La Luxure: Discover Your Blood Lust (4 page)

With an inward sigh, she forced her attention
back to the people she was actually with. She should be focusing on
reality, not the fantasy of some bar she would probably never step
foot in.

The conversation had turned to sports, and
Dave and Mike were vehemently discussing the Mizzou/KU game from
the previous weekend. She listened patiently for a while, trying to
add pertinent comments whenever possible. Julia wasn't exactly a
sports fan, but she worked with a bunch of men who were, so she
wasn't completely unschooled on the topic. Uninterested, but not
unschooled.

It wasn't long before her attention started
to wander.

She quickly decided that while Dave was nice
enough, attractive and funny, she had a difficult time seeing him
as the man the fortune teller described. There wasn't anything
wrong with him, but he seemed a tad too mundane to
answer the
questions in her soul and awaken the woman that had been locked
away for so long
. He also reminded her a bit too much of Jeff,
but that might just be a coincidence. Other than the Hurricane
incident, he seemed like a decent guy. He had plenty going for him
and he was obviously interested.

Why wasn't she? Was she just being hasty and
judgmental, as usual?

Maybe that's what felt off about this place.
There wasn't anything wrong with it, and on paper, Julia should
love it. She
should
want a Hurricane. She
should
be
content discussing her purse with Beth, or listening to Mike and
Dave debate football draft choices. She
should
be excited to
be here like any normal person instead of wishing she could return
to her room to find out if
Blaise
was going to make love to
Marguerite,
or bite her, or both, or wondering if
multi-color dread guy was at
Luxure
...

It was Julia that was off, not Pat O'Brien's
or Dave. It was like she was too weird for the normal kids and too
normal for the weird kids.

Julia managed to empty her Hurricane glass
and fill her bladder. She excused herself and sought out the
nearest bathroom. The bar was starting to pick up and get a little
rowdier. She was almost knocked down twice by over enthusiastic
drinkers. Once, she actually had to duck to avoid being clocked in
the face.

The bathroom became a safe house, the women's
sign a beacon of hope, and she was relieved when she made it there
in one piece. It was merely a bonus when the line wasn't out the
door.

Julia wasn't much of a bathroom dweller. She
quickly relieved her bladder, washed her hands, did a quick check
to make sure she didn't have make up smeared across her face, and
was done.

Her phone buzzed just as she left the safety
of the bathroom. It was Clare. Of course.

"What's up Jules? How's NOLA?"

"Good. The conference is a little boring so
far but I wasn't expecting anything else."

"Where are you at? It's really loud."

"Pat O'Brien's."

"Are you there by yourself?"

"No. I'm here with some people from the
conference."

"Oh? Any cute guys?"

Clare needed to be wearing a headscarf and
slinging Yiddish phrases as much matchmaking she tried to do.
"There's this guy, Dave. He's pretty good looking, I guess. He
lives in Columbia."

"Is he bangable?"

"I hadn't really thought that far ahead."

"You should fuck him. Have a little New
Orleans fling."

Julia laughed. It wasn't that she hadn't
considered the possibility, but only Clare could be so crudely
blunt about it.

"Seriously, Jules. When
was
the last
time you got laid? Four months ago when you broke up with
Jeff?"

Er, five was more like it. "I don't know that
I'm that into this guy."

"You said he was cute right?"

"Yeah, in a clean-cut, polo shirt wearing
kind of way." Julia wasn't sure why she even mentioned that. All
she ever dated were
Khakis
. From her own history, Dave was
exactly her type.

"Then don't worry about it. Even if you're
not super into him you can still
eff
him and have a good
time. Consider it an opportunity to flex your sex goddess muscles.
Relish in the experience of rocking his world, and blowing his
mind."

Dave had caught Julia's eye and was waving
her over. "Hey Clare, I got to go. I'm being beckoned."

"Well think about what I said. Sex goddess
muscles...they're next to the Kegels."

Julia laughed. "Okay, okay. I'll think about
it."

A shot filled with tan colored liquor and
topped with whipped cream was waiting for her. And each member of
the party had one in their hands. Blowjobs. Holy hell, they were
doing blowjob shots.

