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Thin, white smoke rolled along the floor of the club, and bodies, covered in glittering perspiration, littered the hard, tiled floor. Men, women, all of them mortals – all of them beautiful – danced and gyrated around one another in a frenzy. Music trembled in my temples as it had during the concert just hours prior. Almost painful, but completely divine. Afterparties, Tough Cookie had called them. A wonderful idea! The scent of liquor, tobacco, and blood perfumed the densely crowded and hopelessly dark room. I wondered how these mortals could stand to be someplace they could hardly see in front of them, much less whomever they were dancing with. But I knew the appeal, too.Life happened vibrantly in the shadows for the crowd that had once been my audience, just the same as it happened for me in all my years as a vampire. I reveled in the shared secrecy; for tonight, they knew something incognizant to them and came closer to the truth than they realized.
Still, I lingered at the only place I wanted to be: at Louis’ side. In her polite shyness she had receded to one of the black, velvet-upholstered couches along the wall; she looked beautifully lonely in the far corner, out of reach, scarcely approached by anyone other than the occasional avid fan who cared enough to recognize her as mine. I felt pulled to her, more than usual, and as we sat on the velvet sofa together I felt drawn into her magnetism. I had no interest in the crowd anymore, nor the hoards of young men and women undoubtedly attempting to track me down and ask for an autograph, or a kiss, or birthday wishes. The few who had found me so far had only wanted a hello. Not a single member of this riot felt sober enough to recognize the proximity to me. It almost made me sad – or it would, if I cared enough tonight.
“Lestat, they’re all looking for you.” Louis turned to face me, her entire body shifting towards my direction. I liked the way she did this, how she would look at me directly, speak to me with all the world’s attention. I especially liked the way she looked tonight, in tight leather and a loose-fitting white blouse - a poet’s blouse, Tough Cookie had called it. So fitting for my Louis. I was utterly captivated by the way the dimness of the club seemed to somehow illuminate her eyes more than usual; how green they looked in the night, even under the glow of the club’s red lights! I wanted her just as strongly as I had wanted her that first night in New Orleans.
“Louis, Louis.” I placed my hands on her porcelain cheeks and looked at her just as fully as she looked at me. I liked to feel her eyes on me, liked it even more when mine were on her. Wordlessly her gaze shifted to a pack of young people looking particularly stirred by the night’s bacchanalian. There wasn’t a chance in hell that they possessed any of their finer senses. I rolled my eyes when she looked back at me. I leaned forwards and into her, my hands clutching the ruffled fabric of her blouse, my eyes glued to the perfect curvature of her breasts and her pale, almost blue-tinted skin. I suddenly felt very irritated that there were other people in the room at all.
“To hell with them all. They’re … wasted, and stoned, as they say. They’d ask any pretty blonde for a signature.” I brought her closer to me and kissed her. “They wouldn’t know the vampire Lestat if I bit them all right this minute.” Louis shook her head, and I knew she was amused, and only pretending to be weary of my histrionics. I kissed her again and draped myself over her lap. She held me in place by the waist, and her cool hands against the bare skin of my torso — the band’s manager had insisted on my wearing nothing but a leather dog harness with black tape against my breasts — sent a maddening flash of greed and possession through me. “Besides. They can see I’m busy.” Louis rolled her eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to feel irritated. I enjoyed it. If I didn’t know any better I would guess that the marijuana and liquor and intoxication had seeped through me, had penetrated the very flesh of my body and mingled with my own blood. I felt deliciously unsteady. There hadn’t been a moment like this in my life since my days with Nicki, when I hungered impossibly for the body next to mine with a head that felt full of wine. “Isn’t there someplace we can go?”
“Here? Now?” Surely she wasn’t truly surprised. I wrapped my arms around her neck and sighed.
“Yes, Louis, here. Now.” I looked at her impatiently. She, by now, should know the minutiae of my expressions. Unless she was intentionally playing dumb. The thought crossed my mind that my Louis – polite, shy Louis – had been taken aback by my request. I laughed and curved my palm against her neck. I brushed over her skin with my thumb. As I breathed her in, she smelled like she always had, even amidst the unruly crowd and after such a long, bustling night – roses and antiquity and the sharp, sweet scent of blood. I felt like an animal. “Surely there’s a hallway or closet or something we can disappear to. Unless you’re content to stay here on this sofa.” Her eyes flashed with scandal and surprise. I grinned, because I had gotten what I wanted. She did understand! I kissed her again and again across her cheeks. I couldn’t stop.
