Of Blood and Orchids

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The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Of Blood and Orchids Copyright © 2005 KR Wilson ISBN: 1-54410-585-4 Cover art and design by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. Published by eXtasy Books, a division of Zumaya Publications, 2005 Look for us online at: www.zumayapublications.com www.extasybooks.com

Dedication: For my mother, Roberta Cleveland, who believed in me when I did not. For my husband, who now reads my love scenes with expectant glee. Special thanks to Dorine, my very own ‘Obi Wan Kenobi’, for forcing me to not give up on OF Blood and Orchids.

Of Blood and Orchids

Chapter One

“Y

ou need to call him, Joy,” Cheryl said, as she took out the cell phone and placed it on the table in front of Joy. Cheryl picked up the squeeze bottle of ketchup and moved her wrist from side to side, squeezing the ketchup on her fries. It was their usual lunchtime gettogether outside Cheryl’s workplace. Joy stared at the phone as if it was an evil monster. In addition, Joy was feeling the pressure. However, it was either make the call, or sit and do nothing. She and Jesse had broken up almost a week ago and she had decided it was time to seek help. “Well, make the call, Joy.” “What if he says no?” Exasperated, Cheryl threw up her hands in the air. “Then you go back to a traditional surrogate therapist.” “I can’t do that. I don’t want to…you know, with someone I don’t know.” Cars honked their horns as they zoomed by. The trees rustled. Leaves fell off branches here and there. 1


The sun was intense for this time of the year—harvest time—time for gathering friends and family. Only Joy was not in the gathering mood. She could not go another year without taking care of her problem. “Call him, Joy.” Joy watched her best friend squeeze more ketchup on her hot dog. “That’s sacrilegious,” she said, pointing to her display of culinary suicide. “What is?” “Putting ketchup on your hotdog. Put the frikkin’ mustard on there, please, and some relish. You act like you’re still in St. Louis.” “Quit stalling and call him! Look at you.” “What about me?” “Your cute pointy chin is quivering and if you don’t stop worrying, you’ll develop frown lines.” “Okay, okay!” Joy’s hand shook as she reached for the phone, flipped the lid and dialed his number. She had already memorized it by heart. She was afraid if she had to look for the number, she would talk herself out of it when she found it. As her finger hovered over the send button, the blaring horn of a taxicab made her jump. It was as if the cabbie was accusing her of procrastination, also. Cheryl left the table, muttering about more ketchup. Joy rubbed her hands together as she cradled the phone between her shoulder and ear. She needed something inane to do to keep the edge off her nervousness. It rang twice; it was early for him. He hated the daylight hours and was most likely sleeping like a corpse now. Then the phone clicked 2


and she heard his voice. “Hello?” She swallowed hard, and closed her eyes tight. “Raphael?” She swatted a fly away from her sandwich. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “It’s Joy…Joanne Smith. Remember me?” She rolled her eyes up. Why would he not remember her? “How are you, Joy? Is something wrong?” His concern tripped her up. Joy was expecting a brush off. His kind hated to deal with human affairs. Or maybe he hated to deal with human affairs. He was so definite about his feelings. Oh no, she groaned inwardly. Perspiration beaded under her arms. “No. Yes. I need to see you.” She watched the cars drive by—focusing on something else was a much-needed exercise now, especially with the dead silence coming from his end. “What’s wrong, Joy?” What wasn’t wrong? The thought made her stomach lurch and the sting of tears pool in her eyes. “I can’t talk to you about it over the phone. It’s private.” She wiped at her eyes. “Can we meet?” “Come over tomorrow evening.” Joy sighed in relief as the last tear fell. “Give me your address.” She wrote the address down, thanked him and hung up the phone. That was so easy. What had she been afraid of? “What did he say?” Cheryl sat down in her seat opposite Joy. 3


Joy looked at the fly bathing in her container of coleslaw. Its hind legs rubbed together in glee. She wanted her coleslaw. Pastrami on rye with mustard wasn’t the same without coleslaw. She sighed miserably. “He told me to come over tomorrow evening.” “See?” “I haven’t told him what I need, yet, Cheryl.” Cheryl hunched her shoulders and tore the packet of ketchup. “I don’t think he’ll refuse you.” “From your lips to God’s ears. He’s notorious for being a loner.” Cheryl took a big mouthful of hotdog and ketchup. “Is he cute?” “Cheryl,” Joy groaned. “Don’t be screwing no ogre, now,” Cheryl laughed throwing her head back. “Shout it out, Cheryl.” Joy stood up and threw her coleslaw out with contempt. Her best friend had a bizarre way of trying to lighten the moment. Joy sat back down at the table in a huff. “For your information, he’s more handsome than cute, and he’s a family friend. His good looks aren’t the problem. I want a quick and simple lesson on enjoying myself with a man. I hope he will help me.” “It’s been what? Nine, ten years since the incident and it still affects you?” “You can say the word.” “Well, I…can’t. I didn’t want to— “Rape, Cheryl! Since the rape.” “Okay, Joy. Rape.” 4


“My therapist said it never goes away. Year by year, its shoved into the background, lurking and ready to be triggered at any moment’s notice. What changes is the acuteness of the flashbacks.” “And that’s why you need his help?” “I can’t enjoy sex. I can’t connect, or I won’t let myself connect,” she said shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know. My therapist suggested I try a sex surrogate.” “This whole sex surrogate thing is beyond me, but if it will help, then do it. It’s an unusual question.” “I know. And he’s an unusual man. Maybe he’ll think outside the box and help me.” **** Raphael hung up the phone and sat up, his amorous activity interrupted for the moment when Joy had called him. He felt air on his penis as Lydia gently laid it down on his naked thigh, his need for a release forgotten at the sound of Joy’s last words to him on the phone. “Who was that?” Raphael looked up at Lydia as she raised her head and licked the candy cane effect of blood and semen off her mouth. Her shadow on the comforter dwindled as one fifty-nine became two o’clock. “A friend.” “What friend?” He hated questions about his life and Lydia knew that. But also he had an overprotective streak when it 5


came to Joy. “An old friend.” “Don’t worry I’m not the jealous type. I’m just curious.” Lydia waved her hand over the two bite marks she made on his cock. The wounds closed up and disappeared as if they hadn’t been there. “You sounded concerned on the phone.” She adjusted her black lace mini-dress. “I didn’t know you had it in you.” “I can act concerned when I want to be.” “Oh, I know, but don’t lose your edge,” she said saucily. “I rather like it.” Raphael gave her a devil-may-care laugh, pulled her back down on the bed and rolled her underneath him. “Lydia, I will never change. You can count on that.” It was true he was happy being able to take whom and what he wanted. Joy’s phone call wouldn’t shake him. Whatever the problem was, he would help her and say good-bye. That part of his life was over. “I love these get-togethers.” Lydia gave her breasts a little shake. “Don’t you? Ahh! Naughty trysts in the afternoon…” “You have the strongest throat muscles I have ever met.” He watched her face fall serious, suddenly. Then he knew she wanted to pump more than his shaft. “Is there something wrong with her?” She stood up He arched an imperious eyebrow as he swept his dark hair back with his hand. “You ask too many questions to be only curious.” “What I know about you could fit on the head of a straight pin, but don’t get me wrong, Raphael. I hate 6


to fuck an open book.” She adjusted the stocking on her right leg as he caressed her inner thigh. Hate to fuck an open book. He shook his head with disbelief, pulling up his leather pants and zipping them. Way too many questions for him. They made him itch, made him uneasy. “Then why the thirddegree?” “I’m just curious.” She unzipped his pants, dragging a bright red, long fingernail down his exposed, rock hard cock. “Just curious.” Despite his penis masquerading as a cement block, he didn’t want to tumble now. Joy’s face—or what he thought she looked like—now haunted him, even with his eyes closed. Joy needing his help stayed uppermost on his mind, unfortunately. “Let’s do this again, soon, when I’m not preoccupied.” “Is this the one that made you move to Nepal? She’s human, right?” “You have a problem with that?” His body loosened with relief as she stepped into her spiked heels. “I see you don’t,” she said. His voice was quiet, yet tinged with acid as he spoke. “Good-bye, Lydia.” Lydia’s heart-shaped ass bounced onto the elevator. He knew her too well .She wanted him to see what he was giving up. None of that mattered to him. He walked over to the window as he listened to the elevator descend. Finally, he was alone with his thoughts of Joy. The sun was beginning its early retreat. He forgot all about Lydia and her acrobatic 7


tongue.

8


Chapter Two

T

he next evening found Joy in a cab driving down Fifth Avenue. She knew of what Raphael now did for a living. He owned a stylish, leather and lace BDSM club for adults called The Gate. The Internet is a fun tool, she mused. It had received five stars from Time in New York magazine and The Village Trumpet. She turned the corner onto Second Avenue and Sixtieth Street. She could see the bone-colored limestone Georgian style buildings already. Two tiny gargoyles with long wings guarded the wrought iron gate. Her heart threatened to jump out of her chest as she paid the cab driver. Cheryl was right. What did she have to lose? Well, maybe her self-respect. A little shame never hurt anyone. She had carried all of it for years. Too long. Joy unlatched the gate and let it swing open. There wasn’t a sign on the door. Which meant the club was exclusive. But it was early yet, and the club most likely wouldn’t hop until nine o’clock. 9


She took a few shuddering breaths, walked down the short cement path, reached towards the brass lion doorknocker. She held the cold metal in her hands. She rolled her neck. Her brain worked too well. Whenever she was in extreme distress she would automatically stall. Five times, she knocked. She waited. No response. Great! She sighed in relief and annoyance. She was about to turn around when the door opened. An olive skinned, statuesque, pixie haired woman wearing a short, pink, fuzzy robe and a smile as broad as the East River. A fleeting spark of jealousy ran through Joy. Raphael liked his women tall, buxom and capable. “You must be Joy?” “Um, yes, I— The woman cut her off. “I’m Thalia, one of the gogo dancers at the club. He’s been expecting you.” “I—“ Thalia seized Joy’s arm in a Herculean grip and pulled her inside. Joy was surprised her arm didn’t pop out of its socket. No, she was having a vivid dream because she ate that Italian sausage sandwich before going to bed last night. It could also be that she was awake, and Thalia was like Raphael. Why would a vampire choose to live in a city were there weren’t more like him? “He hates it when people are late.” She gestured with her gloved hand. “You know his European sensibilities.” “The train was late, then I had trouble hailing a— Thalia interrupted her. “Don’t worry. I don’t think 10


he will hold it against you. Not you.” The woman led her to a back elevator. She produced a key, then turned a lock. It was a private elevator, and the privileged few had the keys. Was Thalia one of the privileged? Thalia leaned one shoulder against the wall as they waited for the elevator. “Raphael is in his loft. You know he lives up there. We, the staff, were up there for a Christmas party. It’s huge,” she blabbered on. “I got confused looking for the bathroom.” As the vampiress rambled on, Joy wondered if she had interrupted something. Thalia was wearing a robe, thigh-high boots, and she had a key to Raphael’s elevator. “I could come back another time?” “Why? You’re here now.” “I think I came at the wrong time.” Joy looked pointedly at Thalia’s clothes. “Oh! I’m always half-naked. It’s the nature of my job and the club. As far as I know, he’s unattached.” Joy breathed a silent sigh of relief. She wanted to know if he was attached. “He told me a little about you last night. He sounded so proud of you. You’re a writer, right?” “Yes. He’s proud of me?” She wasn’t aware that he knew about her life now. But he’s a vampire and they have ways of finding out things. “It’s great that he’s proud of me.” “Um-hum.” The elevator came down and Thalia shoved Joy inside it. “See you later,” she said, a little too cheerily for Joy’s taste. Suspicion was part of her nature now, 11


she reminded herself. Joy smiled as the elevator went up and Thalia disappeared down below. She looked at the walls of the elevator. It was old compared with the rest of the building. It was tiny; the size of a closet, and bore the engraved name of the manufacturer on the top right wall. Modern additions to the elevator were installed, she noticed. A copper panel held the floor buttons. A window box held a recent inspection receipt. Inspector whatever—the signature resembled doctor scribble— gave it good marks. It had history like Raphael. She liked architecture and old souls. She could relate. She felt like an old schoolmarm asking the bad boy with the ill-reputed reputation for help. That was exactly what she was. God, Cheryl was married already and happy. She was still grappling with her rape from ten years ago. A red light flashed as the elevator quietly stopped on the second floor. The door slowly slid open to reveal Raphael standing there. Joy stood there stunned, thrilled. His face held the barest smile. Short, black waves brushed his forehead. Staring at him didn’t help her composure. Saliva dried up in her mouth and her legs felt wobbly. A vague sensuous radiance passed between them. And the memories… She could tell he was reliving them with her: good times, plenty of laughter and thrown popcorn. Nine years ago. Had it been that long ago? Their reunion shouldn’t be so hard now, but it was. Now they were face-to-face. The only 12


difference was that she was a woman now with a need only a man such as he could fulfill. Her gaze dropped to the cleft in his chin. She remembered it well. Secretly loved and yearned for it for years. They had played poker years ago. She had pretended to punch him on his chin after he ‘lost’ to her in a late night poker game. This was going to be difficult now that they were face to face, and he had the power to crush her heart. “Come in.” He grabbed her hand, pulled her out of the elevator, into his loft apartment. Her eyes oriented to the dim light of the loft. A few candles lit the room. If it was a different occasion and she was an old flame of his it would be romantic, but his eyes were sensitive to the bright lights. “It’s been years.” He gazed at her appreciatively, she noticed. “It has. You look great. You aren’t my crazy little Joy anymore,” he said huskily. No, she wasn’t hearing things. His voice dropped and deepened. Like his cultured voice could sound better than it had. “Puberty and milk does wonders,” she said nervously. Joy was on the verge of blabbering like a teenager high on hormones. She took a deep, calming breath. “Would you like something to drink? I have ginger ale, water?” “Vodka, straight up with a twist, please,” she blurted. “Isn’t it too early for liquid courage?” 13


Her eyes followed him to the bar area. “I’m almost thirty, Raphael.” So much for the booze boost, she thought to herself. Liquor might make her say or do the wrong thing. She had to stay on her toes. She’d have to mutter on through sober. She couldn’t drink like other women. She had to be lucid at all times. “On second thought, water is fine.” “I still think of you as little Joy, and you have obviously grown up,” he said, looking away. “Please sit down.” She swore she felt a dart of heat as he looked at her for that one second. It was her imagination. Had to be. They were family almost. He knew her great great-great-grandfather. Can’t think that way after what I’m going to ask him, she thought. “That’s okay. Barbara still thinks I’m five.” Her stomach was in knots now. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe she should go to back to the sex surrogate her therapist sent her to. That would be running, again. She wanted to ask him at least. Nothing to lose. “Barbara likes to boss everyone around from what I remember. How is your mother?” “She’s great. She remarried, five years ago.” “I didn’t know. Good for her. Have you heard from your father?” “I hardly ever hear from him. I call and he never calls back. He’s a loner like you,” she said sadly. She knew he caught her dig, but he was never one to show his emotions to anyone. “Here’s your water.” 14