And there was another Hurricane parked in
front of her empty seat.

"C'mon Julia, pick up your shot," Beth
encouraged.

Grudgingly, Julia picked up the glass. It
wasn't that she was opposed to the blowjob shot-she loved them
during years 20 to 22-but the idea of mixing all the different
liquors and then throwing some whipped cream in the mix...it just
wasn't appealing.

"Here's to work conferences in cool cities,"
Mike said.

"And here's to Hurricane Katrina," Dave
added, "for making New Orleans the perfect backdrop for our
conference."

"Cheers!" Beth chirped, and the shots were
consumed in rapid succession.

It really was a tasty little shot. Maybe
Julia was being overly surly. The bar was fine, the drinks were
fine, the company was fine. She was just being persnickety, and
that was probably one of the many reasons she remained single. It
was time she quit being such a buzz kill and tried to enjoy what
life threw at her.

Still, about half way into the second
Hurricane, not only was she getting rather tipsy, but was also
thinking of ways to get out of Pat O's. Now that she had a little
liquid courage, she really wanted to check out
Luxure
. The
idea of going there alone was pretty frightening, and she thought
about seeing if Beth wanted to join her. One look at Beth's
perfect, flawless makeup, and crisp white sweater and Julia
discarded the idea.

"Hey Julia, are you feeling okay?" Dave
asked. She must have spaced off because when she glanced up all
three of the others had concerned looks on their faces.

What a perfect out. "Um, not really. I think
mixing all the different liquors isn't agreeing with me." For
emphasis, she clutched at her stomach. "I'm thinking I should head
back to the hotel." Covering her mouth with a fist, she faked a
belch.

"That sucks," Beth said empathetically.

"I know." Julia rose. "What do I owe for the
drinks?"

"Don't worry about it." Dave stood up with
her. "Maybe I should walk you back."

"Oh, that's not necessary. I have a map." For
emphasis, she pulled out the folded piece of paper. "Besides, it's
early still, like 9. The drunks don't really come out until at
least 9:30." She didn't want Dave coming with her. Maybe Clare was
right and she should hook up with him, but not this early in the
week. Unfortunately though, he looked like he was going to insist.
"And didn't you just order another beer?"

"Right."

"Hey, I'll catch you guys tomorrow. Thanks
for the drinks!" Julia remembered to hold her stomach as she fled
from the bar. A quick stop at the bathroom and brief review of her
map, and Julia was headed towards
Luxure
, the alcohol
fueling her every step.

Chapter Three

Julia stood in the narrow alley under the
sign for
La Luxure
for a long time before she finally willed
herself to walk down it, begging her low heels to click as softly
as possible on the cobbled walkway. The alley opened up into a
small courtyard that was illuminated by medieval style torches and
enclosed by the adjacent brick buildings and a wrought iron fence
covered in vines. A fountain bubbled in one corner, water spewing
from a demonic face and trickling down its outstretched tongue into
the opaque pool.

Opposite the fountain, thumping music that
matched Julia's heart seeped through a closed door. She took a
calming breath. It wasn't like she'd never been in a bar alone.
Just because this one was tucked away in the darkest corner of the
French Quarter with the smallest sign to ever grace a public place
and one of the creepiest guys she'd ever met had raved about her
blood type just outside its doors didn't make it any different than
any other bar.

Except it was completely different than any
bar she'd ever visited.

Dimly lit, the bar was cast in an eerie red
light, with low, dark ceilings that were almost smothering. Black
leather couches and chairs were strewn about the room, a dozen
beautiful people lounging on them. All were dressed similarly to
the couple she'd followed the day before, and all watched her enter
the bar and slide onto a barstool.

It was more than the patrons and the décor,
the energy here was different. Pulsing in time with the music, it
was almost alive.

She smiled sheepishly at the hugely muscled
bartender. He didn't smile back, but watched her intently with his
crimson eyes while methodically wiping out a glass with a black
rag. Not quite the warm welcome she was hoping for.

