“And go where, hun?” Nothing came between Suze and indulgence.
“The, umm, cemetery.”
The munching halted.
“Like, Lake View Cemetery.”
Red was the color Suze's face quickly turned. “So we can see that undead friend of yours?”
“Suzy,” Nate appealed, “it's barely sunset. Bloodsuckers can't take the daylight.”
“Then why do we need to go there, Shana?”
“I don't know. I've got a feeling, I guess.”
Suze placed a chicken leg to her mouth, biting and chewing as slowly as could be, maintaining a stony glare at Shana the whole time. Upon swallowing, “Ok. Nate, get a lid for the bucket.”
Chapter Five
Mr. Clean instructed them to go to the Haserot angel. Truth was that Shana felt about as good taking her family to the spot of her most extreme sensual experience as she did drinking a ketchup milkshake. There was a chance that something would come over her and she would start masturbating right then and there, with no regard for who else was around. Minor consolation could be taken in the fact that it was something of a tit for tat with seeing Suze and Nate fucking on the dining room table the night prior. But no, that was barely consolation at all.
It's amazing how tragedy can make any day feel cold and cloudy. In fact, it was a perfect spring day in Lake View Cemetery, and the sunlight warmed the trio's hair and flesh as they sat in front of the angel, waiting for, well... they didn't know what. Yet all they could feel was cold rising from the corpses, the chilling breeze that gave the backs of their necks goosepimples whenever it blew. Dazed from the chicken and pleased to be doing anything but sulk back home, they sat placidly in a triangle, doing what some would call meditating.
There was a rustling from the woods, and they all innately dismissed it as some sort of animal. But a human cough sounded soon after, a puny, weak cough which perked all ears up. Suze, of course, recognizes that cough as if it were her own and began fervently turning her head in every direction, looking for the direction where it came from.
The cough sounded again, and when the three oriented themselves towards its direction, they saw the boy stumble out of the woods. He was still in his Sunday best, but by now it was not at all the best. The tie was severed, as if by scissors and the blazer had a hole in one elbow. His pants were dirty, crumpled, as if he had been sleeping in them on the ground for the past few days. Nate ran towards the boy and picked him up to give him a wet kiss on the cheek.
“Daddy, it's ok for you to kiss me even though I'm a boy and you're a boy because I missed you.” Nate, the big softie, sobbed on the spot. Suze sandwiched the boy between herself and her husband with a long embrace. The parents uttered nothing for they had nothing to say. They closed eyes and rocked with the boy back and forth, back and forth.
Luke pointed at Shana and went, “Aunt Shana has a bruise on her eye!” That's when Suze noticed that a bandage was wrapped around Luke's index finger, with one digit missing.
She turned around to see a figure staring from the very point in the woods where Luke stumbled out of. Her maternal instincts kicked in and she charged. Once the figure realized what was happening, it started to run away, but Suze was just in too good shape to let the man who severed her son's finger get away. She pulled a maneuver that you really only see in pro wrestling rings: a running jump which led to her wrapping her body around this person's upper half, the momentum of which pinned him to the ground. She laid waste to the guy, alternating punches between his head and his gut until he was too battered, too winded to even move. She got up and ran back to her boy.
“Get in the fucking car! Now!”
Suze, Nate, and Luke ran to the car. Shana did not.
“Shana, get in this car or I swear I will personally crucify you on one of these cross-shaped gravestones. I will!”
Both Luke and Nate were in a state of shock, seeing Suze turn into whatever person this was.
“Suze, I need to go see someone.”
“Get in the car!”
“No.”
“Get in the fucking car!”
“I'm going to see...”
Suze understood. She looked over to the woods to see if the figure had stirred. He had not. “Well, get there quick, before that ape wakes up.”
Shana nodded. “I'll call you soon. Bye Luke.” She waved at her nephew, who was in a total daze.
He still waved back as the car pulled away.
Shana wandered over to the figure that Suze attacked. It was Mr. Clean. His eyes were open, and he was in fact fully alert. Shana thanked him and offered a hand to help him up.
“I will get up off the ground when I know that woman has driven far away. I do not need that again.”
“I said thank you.”
“I did my duty. Leave me to lie here.” And she did.
As always, Baker's tomb was easy to find. Shana wasn't quite sure what she wanted out of him. When she thought of that fleshy patch, she was in fact reviled by his very existence. But Tom was in her past and she didn't really know what her future held. She sat 100 yards from his tomb until it was totally dark out. He emerged with some tools to work on his truck. When she approached, he was tuning something up.
“Baker.”
He turned around and looked away in embarrassment nearly the second he saw her.
She walked up to the truck and leaned against the front of it, just inches away from him. She looked insistently at the vampire's face. He went back to work with his wrench, pretending she wasn't there. She continued to stare.
Still averting his gaze, Baker said, “please leave.”
“No.”
“Please, now.”
“No.”
Shana was bad at following the program today.
He finally looked at her. “What do you want from me?”
“I don't know.”
He shook his head and got back to work.
Finally, “I guess I just want to talk. I always like talking to you.”
