by A. C. James
“What can I get you, miss?”
I knew at once that she could be neither human nor vampire. The waitress looked at me expectantly for my drink order, an unreadable expression on her face.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
She turned to flatter Arie with an admiring smile which he returned with one that would weaken the knees of any mortal woman. I choked back the bile rising in my throat. I hated that part of me felt possessive when I had no right to be. The way she smiled at him, and the way he returned it, made me wonder if he’d screwed her.
“I’ll take a Crimson Dusk and a pint of Puncture, B- blend.”
“Should I start you a tab?”
“No, that will be all for now.” Arie paid the waitress.
A man who looked like Tony Soprano walked across the black marble toward the three of us. Gray hair encircled his head, but other than that he could have been his older brother. He wore a collared shirt with black slacks molded to his hulking figure. Jesus hung from a gold cross around his neck; rubies marked the arms and feet of the cross in bloody symbolism. I blinked. A ball of red light seemed to flicker behind him, but it could have been my eyes playing tricks on me. He didn’t even acknowledge me or Arie.
“Luna, I need to have a word with you in private.”
“I’m working.”
“I won’t ask twice.”
Luna frowned at the man but she followed him toward the bar.
I turned toward Arie. “Who is that?”
“That’s her father. He’s founder of the Chicago Crew, mafia bootleggers dating back to 1910.”
“Right, bootleggers and the waitress, Luna, what is she?”
“What do you mean?”
“It looks like a comet tail flowing behind her. She can’t be human.”
“You can see that. Interesting.”
“Why is that interesting?”
“Only those who are supernatural can see the supernatural. Well, unless we chose to reveal ourselves. Luna is a moon faerie. A very rare and special breed—valuable to vampires.”
“Faerie?”
“Yes, there is more to our world than you know. Her father is a fire faerie.”
I didn’t know what to think. If vampires were real, then it suggested there was probably a lot more that I didn’t know about, and it certainly explained the red ball; I’d thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. But I could feel hysteria start to bubble from the discovery and sheer disbelief of it all.
I laughed. “You seriously expect me to believe that the mafia is controlled by a bunch of faeries?”
“No, not controlled by faeries. They are faeries. At least in this city.”
“And he lets his daughter work for vampires? That’s not very mob-like.”
“I don’t think he has much choice in the matter.”
“Why?”
“There was a feud between the Crew and the regent in charge of the Hellfire Club back when bootleggers controlled the flow of alcohol. Like I said, this place used to pass for a jazz club downstairs. Granted, it was still a sex club upstairs. I don’t know what started the feud, but the Crew cut off the supply of alcohol. Her father used her as a bargaining chip when we retaliated and now she’s responsible for paying off her father’s debt.”
“These kinds of stories make me glad that I never met my father. But don’t you think she should be about done paying off his debts by now? That was a long time ago.”
“That’s not for me to decide, and besides, time passes differently for them.” Arie shrugged.
“Well, she didn’t look very happy to see him.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Isn’t family always?” I toyed with the locket around my neck. “What are we doing here, anyway?”
“I have to talk to someone. I told you. I need some information.”
The moon faerie returned with a wine glass filled with a dark burgundy liquid. She set the glass in front of Arie. Luna winked at him before she departed with a gait that made her almost seemed to float. A slight brunette with wide eyes approached our table, her smile warm and open. She wore a black tube top above a red plaid schoolgirl mini that drew attention to her legs.
The girl who approached the table threw Arie a look filled with lust and respect that made me jealous. “Sir, who ordered the Crimson Dusk?”
Arie nodded. The girl smiled and brushed her hair out of the way. She turned so that Arie’s lips were only inches from her neck.
“Allow me.”
Arie closed the distance between his mouth and her neck. He dug his fangs into the side of her neck until the blood flowed from two round punctures. Her lips parted in pleasure. I felt voyeuristic and awkward, as if I were witnessing something intimate. This girl filled me with a strange sensation. I felt scared that he might drink and not stop until the very last ounce of her blood had been drained. And that she would do nothing to stop it. Yet part of me wanted to take her place. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying every minute of it.