The music changed, and dark, sexy bass pumped
through the bar. A few of the lounging patrons rose and began to
dance. Their movements were smooth, supple and surprisingly
graceful considered the towering heels worn by men and women alike.
Julia recognized the song as one from the Goth rock band,
The
Awakening,
and found that comforting. Even if she didn't
completely fit in here, at least she knew the music. She even owned
the CD.

For the first time Julia noticed a man
sitting alone in one dark corner. He was dressed in a tight black
T-shirt and black slacks, his long dark hair tickling the tops of
broad shoulders. He was fabulous looking, with a strong jaw, pale
skin, full lips, and a straight, chiseled nose. And like everyone
else in the bar, his eyes were focused on her.

One drink. She'd have one drink and then blow
out of here. She wasn't about to let a couple of sexy Goths giving
her the skunk eye scare her out of a bar before getting a glass of
wine. It had taken too much courage to get her here to be chased
off so easily. Besides, she really liked this song.

Of course the bartender had to actually come
over to take her order. He was still staring at her with those
strange red eyes. They must be contacts. Julia once saw a guy with
8-balls for irises. It was one of the weirdest things she'd ever
seen.

She considered yelling out her order when a
slender man with lank black hair slid up to the bar and mumbled
something to the bartender. Muscle man disappeared behind a red
velvet curtain and toothpick guy glanced at Julia. The glance
slowly turned into a stare and his eyes became glued to the side of
her head.

After giving him a brief, awkward smile,
Julia turned her attention to her purse. In order to avoid a
painful attempt to socialize with him, she began to rummage through
the folds of fabric, looking for something, anything, to offer a
distraction. Pulling out the first available item, which happened
to be lipstick, she pretended not to notice him watching her with
his creepy, leering gaze while she painstakingly applied the creamy
gloss.

The bartender returned with a shot glass
filled with thick red liquid. It looked like someone had added red
food coloring to Bailey's.

Or it was blood.

Julia chuckled at the thought and slipped the
compact and lipstick back into her purse. Blood? Really? She'd been
reading too many vampire romances.

"You look lost." The stranger from the corner
was suddenly right beside her. How had she not noticed him
move?

"Lost? No. Misplaced perhaps, and definitely
thirsty, but not lost." Up close, he was even better looking than
she'd first thought.

"Fair enough." God, his voice was the most
delicious purr she'd ever heard. It was deep and smoky, with the
faintest mix of Brooklyn and southern accents tickling her ears.
"May I get you something to
drink
, then?" It was weird the
way he emphasized the word drink, like it had some other meaning
besides a mere alcoholic beverage.

Man, she really was reading too much lately.
First, blood in the shot glass and now looking for an innuendo in
the word
drink
. "A Pinot Noir would be lovely, thank you."
She was guessing, and hoping, that this bar would have a decent
wine selection.

"Any particular vintage?"

Julia swallowed hard. The people in this bar
had the most intense eyes. The way this gorgeous stranger's hazel
eyes were boring into her was making breathing difficult.

"Naw. I'm not the type that vets my wine
before drinking it. No bouquet sniffing or
leg
checking for
me. As long as the wine hasn't oxidized, I'm perfectly happy."
Jesus, she was prattling on like a schoolgirl and realized suddenly
that this man was making her nervous and not because he was kind of
a scary guy in a pretty scary bar.

The stranger grinned, flashing perfectly
white teeth with unnaturally long, sharp canines. If they weren't
real, they were the most realistic fake vampire teeth Julia had
ever seen, blowing the ones at Spencer's or Hot Topic out of the
water. She knew there were people out there that liked to dress up
and play vampire, but this guy didn't really seem the type. Sure he
had long, dark hair and his perfectly supple pale skin looked like
it'd never seen the sun. He
was
dressed in black, but he
certainly didn't have that "canned" vampire look one normally
associated with tooth extensions. No "Blade" style trench coat, no
leather pants, no huge, shit-kicking boots with big silver buckles,
no eye-makeup or lipstick. And he was big, 6'2" at least, and
muscular. Maybe not as big as The Incredible Hulk behind the bar,
but he obviously worked out.