(In response to Beguile's Mistress' Prompts and Circumstances #1)
Her hand trembled as she fumbled with the lock. She couldn't believe she was doing this. It was terrifying and exciting and mesmerizing all at the same time.It was so unlike her and yet it seemed...irresistable.
Finally, after three tries, she got the key in the lock and turned. The door to her apartment swung open and she, in her excitement, nearly fell inside. Half of her things were still in boxes stacked neatly against the walls. All she'd really unpacked so far were the essentials; kitchen supplies, cleaning supplies, the TV...and the furniture.
She turned around after two clumsy steps over the threshold and smiled nervously. "Won't you come in?"
Behind her at the door stood a man. Yes, a man! Tall, dark and handsome, just like all the books. Short black hair well trimmed but mildly untameable, dark blue eyes still as the night and twice as deep. He also smiled, confident and knowing as he stepped inside her apartment and shut the door. God, the way he moved! That lean body, fluid as water, flowing to wherever he wanted to be. It had been like that at the club. He walked through the crowd to her, walking across the dance floor as if nobody could get in his way, nobody could touch him on his way to what he wanted. And nobody did. And what he had wanted there on a Saturday night was her.
She let the nervousness take her for a few breaths as he stood, here, alone, with her. It was intoxicating. She didn't know what to do with herself. And he was there, staring down into her eyes...
In a sudden excited rush she ran into the kitchen. She had a guest, she had to do something! Wine, maybe? Yes, wine seemed to be thing to do. In this situation. Desperately trying not to think about this situation, while simultaneously utterly enthralled by it, she fumbled through boxes and cabinets looking for the blood-red bottle she kept on hand for special occasions. Like Saturday, for instance. And it was Saturday, after all.
Finding the first wine glass was easy, it was still on the counter where she'd left it to dry, but finding the second one took a few moments more. Desperately willing her body to stop trembling for just a few minutes, she poured the two glasses and miraculously managed not to make a mess of everything. Now all she had to do was carry them out to...to...to wherever she'd left her guest.
She sighed. God she was bad at this. But somehow the small blow to her self esteem helped calm her nerves. She picked up both glasses, one in each hand, and slowly walked out of the kitchen.
And he was there, in the living room, sitting calmly on her couch with an open space conspicuously by his side. Smiling and patient. Which only served to bring back all her nerves again.
"I poured us some wine," she said as she skittered across the living room to the couch where he sat. And just like her, almost there she fumbled and lost her footing--
And suddenly, he was there. One hand on each wrist, catching both her and the glasses without even a single drop spilled.Without a word he guided her to the couch with his hands, taking his own glass as he set her down and set himself right beside her. Right beside her. Her heart pounded faster and faster. And since her nervousness had already almost caused disaster she did the only prudent thing she could think to do and drained half her glass all in one go. Beside her he smiled, closed his eyes, and took a long full sniff of his glass before calmly setting it down on the coffee table in front of him.
She looked to the glass, then to him. "I'm sorry, don't you..?"
He locked his eyes on hers. "Oh, I drink. But like in all things, I prefer to take my time. Savor every aspect. First, the smell..."
He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, caught her hand with his to hold her glass, and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was long and slow and she wasn't sure if it was the wine or him that made her feel so warm.
When he had finished, he breathed across her lips, "...then the taste."
She smiled, every muscle melting in his arms. "Should I pour you another?" she said, downing the rest of her glass.
He took another taste of her, but this time only briefly. Just enough for him to taste her, and her to taste him. "You didn't bring me here to sit on your couch."
She nodded, set her empty glass down, and stood up. Her hand in his, she led him down the hall to her bedroom. It, too was full of boxes neatly stacked on top of the dressers and cabinets that would eventually hold their contents. But her bed she had insisted on setting up right away. It sat in the very center of the room, large and inviting, neatly made with decadently comfortable beddings. As before she fubled with the doorknob, as before she stumbled across the threshold, but this time he did not wait for her invitation before gliding in behind her and closing the door. Neither of them felt any need to turn on the lights as they kissed by the side of the bed, her arms around his neck, his arms stroking her back. Her knees went out from under her and before she even knew what was happening she lay on her back on her bed with him leaning over her, kissing her lips, they her cheek, then her ear as he continued wandering downward.
Then his hands gently ran across her shoulders and pushed back her blouse, and his teeth sunk deep into her neck.
Her spine quivered and her body froze. Every muscle relaxed, every nerve tingling. She knew what was happening to her but it seemed impossible to really believe. There was no pain. The only change to the euphoria of a moment of the creeping feeling of cold sinking into her skin and down into her body...
She opened her eyes just a sliver as the sound of distant church bells rang out in the distance. Sunday mass at the church round the street. She knew it must be morning, but she felt so very cold. Her whole body aching and numb, her vision blurred and indistinct.
Turning her head she was a note sitting upon her pillow, paper folded neatly in half to sit up like a tent, her name beautifully handwritten on the front. Had last night been real? Had he left it?
She tried to reach out for it, but her arms were so heavy. Everything was heavy. Even moving her chest to breathe seemed heavy, like she was at the bottom of a dark and cold ocean, barely able to manage short ragged breaths. But still she struggled, dragging her hand inch by inch across the sheets to the pillow beside her head. Her fingers were numb, crude and clumsy, but still she held up her weak and shaking arm to try and touch the note, try and knock it down and draw it closer.
But her wavering sight proved false. She tapped the note with unfeeling fingers and flicked it across the pillow where it caught the air and fluttered away off the bed and onto the floor.
She took one more small breath, a choking sob, and darkness took her once again.