“Someone will see,” she observed in a whisper. “You can’t be serious.”
“Ugh, Louis.” I leaned back, still on her lap, my fingers knitted together at the back of her neck. “You’re no fun.” I wondered if pouting would get me anywhere tonight. “Why can’t we give them a good show?” I wanted to be seen. I had spent so long without an audience.
“You’ve done that once already tonight, my love.”
I rolled my eyes at her. She laughed.
A group of young women stood only a few feet away, all of them giggling and whispering to each other about Louis and me. Quickly, while I had their attention, I straddled Louis’ hips. By her reaction, she hadn’t expected the change in position. “Once. I’m an entertainer, Louis. This is my calling.” Annoyance crossed her face, but the type of annoyance that only I could bring out of her, the expression reserved for me, as if she were saying silently ‘Lestat, I can’t stand you,’ when she really meant to kiss me. “Please, Louis? For me?” I cocked my head to the side and pouted, willing to try my favorite trick for the night. Undoubtedly I would employ this trick again, but my luck hadn’t run out over the years, and I assumed it never would. Louis sighed and placed her hand on the small of my back, which arched into her touch. I felt like a lit match under her hands.
“What has gotten into you, cherie?”
“I think you know, ma coeur.” I watched her lips twitch into a devious grin, though for only half a second. I got my revenge by grinding against her thigh - just once, one slight movement forwards - and whining. She’d give in soon. I could see the flicker in her eyes as her resolve began to melt away. I laughed and went limp against her body; I hung off of her now just as her shirt did, the thin linen nearly exposing her breasts even more with its deep neckline and translucent fabric. “Last time. Sofa? Or closet?” Louis glared at me with the most perfect, murderous irritation in her eyes. Self-satisfaction flooded me.
“Lestat.”
“Darling.” I smiled wide at her. I wasn’t even feigning it. I was truly exuberantly happy to have gotten my way so easily. She proved my point even more by lacing her long, slender fingers through one of the O-shaped metal rings on my harness and pushing me off of her lap. I landed against the sofa with a thud and laughed. “Oh, do it again, Louis! Tell me I’m your obedient dog!”
“Obedient! Hardly.” She looked around discreetly to see if anyone was watching. The girls in the corner had turned away, preoccupied with whatever tale Alex and Larry were spinning for them by the bar. I hoped it was something long-winded. Even after the confirmation that our audience had dissolved, Louis didn’t move from her spot on the couch. I leaned back on my elbows and planted my feet beside her. The black platform boots made me a few inches taller, and from this position, my hips nearly raised from the velvet. She noticed.
“If you are testing my patience, Louis, you of all people should know that I have none.”
“We shouldn’t ignore your guests, Lestat. This is your party, isn’t it?” I felt a sudden urge to strangle her. “Behave.” Even chastising me, she placed her hand on my knee and slid her palm down my calf. I allowed my legs to part, but only enough to look at her through the space. I raised an eyebrow in question, wondering just who she was talking to.
“Really, Louis?” I let my left knee fall just a bit further just as Louis slid her hand beneath the sheer lace of my bell-bottoms. A game. How very fun.
“What am I doing wrong? You look displeased.”
I rolled my eyes. She tried very hard not to laugh, but I saw it forming just behind her lips.
“Oh, stop your coy flirting,” I said, angrily sitting up and pulling her towards me with the ruffles of her blouse. I had slotted into her lap again without much effort. “You know damn good and well what you’re doing, Louis, and I won’t have any of it.” I kissed her so roughly that I felt our teeth knock. I pushed my tongue into her mouth and crushed our noses together until both of us were breathing in harsh exhales, then Louis slid her hands into my back pockets and tried to press me closer into her body, but I resisted, determined to let her initiate despite my instigation. I stopped kissing her just long enough to pose the essential question of the night: “Closet. Or. Couch?”
