On the Far Side of Darkness (5 page)

My lovely lady pulls away from me and looks down to where we are joined at the pelvis. Then her head comes up with a look of puzzled concern on her face.

I know what is troubling her. “To use the cliche; it’s not you, it’s me,
cher.
”

There’s a moment where hurt crosses her features. But that clears with realization. “Your…condition.”

“
Oui
. Impotency is another of the effects.”

She sighs and disappointment sounds in it.

I give her a roguish smile. “That doesn’t mean I can’t make love to you. There are so many ways to express how I feel.”

I place my right hand on her buttocks to hold her up while the other goes to the back of her head and I pull her into another kiss. While my tongue toys with hers, I carry my lover across the room and into the hall.

Diane once again answers that kiss with sublime passion. She growls and wiggles her womanhood into me. For a second she pulls away to gasp, “Door on the left!” Then her fingernails dig into my back and she kisses me hard once again.

Once we’re in the bedroom I lay her gently on the bed. My hands go to her neck so that I can stroke her warm, becoming damp skin.

That makes Diane groan. A shiver runs through her body. For a moment she stop our kiss to let out a gasp, then she grabs my head and pulls me tight once more.

My right hand runs over her shoulder then flirts over her breast. I can feel her nipple through the fabric, hard with desire. I pinch it, just a touch. Then I wrap my fingers around her firm mound, she’s just large enough that I can do so, and squeeze ever so gently.

Diane pulls away to gasp again. She wraps her arms around my neck to bury her face in my shoulder. “Georges!” she moans, “don’t tease me!”

I chuckle. “But that’s half the fun. This is too sublime a moment to rush.”

In response she sighs. “It is wonderful, isn’t it? I’ve never felt, felt this way before. So close. So needy.”

“Nor I,” I tell her. I pull back to kiss her once more. My hand goes to the button at the top of her blouse and I undo it. One by one I work downwards.

I don’t need to undo them all. The beautiful redhead beneath me pulls her upper garment from her slacks and starts releasing the buttons from the bottom. Our hands meet in middle. Then  our lips smile into each other at the symmetry of our actions.

Diane shimmies out of her blouse, enfolds me in her arms to pull me to her again.

The feel of her, of so much of her skin so warm against me stokes the fire in me. I growl and  the fervor with which I kiss my love intensifies. My palm runs over her heated flesh to warm my soul, chase away the cold of undeath that is always at the center of my being.

Diane shivers, and it’s not entirely from passion. She pulls away from me. “You have cold hands, Georges,” she says with both a giggle and a touch of a chatter.

“That won’t last long,” I tell her with a grin. Then I pet her womanhood through her slacks. As I do I take a second to concentrate and a tiny amount of the blood in my stomach warms my body.
Hiding the fact that I’m usually room temperature is something I’ve not needed to do for a long time.

Diane’s eyes flutter as I play with her most intimate part. “Georges,” she moans, “what is it about your touch that is so exciting?”

“It’s what we are, lovers,” I reply.

For an instant shock runs across our features. A moment after that we both smile warmly. What I said is the truth and it’s a fact that fills the two of us with joy.

My redheaded lady gives me a wicked grin and the next moment I’m on my back with Diane straddling my hips. “Who says you have to be on top all the time, buddy?” Her hands go behind her, then she throws her bra across the room.

I’m awestruck at the beauty revealed. My lover isn’t large across the chest but there’s no doubt she’s a woman. Her erect nipples, the same color as her lips, and small aureola make the perfect contrast to her fair skin. Diane would be a wonderful model for an artist of skill.

I reach up to cup her breasts. The feel of them in my hands heats my soul. I’d be hard as steel if I were capable of it.

The impulse to taste her can’t be ignored so I sit up and take one firm nub in my mouth. My tongues laves over her soft flesh, then I pull back a little and nip her with my incisors ever so carefully.

“Oh! Fuck!” my sensual lady gasps. The touch of my fangs, even when used for play, drive an intense eroticism into her. Diane wraps her arms around my head and yanks me close. The most wonderful shiver of lust passes through her body.

Her delicate digits go to the buttons of my shirt, shaking with impatience as she loosens the buttons. “Can’t wait anymore. No more teasing.”

In seconds we have my shirt off. It’s only moments more before we’re naked and back on the bed, skin to skin, pulling each other close and kissing one another with the fullest ardor.

I have just enough awareness left to marvel at my situation. I’ve often been in bed with a woman, and there is passion, but it’s that of the hunt. A pure, rather vicious passion. This time the emotion is different; an odd mixture of great gentleness and intense lust. It fills me as well. My love for Diane seems to press against my skin and what I am is pushed to a small point I can barely perceive.

But she can’t wait, nor can I. So I leave her mouth and start my lips playing over her skin, working slowly downwards. My hands add soft touches and adoring pets. The salty sweat forming on Diane’s skin makes a perfect condiment to the taste of her.

Long before I’m finished though, my lover pushes hard on my shoulders. “Please, Georges,” she groans. “Finish me off. I have to come.”

I don’t quite answer her request. My head moves to her saturated womanhood, but I first take a deep breath. The smell of her lust permeates me. I adore the rich scent of an aroused woman, and this woman adds even more to my pleasure.

My tongue reaches out to swipe across her labia. The taste of her excitement is wonderful. A treat for my tastebuds. I start to work hard at her, licking and sucking, poking inside her. I want her overwhelmed with joy.

Diane arches her back to push herself into my play. Her rich moan vibrates in the air. “Georges! Georges! So good!”

I’m just getting started.
My right hand comes up. I straighten two fingers and then push them inside her. A slow pumping motion starts them running in and out.

