Drowning Ophelia (Immoral Dracula) (4 page)

“A coffin!” Ophelia ostentatiously threw out her hands. “So what?”

 
“So what? On a dark and stormy night our transportation was brought to a creepy manor and I think I heard…” Nina bit her lip uncertainly, “I mean, I can’t be sure, but I think I heard screams.” Ophelia laughed. “It’s not funny. Where were you going before the bus brought us here?”

Ophelia shrugged. She was going to a small, lakeshore town. She didn’t much care to discuss it. She knew that after tonight that’s where she would go. She would be heading back to a cyclical life that would be the same until its end. It would have dismal hopelessness until the end. And even the end would bring no joy because it would feel like quitting. At least this brief moment in time felt like a fairy tale. In every fairy tale, however, exists a grim beast. The prospect of returning to her life, hanging like a black a shadow on her heels, was this fairy tale’s beast.
 

“Well I’m fairly certain I’m no where near my destination. And now this coffin… What if we are victims of some plot?”

“Have you looked inside?”

“Of course not!”

Ophelia moved toward the coffin, her dress shimmering under the candle light. “And what’s with all the candle light?” Nina muttered incredulously, “It’s the twenty-first century and this place has no electricity.”

“My room had cable.” Ophelia muttered, tip-toeing closer.
 

“Oh, well then…” The coffin flung open. Nina shrieked and Ophelia screamed, jumping back. She started to laugh. “What are you laughing at?” Nina scolded, her voluptuous chest heaving. “Oh, nothing…” Ophelia threw a lacy black garment at Nina. “Is a man not allowed a few kinks?”

 
Nina held up the garment to the candle light. “You seem very convinced to make this all okay,” Nina said, tossing it to the floor.

“You seemed alright with it on the bus and when you thought we’d be spending the night together.”

“That was when I thought—”

“When you thought you’d reach your destination and never see me again.” Ophelia turned her gaze away from Nina and in to the coffin. It was filled with ball gags, whips, dildos, leather garments, lacy garments, and a lot of other things Ophelia didn’t recognize, particularly spiked objects. At that moment she was feeling a particular affinity for the spiked objects.

“What do you want Lia? Do you want to have babies? Get a house together? You’re sweet, but I just met you.”

“I never said that.” Ophelia bit the inside of her cheek. Why did it seem like she was always picking fights with people? First Casimir and now Nina. In her mind the world was perfectly colorful, and then she spoke and everything came out in black and white. Sometimes Ophelia just wanted to seclude herself. Everyone always thought Emily Dickinson was weird for secluding herself from the world, but the more of the world Ophelia saw, the more she thought it was weird for anyone to want to do otherwise.

Nina shrugged. She picked the garment back up and gave it to Ophelia, brushing her delicate, manicured hands over Ophelia’s breasts. Ophelia clenched her thighs. She hated that even when mad, Nina still made her grow wet. “Well, what else is in here?” Nina’s eyes widened. “A few kinks indeed.” She cracked a supple, leathery whip in the air.
 

“What are you doing?” Ophelia questioned suspiciously.

“So he’s not a murderer.” Nina pulled out a spiked baton. “Do you want to talk about our feelings all day, or fuck?” Nina looked frightful. Her usual catlike playfulness had dissipated and beneath was a cold, fierce interior.
 

“I’m not your mother, I’m not your friend, I’m not even your lover, I’m just your fuck buddy.” Nina slammed the baton against the coffin. Ophelia jumped.
 

“Nina are you okay? Is it something that I said?” Again with the world of colors. Ophelia wanted to find a rock to crawl under and wait for the world to reset like her television. It was old and sometimes the colors went fuzzy, she usually just threw a pillow at it. There were no pillows to throw at Nina. “Put that on!” Nina shouted at Ophelia, slamming the baton against the coffin again. Ophelia looked around, she couldn’t see what Nina was talking about. Nina slammed the baton again.

 
Her dress fell like breeze over a bay, cool and graceful. She was naked beneath. In the dusky candlelight her skin shone like a new moon. Nina moved to her, looking like a sexy villain from a comic book. She snatched the black lace out of Ophelia’s hand. The lingerie synched between her slit; the fine, black lace opening the wet lips. When she moved the lace rubbed against her, and she quivered. The rest of the garment came up in two diamonds over her breasts, concealing just enough to know. Nina bit her plump lip, hard.