Rather than answer me with her words, Louis stood from the couch after knocking me to the side, and with her grip once more fixated on the metal rings she dragged me into an empty hallway that smelled oppressively of perfume and cigarettes. I bit my lip and giggled. Finally. “Closet!” I said gleefully, and Louis shoved me up against the wall with a delicious sound of impact. I wanted to know just how loud the sound had been in the next room, and if anyone else had heard. I hoped they did; the thought alone of having a voyeur sent warmth down through my thighs. “Won’t you kiss me, Louis?” I felt the little electric thrill in my veins of her cool breath against my cheek — I knew it well, and I craved it often. She pressed herself close to me until I felt her heart thrum against my chest on the opposite side of my own. I didn’t have to count to know just how they beat in sync. I waited for her to break the tension, to taste her lips on mine, with the sort of impatience that drives the strongest of women mad with desire.
I did not get a kiss. Instead, I felt my feet raise about three inches from the ground, which was impressive enough given the height of the heels I wore. Louis held me only by the two rings on either side of the harness, and I could do little else than wiggle in place against the cold concrete wall. I slapped my palm against the surface and huffed indignantly. I hadn’t expected such a move, and I enjoyed it, but you must understand why I pretended I didn’t.
“Louis, you terror, you madwoman, put me down.”
“Am I a terror and a madwoman? I was only giving you what you wanted.”
“Both are true!”
She shook her head. I watched the movement of her beautiful black hair. “What a brat you are, Lestat.” She didn’t hide her grin this time, and I was happy for it. The lights still glowed red in the hallway, and just as her eyes had appeared somehow more green in the strange light, I saw a reflection of it glint against her fangs when she smiled. I wanted her desperately. Being unable to access her thoughts frustrated me more than usual - she was so good at keeping a poker face, even with me, even after all of our time together.
“Put me down, Louis.” She cocked her head to the side with a look of feigned confusion, as if she were waiting for something. I knew what it was, and I did not want to do it, but I knew all the same that if I were to continue being a “brat” that we’d never get anywhere. And I wanted to get everywhere with her, and now. I sighed in annoyance and glared down at her from my position on the wall. She hadn’t budged. “Please?”
My feet crashed to the floor, sending a wave of impact through my feet and up my legs. I liked how it hurt. But Louis remained a few inches shorter than me, due to the shoes, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit smug about it. I drew my fingers under her jaw and traced my nails to her chin before tilting her head up.
“Good girl.”
Louis shook her head but didn’t break the eye contact she had initiated. “Not tonight, ma petite.”
Damn her. I felt the faintest hint of a blush creep into my cheeks. She laughed at the sight and pressed me into the wall with her body, crushing me against the cement. I could feel her breathing, a domineering pressure against my chest, and her brilliant eyes lingered on mine. Then suddenly she dropped to her knees before me and I began to unbutton my pants.
“What are you doing?” She asked this innocently, as if she really didn’t know. I groaned and crossed my arms over my chest.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Getting ahead of yourself. I’m taking off your shoes.”
“What?”
She slipped the little leather strap around my ankle through the buckle and guided my leg upwards by the knee until the shoe sat neatly against the wall. She did the same with the other one until my bare feet were against the dirty, glossy tile. I felt oddly and pleasantly naked.
“I don’t like it when you’re taller.” She seemed almost to pout as she said this.
I laughed and pulled her back up to me by the collar and kissed her. “You are ridiculous, my Louis.” We were even again, and kissing her did feel better than before. But instead of impatience, as with the other kisses, she met my lips with hunger. I sank my teeth into her lip and lapped up the sweet blood that accumulated there with a little hum of satisfaction. She placed her hands on my hips and squeezed; I draped my arms over her strong, lithe shoulders, so familiar and lovely to me that I could have forgotten the buzz of the club behind us if I wished. I stopped kissing her only to speak. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, Lestat,” she returned, and her left hand trailed upwards along my torso until the space between her thumb and forefinger slotted perfectly against my bare breast. She flicked her thumb over the black tape that covered my nipple and I drew in a sharp breath and shut my eyes tightly.
“Louis!” My whine was muffled by her kiss.
“Hmm?” I thought of the hum that her little inquiry brought to my lips and wondered how it would feel against the very skin she now teased. I swallowed and could do little more than let myself fall limp against the wall with a whine. She held me in place with her hands. “Is something wrong, cherie?”