She took the glass from him. Her hands shook as she gripped it. “Thanks.” “Cheers.” “Cheers.” She looked around his loft as she sipped her water. The water went down, cooling her insides. She needed the hydration for the long ride home. Heck, she needed it now. Her mouth was dry as sandpaper. What could one person need with all this space, she wondered. He had an expansive amount of room filled sparsely with bamboo rods in giant vases, assorted plants and black lacquered furniture. She saw his bed area with a screen enclosing it for privacy. What surprised her was the small vase filled with a bouquet of orchids behind his head on a table. So he liked orchids, or someone special gave it to him. And what business of it was hers? At that moment her eyes caught his and she lowered her lashes. “This is a surreal moment.” “It is, isn’t it?” “You in a skirt.” “Oh!” She looked down at her legs. When she was eighteen, she was scrawny. She’d had long arms, long legs and was flat-chested. After the rape, she blossomed. How strange. “You swore off skirts when you were twelve.” “I’ve expanded my wardrobe to include skirts since then. I have to look professional sometimes.” It was like armor for her. Jeans would have been to casual—made her look too vulnerable. A skirt with a white shirt was the proper touch. It made her feel ten 15


feet tall, like she could take on the whole world. “You should wear them more often. So what can I do for you, Joy?” She put her glass of water down on the coffee table and looked him straight in the eye. Here goes. All five-foot-seven of her straightened up to his six-footthree height. “There’s no easy way to ask, so I’ll just ask. Would you teach me to be intimate with men?” His face remained inert. There was no hint of emotion in his gray eyes, but that was his normal look. Still, it did nothing to give her hope. They began to sink as the tension thickened in the air. The weight of shame bore down on her once more. The backs of her eyes itched and stung from tears. She got up and walked to the tall windows. Her white shirt grew hot, her skirt was constricting. She pretended to stare out of the window as she collected herself. Joy felt like a fool and jumping out of the window seemed fitting, now. “What happened to you?” She started. She hadn’t heard his footsteps behind her. She had forgotten how silent and quick he was. She felt his fleeting breath on her cheek “It’s a long story, Raphael.” He cupped her cheek and turned her around to face him. “I have a couple of hours.” His hand felt surprisingly warm, not cool as she remembered. She felt her own vocal cords threatening to constrict, but she needed to tell him, now. “I was raped.” She saw his shock and quick anger. She felt his 16


hesitation. “When?” She turned her eyes to the street below. “After you left for Nepal.” After her sixteenth birthday when her life and her family fell apart—hit the skids, never to brake to a stop. “No one told me.” She crossed her arms. “You were unreachable up there in the mountains.” Still his face was unreadable, but she could see his eyes glitter with anger. A red dot formed in the middle of his pupils. The angry vampire side was coming out. “Who was the asshole who did it?” Joy closed her eyes, shutting him out. She could feel his body bristle with barely contained rage. If she told him who did it, that man would die at Raphael’s hands, and she didn’t want to live with the guilt. She just wanted to heal and move on. “It doesn’t matter now. It was a long time ago.” “If it doesn’t matter, then why are you here asking me this difficult question?” She placed her hands in her skirt pockets. The inside of her palms had grown damp. “I need your help, Raphael, and don’t go reading my mind. I don’t need you to go bash someone’s head in. I needed that ten years ago.” The familiar pulsing of his muscle jaw told her she’d cut to the bone. His eyes turned from dove gray to ice. Quickly, she sought to soothe her words. It wasn’t his fault, after all. “I’m not blaming you.” 17


“You want me to rid you of your intimacy issues?” His eyes bore into hers. She could barely say the word, her throat closing up tight. “Yes.” “What kind of intimacy issues do you have?” She swallowed hard. It was like stabbing herself in the chest to have to say it out loud. “I—I can’t enjoy sex. I freeze up.” “Have you seen a gynecologist?” “I have, and there is nothing physically wrong with me. After I told her what had happened to me when I was a teenager she recommended I see a sex surrogate.” “And did you see a surrogate before coming to me?” “I did, and I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of having sex with a man I didn’t know.” “Which brought you to me?” All she needed was his caustic tone to heap on the shame. “I’m afraid so. Sorry to have ruined your evening.” “Don’t take my questioning the wrong way.” “How should I take it?” He was preternaturally still, his eyes sharp as they studied her. His scrutiny made her squirm. He was about to probe her thoughts. Not that it was uncomfortable for her, but it was the reasoning behind it. She had nothing to hide except the identity of her attacker. If helping her would be inconvenient than all he had to do was say so. “This was a bad idea. Sorry, I wasted your time.” She hurriedly walked towards the door. The muffled 18


sound of her sneakers thumped against the hardwood floors. The smell of a smothered candle made her nose wrinkle. Her stomach churned violently with tension from the meeting with him. This was so much of a bad idea that her stomach threatened to spew everything she had eaten that afternoon. Her index finger reached out to the ‘down’ button on the panel. “I know you and your family well.” Her head pulled back as if his words grabbed her ponytail and halted her fleeing. She dropped her hand to her sides. “That’s why I asked you. I can trust you. I feel comfortable with you.” She saw the softening in his eyes. His eyes the dove gray she remembered. The red dot of anger disappeared from his pupils. He understood now and was calm. “There are risks involved.” “I know what they are.” “Listen to me, Joy. I have control, but I’m not immune.” She crossed her arms irritated. “Meaning?” “Meaning, in the middle of—in the middle of intercourse, I could bite you. I don’t want to bite you. It could happen.” “Is this your version of a disclaimer?” One corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes glinted with amusement. “I’m serious.” “I know the risks. Once is not enough to change me.” “It’s rare for a human to be involved in the life of a vampire. By natural law, I should have bitten you 19


years ago.” “Since when did you ever follow rules?” “Just making you aware. We’re going to see each other naked, you know.” “I had a consultation with the sex surrogate, and he explained what it entails. I know.” He said nothing else. It was hard to make a comeback after ‘we’re going to see each other naked’. The silence was deafening nonetheless, she noted. He resembled a man caught between wanting and fear, despite his composure. It was funny how he could never keep anything from her. Maybe that’s why he left. “Honey, I could hurt you.” “The day I was raped was the day I lost my innocence. I’m a woman now, and well aware of the risks, Raphael.” “Yeah, you are,” he acknowledged. “I’m not advertising my skills, but I’m well-endowed. I could hurt you there, too.” She struggled to ask him in a way that wasn’t offensive and somehow her eyes drifted to his bulge. “Uhm, how well-endowed?” “Pass the legal length.” “There’s a legal length?” “Joy!” She watched him stare at her, waiting for the words to sink in. He was all too aware of the effect his beauty had on women—her. She found it fascinating yet, unnerving at the same time. She turned her attentions to the bouquet of orchids behind the couch. 20


She licked her lips readying to ask him the question that had been on her mind since yesterday. He cut her off first, surprising her. “Are you in a relationship now?” She scoffed at him. He didn’t want to help her. “Jesse hit the trail four weeks ago.” “I’m sorry, Joy.” “I’m not.” She was so not sorry. She could still hear his words in her head. You‘re hot, you’re cold. I’m tired of guessing what mood you’ll be in next. I’m tired. That’s it. Okay, Jesse. You’re useless, Joy. He had laid it on thick—covering his cheating and saving face at her expense. He had a standby waiting in the wings. But she had lied to him by omission and she was glad. He would throw the rape in her face eventually. “Will you help me now, Raphael?” Within seconds he stood in front of her and lifted her chin gently. Her lungs stopped taking in oxygen as she met his eyes. “Give me a night to think about it.” As if he had released air from a balloon, her lungs took in air, relaxed. “All right. Thank you.” Joy lifted her jacket off the couch and let Raphael wait with her for the elevator. It wasn’t no and it wasn’t yes. There was still a chance. “You’re brave.” “I’m only doing what’s right for me.” The elevator doors opened and they stepped onto it. 21


“I know,” he answered. Awkward silence again as the elevator made sits slow silent descent. This time it was suffocating and thick. While on the elevator, she couldn’t help but steal a glance at the v of his open, black shirt. It was deep and displayed smooth skin. She wondered what was underneath. None of that, Joy. He’s off-limits. You want his help, not his body. “I’ll drive you home.” “Hey, I can make it home on my own. Grown woman, remember?” “Even Wonder Woman needs protection sometime.” He pointed to his silver Jetta across the street in front of the park. “My car is that way.” “Still the same, Raphael.” “What do you mean?” “You know, commanding. The ‘my word is law’ deal.” “Most women love it,” he said winking. “I can hail a cab.” “Would you let me take you home, already? Joy?” “All right. Thank you.” **** After her seat belt was fastened, he drove to FDR drive. The silence in the car was amiable for them. For him it was torture. His eyes roamed to her knees repeatedly within the span of five minutes. That scent of wild lavender she wore brought him back to the good old days. It invaded his senses. 22


Without thinking, he blurted it out. “You smell the same.” “Hum?” “You’re wearing the same fragrance you used to wear when you were younger.” She shrugged her delicate shoulders. “I used to rinse my hair in it. Lavender is soothing.” “It smells good all the same.” That was the only familiar thing about her. Everything else about her was new…exciting, frightening. Joy, the woman was inches from him, separated by the stick shift. She was no longer the free spirited teenager who used to tease him about his choice in drinks. She never cajoled him about drinking blood out of a glass. She had been curious, never insulting. What would she be like now? He had some difficult decisions to make and fast. “You haven’t changed much,” she said. He smiled at her reflection in the overhead mirror. “I’m sure I have somewhat. Nine years is a longtime.” He drove onto Prospect Expressway in Brooklyn. Traffic was light. He longed for it to be heavy. Wafts of her lavender-scented hair worked on his carefully honed serenity. This wasn’t the way you longed for old friends. You longed for someone this way. “Your hair is parted on the left this time,” she said interrupting his thoughts. After a second beat, he answered her. It took him that long to curb his natural tendencies to pull over and kiss her. “You’re observant.” He stopped at a red light and faced her. Even from 23


the off-kilter angle, she was pretty. Her dark hair, parted in the middle, hung down on the right side of her face. The ends of her hair swept forward, partially covering her mole that sat on her right top lip. He loved moles. “If I’m not observant, then I shouldn’t be a writer.” “I read one of your articles a few months ago.” He caught her off guard. The evidence was in her swallow, and the flutter of her long eyelashes. “You did?” “Why are you surprised? Your articles are insightful, entertaining,” he said. She shrugged again, looking bashful. “Thank you.” “You don’t take compliments well, do you?” “No, I don’t.” “We’ll have to change that.” He drove onto State Street, suddenly aware that she would be exiting his car soon. Driving up to her building, he admired the wrought iron decorations on the tall gate. “Nice.” A four-floor walkup, realtors would call it a basic apartment. Fleur-de-lis in bas-relief crowned each window and plants boxes adorned the fire escapes. It was a charming building. “I wish it was mine, but my one-bedroom apartment for rent will do.” ”When did you lease your apartment?” “Three years ago, when it was cheap.” “You’ve done well for yourself.” “So have you,” she said. “Survival.” 24


Raphael walked her to the door of her apartment building. He leaned closer to her. His lips inches from hers. The heady floral scent of lavender lured him. He shouldn’t be doing this. Time stood still as he gazed into her eyes. Her warmth was inviting him to touch and explore. Before he could kiss her, she averted her eyes, turned her head. He was happy someone had enough brains to stop. Some indefinable force made him continue, despite her pulling away. Swiftly, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “I will call you.” “I know. The huskiness in her voice wasn’t lost on him. “You’ve always kept your word with me.” Promising to bring candy or a comic book was different from promising to make love to your best friend. He hoped he would keep his promise.

25


Chapter Three

T

he ride back to the club had been troubling for him. How can you sort through feelings that have been buried for years? His feelings were irrelevant. Joy needed his help, but at what cost? He walked into the secret side entrance used only by him and his employees. The roar of the crowd, the pulse of the bass and the music was deafening. It was momentary. Nothing could distract him from his thoughts about Joy. Absolutely nothing! He made his way to his office bathroom. He dried his face and picked up his clothing that hung on two hangers behind the bathroom door and got dressed. Minutes later, he came out of his office dressed in a long black leather coat, white poet shirt underneath with a cravat around the collar, black leather pants and boots. He dressed the part every night of the master and commander of the club. He felt a prickly awareness on the right side of his brain, not unlike a tickle, and turned around. “I’m all right, Thalia.” “You seemed lost in thought.” 26


“You don’t have to worry about me.” “I—“ Before she could finish her sentence he was gone, making his way to the go-go cages. It was near opening time, and Raphael was late doing his usual checking of the cages and the restocking of the bar. He checked the chains that held the cages up above the floor. It was intact and far from breaking, he surmised. He didn’t want to talk to Thalia. She displayed more concern for him than his own mother ever had. He didn’t know what to make of it or how to respond. Again, he felt awareness. It was different from when felt Thalia’s presence. This frequency was faint. Instantaneously he knew who was behind him. “Red.” “Hey, Boss.” “You look excited tonight. What’s going on?” Raphael liked Red. Red understood him. Gave him space and never crowded him with concern. Raphael could not suppress a smile. With all Red’s imposing six-foot-seven height and large trunk, he was a pussycat. Even in his long sleeveless black leather duster and leather pants underneath, Red was a gentle bear. He had been having a liaison with a patron, a Mrs. Kitty, for three months now. Raphael looked down on the staff fraternizing with the patrons, but often let it slide. Besides, from the way Red looked and smelled, love and pheromones were in the air more than usual. “I’m going to ask Ms. Kitty to be my girlfriend.” “Going steady?” 27


Red unzipped his black, leather hood-mask. “I’m not going to keep licking her boots forever.” “I would. I’ve seen your Ms. Kitty. She could break a man’s back.” “She broke mine…twice.” That was more than he wanted to know. “Too much information, Big Red.” The big burly man’s head went back in a roar of laughter. “Hey, Raphael, what about you?” “What about me?” “When will you settle down?” Settle down? Before he could stop himself, images of Joy flashed before his eyes. “I hadn’t thought about it.” “Come on, Boss. Even playboys need to slow down.” “Not this one.” “If you found the right one would you give up your harem?” He plowed his hands through his hair, pushing Joy out of his head. “What harem? Why does everyone think I have a harem? I date, that’s all.” “It’s your definition of dating that’s gives one pause, my friend. My johnson would have fallen off by now if I kept up your sexual exploits.” Raphael’s eyes sparkled with mischief and a wicked smile brightened his face. “I could help you get rid of your human frailties, Red.” A huge hand cut the air “No, thanks! I hate needles.” “Fangs aren’t needles, per se,” Raphael said. 28


“Close enough. Does it hurt?” Raphael smiled at him, flashing his fangs. Blood talk always aroused him. “Momentarily. Are you considering it?” “No.” That’s too bad. He would make an imposing vampire. “Come on, Red, let’s admit our sexy, dangerous crowd.” **** Hours later, Raphael inspected the goings-on in the basement, lovingly referred to as the dungeon. Private rooms with soundproof walls lined both sides of the dungeon. Heat flowed in through disguised vents in the walls for maximum comfort during the fall and winter months. Couples and or threesomes were in the rooms slapping, hitting, licking and doing all kinds of bondage behavior. It was a good night so far. Raphael even spotted Ms. Kitty and Big Red locked in an intimate embrace. It warmed his heart. At least someone was in love and enjoying it. Then images of Joy all grown up came to mind. That skirt hugged her ample curves. But she was his Joy, his annoying, rambunctious little friend from way back when. Her luscious breasts pushed out the fabric of her crisp white shirt. He shouldn’t have these thoughts about Joy. But they were there like a man ray plodding along in the ocean—quiet but distinct. Raphael walked upstairs to his office and closed 29


the door behind him once he entered. It took guts to ask him to be her sex surrogate. He admired her for it, but it would be a lot to take on. He knew her so well. It would be awkward for her to be stripped in front of him more so than it would be for him. He was surrounded by half-naked people every night, but to see her naked… It required an enormous amount of trust. He wasn’t sure if he could trust himself. There was so much history between them, and to hear she had been raped… Anger grew to unimaginable heights inside of him. He raised his fist and punched the brick wall with the force of a bulldozer. The dust from the pulverized brick fell to the floor as he pulled his fist out of the wall. That felt good, but it was a temporary balm. He would have to call someone to patch up the hole. Who raped Joy? And why wouldn’t she tell him? He hated mysteries, and knew he wouldn’t rest until he found the animal and killed him. “Raphael?” Thalia’s voice cut through his anger, bringing him back to awareness. “Thalia.” “I knocked three times.” “Sorry, I was lost in thought.” “You don’t have to apologize. I know your brooding moods by now.” He followed her eyes to the hole in the wall. Gratefully, she chose to ignore it. “Uhm, Mike needs help bringing the extra case of merlot up. I don’t want to be nosy, but are you all right?” 30


Or not ignore it. She had this need to be nosy about his life. He shared in his own time. This was a good time, he hoped. “I have a lot on my mind.” He stood up from his desk. Thalia shook her head and pulled the door in. “Thalia!” She swung open the door at the sound of her name and poked her head through. “Would you help a friend do something unusual to get them on their feet again?” She crossed her arms. He knew what was coming. “The great Raphael is asking little ole me for advice?” He had never asked for advice from anyone before, and if they tried to give it, he would shut them down. He never denied being a prick. “Little ole lowly me?” Raphael’s left brow domed. He crossed his arms now. “Maybe I shouldn’t have?” “All right, all right. Is it a good friend?” “Almost family.” She uncrossed her arms and cocked her head to one side. “The young woman who came to see you earlier?” “That’s her,” he said as he leafed through a phonebook. “She’s attractive in a ‘pent up’ kind of way. If she needs your help, and she is a good friend, almost family, then I would help her any way I could.” “Even if it is…unorthodox?” “Unorthodox? What’s unorthodox? I’m wearing a 31


black, leather, string bikini and thigh high pirate boots. You’re all about wearing eighteenth century clothing, with a red vinyl thong plastered over your leather pants. We look as if we’re about to have kinky sex.” He considered Thalia’s black dental floss bikini straining to hold up her buxom bosom; her skull and bones tattoo peeking out over the band of her leather briefs and her thigh high, high-heeled pirate boots. He wore a cravat around his neck. All of this was normal for him, but from an outsider’s standpoint, it would look like… “Point taken.”