 
“Bend over,” Nina demanded. “Not until you show me yours, remember?” Ophelia winked. Nina slammed the small, thin baton again. Ophelia shuddered, bending against the coffin. Ophelia ached to see Nina’s slit again. Her body was perfect. Her waist was slim, her breasts enticing; too big to hold in one hand, yet just right to plant kisses on.
Nina raised the baton.
Her hips screamed pleasure.
Nina lowered the baton.
Ophelia screamed.

“Silent!” Nina smacked the baton against Ophelia’s pure cheeks again, lightly, just enough to cause bloodshed. A red mark appeared on the curve of her thigh. Nina played the cold metal against the smooth between her thighs. “Oh…” Ophelia shuddered. She had never known anything like this. The pain ran through her body and she was in complete control. It was empowering, intoxicating, and stimulating.
 

Blood trickled down Ophelia’s white thighs, like the hunt in snow. Nina lowered herself between Ophelia’s thighs so that she could see all of her. “
Oh, please…”
Ophelia thought. Nina delicately pulled the lace aside of Ophelia’s slit.
 

“You are not allowed here.” A voice snapped at them. Ophelia startled and jumped from Nina’s embrace. Abigail stood before them, sober and stone faced. Blood ran down Ophelia’s snowy thighs. Like a deer caught by a huntsman, Ophelia rushed for escape. Abigail grabbed her arm.
 

Casimir faced the window. Abigail had brought Ophelia to him. She’d thrust a scant piece of silk at Ophelia and shoved her through the gilded doors.
 

“I could see you,” Casimir said, his breath hot on the frosted glass pane but his words cold against Ophelia’s skin.
 

“What?” Ophelia coughed the words out.

“I can see everything in this house,” he fingered the glass pane, his voice cruel and hollow. Beyond his touch was a grande window with an immaculate view of the gardens. The whole grounds were visible as in a three-sixty panorama. “In one way or another.” The rain had cleared and everything was visible it seemed even
past
the horizon line. The sun was rising and the sky was diamond bright, a brilliant deep azure. Below the grounds were wetted with dew and all the colors were made the much clearer. The leaves were changing for autumn, ripe like pumpkins and red juicy apples. It was breathtaking.
 

The garden caught her eye. Many flowers had forfeited their lives to the coming winter, but some were toughing it out. Pansies and snapdragons flourished along the cobblestone walkways. Marigolds and petunias were bunched together alongside a harvesting cucumber patch. Ophelia envisioned herself laying alongside the flowers. Lying in the frozen bushes, as the ice creeped over her body. Her lips would turn blue and everything would fade. She would become an ice princess. Always next in line, she would sleep until they called her to be queen….

“I’m a jealous man.” Casimir snapped her back to reality.

“That’s entirely perverted.” Casimir opened his mouth to protest. “It’s not okay for you to be watching everything, and everyone.” Ophelia creased her forehead. She had left Nina all alone, though arguably with a weapon. What if she had been right about him? What if that place wasn’t just a room for kinks? Something didn’t seem right. It was beginning to feel less of a fairy tale and more like bitter, killing reality. The room was suddenly too small. She felt suffocated. Ophelia tore at her throat. Scarlett stained her fingernails.
 

Ophelia rose. She looked for a door, anything, something to let her go. Nothing was right or sensible. And she was—who was she? Ophelia ran for the door.

Casimir blocked Ophelia’s path. His charcoal eyes smoldered like a burning fire. His jaw clenched, and the angle was pristine. He spoke like the first chill breeze of halloween night. “I invite groups of strangers in to my home, am I not allowed security?”

“I don’t care what you do, just let me out of here!” Ophelia tried to tear past him, maddened. Casimir caught her by the elbows, concerned at her nigh instantaneous change in disposition. He held her stoutly, whispering softly as she struggled against him. Her struggling foot caught the back of her silk gown and she tripped, tumbling to the floor. “This… thing… is outrageous!” Ophelia spoke to herself, tearing at the bottom of her gown. She was seated where she fell, furiously tearing at the silk to no avail. It was too sheen, and her fingers only ripped fine snags in the fabric. “I want to be done!” Ophelia dropped her now bloodied fingers in exasperation, sobbing.