I glared in spite of the delicious zing of pleasure her hand inflicted. She fought the grin that threatened to betray her coyness, her smug satisfaction that she had me like putty in her hands for once. I didn’t want to be a brat anymore. I only wanted her attention, and I knew she was happy to give it in droves tonight. She brushed her thumb across my nipple once more and my mouth fell open in quiet reaction. The tautness of the tape, the cling of the adhesive against my skin, amplified the feeling tenfold. She, of course, knew how sensitive I was there, and it didn’t take much guessing to figure out that I was dressed favorably for this kind of play. She pressed the pad of her thumb into the tape and teased in smaller circles. I whimpered out loud, partially from instinct but partially because I wanted to know what she would do if I made any noise. No one would be able to hear anything, not with the loud thump of the bass music behind the wall. I had the notion that she wanted me to be silent anyway.
“Behave, Lestat,” she chastised, though her voice remained even, as though disciplining an unruly pet. I raised my eyebrows in curiosity, trying my very hardest to pretend her hand wasn’t doing an unholy thing to me. She correctly took it as a challenge, and her free hand covered my mouth right as I let out an intentional and very loud gasp of her name. She said nothing and only looked at me with disapproval in her eyes, and I felt the warm satisfaction I always felt upon successfully irritating her.
Her hand didn’t fall away from my mouth. Instead, she kept it there, and similarly she kept her left hand against my breast. But a new feeling came suddenly — she parted my legs with her knee and slotted her thigh between my own, and I felt the shock of sensation as the seam of my bottoms pressed into me. My mouth flew open again, though no sound came out, caught in the palm of Louis’ hand. I wanted her to move again, to press her thigh upwards so I could feel the sting of too much pleasure. But the only part of her that moved was her thumb, switching the direction of her little circles. I placed my hand over the one against my mouth — why it hadn’t occurred to me before to simply pull her away, I’m not so sure — and peeled her palm away from my lips to offer some words to her.
“Je t’emmerde.” It came out as a gasp. I expected her to put her hand back and silence me once more, but she didn’t. She stood still, stopped the motion of her thumb, didn’t move an inch in any direction. And this somehow proved more agonizing than if she had continued to tease me. She was merciless! Whatever had gotten into her, I wasn’t sure, and I couldn’t tell anymore whether I liked it or not. I whined and pouted when I looked at her again, and it took half of a second to realize that I wasn’t going to simply get what I wanted tonight. She only looked at me questioningly, like my whining had left her puzzled and confused. How I hated it when she made me work for it! I wished I still had on my platform boots so that I could spare whatever semblance of dominance the advantage of height had given me. I cursed her again under my breath.
I wanted so badly for her to keep pressing her knee into me. But she had other plans. I couldn’t give in so easily, the way I wanted to, and so we stood silent and stared at each other for a few seconds. I searched her eyes for something to indicate that she would break soon and actually fuck me here in this hallway like I knew she wanted to do, but I found nothing except the endless patience with which she had supplied me for many years, except when she tried to kill me. More than patience, though, I saw the flicker of intimacy and even adoration, and I knew that whatever tortures she inflicted upon me tonight weren’t sadistic, but rather borne out of a desire to express these feelings in a physical way. I felt an electric hum of longing for her. We could play like this for a long while, yes, but I’d always want to collapse into her under the gauze of fantasy. Strangely, I wanted to be obedient. But I simply couldn’t let her have that.
Every soft thought fell away like heavy cloth when she shifted her weight and I felt the agony and ecstasy of pressure between my thighs again.
“You did that on purpose,” I complained, throwing my head back to rest against the wall. “Damn you.” Louis laughed and covered my mouth again.
“Let me have my fun, Lestat. You act as though you’ll die if I don’t touch you soon.”
“Because I will!” I could only barely get these words out, because she resisted my attempt at pushing her hand away again. I suspected she got some kind of perverse fulfillment from shutting me up. I kept my hands on her strong forearms, so firm and muscled that I found my thoughts wandering just as they had when I looked into her eyes and at her shoulders.
I gave up.
I bucked my hips forwards against her thigh and chased after the selfish pleasure of grinding against lace and leather. I didn’t care that we were in an open hallway. If anyone caught us I’d kill them, or let them watch, or ask for a good tabloid. All I wanted right now was the feeling of Louis’ thigh and her hand over my mouth. My head swam with lust.