32


Chapter Four checked the clock on her desk. It was two in the Joy afternoon. Bottled-up pressure dissipated once she

clicked the print toggle switch on her computer desktop. “Finally finished it.” The printer below her desk shimmied as it printed the selected page. Once the printing was complete, she pulled the printed copy off the tray and read it twice. It looked clean and fresh and clear of passive sentences. Her assignment was ready to be emailed to the editor of the New York Pace magazine. Joy yawned and stretched her body. Being freelance had its advantages. She didn’t have to work at a desk in a cold office building for eight hours a day. And she didn’t have to answer to a stuffy, crabby boss. She loved working at home. Loved it, loved it! Then she caught her breath. What Raphael was thinking? What will happen if he turns her down? She shook her head, stood up from her desk and walked to the mirror. After peeling off her clothes, she looked in the mirror. She had a curvy figure, she guessed. By her 33


standards, she had a pretty face. The mole over the right side of her lip made her an instant eye-catcher. Her breasts weren’t full, but perky. Her stomach, smooth with a few developed abs here and there. Her behind was toned, but reaching ‘big butt mama’ status. So being a writer doesn’t benefit your butt too much, but it paid her bills. Overall, she was shapely and toned from all the biking around town. Her choice of clothing? She shrugged at the closed door of her closet. Okay, so she was into casual. Jeans and fashion sweats are her uniform. Business clothing was necessary for her visits to the editor at the magazine. Her smarts would last longer than her looks ever will. Her looks never gave her anything except pain. She made an unintelligible sound and put on her Tshirt and bike shorts. What kind of woman would ask a man to sleep with her? He looked too good, smelled too good and he was crazy built. He hadn’t changed much since the last time she saw him. Why hadn’t she noticed him all those years ago? She wasn’t blind to his obvious good looks and easy manner. They used to play poker into the early morning hours. Catching fireflies in her parent’s backyard had become a past time for them during the summer months. He had the same look in his eyes that said come closer at your own risk. His steel gray eyes still scrutinized every part of you without apology. He had that disarming way of moving without making a sound. It used to unsettle her when she was younger. 34


Now it fascinated her. But she didn’t contact him to relive the good old days. She needed his help. Now all she had to do was wait for his decision and that was the hardest thing to do. **** Raphael sat on the balcony of his home, legs crossed and breathing deep. The sun began its rapid descent towards the horizon. He blocked out the noise of taxicabs, ringing cell phones and people talking. He built up a wall to block their thoughts as well. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do to hide his thoughts from his kind. Meditation helped him reduce the need for blood. Now he was down to once a week, Monday being feeding day. In two days, he would gorge himself on his bags of blood from the blood bank. Still, he kept thinking about Joy. He stood up, walked back into the loft and headed for the shower.

35


Chapter Five opened the door to her four-floor walk-up, Joy pushing her bike through the doorway. She made it

back home before it got to late out to bike by herself. She was exhausted, sweaty and smelled gamy. She tossed her helmet on the couch, then pulled off her moist tank top and shorts. Her shower was quick, except for the washing of her hair. That took a little longer. “I need to get this crap cut shorter.” With a towel wrapped around her body, she blew dry her long, thick hair as much as she could. It would have to air dry on its own. Then, as she was putting her hair dryer up the bell rang. She wasn’t in the mood for company. Then she guessed that it was Raphael. No, no, he probably won’t agree to what she wanted. She pulled on her silk Japanese-print robe and padded to the intercom. “Who is it?” “Wrong door, sorry.” She tapped the intercom. “Yah!” Joy stormed back to her bedroom, plopped down 36


on the bed, and grabbed a tube of lotion. She creamed her skin as she fought back the pool of tears in her eyes. She would have to go to a traditional sex therapist after all. It’s not so bad. Just pretend you’ll be standing naked in front of a good friend, a good friend who you will have to pay at the end of each session. The image was as humiliating to think about. It wasn’t prostitution, but... She had suffered enough humiliation in her life. She pulled on her underwear when the bell rang again. She sighed in frustration, padded to the intercom and angrily pressed the talk button. “Who is it?” “It’s me, Joy.” Who? Oh, no. She was in her robe, not in her armor. She pressed the ‘Talk’ button. “Raphael?” “That’s me.” She covered her forehead with her hand. “Can we talk inside your apartment?” She buzzed him in, ran to her bedroom and threw on her robe. She didn’t hear his footsteps but opened the door knowing he was there behind it. “Hi, come in. I’ll be right back.” “I’ll be here.” Yikes! She put on her drawstring yoga pants and long-sleeved T-shirt. It was near dinnertime and she wanted to be comfortable. She hated to put on pants at seven o’clock at night. If he was going to turn her down, she wanted to be comfortable when he did it. Yoga pants would do. She had no idea if he was going to give her good or 37


bad news. But he was there. He was there! She walked into the living room and straight away noticed the mess. Books and magazines lay everywhere. Crumpled-up paper dotted her coffee table. She could detect a crumb of something on the floor. Probably dried-up fried rice. He was there and looking at the trash heap of her living room. The back of her neck heated. “Let me clean this—“ She picked up the magazines off the table first. Some slid out of her arms. Cursing under her breath, she picked them up again. Next came the crumpled-up paper. “Sorry about this. I’m—“ She picked up more crumpled-up paper hiding under the table. “Neat in spurts.” After putting the magazines away and throwing the paper out she sat down next to him, breathless. Then she remembered her manners. “What would you like to drink?” She asked as she rose from the couch. “I have ginger ale, lemonade, water, wine?” She wagged her finger in the air, remembering what he liked to drink. “I’ll get you some wine.” She began to walk away when she felt his hands on her waist, gripping firmly. She held her breath, cringed inwardly. Her waist was sensitive to the touch. His hands were warm, strong. Staring at the clock on the wall, she blew out short puffs of air and tried to relax. “I don’t want anything to drink, Joy. I want to talk, now.” Strong hands and the contact, even through her waffle-textured pants, made her dizzy. One hand 38


covered the crest of her pelvis. She breathed in, then sat down next to him. She waited expectantly for the refusal. She knew it was coming. She couldn’t read his facial expression but knew he was ready to give her the sayonara. She squared her shoulders. “Let’s hear it.” “We need to lay some ground rules on our— partnership.” Her eyes snapped to his in shock. Is he going to help her? “Uhm, partnership? Okay?” Relief spread all the way through her body. The blood rushed back to her head. “We’re not going to have sex right at the beginning.” “We aren’t?” “No, we’re going to do what’s called Sensate Touching. That is taking pleasure in touching without the demand of sex. We’ll take our time with this stage. What happens during sex?” “I freeze up. Sometimes I have pain.” “Vaginismus.” “Right. Sometimes I even blank out.” “Do you have orgasms?” She breathed out, made a face. She crossed her arms. His face softened with...pity? She couldn’t tell. She could usually read him like an open book. Right now, he was a book barely opened at page one. “Not regularly.” “I know this is uncomfortable for you.” “You have to know,” she said. “If you want me to back off, say so.” 39


“You have to know.” “Do you have flashbacks?” “All the time.” Every second of every hour. The trick was how hard she could push the images back in the corner of her mind and keep them there. His face was still impassive. His therapist mask was on. Something she would have to get used to, fast. “And you’ve told your psychotherapist about this?” “I have. That’s why she said seeing a surrogate would be a good idea.” He nodded his head slowly, contemplating her like a scientist would its subject. “She was correct.” She should have known it would be embarrassing. She’s talking about having sex with her friend. Okay, it’s therapy, but it’s still sexual on some levels. “Are there more ground rules?” “I’m dating now. Nothing serious. If you want to date while we have the sessions, that’s fine, too. I’m not into double standards.” “You mean if I want to sleep with someone, I can.” “It won’t be my business if you do.” “You sleep with women—vampiresses you date?” “It’s not serious—” She cut him off, needing to give him a way out. “What if she wants it to be?” His gray eyes became gray slits. She knew from experience that indecisive females made him crazy. Before her rape, she had been indecisive. “Do you want me to help you?” “Are there more rules?” 40


“We should relax and enjoy it. It’s only sex.” She crossed her arms to that. Sex was anything but fun. It was frightening, and didn’t give her that happy afterglow people spoke of. “I want to know more about what we’re going to do.” “Sensate Touching. The first stage is mutual touching: getting to know you, you getting to know me. Your breasts and my penis will be off limits. Plus pleasure points. The second stage— “How many stages are there?” She interrupted him. “Three stages. The second stage we’ll touch and include your breasts and my penis. If at any point you are uncomfortable, let me know by showing me. Otherwise I will assume that you will be okay with what I’m doing.” “Okay and let me guess. The third stage is intercourse.” “Third stage will be containment. I slip my penis inside you and hold still until you adjust…to my size,” he said deliberately. “Once you are comfortable with me inside you, I will thrust gently or hard. You’ll tell me how you want it, and then we have our orgasm. Simple...in explanation, anyway.” “What if I’m unable to do one of the stages?” This conversation was blunt, to say the least. When has anyone ever spoken to her like this about sex? It was a relief to lay it out on the table this way. No loose ends dangling. “Then we’ll go back to the first stage. There is no time issue on this. It’s for you only. Okay?” 41


She cleared her throat. “When do we start?” “Next Saturday evening. Bring an overnight bag for your…whatever women use.” “I’ll be spending the night?” He hunched his shoulders nonchalantly. “If you want. You probably should; it will be late by the time we finish.” “Oh!” “No strings attached, right?” “Right! No strings. Raphael?” “Yes, Joy?” “Thank you.” He reached out and cupped her chin with his fingers. “You’re welcome.” He brought his head close to hers. She felt his breath on her eyelashes. She could almost feel his lips on hers. “I’ll be going now.” He didn’t show his teeth. She would like to have seen his fangs. She needed reminding that he was a vampire. He seemed so unvampire, whatever that was. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” “I don’t eat— She cut him off. “Right, I know.” “It won’t be uncomfortable for you?” “No. It’ll be like old times. We haven’t seen each other in a while. I would like to catch up, considering what we’ll be doing soon.” “I would love to stay.” He took off his jacket and found the closet himself and hung it up. He followed her into the kitchen and washed his hands in the sink. He dried his hands on a paper towel. “So what’s for dinner?” He threw the paper towel away. 42


“Chicken with pasta in pesto sauce.” “I’ll prepare the water for the pasta.” She looked at him curiously. “You know how to cook?” “You learn a few things after five hundred years.” He grabbed a large circular pot fitted with a colander from the cabinet underneath. He filled it with water, adding a dash of olive oil. He seemed to know where everything was. He probably knew where the bedroom was too, Joy thought. Joy unwrapped the chicken cutlets and began cutting them up. “I’ll do that. You’re holding the knife wrong.” He grabbed the handle of the knife and briefly their skin touched. His was warm and soft. Joy eased her hand away from his and stood back. “Sit down. I‘ll cook, since I’m not eating.” “Hey, I won’t argue on that. I could use a break.” He cut the chicken in cubes, poured olive oil in a non-stick skillet, and then after the oil heated, he placed the cubes of chicken in. It took him ten minutes to do that. He was swift. “What have you been up to today?” “I read, typed, biked and now I’m exhausted.” “Exercise is good for you, since you live a sedentary lifestyle.” “My doctor warned me I should, unless I wanted to hear my behind shake when I walk.” She looked at the man whom she didn’t know but knew well and was about to know intimately. And she didn’t know his last name. 43


He chuckled at her remark. His laugh sounded very husky, male. The chicken quietly sizzled in the pan while he washed his hands again in the sink. “How is the freelance writing these days?” “It’s pretty good. I have so much freedom now, but I miss being in an office with other people. It gets lonely sometimes. How about your club?” “My club is fun. My patrons are loyal and considerate. I have a great staff.” “Thalia.” “That’s right, she let you in. Thalia is a good friend. There are more people for you to meet. There’s Big Red.” He sighed miserably. “Alvarez, the D.J.” She smiled at him, knowing that sigh so well. “What’s wrong with Alvarez?” “He wears thongs on stage when scratching vinyl.” “What’s wrong with that?” “His ass is hairy. I don’t want to see his ass,” he said unhappily. Joy covered her mouth laughing. Wiping the tears from her eyes she said, “Why not tell him to wax his behind?” “His hairy ass is a source of amusement for me and my staff.” She looked outside feeling happy relaxed and at peace even with the rain falling at a slant in a steady pace. “Are you Italian?” “Spanish-Italian, actually.” “Interesting. All that intensity,” she teased. “I’m intense?” “Most of the time. That’s what I remember about 44


you.” He turned his back to her. His elbow moved back and forth. Muscles flexed, then relaxed. “I didn’t scare you away?” She crossed her legs on the chair Indian style. “No, I accepted it. You know, I bet you’d make a great writer.” “What makes you say that?” “Your senses are so alive. You don’t miss anything.” “I never thought of it that way.” “Just an observation. How about friends?” “Not many. There’s Thalia and others.” He paused, then continued. “I’m a loner, remember.” “Sorry about that.” “Why? Sometimes it’s good to hear social criticism about yourself. How about you?” His tone held a hint of sadness; didn’t want to talk about himself. It was a closed chapter. “I have a best friend named Cheryl. We’ve been best friends since high school. She moved briefly to St. Louis, and then moved back here five years ago. Thank God.” “I should have been here for you.” “It’s water under the bridge. Really.” “You’re like sisters, now.” Joy shifted in her chair. He read her mind obviously and she wasn’t sure how to take it. He turned off the gas on the stove and read her. “Sometimes I slip when relaxed.” “That’s okay, I guess. You’re relaxed?” 45


“Like old times. You used to beat me at checkers all the time.” She laughed. “You let me beat you at checkers.” Joy took down one plate and took out a bottle of wine and two glasses. “I couldn’t win a game of checkers if you paid me a million dollars.” “I bet that’s changed. You’ve changed.” “How?” “You use to have wild, puffy, coiled hair. Now it’s braided and under control.” “What else?” She could kick herself for that question. Joy watched his eyes move over her. And she couldn’t protect herself from his heated gaze. “You are certainly a woman now… underneath all of those clothes. But I can still see hints of the old Joy in your eyes. I see sadness as well, and an insecurity that should not be there.” “How did you know?” “It’s in your thoughts, your demeanor. The night you came to see me. You stood at the window and hugged yourself as if you needed protection. I felt you jump out of your skin when I touched your waist.” “Rape will do that to you,” she said bitterly. “It does, but we’ll work on that.” He leaned over. She moved back, a reflex action that told her he was right. “I would never hurt you.” He kissed her soundly and firmly on the forehead. Joy’s heart somersaulted. It was a simple, non-threatening kiss and she took 46


comfort in it. “No one understands, not even Cheryl.” “They understand, but feel helpless. It takes time.” **** Later, Raphael came home. He had quietly checked out the club. Everyone was having a good and safe time. The D.J. was dancing with his oversized headphones on his head and his tiny leather brief not covering his hairy ass. It was scary how he was almost hairless except for his...ass. The women from the O Society were there tonight. Thalia and Marcy were in their cages doing the swim. Over the din of the crowd, he could hear the goings on downstairs in the dungeon. Raphael spotted Big Red and Ms. Kitty nibbling each other by the stairwell that led to his private elevator. “Hey, Raphael, where have you been?” He smiled leaning against the wall as he unlocked the elevator. “I had dinner with an old friend.” “Must have been some old friend.” Raphael gave him a confused look. “Your smile is bigger than the budget deficit.” “You two need a hotel room. Good night,” he retorted as he stepped onto the elevator. Raphael walked up the stairs and unlocked the private elevator and rode the three floors to his loft apartment. He walked in and collapsed on the couch. He turned and fingered the orchids sitting on the table. Raphael’s expression stilled and grew serious. 47


He felt great, and it scared him.

