APPETITE

by Kathyrn, Lorraine

  "What about Becky?"

  "Are you worried about telling her about us? About what's going to happen to you?"

  "Not at all," she said with a snort of laughter. She got up and grabbed her dishes, taking them over to the sink to rinse them and load them in the dishwasher.

  "No?" he asked, turning around and leaning his back against the counter.

  "Becky is...pretty open-minded, so I don't think it will be an issue." She dried her hands and turned to face him, leaning against the sink.

  "Open-minded?"

  "Yeah." She laughed, hugging herself and shaking her head. "Whenever I wanted to do something important -- buying my car, getting a new job, traveling, moving -- Becky dragged me to her psychic. She had my astrology chart done. She's taken me for more tarot readings than I can count. She believes in aliens and Bigfoot and the loch ness monster. She wanted to become a ghost hunter but was too afraid of evil spirits." Damien barked a laugh at that, and Charlie smiled at him. "Her whole family -- really -- very free spirited and open to everything."

  "I see."

  "And since I'm pretty sure she already believes you exist, I think she'll take it a hell of a lot better than I did."

  "Are you close with her family?" Damien asked, noting Charlie's almost wistful smile when she had mentioned Becky's.

  "Not so much, really. I mean, they always treated my well, and Beck included me in all her family stuff, but they're not particularly close." She looked at him, head cocked to the side. "Why do you ask?"

  "It was just the way you mentioned her family. You seemed...not sad...but almost ...," he trailed off with a shrug.

  "Yeah. It's...well...hang on a sec -- I'll be right back," she said, hurrying up to their bedroom closet and pulling a small box off the top shelf. She carried it back downstairs to the kitchen. She took Damien's hand and led him to the big sectional in the living room, seating them both.

  "I want to show you something," she said, putting the box on her lap and opening it up. She pulled out a smaller wooden box, the top decorated with painted daisies and put it on his lap. "Go ahead," she nodded when he looked at her, "open it up. Nothing in there will bite."

  Damien opened the lid and smiled when he saw a packet of about two or three dozen photographs inside, tied together with a deep blue velvet ribbon. He pulled the pictures out and carefully untied the ribbon, putting it back in the box and looking at the top one. It was in black and white, and showed a laughing man and woman; he had his arms around her obviously pregnant midsection and was smiling over her shoulder at the camera. She had her head turned and was looking up at him, smiling.

  "That's my grandma and grandpa. He died before I was born so I never met him, but my mom and grandma would tell me stories." Damien turned the picture over to read the inscription: Misha and Kathy, June '49. "That was about 3 months before my mom was born."

  "Misha?"

  "My grandfather's family was Russian. They came to the US before World War I." Damien moved the picture to the bottom of the pile and looked at the next one, also black and white. It showed the same couple, except this time they both had their arms around a baby. "And that is my mom." The back of the picture read Joan Dannika Miller, January '50.

  "They look happy," Damien said, moving to a picture of the small family at a picnic. The baby was now a little girl and was hamming it up for the camera. It was a color picture, though it was faded.

  "That was Independence Day '56," Charlie said. Damien shuffled to the next picture showing Charlie's mom as a teenager and her grandmother. Her mom was in a long, frilly gown in light blue with a matching hat and gloves. "That was my mom's senior prom."

  "Your grandfather?"

  "He'd died about two years prior to this," Charlie said. She put a hand on his, stilling him for a moment. "Damien, I...I just wanted... I don't really have any family to share with you, Damien. This is pretty much all I have," she gave his hand a squeeze and nodded towards the box on his lap. "Pictures and mementos. And...I have my memories. Memories I want to share with you." She smiled at him. "And while it's not the same thing as having a family accept you, I know that they would have. They would have loved you. They would have loved you not because I love you, but because you are worthy of it."

  "You make me worthy, dolcezza." He kissed her softly and turned back to the pictures in his hand.

  The next picture showed her grandma sitting in an old-fashioned wingback chair, holding a baby up on her knees. Her mom sat on the arm of the chair, her hands on the older woman's shoulders. "And that's me," she looked at him, smiling. The back read Charlotte Emily '74.

  "So you were always this beautiful," he said, smiling back at her. She laughed and shook her head as he shuffled through a couple more pictures of her as a baby. He laughed when he came across a picture of Charlie in a ballet costume, her hair in two French braids, a scowl on her young face. "You weren't kidding about the ballet lessons," he said, nudging her with his elbow.

  "Nope. And you can see how much I enjoyed it," she laughed with him.

  "How old were you?"

  "Six, I think," she said, looking at the date on the back of the picture and nodding. He looked at it for a while longer, his smile changing from playful to thoughtful. "What is that look for?" she asked, noting the change.

  "I am picturing what our children will look like. Our little girls will have your hair and big golden eyes, they will have your soft laugh and gentle nature, and every boy's heart in a hundred mile radius."

  "Oh please," Charlie laughed. "And what will they get from you?"

  "My ability to cross a room without tripping?"