“Finally.” I glared at Louis. She grinned and pressed herself closer to me until I whimpered aloud, and craned my head back even more. My eyes were closed but I could still see her everywhere, just as I felt her, electric and vivid and terrifying against my body. I gasped when I felt her lips on my neck, her tongue on my skin like velvet.
“Please.” The plea hummed against her hand, barely intelligible, but she knew what I wanted to say. Instead of showing any amount of compassion, she pulled back completely and removed all of the delicious bite of sensation. I felt like I had been dropped from Heaven.
“Closet? Or back to the couch?”
A flicker of irritation rose within me as she threw my earlier words back at me.
“I think you should fuck me right here, Louis. Let them find us. You’ll be as famous as me when the story breaks tomorrow.”
“You’re terrible, Lestat. Come here.”
I stood and stared silently at her for a second, wondering if it were better to listen to her now or return to being disobedient and risk another moment of being pinned to the wall like the corpse of a moth. She raised an eyebrow and pushed open the door to a closet filled with cleaning supplies and feather dusters that smelled vaguely of bleach. I’d been in less romantic places.
Unable to ignore the ache I felt, not only between my thighs but in every part of my body now, I followed her into the dark closet. She sat in the little wooden chair that stood in the corner of the room, undoubtedly for whatever poor fool had been hired to clean up the place after the patrons had all gone home. I wondered when that happened, usually, seeing as it was reaching four in the morning and our party still raged only a few feet away from Louis and I. I tugged on the little chain attached to a lone lightbulb in the ceiling and revealed the dingy scenery surrounding us. Immediately I turned it off again, content to see her in the much more romantic dark. Not that romance was my priority.
Louis pulled me into her lap. I didn’t protest. By now I felt entirely too wound up and desperate to do anything other than what she willed of me; she had done exactly what she wished to do, which was to break me. Only ever would I do this for her; only ever could she coax it from me. I straddled her thigh and held onto her broad shoulders with both hands as if she would disappear if I let her go. She squeezed my hips and drew me forwards, and with a sharp inhale I realized I had been craving this feeling since I first rutted against her on the couch. The smoothness of her leather contrasted the pattern of my lace drove me wild with need, frantic and impatient to enact my own greedy, filthy thoughts.
“Louis —“
“Don’t choose now to start being shy.” She pushed my head slightly to the side and pushed my hair out of the way before she ran the backs of her knuckles against my skin. I shivered, and before I could properly collect myself, she attached her lips to my neck once again. I knew at once what she intended to do, and the second I felt her fangs against my neck I jerked forwards with a shrill gasp. She sank them into my skin, and I cried out in pain until the shock subsided and I was left with the dull ache of penetration and the sweet sting of her tongue lapping against the blood that she spilled. Occasionally the gentle music of her satisfaction thrummed against my skin. I threw my arms around her neck and pressed against her thigh with abandon, shifting forwards and back until I felt the warmth of my need for her collecting in a slick pool. I listened to my breathing grow shallow and whorish as I angled my hips to feel the perfect drag of pleasure as she drank and drank. I heard her swallow in deep droughts and the profane knowledge of my blood in her mouth drew quiet moans of ecstasy from my mouth, dotted occasionally with the whine of her name.
“Good girl.” Her praise was nearly as addictive as her exasperation. My hips stuttered as I grew greedy with my pleasure, not caring if such erratic movements interfered with her own desires. But before I could let the feeling reach its apex, I found myself suddenly pressed to a wall once more, pinned beneath her broad hands, and I missed the overwhelming decadence I had felt just seconds ago. I scoffed and gave her a look that I hoped was saturated with annoyance.
“Be quiet, Lestat. I want to give you more.”
I felt my thighs squeeze together at the promise of receiving something better than what she had already given me — though I could hardly think of anything more pleasurable than that deep, lingering throb of sensation from moments ago — and allowed her to continue whatever it was she was thinking. She dropped to her knees again and I laughed, remembering the moment in the hallway.
“My shoes are already off, Louis. You made sure of that.”