48


Chapter Six was four in the afternoon, and Joy had been Itfeverishly packing her overnight bag. Four times

that is. She had no idea what to pack. She threw in what she would normally take when going to Cheryl’s place: toothbrush, traveling size soap, lotion, hairspray for her braids, deodorant and change of underwear. She guessed that was all she needed. She pulled the zipper when the doorbell rang. She carried the bag with her to the door and pressed the talk button on the intercom. “Who is it?” “It’s Jesse.” She shook her head. Man! She wasn’t in the mood to see Jesse, but he needed to get his stuff out of her apartment, now. She had already packed his things in a box so he could come here get it without any sorting. She didn’t want any more reminders of her failure. Joy pressed the buzzer and opened the door slightly. She continued to get ready for her session with Raphael when Jesse walked through the door. “You’ll find your stuff in a box waiting for you.” 49


“Thanks. Where are you off to? Cheryl’s?” “Yes, I’m going to Cheryl’s,” she said, too quickly. “Girls’ weekend.” He seemed satisfied with that and walked into Joy’s bedroom. Joy walked into her kitchen and checked the stove. She turned the knobs all the way to off. She rechecked the knobs again. She locked the kitchen window and pulled down the shade. Jesse’s footsteps intruded in her safety check. “I’m leaving now.” She pretended to get something out of the refrigerator. “Take care, Jesse.” “Joy?” Joy reluctantly closed the door refrigerator door. “Yes, Jesse.” “Why? What was the problem with you and me?” “Childhood angst? Impatience? I don’t know.” She didn’t want to tell him now. She would have told him months ago if she hadn’t found lipstick on his collar. A shade of red that she didn’t own. She hardly wore lipstick. “You mean I was impatient?” “It doesn’t matter now. You have Graciela.” “What about you?” “I don’t have anyone, Jesse. I didn’t think that far ahead.” Joy knew that hurt. He could afford some pain. He got off easy as far as she was concerned. He shook his head no doubt in shame. “See you, Joy.” “Bye, Jesse.” She listened for the door to close and 50


leaned over the kitchen counter. She felt her limbs quaking. She was shaking. To calm herself, Joy took a deep breath. “Your rose petals you asked for were just delivered.” She saw the windows and stopped short of the elevator entrance. “Raphael, the windows, please.” Raphael felt a tingling in his brain as he commanded his mental energy to pull the black shades down. With the fading sunlight blocked now by the shades, Thalia walked into the loft with confidence. “Thank you, Thalia.” She handed him three bags of loose red and white rose petals. Raphael began dispersing them on his bed. Raphael watched her curious expression. “Looks like a romantic interlude you’re preparing for, Ralph,” she teased. He grimaced when she shortened his name. ‘Ralph’ sounded like a toilet device. “It does, doesn’t it?” “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” “No, I’m not.” She tucked a waft of hair behind her ear. “I could read your mind,” she sang. “I can’t stop you from doing that, but I know you’ll be discreet,” he sang back. “Oh, no, I would never blab, Raphael.” He felt a gentle sweep of his mind and knew she was culling images of him and Joy talking in his loft. Then her expression changed from that of a child getting her favorite toy to guilt then understanding. 51


“Let’s get the candles lit.” She found matches in the kitchen island drawer and began lighting the candles one by one. While she did that, Raphael made sure everything was in place for Joy’s arrival. He wanted her sessions to be special. He walked back into the living room. Thalia was sitting on the arm of the couch. “You really like her? Does this mean you’re going to ditch your harem?” “For Pete’s sake—” “Well, you have three girlfriends.” “I wouldn’t call them girlfriends, Thalia.” “Okay, your three hoes.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Get it out of your system, Thalia,” he entreated. Joy would be here in an hour and he needed thirty minutes to collect himself, meditate and make sure he had the activities planned to minute detail. Thalia crossed her long, shapely legs. “Do you ever go all out like this for your three…” She cleared her throat. “Hoochies?” He didn’t answer. He didn’t want to answer her. She was getting to close to the bone and he needed to get ready. “I don’t question your love life.” She gasped. “You said love life?” “Relationships.” “I don’t spread myself around like you do. Don’t you think you might feel some lingering effects after you help her?” “We’re going to keep it neutral.” 52


“Yeah, right, neutral, my Puerto Rican ass,” she hollered as she slapped her ass. “I have to get ready, Thalia.” “Are you doing this for the right reasons?” He sighed. “I don’t have ulterior motives where she is concerned. Joy Smith is an old friend. I’ve known her family down the generations.” “Is it guilt?” He wondered that himself. The only answer he could come up with was ‘yes’. He should have stayed and waited for her. “If I hadn’t left, then maybe she wouldn’t have been raped.” She touched his shoulder in a sympathetic way. “You don’t know that, Raphael.” His fist bunched in anger. “I would dearly love to drain the bastard who did it dry, that much I know!” “Do you know who did it?” “She wouldn’t tell me.” “She’s smart. You’d kill him if she had told you.” He noticed the way Thalia eyes squinted as she looked at him. He lowered his thick lashes. “Were you this nosy and annoying when you were human?” She tapped her nose. “Worse I think. But seriously, don’t you think this is going above and beyond the call of duty?” “It’s a nontraditional way of approaching her situation, but I admire her guts for asking me.” He spoke with a tone of awe and respect. “I couldn’t turn her down.” She feigned tiredness. “Well, this has been enlightening, but I must get my two hours of sleep in 53


before tonight.” “You’ll be able to handle the club tonight?” “No problem, Ralph.” She got on the elevator and pressed the down button. Please stop calling me Ralph. Giggles erupted from the descending elevator.

54


Chapter Seven held the brass lion doorknocker in between her Joy fingers. She took a deep breath, said a prayer and

knocked the door three times. Any minute Thalia would open the door, grab her arm and yank her inside like she did last week. She was ready for it. She braced herself for the contact when the door eased open. Joy’s eyes widened when she saw a large barrel chest covered by thin strips of leather. She raised her eyes to a spiked collar, then a head encased in a leather hood with a zipper down the middle. She took a step back. Her mouth moved but no sound came out. Raphael’s club of leather-clad. “You must be Joy?” His voice sounded muffled under the hood. “And you are?” “They call me Big Red, for obvious reasons.” He unzipped his hood and Joy was pleasantly surprised to find an adorable, round face topped with short, curly, red hair underneath. “Raphael is waiting for you.” “I hit traffic on the Manhattan Bridge.” 55


“You drove in?” “No, I biked. I rode my bike in.” The music from the front of the club hit her immediately, along with the bright flashing lights. People walked around wearing leather and lace. She spotted Victorian outfits; long dresses with sweeping gowns and square necklines with bosoms pushed up to Heaven. White curled wigs that reminded her of women from the French court. And then she saw a man wearing nothing but a leather thong and carrying a cat-o-nine tails. It was one wild joint. “Cool. I’ll unlock the elevator for you. Where do you live?’ “Downtown Brooklyn. And you?” “I live in Chelsea. Great area. I’m Raphael’s club manager and accountant extraordinaire. If you need anything, call me. I’ll be in his office crunching numbers.” “Thanks. Nice meeting you, Big—Red.” She waved as the elevator door closed. She sighed. Less than a minute to collect herself. After seeing Big Red, she was off-balance. Not that she was a prude but seeing a tall huge man in a leather mask surrounded by spikes was, well, unsettling. She closed her eyes and prayed that she would accomplish something tonight. The elevator door slowly slid open and Raphael held his hand out to her. “Joy. You look flustered.” “Um, I’m nervous.” “I know. I felt it before you got on the elevator. 56


Besides being nervous about tonight, you ran into Big Red.” “That man looks scary.” “He’s a big teddy bear underneath the leather. I drew a bath for you so you can relax.” “A bath?” Did she smell? Okay, a little sweaty from nervous shaking, but it wasn’t profuse. “I thought you might want to relax after driving in from Brooklyn.” Good. She didn’t smell, and she wanted to relax, but it was difficult. She was about to see her old friend naked. “Come and see. I’ll show you where the bedroom and bathroom are.” “Great.” That was all she could say. She felt as if she was levitating; having an out-of body experience. He took her hand and led her down a long hallway around a short corner to the bedroom. The huge space dressed in deep reds, oak and mahogany. She loved something about hardwood floors. Carpeting had its uses, but hardwood flooring was beautiful. A vase of orchids and greenery hung on the wall. She bet they were real flowers, not silk. His huge bed dressed in white sheets sat high off from the floor. Glass and metal partition separated the bedroom from the bath. It created a modern, yet warm feel. “Wow, stunning bedroom.” “Thank you.” “Did you decorate it yourself?” “I had it copied from my old loft in Paris.” Joy saw the round edge of the tub peeking from 57


behind the frosted glass and metal partition. He led her to the bathroom area beyond the bedroom. The walls covered in blue wallpaper instead of tiles. Her eyes took in the huge, round, white tub filled with red and white rose petals and bubbles. Lining the edge of the tub were white votive candles. Soft and romantic. She sighed. Too much for a therapy session. She didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have to go to so much fuss for her. “Jump in and I’ll wash your back for you.” She began to feel woozy, light-headed. For him to wash her back, he’d see her partially naked. He had above average eyesight; he’d see quite a bit of her. He left the room and with shaky fingers, Joy removed her clothes. After folding her clothes and placing them neatly in her bag, she shuffled through the bag side pocket for her rubber bands. She twisted them around her braids and made a small, neat chignon. She climbed into the tub, leaned back and let the hot water seep into her cold bones. It had been cold and damp. Even in the cab, the air penetrated her skin and bones. Her limbs felt like rubber. Perhaps it was time to start taking the train again. The Transit Authority had made an effort to warm the stations. Warmth from the water seeped into her skin and bones. Her shivering had become intermittent shakes. Joy cupped three dark red rose petals in her hand. Pretty. Running her fingertip along the veined pattern of the petals, she knew that any moment he would enter the bathroom. Any moment, all of her 58


boundaries would fall. Thank God, she was in a tub and they weren’t on the bed, yet. Joy gazed down again at the rose petals. She never treated herself this well. It was special to have someone do this for her. But after this she would have to do it herself, and that was okay. It would be lonely, but that was fine. “Ready?” She gasped at the sound of his voice. Cool air danced across her shoulders and back. The rose petals floated away from her. He was behind her. Silently, she nodded. It was now or never, and now was better. She had asked for his help and he was giving it to her. Water poured onto her shoulders and back. “I could pick you up from your apartment next time.” “I don’t mind taking a cab into the City.” “Have you ever biked into the City? She looked over her shoulder to talk. “After I watched Lance Armstrong win the Tour de France, I thought biking would be a good exercise to do. One day I took the leap, and rode across the Brooklyn Bridge.” Joy washed her arms, then her legs. Raphael rubbed her shoulders with soapy water in circular motions. Her muscles began to relax. “How long did it take to braid your hair?” “It took seven hours.” “I like it.” This must be a part of the sensate touching. Compliments eased her mind about what he was doing. Correction, what they were about to do. This 59


was nothing. This was popcorn before cotton candy, Elvis before Prince. Her stomach contracted into a ball. She needed to get out of the tub and continue. She made waves in the tub as she turned around to face him, keeping her breasts covered. Immediately, she felt ridiculous. If he wanted, he could have looked down anytime. “What happens after my bath?” “I’ll dry you off,” he said with deadpan humor. “I know. I mean— “Do you have lotion?” “I do.” He bent down, blowing out the votive candles facing him. “I’ll moisturize your skin, and then we’ll go to bed. What kind of music do you like?” We’ll go to bed. Sounded sexy. She knew he didn’t mean it to, but it evoked that delicious shiver in her body. It had been a long time since she had that. Even Jesse didn’t create the anticipation that Raphael created in her now. “Jazz, Bossa Nova, Trip Hop.” She watched his face. He frowned then she heard music playing softly from the bedroom area. Vampire magic, she thought. “Trip Hop, huh? What bands?” “Supreme Beings of Leisure, Lamb.” She watched his slow, secret smile as he walked over to the tub, holding open a huge towel. She breathed out and stood up as he covered her with the towel. Water dripped from her body. Her eyes lingered on the window. It was pitch black out, and she could see a couple entwined on their bed. The man’s hips rhythmically circled between the woman’s 60


legs. Joy averted her eyes. Raphael helped her out of the tub, wrapping her with the towel. Joy adjusted the towel around her body. “Moisturizer?” “Check the pocket on the outside.” He unzipped the pocket and took out the lotion. Joy reached out to get it. He pushed her hand away. “Sit on the bed,” he said authoritatively. Her mouth gaped open, then she shut it and sat down. Her body shook, but not from the cold. He was going to touch her everywhere. But what was equally unsettling was his expressionless face. What was he thinking? “From this point forward, no talking. If I touch you in a way that is uncomfortable, let me know, nonverbally. You have to let me know, Joy.” She nodded. “Genitalia are off-limits until we get to that stage. Also, if there is a way you want me to touch you, show me. Don’t tell me! Understood?” She shook her head again. “One more thing, Joy. Do you want me to take off my clothes?”

61


Chapter Eight

D

o you want me to take off my clothes? She didn’t know how to answer that. Would she want to see a gorgeous, naked man in the buff? Sure! In Playgirl magazine. Her mind had to come to grips with the fact that they were going to be naked together. Right now. This instant. She breathed out through puckered lips. “That’s a loaded question.” “I could keep my clothes on.” “Why did you ask?” “You should have a choice as to whether you want to see me naked or not.” “And if I say take your clothes off?” She had to admit, she wanted to see him naked. She was curious enough to tell him to take it all off, but confusion was the last thing she wanted. “Then I take them off. No judgments.” “I’ll judge myself.” “You don’t have to.” “I’m in control?” “You are.” I’m in control. She chanted the words in her head. 62


“And I if don’t give you permission to take your clothes off?” “Then I won’t.” “But it would be better if you do?” “There won’t be any barriers between us if we get used to each other naked now.” He asked her. He didn’t assume he could. The two men she was intimate with had never asked her about anything. Her rapist surely hadn’t. He took what he had wanted, not caring if he hurt her. She squared her shoulders. “You can take your clothes off, Raphael.” He stood off to the side and unlaced his black shirt at the collar, pulled his shirt off. He seemed oblivious to how his broad shoulders moved or how his muscular chest bulged as he undressed. Confidence and a slow striptease was a good mix. He unzipped his black pants, pulled them down around his slender hips. Curly, black hair crested above his waistband. Joy quickly turned her head. Her heart leaped in her chest. No underwear. Going commando. Joy kept her head turned to the left, avoiding looking at him. It didn’t last long, though. Raphael crouched down on one knee in front of her, squeezed out a dollop of lotion and rubbed his hands together. He took one painted foot, rubbed and massaged the toes. He massaged the balls of her feet as he moistened the skin. Joy tried to suppress a smile but couldn’t, especially when he kneaded the instep with his thumb. She curled her toes, and a giggle bubbled up. “Ticklish?” 63