“Stop. I said stop.” My voice came out in a hushed whisper that neither Arie nor the girl heard above the pumping music below.
I grabbed his shoulder roughly, trying to remove the girl from his grasp. Blood dripped from his lips as he raised his head, letting her go. Her eyes darted back and forth between us. She bowed her head before backing away from the table. I could see the rise and fall of his chest in time with his jagged breathing. I let go of his shoulder. He looked like he wanted to either kiss me or kill me. I couldn’t tell which as I struggled to find my voice. Arie wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.
***
Silence fell across the club. I looked toward a spiral staircase at the other end of the bar. At the top of the stairs there stood a woman with dark brown hair and cat-like green eyes. She had large, generous lips. Her black leather corset was worn above a short black leather skirt. She looks like a sexy warrior princess. Black lace-up gauntlets with red ribbon exposed her fingers, and her lace-up thigh-high gauntlet boots had six-inch heels.
I gulped.
The woman looked just as I had always imagined the women from my erotic romance novels. My reading preferences provided ample education that I was thankful for at the moment. I knew a dominatrix when I saw one.
In the dominatrix’s hand she twirled a black and red leather cat o’ nine tails. She wore a wicked smile that broadcast the nature of her intentions and seared unexpected heat throughout my body. A tattoo of a Roman numeral VII graced her right breast. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she descended the stairs without speaking a word. Applause broke out, and it appeared no introduction was necessary.
I felt heat rise up my neck. Then I noticed Arie watching me. It seemed like he sensed my embarrassment conflicting with my arousal, and that maybe it turned him on too. I couldn’t be sure. But when he continued to look at me the way every woman wants to be looked at, my doubts flew out the window, right along with every sensible objection to the current situation. And he seemed to be gauging my reaction to whatever we were about to witness. I could already feel dampness lining my underwear as my mind flew to the fantasy that was walking down the stairs in the shape of form-fitting leather, just like in the books I read.
I returned my attention to the bottom of the stairs where two dommes, female dominants, helped strap a man to a chevalet. This drew my attention to the exposed flesh of his back. I shuddered involuntarily. The woman who descended the stairs nodded her approval before smiling toward the crowd. I held my breath, along with the rest of the audience, in anticipation.
She began to flog him.
Small round welts began to rise on his back like tiny angel kisses. The crowd cheered in approval as she continued her ruthless administrations. She paused to hand the cat o’ nine tails to one of the assistant dommes and snapped her fingers.
“My god, she’s hurting him.” But the way she hurt him was sexy as hell.
“No more than he wants her to,” Arie said.
Again, he looked a
t me like he imagined bending me over in a similar position to spank my ass or flog the living daylights out of me. My nipples hardened just thinking about his hand on my ass or the bite of leather strands on my skin. I could feel my pulse quicken. Was it my imagination or was he breathing just a little bit faster too?
A domme disappeared, only to return with a black-handled rattan cane, which she handed over. The woman twirled the cane, brandishing it before the crowd, mounting the suspense. When she released the cane with a resounding smack across the back of the man’s thighs, just above his knees, he let out a yowl. A cheer rose throughout the audience. The second lash came crashing down on his upper thighs just under his buttocks. The third stroke landed in the middle, and the fourth and final blow landed across all three.
Arie reached for my wrist and his thumb caressed my pulse point. Just that simple back and forth motion with his thumb over the thin skin of my wrist had my heart beating in time with the electronic drumming downstairs. He watched the woman. I wasn’t sure if he was aware that he had grabbed my wrist or not. I didn’t pull away.