She rolled her perfect green eyes at me and undid the little pearlescent buttons at the front of the bell-bottoms. I hadn’t bothered with underwear; they had been stitched so that the lace wouldn’t show anything of interest to my audience, while the rest showed through to my skin. Louis shook her head, seemingly in amusement, when she discovered this. “I should have expected.” For some reason, I blushed. What was she imagining to be under my pants? Had I grown that predictable? I’d have to take Tough Cookie’s advice and start wearing the little frilly things she called “panties.” But I had better things to attend to now than imagining my next outfit.
“What are you —“
My voice stopped short and melted into a long, sharp-sounding moan of delight; without a word, Louis had buried her face between my thighs and dragged the flat of her tongue against my clit. I felt my brow furrow in the sweetest agony. She coaxed my thigh onto her shoulder and licked one long stroke from beginning to end, stopping to prod the tip of her tongue inside of me. I half-collapsed against the wall, only strong enough to hold myself up with the help of tangling my hands in her long, black hair and with the help of her palms flat against my hips. I looked down at her and saw the faintest stain of blood on her top lip from when she had dipped lower into me, evidence of my deep and unyielding need for her displayed proudly against her skin. But more of interest to me was the plain sight of rapture on her face, her softly closed eyes, her brow knitted with intention as it had been in the few times I had caught her praying to the God she left behind. I felt the swell of an ego forming as I realized I had replaced that God tonight, had put her on her knees before me. My Louis.
Another shock of urgency flooded my senses. Not the feeling of being God. I pushed Louis forwards with my hands full of her hair. “There. There, please, there,” I begged, and she abided, and I felt her lips wrap around my clit and whined as she started to suck. She pushed me harder against the wall, and I was grateful for it, because if she hadn’t been keeping me up I surely would have collapsed to the dirty floor beneath us. The sounds that left me now were obscene and would have been embarrassing if I had cared about anyone finding us. But I didn’t care, and even if we were caught, would anyone believe it? I reveled in ecstasy for a moment longer before knowing I couldn’t drag this out any further. When I looked back down at Louis, I found her eyes awaiting mine, as if a question lingered within them. Like this? she seemed to ask. I nodded in understanding. “More,” I whispered, unsure if she would stop altogether because of my greed, or if she felt the same drunken desire to please as I felt to receive.
I watched as her thoughts unfolded, reflected in her eyes. She knew she could either punish or reward my desperation now. A flicker of indecision, then action — she pushed two of her fingers inside of me and curled them deliciously until I could feel the work of her hand and her mouth conspiring against me at once. Pain mingled dizzyingly with pleasure — Louis hadn’t bothered to file or trim her nails this time, as she had always done before, but I enjoyed it. I liked the bite of her sharp nails against such a sensitive part of my body, and I enjoyed even more the feeling of blood running out of me and into her waiting mouth. A soft sound, a sustained note of splendor, hummed against me as she tasted the new trickle of blood and our shared perverse discovery. I wanted her to enjoy this as much as I did, though I knew she would never admit to it.
I was beginning to annoy myself with these passing moments of introspection. I willed myself to give myself over to her, to allow myself to sink into the depths of what she was giving me. She dragged and pushed her fingers into and out of me with such a slowness that I found myself following her movements — up, down, back up again, filling myself and depriving myself in equal measure of the stimulation. She pulled her mouth away and replaced her tongue with her thumb. She said nothing, and only watched as I struggled to get myself off. I looked at her pleadingly. She smiled and I saw the faintest stain of blood on her teeth.
“Keep going, cherie,” she encouraged. “Let me see you.” She sped up the movement of her thumb and I felt the sharpness of it through every nerve ending, in every vein. I felt the pleasure run over like liquid, felt it pour over me. All I could think or perceive now were Louis’ hands, her teeth, her beautiful face staring back at me expectantly as my hips grind and stutter wildly. Shallow, shrill cries poured from me without restraint — I felt the waves of oblivion crash and break against my brain, against the very part that controlled all of the pleasure and divinity that Louis could draw out of me like a length of rope. She pushed her fingers in deeper, cut me even more, and just as I felt I couldn’t control myself anymore she leaned forwards to lap up the blood she spilled. I felt tears well in my eyes at the overwhelming combination of sensation, knew they were soon to spill recklessly and stain my cheeks deep red. I knew, too, that she knew what was happening, and just as I felt a burst of all-encompassing, intense, enormous feeling flood and wash over me, I looked to see her staring in utter exaltation. Her touches grew gentler now, only urging me to follow all of the primal impulses I felt while my hips rolled and bucked against her thumb.