“Ohhh, sorry. You found out my one of my secrets.” He smiled easily. “Don’t apologize.” His hand covered her knee. “That’s the first genuine happy smile I’ve seen from you so far, and it’s pretty.” Unmercifully, he moved up to her legs. His hands massaged her calves. She was ticklish there also, but managed to hold the giggling in. Then his hands traveled to her inner thighs. Giggling became dread as his hands brought out shock waves of sensitivity. She cautioned a look at him. Her eyes looked down at the safe parts of him—his shoulders and thigh. She was astonished at how lame that seemed. Safe? His shoulders were broad and his sculptured thigh was huge. It was now or never. Either look him in the eye or keep staring at his body parts. Her eyes traveled upwards to his cleft chin and his lips with the half-moons anchoring the corners to his gray eyes. Good Lord! His eyes were dark, and smoldered. He stopped massaging her inner thighs. He paused briefly, and then squeezed more lotion in the palm of his hand. Joy took a deep breath and blew it out. Then sucked it in again when she felt his hand move under her towel. It loosened, the tucked-in corners pulling out of its confines. The towel parted, giving him access to her body. He massaged her small waist, moving over her sensitive skin. Every part of her body was now responsive to his touch. His hands lulled her into a relaxed mode again. She felt her womb expand and 64


contract. His hands covered the expanse of her ribs, then, avoiding her breasts, he moved up and over her shoulder blades. Then he stood up and she was faceto-face with his penis. What was once pale with green veins underlying the skin was now swollen, ox-blood hued with thick veins throbbing under the skin and holding steady at ninety degrees. “You’re erect.” “And you’re wet,” he countered. She could feel a cold dampness growing underneath her onto his white sheets. Oh, God, how did he know? With a groan, she pressed her knees together. Her mouth curled in a grimace. “Joy?” His smooth hands touched the sensitive areas of her thighs. She jumped from the sudden meet of skin. Then he cupped her face in his hands. “Hey, receiving pleasure is all right. It’s normal. This is nondemand, remember.” “Touching me is pleasurable for you?” “I like the sensation it evokes.” “How did you know I was wet?” “I saw your muscles contract.” He witnessed many things he wasn’t supposed to. “And no touching genitalia?” “Genitalia aren’t allowed until we get to stage three. Remember, let’s not talk if we can.” Not breaking contact with her, his hands moved to her neck skin as he sat down behind her. His penis nudged her back. She felt the coolness, then warmth from the contact of his smooth hairless thighs against hers. His chest, cool at first against her back, was now 65


warm. He massaged her neck with his deft thumbs using circular motions, pressing in and rubbing alternately. She felt the tension leave her neck. It was a back and forth thing with her muscles. They tensed, they relaxed, and tensed up again. She wanted to remain relaxed for a change. Her partner before Jess used to massage her neck like this. He could never touch her without wanting to be touched in return. He wasn’t the pampering sort of guy. How long ago was that she wondered? Two years after graduating from college. She hadn’t sought therapy then. She had been afraid, too. “Joy, stay in the here and now.” She spoke over her shoulder. “Right, I forgot.” He continued the rubbing down of her neck until her body relaxed. Her eyelids drooped and her limbs were heavy. Vaguely she noticed his fingers pushing their way under her arms. She lifted them up, giving him access. For a second his hands abraded Joy’s breasts and she shivered. It happened so fast. She felt the sudden coolness of air on her skin. Her eyelids fluttered as her towel fell around her hips. He pulled the towel out from under her and let it drop to the floor. Her eyes widened. Then the feel of his arm wrapped around her waist was indescribable. She in his arms—snuggled against him. Instinctively, she touched him—stopping him to give herself a moment to think. She felt tugging at the rubber band that held her braids in a chignon. What is he—“It took me a few 66


minutes to make tha—“ Her braids fell to her shoulders, ending her protest. He pulled off the rubber bands that held her hair braids in a ponytail, letting the braids hang free, dusting her shoulders with ends. Joy tilted her head as his hands threaded through her braided hair. Delicious tingles danced across her scalp. It felt wonderful. She could feel every touch he made on her braids. Surely her limbs were relaxed now. She felt like a big, brown puddle of goo. She remembered her mother used to play with her hair. It was comforting, like it was now. She surrendered to it then like she did now. It felt natural for him to make her to feel good from it, as if he had been doing this for years. She felt him examine each braid. Her scalp prickled from the contact. They were works of art that took many hours to achieve. She knew that for him it was a grand discovery, like finding gold in a bowl of soot. “How did that feel?” He whispered in her ear. Her jaw caught between forming a word and smiling from ear to ear. Her body reveled in the experience of having her hair played with. She nodded. “Would you like to touch me now?” “I—all right.” She cleared her throat. Raphael turned over onto his stomach, rested his head on a pillow and waited. Joy wrapped the thrown-away towel around her body and climbed up onto the bed. And it was a climb. It was a good ten inches off the floor. 67


“Straddle my legs. It’s easier that way.” She listened to what he said, straddled his legs and began touching him. He was all muscle, even relaxed. She ran her hands through his hair. The hair was jet black, almost the color of ink except for a few dark brown strands. It was short, thick, layered on top. It had a slight wave to it. She felt for his scalp and rubbed in circular fashion as he had on her. Raphael turned his head. His facial skin felt as smooth and hard as marble. His skin was an even paleness, with veins easily seen under the thin layers. He had high cheekbones. She couldn’t help but admire his eyelashes. They were pitch black and as thick as fur. He was so still. She wondered if he objected to the way she touched him. No, he was enjoying it, or at least found it acceptable. She stared at his back, not knowing where to begin. Joy moved down his legs, straddling him behind his knees, now. She ran her hands down the smooth, muscular v of his back to his tapered waist, then to the top of his hips. He flinched. She ran her fingers over the underside of his hips. They were firm, too, not too big and not too small, but tight and firm. She moved his hands to the backs of his thighs. Then out of nowhere, he turned her over onto her back. His knees were between her legs now. Her head, she realized, was cradled in his hands. **** 68


Raphael found her touch amazingly good, and lying without doing anything about it was torture. His cock had poked the mattress. It now poked her hairy mound. His brain was firing commands he begged not to answer. His skin’s heightened sensitivity made moments this excruciating. He felt every line in the palms of her hands as they glided over his skin. The skin where she straddled him tingled. When she touched his cheek and massaged his scalp, he had to suppress a moan. He wanted to curl into her. He had to forge on and bear the torture a while longer. He couldn’t lose control of himself, not now. She needed him. Staring at her didn’t help him one bit. Even under her dark caramel skin, he could see the red in her cheeks. He could hear her blood quickening through her veins. He made a motion with his hands. She hesitated, looking grim and unsure, then took the plunge and straddled him. She was inches away from his rigid penis. Her braids fell forward and she fought to move them away. She wasn’t terribly successful. Every time she lifted her arms, her towel threatened to fall down. He smiled at her, and then moved all of her braids to one shoulder. It was a simple gesture, but somehow it became sexual. Was she feeling the same urges? Did she feel electricity where their skin touched? She was too levelheaded and intent on her goal. All of him was 69


sensitized, ready to engage, yet he could still maintain some control. Sometimes. He stared at her braided hair now resting on one shoulder. Three braids led his eyes to the edge of her towel. A dusky brown, raised nipple peeked over the edge of it. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. She looked innocent and sexy at the same time. He needed a distraction, fast before he did something he would regret. He raised his eyes to the ceiling. His brows knitted together in a frown. “Raphael?” He placed two fingers on her lips. “Don’t talk.” Soft lips. Like petals. His fingers lingered for a moment too long. He didn’t want to remove them. He traced the natural divide between the top and bottom lips. He caressed the fullness of her bottom lip. His penis raged. His hands cupped her face. He traced the soft curve of her cheekbones. He tapped her pointy chin lightly. One palm smoothed her furrowed forehead. Lazily, his hands slid from her forehead to her neck. He felt her beating pulse there. It was strong and healthy. It signaled him to partake of her blood. The roar of her blood continued to tease him. Her heart beat strident in his ears. His gums began to itch. He felt his fangs growing. He was painfully erect and nudging her. He needed, no, he wanted blood. Joy’s blood. He stilled her hands. “We’re done now,” he said gruffly. 70


“We are?” “I’ll be right back,” he said as he rose. He wanted to avoid any undue contact with her, but when he sat up and she shimmied off him trying to keep her modesty intact, her inner thigh touched his cock. Her towel fell away, giving him an unobstructed view. Both of them stopped moving, but Joy lost her balance. Raphael caught her by the shoulders. The tip of her right nipple hovered over his lips, tormenting him. A lick of his tongue would send him over the edge. One bite of her nipple. To feel her hot blood gush inside his mouth. He was feeling the urge and so was she. Her face set and determined not to give into her need. She cleared her throat. “I’ll get up first.” Joy said. He watched as her stomach muscles compressed and twisted. What else could he do but look? She sat on the bed, allowing Raphael to get up. He padded out of the bedroom, down the hallway into the kitchen. In a frenzy, he opened a bag of blood and downed the elixir in four gulps. Instantly, the hunger left his body and the blood he consumed energized his cells and quieted the beast within. It wasn’t the ending to their session he had hoped for.

71


Chapter Nine

T

he next day found Joy and Cheryl at one of their favorite eatery for lunch. It was still warm for the fall, and the trees were giving up their colorful leaves. It was a peaceful day, but for Joy it was anything but. Her view of her world shifted. Everything in her sight took on a new sheen. Her hamburger even looked special. “So tell me what happened?” Cheryl demanded. She said as she placed her tray down on the table. “You know that’s why I’m here.” “You’re only here to find about my sessions with Raphael? Damn, girl.” “If you aren’t going to tell me let me know, so I can go back to the office and stare at those building drawings.” Cheryl stirred her buffalo wing in a cup of sour cream. Joy shook her head at Cheryl, seeing through her words. “Well, then, I will launch into my story—oh, long-suffering Cheryl. I went over to his place last night. He gave me a rose petal bath, and then we caressed each other.” 72


“That’s it? “That’s it!” That’s all she wanted to disclose. Any more information would have Cheryl sending out wedding invitations. Joy couldn’t blame her. Cheryl was happily married, and wanted Joy to be also, but marriage wasn’t in the cards for her. She could barely have sex, never mind commit herself to anyone. “A rose petal bath, huh?” “It was sweet, Cheryl. He went to all of that trouble to make sure I felt comfortable. Do you know that has never happened to me before?” “Did he get naked?” “He did, and that’s all I’m saying.” “What? No, girl. You need to divulge.” “This is serious, Cheryl. He’s helping me, not getting his rocks off.” Cheryl shook her head, ruefully. Relieved, Joy picked up her burger, took a bite. “How did he look naked?” Joy dropped her burger and shook her head. “That good?” “He looked great. Okay?” “He’s sweet on you.” She wanted this to be platonic. It had to be to work. “No, he isn’t. I’m just an old friend he’s helping out. Like when I bought nipple pads for you when you were nursing. Once I pass the last two hurdles, we can get on with our separate lives.” “Is he seeing someone?” “He said he is.” “If it was serious, he wouldn’t jeopardize his 73


relationship by helping you.” “That’s what he said, more or less.” Cheryl hunched her shoulders and gave joy an impish look. Joy braced herself. “Joy and Raphael sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Joy with a baby carriage.” “Having fun? When I do find someone, you can sing that nursery rhyme to me.” When she finds someone? Somehow that felt strange to think about. “I think he likes you and you like him and neither of you want to admit it.” Joy rubbed her forehead as if she could rub away the turbulent thoughts going through her head now. “We’re friends, Cheryl,” she said exasperated. “You know what I mean,” she sang. “It’s strictly plat-on-ic,” Joy said, drawing a horizontal line in the air. “Keep telling yourself that. Anyway, the important question is, is it helping?” “I was brave enough to—okay, I was brave enough to let him touch me. That’s a good sign. I think the next session will be easier.” “Next session?” Cheryl looked down at Joy over her shades, one eyebrow arched. “What happens the next session?” Joy was about to answer her when she glanced at her watch. “Shoot! I have to go meet my editor.” “I’ll call you tonight.” “Yeah, right! Don’t forget to call me.” She hurriedly wiped her mouth, kissed Cheryl on 74


the cheek, and hailed a cab. Twenty minutes later, she arrived at New York Pace Magazine offices. **** Later that day, Joy found herself in her neighborhood coffee shop. She had just sat down at a table in the back with a humongous slice of thick apple-pie and a heaping cup of flavored coffee. She took a loud sip of coffee and waited for her pie to cool off a bit. She took out her assignment from her editor: search out, out of the ordinary nightlife of New York City. And Raphael’s club would be the natural first start. She cut a piece of pie with her fork, raised it to her lips when someone cleared their throat. She turned around. “Excuse me. May I use your sugar?” “Sure.” She handed him the tall bottle of sugar. “Here you are.” “Are you that writer from New York Pace magazine? Joanne Smith? The famed writer of New York Pace?” “I wouldn’t go that far. You read NYP?” “I’m a frequent reader. I have a subscription to it. May I have your autograph?” “Uhm, sure.” She took out a pen from her knapsack. He flipped the pages of the magazine and found her article. He handed it to her and she wrote her name. It was a strange to have someone ask for your 75


autograph. Famed writer. That felt good to hear. Her love life was a mess, but she could write like a maniac, apparently. And her admirer was goodlooking. Short blonde hair, blue eyes and nice height. Raphael might approve. Then she felt a pang of guilt. After what she and Raphael shared, should she be salivating over a stranger now? It’s a platonic arrangement. A friend helping out a friend in need. Joy handed him his magazine back. “Thank you for reading New York Pace.” “Thank you.” **** Raphael sat straddling his chair at one end of the table in the club. His office seemed too stuffy to him this evening. Big Red a.k.a. John sat with him at the table shuffling papers and punching the calculator buttons. It was nearing the end of October and the delving into the club’s expenses of the month, but Raphael was hard-pressed to find any satisfaction out of getting this tedious work done. Not even hearing Big Red’s ideas for the Halloween Party thrilled him. “Raphael, what do you think?” “Good idea.” “I thought we could have a penis and vagina parade and invite the mayor.” “Whatever.” “Here’s an idea. Why don’t we have a penis measurement contest? Whoever has the longest penis wins a month of beer on the house?” 76


His head shot up. “Penis and vagina parade?” “That was two minutes ago. What is with you this evening?” “I’m not into it tonight, John.” “No kidding. Is it because of your friend?” “No.” he pretended be absorbed into the paperwork, but hearing the reference to Joy did him in. He couldn’t think. He needed physical work. A good meal and fast fuck would help him. “You’re awful at lying. What happened?” “Nothing happened. And not all vampires lie.” “Yeah, right,” Thalia chimed as she sauntered over to the table. “Not now, Thalia.” “I showed him my off-the-top nipple clamp dance and he completely ignored me.” She snatched her robe open, revealing her clamped nipples, peek-a-boo leather thong and thigh-high boots. Thalia’s outrageousness was legendary, but tonight he wasn’t delighting in her put-ons. He passed a hand over his brow, weary from all the emotions warring inside him. John, however, was about to drool. His whole face became a telling shade of red. “You can’t ignore that, Raphael. ‘Fess up.” “Client confidentiality.” “Give us a clue.” Thalia said as she put her leatherclad foot on the chair. “We’re dying to know.” “Things got personal two nights ago. That’s it.” Personal? He almost fucked his best friend. That was more than personal. That was wanting more than he 77


could ever give. “How personal?” “Too personal for me to say more than that.” He felt Thalia’s probing eyes on him and he locked eyes with her challenging her. She backed off. That was good. “Come on. You two always do that,” Big Red said. “Our fearless leader—“ “Please with that ‘fearless leader’ shit.” She crossed her arms and that wasn’t good. Thalia wasn’t going to leave him alone. “Anyway, he’s in too deep. Isn’t that right, Raphael?” “I thought you don’t do humans?” “I don’t, Red.” “So?” Raphael flipped his pen upside down on the table. “So I have to get through the therapy sessions and send her on her way, cured, of course.” “But what about you?” “What about me, Thalia? I’ll go on with my harem, as you like to call it.” His harem consisted of only two vampires, Lydia and Zara. Zara had left, as all vampires do eventually. Lydia was his fuck buddy. Nothing personal with her, just sex. “That’s it? Just go on with life as usual?” “That’s the plan.” “Someone is having a big ole pipe dream,” Thalia said. “Don’t you have to practice that new dance routine of yours?” Thalia sighed. “Fine. I‘ve had enough of your 78


withering stares for one evening.” “Where is Pam?” “She’s backstage on the phone.” “Go get her,” he demanded. She saluted him. “As you wish, fearless leader.” Raphael shook his head, calming his anger. She knew him too well and knew what buttons to push. Even during the Depression—and those were desperate times—she tried to keep him straight and narrow. Calling attention to his bad habits and never letting him get away with anything. Now it felt like prying and he didn’t want to lose her friendship but he would be damned if anyone gossiped about Joy. “Thalia cares about you.” “Thalia is annoying and nosy.” “She doesn’t want you to be alone.” “I’m never alone,” he said. “I have my club, the patrons, you two and my harem. How am I alone?” “So what made you leave the States nine years ago?” Right now at this moment, he couldn’t or wouldn’t answer John. The reason buried deep inside him. It was hidden so well that he couldn’t begin to dig it out. Was it guilt? Was it because his feelings became more than platonic? What was it? The only thing he was sure of was the need to fuck. “Open up for me.” “Where are you going?” “I have things to take care of.” **** 79


Raphael slowly walked to the elevator. The elevator door slid open to reveal Lydia in her usual prowling garb. She led a dual life of a corporate businesswoman by day, vampiric clubgoer by night. Her hair was swept off her forehead, revealing her pale skin and bright blue eyes ringed in black makeup. Her long sharp nails painted red grabbed his crotch in a possessive manner. He looked down at her breasts, squeezed up by her black leather corset. He was getting hard, but it was different. He was different, and straight off regretted calling Lydia. “Why don’t we sit at the bar?” “The bar? We usually head for your bedroom. Oh, shit! She got to you, didn’t she?” Her eyes, now ice blue, blazed with anger. “No one got to me.” He was lying to himself, to Lydia. Joy got to him in ways he didn’t want to examine yet. “I knew something was up when she called that day. How did she pull it off?” “Nothing is up, except my cock.” Finally, it was up, but he wasn’t excited. He just wanted to get off— anything to get Joy off his mind. Lydia was on the verge of pouting. He told her from the beginning, no strings. That’s the way he wanted it. He couldn’t handle anything more than that. It hurt too much. “No, something is off. What happened? Why can’t we head for your bed like we used to?” “Why so many questions? All right, lift your skirt 80


and let’s fuck!” “Wait a minute! Are you bored with me?” That was it. That was exactly it. He was bored with the fuck, suck and dash. He wanted more than that, but not from Lydia. He wanted to move on. “I’m your consolation prize? Call me when you decide what you want.” “I won’t call.” He had to admit Lydia had some smarts. She knew a sinking ship when she fucked one. She didn’t want to be his number-one fuckbuddy, but the pleasure in that left him somewhere between wanting to help Joy.

