alcohol.

  Rummaging through the medicine cabinet, he uncapped a bottle of aspirin and took two more tablets with a full glass of water. Clean and dressed, he decided food and fresh air would do him good. First, he tiptoed to Alex’s door. He needed to see him, only to peek at him, but the heavy door to the bedroom was locked. He stepped across the hallway into the office. The notes, door key, and alarm code Alex had provided were complete and helpful. He entered the courtyard under a cloudy sky and walked to the French Market coffee shop Café Du Monde, taking note of the small shops, houses and businesses along the route. A sign at the entrance to the coffee shop read: Established 1862.