The world fell away in pieces as I came down, gasping. I relaxed fully against the concrete wall. She gently placed my foot back down to the floor, and the chill of the tile surprised me enough that a short, startled sound left me. Louis laughed in that way she had, in soft, gentle amusement. She wiped her face with her hand, still laughing, still illuminated, and licked away the blood that I had left. I felt a strange sense of pride at the sight, and a profound wash of love, and the strange poetic longing of knowing she would never ask for anything in return. She never did; only on occasion did she let me give back the physical pleasure she gave so freely, and I knew tonight was enough for her no matter the intense and fervent desire I felt to reciprocate the mess she’d made of me. I reached down and dragged the tip of my forefinger along her jaw and stopped at her chin to tilt her head upwards and meet her eyes. We shared a glance that said more than we ever could with words; I didn’t speak, because I didn’t want to shatter the silence that fell over us like a duvet. She must have known what I felt then; she must have seen it reflected in my eyes just as I saw everything reflected in hers, in those short and fleeting moments of vulnerability. With slow hands she dressed me again and took her time with the tiny white buttons, and I nearly felt more moved by this intimacy than I had been by the sight of her praying at the altar of my body. Nearly.
I guided her up and kissed her. She tasted metallic, like iron, and I felt the soprano shock of giddiness that came with tasting my own blood. I licked her lips and bit the end of her nose playfully before I looked at her again in the gentle darkness of what had once been nothing but a dusty, mildewed room.
“I’ll find something to clean up your face, ma chere.” She looked down at her feet bashfully. I felt like I’d just witnessed the kind of thing that made Botticelli wish to paint. “Stay in the hall. I’ll be right back.” I led her out of the dingy closet and into the empty space where our night had really began, and where my shoes still stood solitary and lonesome — or where they should have been, anyway.
“Someone stole your shoes, Lestat,” Louis observed keenly. Her voice held a quiver of laughter. I was too spent to feel angry; instead, I closed the space between Louis and myself, pressed our bodies tightly together.
“This means you’ll have to carry me home.” Damn the car. I wanted romance. I ran my fingers under the delicate ruffle of her collar and grinned at her when I saw the bloodstain. “You were careless, ma coeur.” Shyness flooded her features, and she looked away from me sheepishly.
“I couldn’t help myself.” I almost didn’t want to clean away the blood on her mouth, the tip of her nose. I sighed and detached myself from her. I love you, I love you, I love you, I wanted to say, but the words seemed pale and boring when applied to Louis. They weren’t nearly enough in English or French or Italian or whatever other insufficient tongue one could learn. How does anyone find them adequate? How has a feeling as large and innumerable as this ever been translated into literature? The poets failed her; the great authors of the literary canon had never conceived of a woman like my Louis when they penned their sonnets and love notes. I was sure of it. And yet not even I could mark her beauty on the page, despite all of my trying.
Instead of saying anything I disappeared into the still-bustling club room to steal a rag from the bartender. I soaked it with a bottle of champagne someone had left unattended before returning to Louis. She wrinkled her nose at the smell.
“There isn’t much water out there, my love.” I dabbed the wet cloth against her face and watched as the white became red, leached from her pretty face. She sat patiently while I worked with her perfect emerald eyes flickering all across my face. I wondered if she thought the same things about me that I thought of her, if she scorned her beloved authors and playwrights for failing to describe what we held between us like the sheltered flame of a candle. I couldn’t think of such things. The thought of being wrong filled me with such an immense fear and ache that I couldn’t stand to imagine it even favorably. I wiped the last of the blood from her nose and fell into her again with my face buried in the warmth of her neck and my arms around her waist.
“What has gotten into you, ma petite?” I sniffled and said nothing. Louis wrapped her arms around me. We stood in silence for a blissful moment until Alex and Larry stumbled into the hall with Tough Cookie behind them, all three of them reeking of liquor.
“Limo’s here. Gotta motor.”
“Where the fuck did your shoes go?”