81


Chapter Ten

S

aturday night came quickly, and Joy was once again nude. This time she was on Raphael’s bed, not the guest bed, with the comforter wrapped around her under her arms. “You did well last week.” “I felt like I had.” Joy kept her eyes on Raphael, cautiously ignoring his nudity. “Would you feel comfortable progressing further?” “How?” “We can include your breasts tonight.” Joy’s eyelids fluttered. “My breasts?” Her voice seemed to echo throughout the room and reverberate loudly in her ear. “Yes.” If you want to get better and be comfortable with yourself do it, her mind told her. What would be the alternative: staying untouched from here on in. Never knowing the joy and pleasure of sex? Anxiety turned itself into knots inside her chest. It seemed as if she would always be afraid of touching or being touched. Always second-guessing it. 82


“You’re uncomfortable with the idea.” “I’m not.” He leaned against the dresser, patiently waiting, it seemed. “This is where my problem starts. I want to do it, but it’s like fear has a vice grip on my mind and hands, and every other body part I have,” she said. “Tell me why.” His soothing, compelling voice wouldn’t let her keep silent. As if he was drawing the pain out of her. And before she knew it, she was talking. “My rapist… The rapist made fun of my breasts. He called them—” Sobs began to wrack her body. “He made feel ashamed for being a sixteen-year-old girl. He called me a slut for having more than average breasts.” “Joy.” With an anguished cry, he went to her immediately and held her in his arms. He rocked her back and forth. Joy continued to cry. Tears ran down her face onto his shoulder. Joy was grateful that he didn’t try to give her words of encouragement or banal compliments. He let her cry, because that was what she needed. After a few more minutes, she pulled away from him and wiped her eyes. “I want to continue.” “We can go back to the first lesson—“ “No! I want to continue.” She hated her tears. She hated being weak, and she wasn’t going to give up now. “He took enough from me already.” Without delay, he touched her face gently, wiping the last of her tears away. She could feel his breath on her nose and eyelids. Her sobs began ebb. It was 83


curious thing the ability to feel so many emotions at once; the sadness, shame and then desire for a man she shouldn’t desire at all. But it was there, like a nagging wife. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them. Her sobs left her body. Joy reached for his hand and placed it on her braided hair. He threaded his hands through the tendrils. They parted like curtains of microscopic macramé between his hands. It was soothing when he did this, and it made her feel special last week. And feeling special was not an everyday emotion for her. Feeling languid now, she placed her head on his shoulders and closed her eyes. She felt his hands discover new places on her body. He caressed her back, making her even more lethargic. A lazy smile lifted the corners of her mouth. His hands stroked the outsides of her breasts. Tingles of sensation awakened her. He placed his hands squarely on her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t anxious or fearful. She was enjoying it. It gave her pleasure. She felt her nipples swell simultaneously. Still, he didn’t move his hands. Then his thumbs rhythmically slid across her nubs. Lightening bolts of sensation soared through her from her hardened nipples. Her heart raced. What did she want now? She wanted a lot. She wanted what she couldn’t have. But there was some satisfaction she could get from this. She raised her hands to his face, lightly touching his sharp cheekbones and eyes that resembled stretched teardrops. She liked his eyes. They were 84


irresistible. His eyebrows were thick and dark; they made his gray eyes stand out. His nose wasn’t aquiline, but broad and small. His lips were full and stretched with exaggerated curls. He had an instant pucker. Very kissable, she decided. She played with the cleft in his chin. Joy laughed. Her hands traveled to his neck. It was strong— corded. Joy felt his hands travel down to her waist, then fan out to her hips. His hand left a trail of liquid fire on her hips, and then before she knew it, her legs were up in the air. He looked down at her as if he was deciding what to do. She could feel his sharp fingernails digging into her skin. He wasn’t cutting her, but she knew he was contemplating something or…fighting something. Joy had images of him parting her legs and diving into her. But that would never happen. Instead, he bent her legs so that her feet rested on the mattress. He touched that sensitive area where her hips and thighs met. She flinched. Then she felt nothing but cold air on her legs. She looked over to find him in his bureau. He took out a red feather and turned around, with a wicked gleam lighting his gray eyes. With his feather, he caressed one nipple. She jerked her hips as she felt her nipple harden. He moved to the second nipple, waving the tip of the feather back and forth across her swollen nipple until she cried out. He continued to touch her everywhere, then he turned her over gently onto her stomach. She was totally vulnerable to him. His heavy muscular legs straddled her. His gigantic erection 85


prodded the crevice between her cheeks. His warmth crept into her now. How erotic. All he had to do was lift her hips and enter her. She couldn’t see what he was going to do, only feel. He ran the feather down her arms, tickling her elbows. The feather traveled up and across her shoulder blades. He moved her hair up and spent time on the nape of her neck. His breath tickled the tiny hairs on the back of her neck making them stand on end. She couldn’t tell. He was close, in prime position to bite her. She wasn’t frightened. She trusted him to not bite her, and if he did, it was because he lost control. What would that mean? Warmth invaded her facial cheeks and the everpresent wetness continued to grow, dripping on to the comforter beneath her. The earlier question on her mind, she happily forgot for now. Then she felt the tip of the feather slide across the rounded bend of her butt cheeks. She jerked again, pushing her hips into the bed. She made a sound between gasping and laughing. For twelve seconds, she counted, she felt nothing, and then from the opposite direction he caressed her behind again this time making a wavy line across. “Oh,” she moaned. Her arousal was at an all time high now. She wanted to take it further. She wanted him to enter, and she was afraid he didn’t she would slap him, straddle him and mount him. Joy grabbed the comforter she lay on, bunching it up in her fists, easing her arousal down. It was hard to do when he kept touching her. More of the bunching of the 86


comforter continued until she was exhausted. Her body felt as if she had had marathon sex, but she felt cheated. Later, they lay on the bed side-by-side, each comfortable in their own silence. Joy stared at the darkened ceiling. Her eyes could barely make out the water stain. More importantly, how could she make a graceful exit? She was never one to linger after sex. She had never felt the right to lounge and be peaceful with a man. She turned to him sitting up simultaneously. “It’s late. I should go.” “Stay, please. That is, if you have nothing planned?” She didn’t answer him for a moment, then, “I don’t have anything planned.” He turned to her; concern and something else shone in his eyes. “Besides, it’s late. You shouldn’t travel this late back to Brooklyn,” he said intently. “Okay,” she barely whispered. “Wait, this was a therapy...” “I will feel better if you stayed here tonight.” “Okay, I’ll stay.” “Good. Great.” They lay there silently, then somehow their fingers touched. She held his palm. He laced her fingers with his and held tight. **** Raphael lay in the dark for hours, listening to Joy’s soft breathing. She had a breakthrough tonight. She 87


touched him without his prompting her. She laughed…at him, her laughter like a waterfall of crystal. It was silly and pretty. He almost bit her after laying her on her back. His only distraction was getting the feather. He needed that break of contact. It saved them both. Raphael stared at the feather sitting on the nightstand. These weren’t the feelings he should have for Joy. He was helping her out not priming her for a blood and lustfest; nevertheless, they were there, and getting stronger and stronger with each session. He certainly didn’t feel this way for his harem. Lydia didn’t inspire this caring and…other emotions in him. They inspired his penis, that was it. Recreational sex. Raphael bounded out of bed and padded to the entertainment room. He flipped a switch and a flat screen came down. A picture came on. He switched the one thousand channels and found nothing to watch except When Harry Met Sally… He turned to the movie just in time to watch Meg Ryan moan and lean her head back in a mock orgasm in Katz Deli. “Wonderful.” He shook his head, realizing the irony. “Oh, man. What am I going to do?” After the movie he wandered back into bedroom. Joy was snug under the heavy blankets and he crawled in beside her. She was sleeping on her side, so peaceful and warm. He spooned her. Her solid, shapely backside rested against his erect penis. He felt buffeted between her globes. He breathed in his masculine scent layered over the floral scent of her 88


braids. He wrapped one muscular leg over her thighs, trapping her, and he had no intention of changing positions. He felt at home. **** Joy woke to a strange feeling. She couldn’t feel her limbs at first, and there was warmth against her back. A hard warmth, and something rigid and warm pulsed against her thigh. Raphael! She turned her head slightly. “Good morning,” he said. She felt his arm curve around her waist. She looked under the comforter and sheet. She was naked still. It was lip-gnawing time. “Good morning,” she said reluctantly. “How long have we been lying like this?” “A couple of hours.” She felt the subtle tightening of his body around her. Every woman should wake up like this, she thought. “What did you do while I was knocked out?” “I watched When Harry met Sally.” She smiled. “How many times have you seen it?” “None of your business.” He snuggled closer to her. His index finger tickled her waist until she burst out laughing. “Are you hungry?” After her giggles subsided, she answered him. “I am, and I should eat before my blood sugar goes down.” “I’ll make breakfast.” 89


“Really?” She turned around to face him. Automatically his leg rose up and rested between her knees. It was alarmingly intimate. “Test!” She held one finger up over the comforter, looking official. “What breakfast items did you order?” “French toast, bacon; fried to a near crisp, half a cantaloupe. Did I get it right?” “Wow! You remembered.” “I never forget.” They continued to lay there with him spooned around her. His hard marble warmth around her. His head lay in the nook of her neck. She could feel his breath tickle her skin. Apparently her braids were not a deterrent to him, lying this close. It was as if they didn’t bother him at all. He didn’t ask for her to tie them up or move them out his way, or better yet, take the braids out. How refreshing. “Raphael, is this okay?” She remembered her morning breath and covered her mouth. “Laying like this?” He removed her hand from her mouth. “Does it bother you?” “No, it doesn’t. It’s…nice. I could get used to this.” Then she saw the look on his face. “I mean with someone else.” His hands encircled her wrists, pulled them down without too much trouble. “My morning breath, Raphael.” “Yeah, that’s life.” “Vampires don’t have morning breath,” she said. “Get comfortable with me. We’ll be doing this next week.” 90


She watched Raphael get up and open a drawer. Joy’s lips curved into a smile as he admired his sculpted behind. Then she shut her eyes tight and chanted ‘platonic’ in her head. He obviously wasn’t shy about showing his body. He was comfortable in his skin and Joy envied him. When would she feel that way? His leg muscles contracted as they pushed into his pajama pants. Athletic legs. He pulled the pants up over his hips and closed the drawer. “Imagine if clothing hadn’t been invented,” he said. “It’s a change from last week.” What was a change from last week? Her mind fumbled for answers as he mentally scratched her head. Thinking was hard for her when his body was in open view in front of her. Raphael tied the self-belt on his pajamas and faced her. “You’re looking at me now.” Yes, under her dark skin, she was blushing like a bride. She couldn’t help but look. “Hurry up, lazy bones,” he teased. She laughed incredulously. “Lazy bones? I bet you were thinking about ordering breakfast instead of making it. Hey, after five hundred years you’d think you learned something by now.” “I made dinner two weeks ago,” he argued. “Yeah, that was easy.” She watched a smile play on his lips as he walked out of the bedroom. Joy dragged her overnight bag into the adjoining bathroom. She brushed her teeth, 91


put her hair braids up in a bun, took a quick shower, pulled on a T-shirt and joined him for breakfast. Her breakfast was steaming hot and when she poured her maple syrup on the French toast, her senses came alive. She was starving and happy. It had been years since she had woken up with a smile on her face. Joy remembered a time when Sunday mornings where fun and full of tradition. ‘Southern Sunday’, her mother called it. Stacks of pancakes with butter dripping down the sides, platters of bacon and sausage and a basket of biscuits crowded the dining room table. Everyone had to be dressed for breakfast, because afterwards there was church. God, she missed those days. Life was so simple then. She had to keep her head on about this. Raphael was helping her. They weren’t seeing each other. He was helping her cure her sexual dysfunction and that was all. So she decided to start the morning off on a different note. It was time to switch gears. “Can I interview you for an article for New York Pace?” He shrugged. “Sure why not?” “Specifically it will be about your club. I won’t pry into your life…I know you have to stay under the radar,” she said. “When will you want to interview me?” “Next week. After we…you know.” “You know what?” “After our session,” she said, exasperated. “It’s not sex.” 92


“Not in the traditional sense. I know,” she said. “I notice you’re comfortable with nudity.” “I don’t think about it.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “How are you feeling about what we’re doing?” “I think the sessions are helping me. I’ve never taken the liberty of touching a man’s face before.” “Really? How come?” “I don’t know. Maybe I never felt comfortable enough to do that. There was no real hint of caring. Maybe I held back. I don’t know.” She hunched her shoulders. “I’m sure I had.” “When you find someone to love and they love you back, then opening up will happen naturally.” His voice sounded strained. Maybe he was lending gravity to the subject. “Were you ever in love, Raphael?” “I was once. It was a long time ago, before the turn of the century.” “What was she like?” “She was beautiful, funny, and smart.” Of course she was. All the women he dated were beautiful. She wasn’t in their league, and that was fine. All she wanted was to be cured. “She was rich and cultured. A countess, and I was a rough one. A cross between a gentleman and a thief.” Ladron. She loved hearing him speak Spanish. It made her skin tingle and she had to suppress a smile. “A thief?” “A reformed thief.” 93


“What happened to her?” “We separated after a while.” “Why?” “It was a long time ago.” He never wanted to talk about his past too much. He knew so much about her but kept those parts of himself hidden. “What happened to your family?” “My family didn’t have much use for me. I was the troublemaker. He shrugged. “It’s old news.” Joy recognized that hint of sadness in his voice. She felt like the outsider, the troublemaker in her own family. Maybe they could comfort each other after their sessions were over. “Did you ever press charges against the animal who raped you?” She dropped the fork. His eyes were direct as they studied her. “No.” “Why not?” She hesitated in answering him. How was she going to answer that without giving the identity of her rapist away? She searched anxiously for a way out of this corner he forced her in to. “Too many Pandora’s boxes would have opened up.” With that, she began eating, effectively closing off the conversation. She didn’t want or need to go there ever again, but knowing Raphael, she would have to, and Heaven help the man who raped her. If she slipped, he would be dead.