  "Right." She slid closer to him, snuggling up against his side and laying her head on his shoulder. "And what if we have little boys?"

  "Oh we will. We'll have lots of little boys and little girls."

  "Lots? How many is 'lots'?"

  "As many as we can," Damien said. Charlie looked at him closely and saw he was serious. "How many do you want?"

  "Oh," she said, smiling at him, "I'd never really thought about it."

  "No?"

  "No. I mean, with Kei -- with my ex -- we decided to wait a few more years to have kids, and then we, well, things just went to shit, you know. And after that...I mean, you're the only other person I've been with. I'd just kind of assumed I never would have any."

  "Do you not want to have children?"

  She thought for a moment, a small smile on her lips at her own mental pictures of what their children would be like. "I want to have your children, Damien." She lifted her head and kissed him.

  Damien smiled with relief and turned back to the pictures. There was Charlie at the beach as a young teen, her mom sitting on the blanket next to her. There were a couple of Charlie and her grandma in the kitchen cooking together, Charlie with some girls her age with spiky hair and neon clothes. Damien came across a picture of Charlie on a stage with a band. He held it up and studied it closely. She held a microphone in her hand and was singing into it, her hair bobbed and framing her face. She was angled towards the camera, but was looking at the man with sandy blonde hair on stage next to her singing into his own microphone and playing guitar. He was facing forward but his eyes were cut towards Charlie. Damien glanced at Charlie, eyebrows raised in question.

  "The Be-Sides. That's me and Keith," she said quietly, pointing. "And that's Jeremy," she said, indicating a guy in the background at a keyboard, "and you can almost make out Greg," she pointed at the drumset and the shady figure seated behind it. "And over here is Adam's leg. He played bass."

  "You look like you were having fun," Damien said, his tone guarded. He was studying her ex-husband's picture, trying to keep her from noticing.

  "It was fun. And then -- and then it wasn't," she shrugged, not wanting to go into anything again.

  "Do you miss it?"

  "Not really. I missed singing, you know? I had stopped for a while, and I realized when I started again I missed it. Not on a stage, just wherever. In
the shower. Cleaning. Cooking. Wherever. But I don't miss that," she said, nodding towards the picture in his hand.

  "You can sing whenever you want, dolcezza. I'll never get tired of hearing it."

  "I dunno about that, cowboy. You might have just given me too free a reign," she teased, putting her head on his shoulder again. "I'm sure you'll get tired of it soon enough."

  Damien just shook his head and moved to the next picture. It was pretty recent, and showed Charlie with a tall, thin blonde. Charlie was in a chef's jacket that was splattered with food and baggy black pants, and the blonde was in a tailored suit and heels. She was beautiful, her hair and makeup as perfect as her clothing. Damien flipped the picture over to read Becky's b-day bash '10. "That's Becky?" he asked.

  "Yep." She grinned at him. "Not what you expected, huh?"

  "Not really, no," he murmured. He looked at the picture of the two women -- as opposite as possible -- and chuckled. "I really expected a cross between a biker and a hippie, you know?"

  "I know," she chuckled with him, lifting her head from his shoulder. "She kind of is a cross between a biker and a hippie chick. Just one who happens to wear expensive clothes really well and happens to be drop-dead beautiful. And we don't look like we'd be friends, do we?" He shook his head and smiled at her. "But we are. I'd do anything for her. She's my only family." She smiled at him a bit sheepishly. "Well, she was. I seem to have enlarged my family circle a bit now."

  "Yes, you have." He shifted to face her a bit more. "And they will love you, Charlotte, because you are worthy, too." He leaned forward and kissed her, his tongue playing over her lips until she opened her mouth to him. Charlie sighed, sliding her arms around his neck and leaning into him. Damien moved the photos and box to his side, placing them carefully on the cushion next to him before pulling her onto his lap. He turned her to straddle him, sliding his hands up her thighs to her buttocks. He squeezed her ass, his lips moving down her neck as she arched her back to give him freer access to both.

  "Cowboy, please, we have to stop" she moaned.

  "I know," he countered, biting her nipple hard through the t-shirt. "I don't want to stop, dolcezza." He groaned and bit her nipple again.

  "Fuck!" Charlie said as her hips jerked in response. Damien smiled and bit her other nipple a little harder, watching as her hips jerked again.

  "I want to, my Charlotte. I want to fuck you until you start speaking in tongues to beg me to stop," he whispered, his lips against her neck and his hands at her hips. Charlie shuddered in his lap and he gave a soft chuckle, raising his head. She looked at him, her eyes bright and her cheeks pink. "I'm sorry, dolcezza."

  "Not fair," she groaned. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned back. They eyed each other heatedly, trying to get their breathing under control.

  "I know," Damien said at last, moving her to sit at his side again. "I just couldn't help myself," he shrugged. He put his arm around her shoulder and she nestled against him as he put her keepsake box back on his lap. "Share some more?"