He continued, putting more energy into fixing his truck than dealing with Shana. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Anything. I don't know. Tell me a story about what it was like here during the Civil War.”
“The Civil War? They didn't fight that in Cleveland.”
“Yeah, but just what it was like here during that time period. Were there runaway slaves? Did any of them turn into, well, creatures like...”
He smiled at her. “Let's walk.”
And they did. They wandered around the cemetery and let the conversation guide them, as opposed to the other way around. Just like when she was a teen, they found themselves perched against a grave hours later, deep in some pseudo-philosophical discussion that no one in the rest of the world could care about. And as things always went, they found themselves kissing under that very moonlight, perched against a headstone. Something made it more tender than usual, with them stealing one another's breath each time their tongues touched. Baker's lips, as always, were cold and dry. Shana's as always plump and warm. Time slipped away from them during conversation, but absolutely evaporated during kissing.
Shana began rubbing that long-dead skin that was stretched taught over the vampire's subtly chiseled torso. She loved to traced the parabola in his ribcage, to draw a grid with her finger on his abs. He whispered some forgotten language into her ear while blowing cold wind through her hair.
And before she knew it, Baker had disrobed her and they were laying on their sides. He massaged her back and shoulders, kissing her cheek from behind and rubbing the top part of his thigh against her vagina. She loved to be embraced from the back, with the spring's raw evening air tingling her front. She guided Baker's hand to her breast, and when he clawed at his, she growled like an animal deep in heat.
She reached for his cold cock and found nothing. “You don't need that anymore.”
“But,” she gasped and paused, reveling in the vampires touch, his tactile tour of every
skin inch, “but I love it.”
He simply breathed behind her ear then slid down her back, kissing the contour of her spine all the way down. He nibbled on the flesh of her butt, then spread the cheeks to tease the hole with the tip of his tongue. No one had ever done that to her before, and she never imagined that it could be such a quiet, profound sensation. As he continued, he played with her labia, rubbing and plying clumps of pubic hair. She chuckled in between gasps and moans. Soon his thumb found its way inside of her and the top of his paw to her clit as he continued to lick her from behind. It was exquisite. When she closed her eyes, new colors burst against the silver screen of her eyelids, and when she opened them, the leaves on the trees swirled and shimmered in a psychedelic projection of her ecstasy.
The vampire crawled back up until his head touched hers and she turned her face to kiss him. He continued to touch her as they made out for minutes and then she turned her head away from him to expose her neck, grinning a possessed grin. He opened his mouth and positioned his teeth above her jugular.
The End
“We don’t fall in love with a person who is beyond our every imagination, but with a person who in our imagination is beyond everything.”
My Immortal Amour
1. HOW MARC MET SHIERA
In about eight minutes, the first ray of the morning sun was to hit my side of the world; time for me to run and hide.
But that morning I just couldn’t walk away from the glittering shoreline of that beach; maybe because I had the whole beach to myself with no one else in sight. The dim moonlight, scattered all around, was slowly fading, warning me to do the same. But I didn’t budge. Standing bare foot on the cold sand, I kept peering at the strong, crystal waves that seemed desperate to reach out to me. Couldn’t blame them, I wasn’t standing that far.
Then, out of nowhere, an unusual thought struck me. Maybe I had lived long enough, and the best way to call it an end was to exit the world while enjoying one of my greatest desires. Daylight. I was unable to come up with any other reasonable answer to be there. And that’s when I saw her for the first time.
She was in a red sheath dress, with black, silky ringlets swaying on her shoulders. Her stature, her posture – anyone could mistake her for a supermodel. However, more than her beauty, those huge, dark wings, gently fluttering on her back, had captured my attention.
She looked at me with sparkling eyes, dimming the already fading moonlight.
“Just returning from a costume party,” she said, noticing my eyes fixated on her wings. “Didn’t feel like getting rid of them. Look fabulous, don’t they?”
Her husky voice and mystical smile stirred some long lost emotion within me.
I smiled. “Great job! Looks quite real.” They didn’t seem fake to me. Nor did any other part of her body. I found her quite gorgeous. It was tough taking my eyes off her. And just then I spoke my thoughts out loud, “You look lovely. It’s tough taking my eyes off you.” Silly! After ages, I had uttered my precise thoughts to someone.
“Thanks, Handsome.” Now she smiled.
I could tell her eyes were checking me out. There’s a player inside me, quite talented due to loads of practice. If practice makes a man perfect, then after ages of practice I have become a professional. But at that moment, the player was silent; else he would have come up with something brilliant to say.
I moved closer to her and stretched my right hand forward. “Hi, I’m Marc.”
“Hello, Marc. I’m Shiera.”
Her hand was warm, and there was a certain solace in her touch. I assume I held her hand a bit longer than I was supposed to, but at that moment I was feeling alive. Fear of the rising sun kicked in. I wanted to live another day.
I reluctantly let her hand go. I had to move out immediately, but I also wanted to do or say something for her to remember me until our next time. Luckily for me, the player was partially awake by then. “Hey, I’ve got to leave now… but just wondering… if we happen to meet again, would it be okay if I asked you out for coffee… or maybe for a dance?”