94


Chapter Twelve

R

aphael walked down Irving Place towards Barbara’s brownstone house. He held tightly to the bouquet of flowers for Barbara. He pushed up his shades on the bridge of his nose. A warm wind, unusual for fall, blew his hair up. The sun was intense, closer to the earth. The wind was high and cool. His hat and leather jacket was the final defense against its harsh rays and the chill. Sensitive skin made him feel warmth or cold acutely more than an average human would. It translated to other senses as well. He felt Joy’s hesitation and fear at the mention of her rapist. That fear was centered on keeping the rapist’s identity a secret more than for her personal safety, and that exasperated him. He took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. With Joy, his emotions ran high. Clinton Hill hadn’t changed too much; it was nice to see. Colorful leaves lay scattered on the pavement. Couples gave him a wide berth as they passed him by on the sidewalk. Perhaps they sensed his difference. He looked at the row of Brownstone houses across the 95


street. They were beautiful. They had so much history and charm. He let his mind flow out to Barbara’s house, only four houses away. She was mopping the floor and she was alone. He didn’t know if her new husband knew of him yet. Explaining his presence might be awkward, but some things couldn’t be put off until tomorrow. He ran up the stairs, looked behind him and the door unlocked and swung open without outward movement. He watched her quietly as she bent over and pushed her new-fangled square mop. It shot out cleaning solution onto the linoleum. Barbara hummed, as she wiped around the table legs, oblivious to Raphael’s presence. She moved one chair back, then the other until she stopped short when she saw Raphael sitting in it. “A ring of the doorbell would have been nice,” she said as she caught her breath. “Old habits die hard. How are you?” She stood akimbo with obvious annoyance written on her face. “I’m great, Raphael. And you?” “I’m good. Happy Birthday.” “You remembered. Thank you.” She smiled appreciatively at him, sniffed the flowers, then looked for a vase to put them in. It struck him how much she reminded him of Joy. Though Barbara was plumper now, she and Joy had the same color eyes and oval face. Even the intonations in their voices were identical. 96


“What can I do for you?” She cut the flowers down, slid them in a vase and poured water into it. “I want to talk about Joy.” She smiled tightly. “Of course you do. You’ve been in New York for two years and didn’t contact us. Now you pop up here in your usual fashion asking about Joy.” “I’m sorry, Barbara.” “Are you? I know you live like a monk, but damn. I thought we were family?” “Forgive my selfishness. I won’t do it again.” She waved his apologies away. “Fine! What about Joy?” “She was raped.” She sighed, miserably. “We’re going to be here a while. Want something to drink?” “Tea would be great, thank you.” He took off his shades and hat. Barbara lowered the window curtain. “Oh! Tea won’t make you sick?” “I can tolerate some food and drink now.” “Age will do wonders for you.” She reached up the shelf, but Raphael grabbed the container for her. “Thanks. You sit down. You’re my guest. I thought you slept during the day?” “Not all the time.” “What about your skin?” He settled into the chair again. Either she was stalling or she had forgotten that with age came benefits for vampires. He’d decided she was stalling. “I was well covered, remember? What happened 97


while I was gone?” “She was raped at sixteen. Soon after you left for Nepal.” She filled the kettle with water, set it on the stove and turned on the flame. “Who did it?” He saw her hesitation. His mind churned with possible suspects. Friend? Family member? An authority figure? “If I suddenly lose my mind and spill the beans, what will you do?” Raphael said nothing, and knew his silence condemned him. He would have no other choice but kill the man. “I can’t tell you, Raphael. I know you too well.” “Barbara?” “Remember what happened years ago?” “It was necessary.” “So necessary my parents had to pack us up and move.” “I saved you and your father from a lynch mob.” Like he’d saved Josiah in the 1500s. A mob would have hung him for being a witch if Josiah hadn’t saved his life. Years later, he returned the favor. A white man had attacked Barbara. Raphael saved her life and taught the rapist a lesson he would never forget. Unfortunately, it was the South, and Blacks were ostracized and treated as second-class citizens. Her rape would have gone unnoticed if it had been reported. He narrowed his eyes at Barbara. It had to have been someone in the family. But who? Who would hate 98


Joy enough to rape her? His eyes slowly turned to the arched doorway that opened up to the living room. He casually scanned the mantle above the fireplace. Barbara had a love of displaying family photos. He remembered when some of the pictures were taken. His eyes settled on the picture of Joy wearing black graduation garb. He scanned further to the right and noticed pictures of two family members were missing. He needed to know from Barbara before he left here. “What happened after the rape? How did she cope?” “She was depressed for a while. Joy’s grades dropped. She wore baggy clothing. I put her in therapy and she bounced back after that. Her grades picked up, too. She graduated college early.” The teakettle whistled, spewing hot mist from the spout. Barbara stood up and poured herself and Raphael two cups of piping-hot water. “Thank you.” He wasn’t satisfied with the snippets of details she had given him. Raphael dipped his tea bag in the hot water, watching it steep. “Sugar? “Two spoonfuls, please.” He took a sip. “I would like the unabridged version, Barbara. Despite her polished, professional look, there is something missing. I remember a time when she was happy, confident and laughed often. Now she holds herself back, protecting herself. That confident air is gone. I need to know all of it.” “Ask Joy yourself.” “She won’t tell me, Barbara.” 99


“Joy became promiscuous. Or I thought she became promiscuous. I gave her a hard time after—” “How hard of a time?” He cut her off. It was impolite, but he needed to know the facts about Joy’s rape. “She was ecstatic when she graduated from college a year early. She wanted to get as far away from me as she possibly could.” “What did you do to her?” Barbara shifted uncomfortably in her seat. He could see her break out into a fine sweat across her forehead. “I blamed her for the rape and the breakup of our family.” “You don’t say?” The shrick sound of the teacup in his hand made him calm down. It was about to crack. He placed it on the saucer. “Why, Barbara?” “She was an easy target. My father went into a nursing home. Momma died. Martin and I filed for divorce. Everything seemed to fall apart around that time, so I blamed her. I can see why she isn’t as confident as she used to be. I took it away from her.” She continued. “You know how attractive she is. Catcalls unnerve her. They would unnerve any woman, but she’s really sensitive to it.” He was painfully aware of how pretty she was. The first time she came to his loft, he had been shocked to see her grown up, with curves. “Any man can see through her disguise. A determined one who would want her attention wouldn’t let her cold detachment deter him.” Raphael sat in silence. He understood more of what Joy went through. In that, he and Joy 100


had a lot in common. Both of their families didn’t want them anymore. Barbara blew into her tea, breaking up the silence. “I always knew you had a soft spot for Joy.” “Please, Barbara. Everyone seems to think they know me or what I want.” “Do you know what you want?” “Joy and I are friends.” Barbara had that give-me-a-break look on her face. “Uh, huh. I’d watched you with Joy in the past.” “I’ve never—“ “Raphael, I know you love Joy, and it’s okay. You deserve some happiness if you go out and get it.” She sipped her tea. “I wonder about a vampire and human getting together.” He didn’t want that with Joy. He wanted to help her. That’s all. But he couldn’t stop the mental images of him and Joy together on his bed, entangled. He’d almost fucked her—been so close to doing it. His brows furrowed. “Joy and I are only friends.” “That’s how it starts.” He desperately wanted to change the subject back to the family. “Have you heard from Martin?” “Getting too close for comfort? Martin is somewhere in North Carolina contemplating his navel. We divorced soon after the rape.” “I’m sorry, Barbara. I know you loved each other very much.” She pursed her lips. “It did something to him. It broke his heart that someone would do that to his child.” 101


Raphael watched tears pool in her eyes. “Barbara?” He gathered the future image of Joy in his arms. She placed her head on his shoulders then pulled out of his embrace. Raphael was taken aback by her sudden shift in mood. “Don’t try to comfort me, Raphael. I made life difficult for Joy. I’ll never forgive myself for it.” “You’ve told me. Is there more?” He asked as he handed her a handkerchief. She blew into the handkerchief wiped he nose. “I kept her from living a normal life. The therapist said I overreacted and over-compensated for her rape. I made her feel guilty for something that wasn’t her fault.” It was like watching Joy. She never wanted to show tears—always holding it in. Shit! She had to pour salt on the wound. No wonder Joy had never felt complete. She can’t trust her emotions, her feelings about herself or men. For balance, she has shut down that part of herself that is sexual and beautiful. “I accused her of being fast, you know.” “Was she ever?” “I don’t know. She kept a lot from me, Raphael.” “I see why,” he replied sarcastically. He sighed. What’s done is done. “Did you patch things up eventually?” “We did her freshman year in college.” She wiped her eyes. “I can’t believe she went all the way to the south to go to school.” “You never told her about your assault?” She shook her head no. 102


Raphael wasn’t surprised. Barbara talked tough, but she was a waif through and through. Seeing a therapist back then was out of the question. AfricanAmericans weren’t into telling strangers their secrets she often said. Thankfully that mindset had changed, or Joy would never have gotten to this point in her life. “No, and I’m keeping it that way. If I don’t think about it, I can get on with my day.” “That’s why you treated Joy the way you had.” She nodded, agreeing with him. It was old news and he dredged it up. “Have you seen Joy?” “A few times.” He saw the perceptive look in her eyes. “We’re friends, Barbara.” She looked at him with amused knowing. **** “I feel like I’m overdressed.” The flashing lights and the dancing D.J Alvarez’s thick-as-a-forest hairy behind, Thalia and Marcy, the resident go-go dancers doing their thing in the cages, and there was Big Red and his girlfriend, Ms. Kitty. Joy was surprised to find that he had a girlfriend, and she was AfricanAmerican. But then, she shouldn’t be surprised; not everyone thinks inside the box. She didn’t. Raphael laughed at her obvious discomfort. “After what you and I have experienced, you should be used to in-your-face nudity.” She was, but some of Raphael’s patrons looked like 103


they were on a sexual rampage. Leather and PVC thongs abounded. Whips and chains were the norm. Joy wondered who the women with the topless dresses on were. It was a night other than their sessions. How refreshing it was to see him at work. Another side of him she had chance to see before their time was over. Soon it would be over and she felt a pang of regret over that. “Would you like to go up to the loft?” “Please. It’s quiet up there.” To Joy’s dismay, Raphael still had that amused look on his face. After they jostled their way through the crowd Joy and Raphael sat down on the couch where it all started. Strange that they weren’t headed off to his bedroom now. Heat began to grow on around her neck. She began fanning herself. “Is that what it’s like every night?” “It’s wild down there every night. You saw the basement.” “I saw the basement.” She remembered the two dominatrices whipping a man wearing a thong, a spiked collar and leather hood. A woman wearing Victorian clothing holding onto straps as two men…serviced her. Wild club! “You live and work in a high profile area. Fifth Avenue is full of old money. Have you had any flak from your neighbors?” “No, they join in on the fun some nights.” “Um, the women. They wear next to nothing all the time, right?” 104


“Right.” “Are you ever tempted?” “I’m alive. It’s hard not to wonder, but I don’t touch. Club policy.” Raphael’s brows rose in amused curiosity. “Most of the women who frequent my club have significant others and don’t want or need another partner. You have some who love threesomes. I am used to seeing the female form in variety. I’m not that affected.” “Do you feel that way about the women you date?” “Is this off the record?” “It…it is.” “If there is a woman in my life and I am affected by her greatly,” he said the last word deliberately. “I separate work from my private life.” Her pen flowed across the note pad, scribbling snippets of his previous answers. She wondered if he considered her work. She turned the pad over to write on the back. “Where you turned on by the men?” Joy stunned by the question that she faltered in her writing. But she gave as good as she got. “I have to admit D.J. Alvarez’s hairy buns were enticing.” Raphael let out a rich laugh. Joy’s skin tingled at the sound of it. He had that affect on her, she thought sadly. “I love your laugh. It’s infectious.” Surprised, he retorted quickly. “You have a pretty smile. You should smile more.” There was an energetically seductive look in his eyes. Joy could do nothing but stare at him. What 105


were they doing? ”I should go. It’s late.” “I’ll see you later this week.” “You certainly will.”

106


Chapter Thirteen couldn’t be heard by anyone down Hishere.footsteps He was silent as a cat stalking prey in the

jungle. But tonight he wasn’t stalking prey; he was making sure his club ran smoothly without hiccups. One room had a sweaty ménage-a-trois. The floor would have to be hosed down later. Raphael moved on. A second room had a woman on the torture wheel. Big Red was manning it. Raphael looked again and recognized Ms. Kitty spinning around and around in an elliptical circle. She had braids styled like Joy’s. His thoughts were in a fevered bundle tonight. Joy was at the center of them. He had to admit the first he had seen her after so many years hooked him. She hasn’t let go of him since. What did he expect? After sharing intimacies with her he had never shared with anyone. Aside from being nude in front of each other—anyone could do that—he knew her. Once again, it was a good night. He could hear the music blaring upstairs on the stage. He made a left turn and walked up a spiral narrow staircase and 107


came upon the stage. He watched Thalia and Marcie in their cages wiggling and shimmying. They wore their leather string bikini bottoms and nipple clamps, white, curly Louis-the-fourteenth-era wigs on their heads with feathers sticking out of them. The D.J. still was shaking his hairy, rubbery ass between scratches. Raphael pursed his lips. He hated to see his hairy ass. Raphael walked behind the stage through another door out onto the dance floor. The Leather and Lace Society held their weekly meeting. They were a twenty-year-old Society who dissected the Story of O book at every meeting. Hence the O. Raphael had had a brief liaison with the redhead in the group. It was brief but fun. And her topless dress was a hit with him most of the time. Tonight…Joy was on her way here. He was looking forward to being with her. “Raphael? Earth to Raphael?” Raphael looked down at Thalia. She and her dancing partner were taking a break from dancing. “You were calling me, weren’t you?” “I was.” He shook his head, knowing it was time to do some deep thinking about him and Joy. “What can I do for you?” Thalia patted her neck with a towel. Her long hair was notched in a ponytail. “How did it go?” “The interview went great. It was fun. I had a good time.” “You never say that about Lydia. I don’t think you ever talk about Lydia.” 108