My love’s hip start to match that motion. They jerk upwards to meet my digits. My Diane squeaks and trills sweet sounds with each movement. She can no longer speak, she’s so aroused.

My mouth covers her clit, I suck it in and lave the firm nub with rapid movements of my tongue.

That final action pushes Diane over the edge. A gurgling moan sluices from her mouth while her muscles grow taut. A vibration shudders through them telling me how strong her joy is. Her inner walls squeeze me hard and thrum with the pounding of her climax.

I have to taste that joy.
With that thought I turn my head, extend my fangs and insert them in the artery in Diane’s right leg. Then I start to imbibe her blood.

The taste of her causes my eyes to roll back. It’s so intoxicating. I’m used to passion when I feed but this, this, is beyond passion. The emotions carried in her blood warm me like the sun I have not seen in centuries. She tastes bright, shining like fields of grass on a bright summer’s day. I suck harder wanting to pull every last bit of this intoxicating substance into me.

No!

My eyes go wide in shock. Diane, more than any person, is not one I wish to endanger. If I keep feeding I will lose her. The pang in my chest tells me that is a loss I couldn’t bear.

So I pull my fangs free of her thigh. A quick lick closes the holes, and gives me a last taste of Diane’s blood. I have to clamp down on my impulse to continue feeding.

My sweet redhead goes limp, gasps for air. She twitches a touch, draws a huge breath, twitches again, and gives a satisfied moan.

I pull myself up alongside her and draw her into my embrace. Diane rolls into me and places her arm across my chest. A pleased purr quivers against my neck.

We cuddle for a while, basking in the happy feeling our lovemaking has engendered.
At moments we each sigh, a sound of contentment.

I’m smiling as I haven’t for ages. I’m good at faking them, and I often have reason to not fake them. This is different. This smile is…complete. Complete because of the woman in my arms and now in my existence.

I can feel Diane fading.The heights I carried her to, and the blood I took from her, are dragging her into the arms of Morpheus.

So I roll from the bed. I pull the sheet up over Diane then place a soft kiss on her cheek. “
Bon nuit, cher.”

She mumbles, “Not staying, Georges?” Her voice is slurred with a happy fatigue.

“I have to go.”
If I stayed the coma the sun places me in would be disconcerting, or worse, she could open the drapes and watch me burst into flames.
“I’ve papers to mark and a class to plan. But I’ll see you tomorrow night, I promise.”

“Okay,” the lovely lady mumbles, “Love you,
darlin’
,
” and she vanishes into sleep.

“
J’tai…”
I start to reply, but stop. The enormity of my position suddenly slams into my psyche.

I dress quickly and leave her apartment almost at a run. Fortunately her door is self-locking.

My mind whirls as I head for my cottage. It’s quite a bind I’ve placed myself in. I care deeply for Diane. I want her in my world, always. But she has no place there. She’s human, mortal. No matter what she will be gone from me someday. Most likely on the day that she discovers what I am. If she does, and such a revelation can’t be avoided, it will be a death sentence. We vampires keep our existence secret. Considering how few there are of us, if we were discovered we would be hunted from the world.

It’s possible I could change her, but I’d done that once before. It was an act I soon regretted and still carry guilt from a century and a half later.

I don’t know what to do.

So I walk, shoulders hunched and hands in the pocket of my jacket, until I’m almost at my haven. On the steps of my cottage I straighten.

I don’t need to decide now. I can enjoy Diane’s presence for a while yet.

I carefully keep the,
But then I’ll need to leave,
from my awareness.

* * * *

I’m five minutes into my class when the door opens. Ms. Richardson parades into the room followed by her entourage. A slightly different entourage but a set of courtiers all the same. The blonde butch sneers at me as she goes past. The expression contains her now common expression of triumph and contempt. Mandy finds my efforts to stand against her repugnant.

I turn away from her and take a moment to rein myself in. Since I am a vampire being sneered at brings up very dark emotions and drives. Ripping her head off and drinking her blood would not be a good idea.

A snort from behind me tells me that Ms. Richardson is misinterpreting my actions. She has no idea that it was for her safety that I didn’t continue to face her.

Back in control of myself I return my attention to my students, and others. “It’s at this time the guillotines started to do a heavy business. There wasn’t a minute of the day in France where someone wasn’t losing their life to those efficient devices. All it took was the barest hint to The Committee for Public Safety and your days on this Earth were very few indeed.”

“You disapprove of this, teach?” Ms. Richardson’s tone is scornful.

“Indeed I do.” It’s difficult, but I manage to keep my facade as a human being. “People should be judged on what they do, not what they are. Nor should accusations alone be enough. America’s Founding Fathers understood this and put into position a justice system that at least tried for this ideal. My nation didn’t succeed in doing that for almost another century after The Revolution.”

“They had the power,” Mandy continues. “Power is meant to be used.”

“Surely you can come up with a better endorsement that that ancient one, Ms. Richardson.”

“What do you mean?” She frowns at me, but there is enough uncertainty on her face to show that she doesn’t know where this dialog is going, and she dislikes that.

“The Melian Dialog.”

She blinks at me with incomprehension.

“Thucydides recorded it at the siege of Melos. This line is most important, when an Athenian emissary said to the Melians, ‘…the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must…’ Considering that the war Athens was starting with Sparta weakened both states beyond redemption it would have been wiser if the Athenians had not used their power, and considering where The Terror ended up leading, it would have been wiser if the revolutionaries had been restrained and careful with their power.” I shrugged. “History is replete with examples of the misuse of power leading to the end of a nation or empire. You would think humanity would have learned better by now.”

Although after watching over two centuries of power madness I’m not hopeful.