“Dance?” She seemed a bit surprised.
Not her fault. Coffee was smooth, but dance?! Anyway, I didn’t care. The player was doing the talking. I was sure he’d handle it. “You don’t like dancing?”
“I do.” She looked straight into my eyes.
“Well, great then. I know a few good places around here. I’d really love to have at least one dance with the most gorgeous angel that I have ever come across,” I said.
Her eyebrows went a bit high, but she was still smiling, thankfully. I had used ‘compliment’. Now I had to say something flirty, yet funny. If I’d make her laugh, then she’d take me as a charming, smart guy. If not, then I’d be… let’s say, someone who had no time in hand for a second chance. So I said, “I promise I’ll behave…”
She eased her eyebrows.
“…As long as possible,” I added, smiling with one cheek. She chuckled. “I’ll look forward for that dance when we meet again.” She had used ‘when,’ not ‘if’. A relief! I rushed out of there within seconds, completely forgetting about leaving my number or asking for hers. Somehow I knew I was to meet her again.
2. WHEN SHIERA MET MARC.
Silly guy! Asked for coffee, asked for a dance, and then just left without exchanging numbers. How was he ever going to get in touch, especially with someone like me? However, I wasn’t that interested; I’ve had my share of men – the romantics, the lustful and even the beasts. When you live for centuries and you’re gifted, you can have any man, or men, you want. Just one problem: they all age to die. So, be it one of those prolonged one-night-stands or serious relationships, good times and attachments eventually fade out and you are left with what’s next.
Anyway, I found Marc somewhat different, and a bit interesting. This guy – black jeans, black shirt, and bare feet - was standing at the shore as if he was in the midst of a deep discussion with the sea and the sky, expecting zero disturbance. Maybe, that’s why he took more than five minutes to notice me.
Sometimes, just for fun, I startle people with my wings. Most of the time, I have to keep these gorgeous companions invisible. But why bother in situations where there’s only one person, all alone, at a place like a beach? All you’ve got to do: suddenly appear within 10 feet of them, to their left or right, and wait to get noticed. The way they run! Seeing something scary, stand that close, nobody dares to pause and “take a pic”. Of course, you need darkness to create the impact. But Marc was strange. He didn’t even flinch. For a second, I wondered who the dangerous one was among us.
The next time I met him, we did have that dance. It was a dance of a…
------------------
I was at a bar, having already rejected five pick-up lines, thinking of what drink to order. The charming bartender was occupied but he’d keep checking up with me. Things were quite dull that evening.
“Three measures of Gordon's, one of Vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it over ice, and add a thin slice of lemon peel.”
Hearing that pretty-detailed order, from a familiar voice, I turned to my right. Marc took the seat on the right, greeted me with a bright smile, and then instantly spoke to the bartender, “Actually, make two of those.”
Suddenly, my evening lit up.
“I’ve a strong feeling – you’re going to love it,” he told me.
“We don’t have even one of those,” the bartender interrupted.
“Then, two tequilas. Please.” Marc responded with a smirk.
“So, do you always order drinks from Bond’s movies, or is it only to impress lone women in bars,” I said.
“Wow. Sharp and observant.”
“Need to be, especially when sitting by someone bold and charming.”
Those green eyes and that dimpled-smile of his could easily dazzle any careless woman, which I wasn’t. Dealing with players has always been child’s play for me. But with him, I had an urge to get careless.
“
Bold and charming, huh? Glad you noticed,” he said, squinting one eye.
“And a smooth talker too,” I gently teased.
“Well, I try,” he said.
“Good for you.”
We both chuckled.
“It’s a pleasant surprise seeing you again,” I said.
“Same here. But I must say it was a bit difficult to recognize you minus the wings.” He maintained a strong eye-contact.
After ages, a compliment made me feel shy. SO shy that I couldn’t see straight for a moment.
There was music – a fine blend of Latin pop and jazz in the air, and a few couples were gently swaying, swinging on the dance floor. I took a quick glance at them.
Marc caught that glance. “Would you like to?”
“I thought you wouldn’t remember,” I said.
Just then, the bartender placed two tequilas in front of us.
“Was waiting for these. They help pep things up.” Marc handed one of the glasses to me.
“Don’t keep your hopes too high,” I teased again.
“Hey, I do remember my promise. I’ll behave.”
“That is… as long as possible?” I added.
We laughed. And then Marc did something completely unexpected. He put his drink aside, stood up, and stretched his left hand forward – inviting me to the floor.
“I thought we needed to finish these to pep things up,” I said, holding the unfinished glass in my hand.
“I guess we won’t be requiring those. You and I are just fine.” He looked straight into my eyes, without a single blink.
I looked at his hands. Sleeves folded up to the elbows, bared his thick, meaty forearms. His broad palms; I could easily sense the power of his grip. He stood there, waiting for me, as if he knew that he already had me even before I accepted it. I admit, at that point, I thought the spark between us was pure lust.
3. MARC – the player!
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