She threw back her head with a laugh; the crowd responded with open applause and a few wolf whistles. Both dommes unstrapped the man, one on each side taking him under the arm, and brought him before the dominatrix. She lifted an index finger before pointing down at the floor. At once the man knelt at her feet. She pointed again at her feet—the man bowed his head, kissing the tip of her gauntlet boot. Then she bent down to grasp his chin, yanking him to his feet. Letting go of his chin, she paused before slapping him so hard across the cheek that his head was thrown to the side. I flinched, even though I wasn’t the one being smacked around.
Arie seemed to notice then that he’d been stroking my wrist, and released me. I felt keyed up, ready to go, and didn’t want him to stop. He shifted, and I noticed the distinct bulge in the crotch of his jeans. When he caught me eyeing his hard-on, he smirked at me. I felt flushed and looked back at the performance.
The man who had been flogged bowed, clasping both hands in thanks. The crowd roared. The dominatrix curtsied and smiled, revealing her fangs. She turned and made eye contact with Arie. He had watched in silence, with the faint hint of a smile. And with a stab of jealousy I wondered what she meant to him, if they’d been together.
The woman walked to the bar and downed a shot glass of something red. Then she circled around to our table. Throwing a sexy smile at Arie, she observed me only with mild curiosity.
“Tell me Arie, who’s the snack? Does she like to play?”
I frowned.
“This is Holly. She’s with me.”
She held out her hand as if she expected me to kiss it. I glanced at Arie, who nodded at me in encouragement. I shook her hand instead and she retracted her proffered fingers, looking me over from head to foot. I didn’t like the way she looked at me, as if she’d like to make me into her next meal, or if she already knew exactly who I was. But how could she know anything about me?
“I’ve gone by so many names. You can just call me Tessa. Too bad you’re taken.”
After making her introduction she turned her attention away from me and back to Arie.
“My security detail needs to brief me, and I need to take care of a few things. Go to my office. I’ll meet you when I’m done and we can catch up. It’s good to see you, Arie.”
Then she spun on her heel and began to walk toward a muscled figure, presumably her security.
“Snack?”
Arie grinned. “She was only joking.”
“Somehow I don’t think so.” I sighed.
“Relax—she knows you’re with me. She won’t touch you.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Arie grinned. “Not unless you want her to.”
“Absolutely not.”
Arie laughed.
“Is Tessa who you’re here to meet?”
“She might be able to help. Tessa’s an old friend.”
I wondered if that were true or if there were more to it than that. He didn’t flirt with her or give any indication that made me think they’d been involved. The hint of jealousy that I felt wasn’t supported by anything he’d done, and I hated that I felt that way. I envied Tessa her exotic beauty. And I wondered if Arie found leather and dominating a turn-on. I was seriously starting to question my better judgment. I’d always been curious about kink, and I’d read enough to know what it was about. But how far would I go to be a part of Arie’s world? And did I really want to be?
Yes.
The answer was yes. God, I fucking wanted him. This part of the equation might fulfill a fantasy that I’d never been brave enough to indulge in. I wanted whatever came along with his world. Curiosity churned inside me as I thought about everything I’d seen. And more than curiosity, I felt my pussy clench as I thought about the woman being fucked—in public. I didn’t know how I felt about it other than feeling shocked by the desire thrumming through my body.
***
I looked around the capacious room. We sat in the office of Tessa Green, the most notorious dominatrix known to the Hellfire Club. Clearly a woman of expensive taste; I wondered vaguely what a place like this pulled in every night.
The desk and coordinating credenza were made from a rare wood called Carpathian elm, and according to Arie it came with a hefty price tag. A classical Greek statue stood in one corner. On her desk sat a timeworn piece of pottery embellished with a homosexual erotic theme.
I guess when you’d lived as long as they did it made one sexually ambiguous. They probably went for flogging and experimentation just to keep it interesting. I wouldn’t know about any of it personally, but felt grateful for the education from my erotic reading. I shifted in my seat, uncomfortably aware of my arousal and my throbbing clit. Arie looked as uncomfortable as I felt, and I wondered if he could somehow sense my arousal. I shifted again in my seat.