Casimir lowered himself next to her, his brawny physique nearly casting a shadow over the dainty, sobbing Ophelia. “Ophelia…” Casimir laid one calloused hand over her silken knee. He pulled her to him that she was wrapped up, like a flower embraced beneath the trunk of a tree. Her head was pressed serenely against his sturdy chest and she could hear his heart beating deeply and with vigor. She wanted to be forever like this, wrapped up in his heartbeat; to be pressed between the
thump badum thump badum….
 
“Dear Ophelia, what has happened?”
 

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Ophelia shook her head, shaking the wet tears off like a sprinkler. “Ophelia—“ “I said I’m fine.” Ophelia wiped the tears from her red cheeks.“You said you can see everything.” Casimir watched Ophelia, not registering what she said. He watched her wipe the tears from her cheeks and he watched her not look at him, look anywhere but him. Her wet eyes wander for something to keep them dry. He blinked, creased his brow, and spoke.
 

“Is that what this is about? Ophelia—“ Ophelia started to scratch at her leg. “It’s not about anything. I just want to know how. And why.” A shadow overcame Casimir as he watched Ophelia scratch her leg. His eyes grew dark with longing. He longed to hold her tightly, but some bramble had been constructed around her. He watched her scratch and spoke pleasantries. “In my house my motives are my own.” Ophelia sputtered protest but Casimir spoke over her, “
Yet
, I watch for my own security. I saw you both in my private chambers.” Ophelia crawled back to Casimir. His eyes lightened and he reached to draw her back. “What did you see?” Ophelia graced one palm up his inner thigh, watching him grow stiff. Casimir swept her off brusquely.

“I will not be toyed with, Ophelia.”
 

“We’re all toys.” Ophelia sat down in a huff. “Broken and misused and thrown away.” Ophelia looked to him. Her eyes were big, wet, and clear like river water. In that stare her soul shone as the diamond bright sky. “May as well play for a little while.”
 

Ophelia pulled Casimir’s head that he was in her heaving breasts and pierced his neck. Red copper filled her mouth. He snarled ferociously, lifting her from the floor. He threw her on the bed and tore off his suit in to pieces on the floor. Ophelia clawed for him; she needed him to taste her and her life. He pinned her down.
 

Ophelia gasped. Casimir pierced her neck and blood flowed from her like a river. She could feel her body drain and her life fill. Casimir held her, pulling her to him, drawing from her sanguine serenity. He groaned, moving with her as he stroked the vital fluid. Blood soaked her chest and her breasts glistened in red. Casimir licked up her chest. Blood filled him that he was hard and throbbing. She arched her back for his entry, the silk of her dress cascading like a red stained waterfall. He growled in to her ear, crimson dripping from his lips: “You are mine.”
 

Blood and silk pooled around her. Ophelia fell from him. “No.” Still heaving and roaring, Casimir attempted again. He bit her, took her neck under his mouth. Ophelia gasped and Casimir sucked from her. As the blood flowed in to him, her body became light and intoxicated. From her fingertips to her toes, she tingled. She sighed dreamily, mesmerized by the way he held her in his firm hands and took her, draining her life and giving her a new one. She gasped, he bit her harder. “Casimir…” Ophelia moaned and rolled out from under him.
 

“What jape is this?” Casimir snarled and tried to pull her back, mouth slick and red. His rugged hands broke the halter straps and her dress fell, breasts exposed. Ophelia attempted to hold it up.
 

“I’m sorry.” Casimir stumbled to keep up the straps. “I don’t understand you, Ophelia…” Ophelia turned her head from him. “I belong to no one.”

“You belong to me.” Casimir growled, reaching for her.

“Excuse me?” Ophelia said, “I don’t belong to anyone. Except
maybe
my bank.”

Casimir rubbed his bulging thigh muscles. They sat upright on the precipice of the bed, the silk draped around them like the rolling waves of a crimson sea. “While you’re here I cannot stand to see…” Casimir softened his voice. “I am a man. Perhaps with flaws and secrets, yes, but a man still. That used to mean something. To me it still does. I don’t take things lightly, Ophelia.

“I was brilliant. I had a future that meant more than idle luxury. I could have saved humanity. Maybe that’s stretching it a bit, but I could have saved some of humanity. Now I…” Casimir clenched his jaw and curled his fist. “I’m a human and I’m a man and I love you, Ophelia. I sent for you. I sent for the girl who, the one day a year I leave my manor, I saw sitting against a cherry tree reading
Romeo and Juliet
softly to herself. I suppose that means love at first sight.”