  "Everything," Charlie sighed, resting her head against his chest as he pulled mementos out of the box and held them up for her to explain. They went through the box, until the last item had been explained, then sat talking and laughing softly, until Damien finally glanced at the clock.

  "Why don't you go ahead and take a shower, Charlie. My parents will be here in about an hour."

  "What?" she said, sitting up and looking at him with wide eyes.

  "My parents will be here in an hour or so."

  "Dammit," she said, jumping off his lap and standing before him, hands on her hips. "Why didn't you tell me it was so late?"

  "I just did," he said with a laugh as she gave a huff.

  "Not funny, cowboy," she said, stomping off to the stairs.

  "Shouldn't you thank me for distracting you?" he called after her, chuckling as he stood up and fixed himself in his shorts. "It's not like this isn't just as hard on me, dolcezza. In fact, in some ways it's harder!" He laughed out loud as the sound of her frustrated grunt reached him.

  Charlie hurried into the bathroom and put her hair into a messy bun on top of her head. She jumped in the shower, scrubbing herself down and rinsing off as quickly as possible. She felt nervous, but no longer panicky at the thought she would be meeting his parents in an hour, and she was grateful to Damien for making her forget, even if only for a little while. She stepped out and dried herself off, wrapping herself in the towel and heading for the closet.

  She turned on the light and looked at her meager selection of clothes, sighing. She didn't have more than a handful of dresses, and none of them seemed appropriate. She wasn't any better off when it came to separates; a total of four blouses, two skirts and one pair of slacks made up the rest of her wardrobe. "I wish Becky was here," she sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. Becky always helped her look her best for any situation, and she could really user her advice now. Charlie giggled as she thought about calling Becky to ask her what she should wear to meet her soon-to-be werewolf in-laws.

  "What has you giggling?" Damien suddenly asked from the doorway, making her jump.

  "For fuck's sake, cowboy!" Charlie squeaked, turning to face him. "Would you please,please, in the name of all you hold dear, stop sneaking up on me?!"

  "Not likely, dolcezza." He walked over to her and put his arms around her, pulling her against him and kissing the top of her head. "You're just too cute when you jump." He chuckled when he looked down to see her scowl.

  "You're incorrigible."

  "Yes. And isn't it charming?" he teased, giving her his best 'I'm-oh-so-innocent' look.

  "Not so much," she said, trying to give him a glare but not succeeding. "It's a good thing I love you."

  He smiled at that, giving her a squeeze. "It's a great thing, a wondrous thing that you love me." He kissed her softly and smiled at her slight blush. "Now, tell me what had you sighing and giggling."

  "I was trying to figure out what to wear, and wishing Becky was here to help me out -- she has impeccable taste -- and considered calling her for advice. I laughed when I thought how I would phrase my dilemma." Damien cocked a brow at that and waited for her to explain. "You know, calling to ask what is appropriate attire to meet the future werewolf-in-laws." She snickered again, shaking her head.

  "I see," Damien said with a chuckle.

  "I mean, I doubt it was covered by Emily Post or Modern Bride-"

  "No, probably not."

  "So her advice would be invaluable," she sighed, resting her head against his chest.

  "It doesn't matter what you wear, Charlie. You know that, right?"

  "It matters to me."

  "Why?" She didn't answer, merely shrugged her shoulders and held him a little tighter. "I understand you're nervous. I understand your desire to make a good impression on my parents. But you have to believe me when I say there is no way -- no way at all -- for you to make a bad impression." He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back slightly, looking at her closely.

  "Do you want to know what will happen when they meet you?" he asked after a few moments, smiling when she nodded. "My mother will start to cry in joy at meeting the woman who made her son so happy and try to talk your ear off about how welcome you are to the family, and my father will scoop you up and start going on and on and on in Italian about your loveliness."

  "Damien!" Charlie admonished, laughing. "You can't know that."

  "Want to bet on it?"

  "What's the wager?"

  "Hmmm...how about if I win, you have to sing us all a song tonight."

  "Any song in particular or one of my choosing?" she asked, hands on her hips.

  "You can choose, but...it has to be a love song."

  "And if I win?"

  "If you win...I dunno. What would you like as your prize?"

  "A year's worth of on-demand foot massages," she said instantly.

  "Really?" Damien asked, laughing. "Not much of a prize, dolcezza, as I'm happy
to do that anyway."

  "Then we're even," she said, giving him an impish smile.

  "I suppose we are," he said, holding his hand out to her. "Shake." She put her hand in his and squealed when he pulled her hard against him and kissed her fiercely. "It's a bet," he said, his voice low, when he finally broke the kiss.

  "So it is," Charlie said, a little breathless. She stepped away from him and shook her head a bit. "And I am no closer to picking an outfit."

  "Wear what you're comfortable in, my Charlotte. No need to dress up," he said, waving his hand at her clothes. "But you should decide soon."

  "Oh?" she said turning back to the clothes hanging in front of her. "Why? What's up?"

  "You only have about ten minutes," he whispered, bringing his lips to her ear.