-If you don’t stop fidgeting, I’m going to have to fuck you. Then you’ll have something to fidget about. I can smell how turned on you are from here.-
My mouth dropped open as his telepathy hit me, but I was too mortified to say anything. I looked away. It made sense that if their taste for food was enhanced, as Arie had hinted at during dinner, that their other senses were probably heightened as well. I stared at the pottery in front of me.
We were seated in two oversized chairs facing her desk. The third floor was comprised of business offices, along with a few apartments for vampires who were permanent residents here, or who worked for her. There were guest rooms for others that stayed on a more temporary basis. Few were ever privy to this inner sanctum. Arie had filled me in on all this while we waited, and I’d fidgeted through it all. It took deep breathing to focus on something else, and I decided to change the subject.
“Tessa said she’s gone by many names. What did she mean by that?” I asked.
“I’ve known Tessa a long time.”
“How long?”
“In the 19th century she went by the name Theresa Berkley and earned her keep as an English dominatrix. She ran a brothel on Hallem Street in London and invented the chevalet or Berkley Horse. It’s that piece of equipment you saw that man flogged on downstairs. She’s quite imaginative, but then what else would you do with infinite time?”
“Why change her name to Tessa?”
“It is decreed that vampires must not live in one place longer than twenty years, and we must change our identities. That way our slowly progressing appearance, which to humans seems unchanging, doesn’t give us away. In 1836 she changed identities with the help of her medical attendant and executor. He took care of the necessary documentation and the burial of an empty coffin. She’s been going by Tessa ever since, but changes her surname frequently.”
“Has she ever been caught?”
Arie smiled almost to himself. Nevertheless, he answered the question in a dismissive tone. “The only one of her escapades on record made the newspapers in London during the summer of 1988. An unknown
woman picked up at least six men in the Soho section. After she returned home with a victim, she slipped drugs into his drink. While he lay unconscious, she cut his wrist and sucked his blood. Or at least that’s what the papers reported. They never disclosed the bite marks. She never did get arrested. It was a really dull, hot summer, and she got bored.” Arie shrugged.
I gulped. I wasn’t sure what to say to that, but I suspected I’d have to get used to this sort of thing if I wanted to be a part of it. Be a part of Arie’s world, and maybe one day spend an eternity…
“Besides, they were all womanizers that would have otherwise never been punished,” Tessa said from the doorway of the office. She leaned on the frame while drinking from a wine glass filled with a burgundy-colored substance. “That’s why my infractions were forgiven when I went before the Court. But you leave out all the best parts. You didn’t tell the girl who I really am.”
I practically hit the ceiling from her abrupt appearance. She sauntered to the damask wing chair behind her desk, carelessly placing her wine glass on top of a book on its surface. Droplets spilled on the expanse of the desk as she took a seat.
A Cheshire Cat smile curved her lips. She reached out a manicured finger to wipe up a drop, which she sucked from her finger. My mouth felt like a desert, and words failed me. Tessa propped her feet, still clad in thigh-high gauntlet boots, on the desk.
“I used to be a famous hetaera, a courtesan, and I am one of the oldest and strongest vampires remaining. I am an Ancient, and a ruling member of the Legacy. I was born in Greece in 308 BC, but my name then was Thais,” she said.
“So you’re older than Arie,” I said, fishing for information.
“He’s got about two hundred years on me, don’t you, Arie?”
Arie glared across the desk at Tessa. “Would you excuse us? We have some business to discuss. Wait in the lounge just across the hall.”
I wanted to protest, but thought better of it, pausing only momentarily before seeing myself out. I’d crossed a boundary when I fished for more details about Arie’s age. While waiting in the lounge made me nervous, at least I wouldn’t be below in the hedonistic playground on the second floor. And it didn’t make me half as nervous as staying here. They were shooting daggers at each other with their eyes. Hastily, I exited the office, leaving them to sort out their differences. I left the door open a crack and stood just outside it so I could listen.