“Because I have nothing to say about her.” It was true he had nothing ever to say about Lydia. He wondered if he liked her. He could say he liked Joy. It was more than like for him. What happened to that emotional barrier he thought he had erected? “Is she coming back tonight?” “Any minute now. Thalia, is it possible for someone like me to change? Is there such a thing as soul mates?” She hesitated, surprised by the question. He was surprised himself. “I think so. I would like to meet my soul mate one day. You love her, don’t you?” “I don’t know what I feel. Do you know what its like to walk around in an emotional haze?” “Denying how you feel doesn’t help either. After four hundred years, you should have figured that out.” “It’s easier to roll around in denial.” “I know, but if you keep this up you might miss out on your chance to become more than Raphael the club proprietor, sex guru and vampire. You might miss out on becoming you.” Her smile flickered, then froze on her face. Raphael turned around to find Joy walking towards him. **** Raphael listened to the bed creak as Joy crawled in next to him. He felt the tiny hairs on her arm brush his chest. Her mint-scented breath brushed a lock of his hair. Her nipples, raised to fine buds, poked his 109


back. He closed his eyes shut tight. He could feel his beast well up within him, taunting him to act. In one swift motion, he could pin her down, take one little sip and she would remember nothing of it. But alas, even his cynical jaded heart would not want to break her trust. The scent of her skin was intoxicating. He wanted to bundle himself in her. He took her hand and guided her. He tugged her middle finger and she caressed him, using circles. He liked circles. She made circular patterns around his nipples. He loved circles. Her hands made lazy unhurried trails to down his torso. Involuntarily his hips bucked as she braised the only hair on his body. It led to his penis. Raphael’s cock rose from his hairy confines. She raised her hand up. He took her hand and placed it on his thigh. She made circular patterns on the planes and valleys of his muscles. They were tight, tense. She was exploring to his great distress. He tried to distract himself. The bar in the club needed a new shipment of merlot and sauvignon. The torture wheel would have to be serviced soon. Her hand made a hot, searing line following the muscular pattern on his inner thigh. His shaft pulsed with life. His mind searched frantically for a distraction. What costume would he wear to the club tomorrow night? Joy’s hand accidentally touched the swollen head. He thought of the spiky crisscrossed harness he could wear. He liked that one. Without warning, he placed her hand around his now painfully stretched penis. He cursed himself. He would get blue balls for 110


this. She took his cue and ran her fingers down the long root of him. He was as ridged with veins as the rest of him, and was thick and long. Raphael gritted his teeth. He couldn’t dive right into her and end the agony. Oh, how he would take and take from women and female vampires until they fell in an exhausted sweaty afterglow, then suck them dry of energy. He was an Incubus. It was how he survived. Only with her, he couldn’t take and take until there was nothing left. She needed to trust him and he found that he wanted her to. It was essential to his being. Her hand traveled to the head. It was a reddish bulbous thing of wonder. Capable of performing great feats of fancy, and he wanted to perform them with her. He stopped her hand from traveling down his leg. He placed himself behind her, spooning her this time. She took his hand as he had her and guided it to her neck. Raphael massaged her neck. He could feel her smile. She liked this. He had a lulling effect on her. That was good. The effect she had on him was not. It disturbed him and it… thrilled him. He moved his hand to the swell of her breasts— felt her suck in a breath. Reluctantly, he lifted his hand. She placed his hand back on her breast, cupping his hand around her fullness. He continued to caress her, feeling the raised bumps on her dark nipples. Raphael traced an imaginary contoured line from her collarbone to her nipple. A tiny sound escaped 111


her lips. He rested his chin on top of her head. His hand spanned her waist. She wasn’t skinny, but she wasn’t full-figured. She was in between, just right. He couldn’t wrap his head around tiny women. Mentally kicking himself, he remembered that he shouldn’t care what body type Joy had. They were friends; nothing more, nothing less. After this, he would have to end their association before it became painful to separate He could hear and feel her heart beating at an alarming pace. She was definitely enjoying what he was doing. His hand glided slowly to her hairy triangle. It was thick and curly. His fingertips were so sensitive that he could make out the formation of her curly hair. One strand was curly, another strand was corkscrew curled and the next hair had a slight wave to it. So much contradiction. Raphael played with her pubic hair a few more minutes, then his finger lightly touched the hood of her clitoris. He felt her stiffen and he started. He removed his hand. “Joy?” Her head was down and she breathed through puckered lips. Slowly she raised her head. “I thought we weren’t supposed to talk?” Oh no, she was not going to skirt this issue, not now. “No hiding behind the rules now. What is it?” “Can we slow down, please?” “Can you tell me why?” “I’m tight with pain.” He placed his hand on her leg and massaged her inner thigh. 112


“Thank you,” she said quietly. He rubbed her inner thighs with his thumbs. He felt her quake from his motions on her sensitive skin. His hand traveled back to her breasts. He felt her catch her breath; the shudder ran its course through her body until she was still again. She reached out her hand, grabbed his and placed it between her legs. She wanted him to touch her there. He would oblige her. With her leg over his thigh, he touched her. Her labia was smooth and slick with moisture. She held his thigh. It was awkward with her arm was in the way. He removed her hand from his thigh. He held her hand and guided it to her labia. With her fingers she told him how she wanted to be touched, and he obeyed. His fingers ran along her labia. There were curly hairs lining it, thick and coarse in texture, and wet. He found the opening of her vagina. He ran his fingers around its slickness. He felt the wetness on the tips. It couldn’t be helped. Take away the teacherstudent barrier and they could be having what they want. Instead, his brain absorbed as much information about her as possible. A survival instinct habit of his that did not shut down, even at times like this. She wasn’t his prey, but she was his now. As light as a feather, he ran his finger along her clitoris. It was smooth, with two bumps at the tip under the hood, swollen tremendously. Her inner scent was intoxicating. Involuntarily, his nose sought to breathe more of it in. Ripe for sucking, biting. He 113


closed his eyes visualizing her blood pooling in his mouth. Startled, he banished the thought with a mental sweep, and opened his eyes. Then his practical voice nudged him. “We should stop now.” He released her clitoris, clutched her thigh and lowered her leg. She ran to the bathroom, and soon he heard the shower running. But he knew better than that. She wasn’t in the shower. She was crying. He could hear her sobs over the din of the water. He could comfort her, and then what? Would he be the womanizer people have always said he was, toss her on her back, and relieve himself? He unlocked the bathroom door and found her crouched down on the tile floor with her head down and her hands crossed under her neck. She was sobbing, her tears mixing in the water that streamed down over her. He didn’t have an aversion to water or tears. He held her while the water ran down their bodies. He wanted to take them away. Every last sob he wanted to wrench away from her. “Talk to me, Joy.” “I had a flashback.” “What happened?” “I was on a swing in the school playground. I was having fun. I was laughing. I felt free. It felt good.” “That’s great. I don’t understand?” “I’ve never had that feeling before. Not with anyone. And when this is over, I—I won’t have that experience again.” 114


He had to fight. Fight the impulse to say yes, she would. It tried to tear itself out of his vocal cords. He wanted to shout it out, but he kept silent and continued to hold her, the sobbing shaking her body. **** Later, they donned their pajamas and sat at the bar in the kitchen. Raphael’s coffeemaker made bubbling and gurgling sounds. They were quiet, the window open slightly, letting the sounds of the outside intrude. Not saying anything to each other. They were lost in their own worlds. Raphael gave her secretive looks until he could no longer stand to hear the silence. “Joy.” She slowly looked his way. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her eyelashes drawn together in small groupings. It somehow made her eyes more irresistible to look at. “Tell me what those days were like after the rape?” His velvet-smooth voice compelled her to want to speak. That was the way he wanted it. His eyes held her captive and the block of images, some disjointed, others orderly, entered his mind. It unnerved him. This was more naked then when they were on the bed kissing each other, but he could not turn away. He had to know, and yes he wanted to find out who did it. “I was in pain for days after. I bled. He hurt me, then my period arrived; that made it worse. They didn’t have the morning after pill back then, so I had 115


to hope and pray that I wasn’t pregnant.” “Were you?” “No, thank God, I was spared that drama. But having children might be a problem for me now.” Anger seized him. His demeanor grew severe. He knew his gray eyes were turning red. “Tell me more.” “I stayed in my room a lot after that. I stopped wearing cute clothes. Sweats were more comfortable. I smelled him everywhere. It took a year to get rid of his smell.” She continued. “I went back to the place where it happened. I tried at my therapist’s insistence to visualize it as a happy place. I laughed in her face when she suggested I do that. I thought she was nuts. I went back there and I saw the whole episode played out in front of my eyes. I threw up. I found a new therapist and moved on with my life as best I could.” “Barbara?” “She and I had our troubles. I was raped, therefore I was fast in the ass. That was her mantra every time she laid eyes on me. My favorite name for her was Bitch of all Bitches.” “Who did it?” His voice was soothing to the ear. It made it hard for anyone to resist him, and he knew Joy would be no exception. She shut her eyes tight and turned away from him. “Raphael, don’t do that.” She resisted. She resisted his mental prodding. That has never happened before. “I need to know who made you suffer.” She paced back and forth, her movements stiff with 116


anger and frustration. “I can’t tell you. You’ll kill him and they’ll blame me for it. I can’t lose the only family I have.” “I don’t want to mistakenly let this person into my home.” “It took you a year to tell us you were back home. Why would you invite any of us here?” He struggled to keep calm but the anger in him was great. “In honor of you, I don’t want to reconnect with this person. Is it a family member?” She kept silent. “It is, isn’t it?” She said nothing. “Brothers? Uncle? Cousin? I will piece the clues together eventually, Joy.” She stood in front of him toe-to-toe, anger and fear clearly shown on her head. “Is that a warning? And when you piece together the clues, then what?” She knew what. His world didn’t allow forgiveness. “Why the hell should you protect your rapist? Why would you let yourself be placed in that position?” “They care more about him than me. Why else? But it doesn’t matter now. I will be normal after the last session then we can go our separate ways.” “You certainly can. What about your father?” “Dear old Dad became a hermit. He didn’t go out. He didn’t talk to anyone anymore. He barely spoke to me after the rape. He couldn’t look me in the eye. Finally, my parents divorced. He moved to the South and Barbara remarried.” 117


“Your brothers?” “My brothers asked me repeatedly if I was sure I was raped. So much for solidarity.” “They didn’t want to believe the person who raped you was capable of doing such a thing,” he said. “Do you understand? He wasn’t a random freak. He wasn’t a neighborhood perv.” “I understand now,” he said. “I know you live by a different code—” “Humans have the same code, Joy. It’s covered by semantics.” “Don’t do it! Just leave it alone.” **** Joy couldn’t think. She was surprised she had been able to fix dinner. Avoiding Cheryl’s pointed glances did nothing to help her concentrate. She knew eventually that Cheryl would ask her what was wrong. Joy only wanted to talk about pleasant things. Thinking about Raphael gave her anxious butterflies, made her feel hope and anger. Joy placed the last veal chop on the platter, took Worcestershire sauce out of the fridge and placed it and the platter on the table. Cheryl grabbed the sauce, moving her shoulders to the beat of the bossa nova music floating in from the living room. “So how did it go?” “Whenever we talk, it’s about Raphael and my sessions with him.” “It’s an interesting topic. Did he say he loves you 118


yet?” She wanted to think about him, but that was impossible. He was in the air she breathed. He haunted her dreams. He was everywhere, even in her pores. “No, Cheryl, he didn’t.” “That’s a shame. There’s been a change in you lately.” “Oh, yeah? Good or bad?” “Good. Remember when the construction men catcalled us last week? You walked right by them without a stumble. Raphael has a good effect on you, but tonight I’m not so sure.” Joy cut her meat. Her fork made a high pitched scraping sound against the plate. Wincing, Joy met Cheryl’s disapproving eyes. “I think he knows who raped me.” “How?” “He’s adept at ferreting out info. Trust me, he knows.” “Well…finally.” Joy dropped her fork astonished that her friend would approve of that. “Excuse me?” Cheryl shook her head, sucked her teeth. “I love you and I know you don’t want to lose your family’s love, but no woman—no one should protect the man who abused her.” “If you were in my shoes, you would think different.” Joy watched Sheryl struggle with what to say then she looked her in the eye. Her gloves came off. “I don’t know about that, but I know how I feel now. 119


That asshole should have gone to jail, and you know I’m right.” “Of course he should have gone to jail, but— “But?” “What am I supposed to do? It would cause too much pain in my family.” “How much pain have you had to endure? Come on, Joy. Enough is enough!”

120


Chapter Fourteen lay in the dark in her bedroom. The window was Joy open blowing clean crisp air. She was cold, but

didn’t have the energy to get up and pull the window down. She was exhausted and she yearned. It had been a week already and she missed him. But it couldn’t be. Tonight she had to finish her sessions with him and move on. Those were the rules. Time was creeping away from her. She raised herself up and packed her bag. She would walk in there with a hopeful smile on her face and get through the session without revealing herself. And if she faltered, if she gave him one reason to think this was more than he was willing to give, her heart would be broken. She didn’t want to tie him down to her. She had just wanted to be normal. Why was it so hard for her? Then the phone rang, breaking her miserable musing. “Hello?” “I’m picking you up.” “You’re picking me up?” He sighed. “Yes, I’m five minutes away from you.” 121


His end of the phone clicked. Joy hurriedly packed her bag. Thirty minutes later, she was in his car and they were making their way to the Manhattan Bridge. “You’re full of surprises.” “I thought it would be a welcome change to hailing a cab.” “Are you sure that’s all?” “I’m sure.” Raphael had an indefinable feeling of rightness to this moment. He was going to make her see that they belonged together. **** Joy lay down next to him on the bed. Tonight was containment night. No matter how she tried to rationalize this, it would be intimate. If all went well, they would have intercourse. Would it be cold and routine-like? Would she have pain like she had so many times with other men? Would she have an orgasm? Would she enjoy it? So far she had enjoyed every activity they have done, and he made her feel comfortable. That was an achievement for her. Comfort over pain was most desirable. He leaned over her, looming large in the semidarkness of his bedroom and placed his hands on her lips. She thought for sure he would start with her hair first. He loved her hair. His fingers smooth and gentle caressed the fullness of her bottom lip. Her lips tingled from his exploration. He traced circles on her cheeks. Her 122


cheeks heated up. She was blushing. A miracle. A man made her blush. He smiled at her warmly knowing her face was on fire. His gray eyes captured hers. She saw desire where there should have been cool detachment. His eyes were almost black with it. This was more than a simple session of containment. She knew it was for her, but how did he feel? Was it bloodlust for him? Somehow it had to be revealed. Bite the bullet. She placed her hands on his shoulders, pushing him back as she rose up. “What are we doing?” “We’re leading up to containment, what else?” He was hiding from her. Not now, when they were so close. “You know that’s not what I’m asking you. What are we doing?” She watched his shoulders sag. “I’m trying unbelievably hard to keep my feelings separate from this.” “Start from there.” He shook his head “It’s thorny… I—Let me show you how it should be done.” She gazed into his eyes. What she saw was unmistakable. It was clear as crystal. He cupped her face in his hands. She gripped his wrists as he pulled her close to him and kissed her. All of the air went out of her lungs like a deflated balloon. His lips scorched her as they moved expertly across her bottom lip, sucking and nibbling. Her body was melting again into brown goo. She still held on to his wrists, not knowing what to do with her hands. 123


Then as if someone flicked her with a finger, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hands playing with his hair. He moaned. The sound thrilled her. A crackle of energy sparked as their lips touched wetly, sweetly. His tongue hot and searching explored her mouth, teased her tongue until, she too, moaned. She smiled through his kisses. Her body strained to get closer. Saliva trailed from her lips as he kissed a path to her throat. Joy was on a wave of fear, exhilaration. Was this what she had been waiting for? Was this what sex was meant to be? Not just a means of rubbing bodies together, but a sharing of feelings and…souls. His tongue lightly teased the skin covering her artery. Oh, he was so close to biting her, and she found herself pressing into his mouth, courting pleasure and pain. Joy ran her hand through his hair pressing him closer to her neck. His fangs scraped the thin skin on her neck. “Not yet,” he groaned as he kissed her neck. “Not yet.” His hands glided down to her breasts. His lips followed. Capturing her inky nipples—sucking and nibbling until she pushed her breast into his mouth. Helplessly, Joy arched her back to his seeking tongue. Her inner walls contracted. Raphael pressed her into the coolness of the comforter. His lips left her hardened nipples to glide and nip down her torso, kissing her navel. He reached her mound of curly hair, stopping short of it. But anxiety made her stiffen up again. 124


“Don’t be frightened,” he soothed. Joy looked down at his fingers hovering dangerously near her clitoris. Her body tensed in anticipation of what he was about to do. With her legs unashamedly open, he lightly caressed her clitoris. Streaks of short lightening bolts of pleasure struck her. She felt wetness under her hips. He rubbed until she moaned out loud. Then she felt his finger at her entrance. He pushed his way in slowly. Her pelvis pushed up to meet him. Her inner walls closed around his finger, sucking him in. She felt his finger move in and out and counter clockwise, until she felt a burst of pain. Oh, my g-spot. Instantly her body tensed against the strange, acutely painful rub. It was intense. Memories and feelings of words and insults slashed so deep that she had tucked them away only to revisit them once in a while. Now she was confronted with them. She arched her back, trying to move away from the pain, moving forward to the pain. His finger continued to move until the pain built into a burning sensation, then her hips bucked. Pleasure ran in different directions through her pelvis, drawing out great sobs from within. She yielded to them as they shook her body. She didn’t know why she was crying. Raphael held her in his arms tightly until the sobbing stopped. All the while he caressed the thin skin behind her ear. Soothing words where whispered to her. She felt kisses in her braided hair. His lips traveled to her nose, sucking the small ball there. He kissed away the 125


tears running down her cheeks. The wide gulf that had formed in her chest was now closing. That feeling of aloneness and isolation had disappeared. But it had left her feeling limp. Gradually, she accepted Raphael’s kisses. They were slow, thoughtful and promised more to come. She gave into his kisses. Then the familiar warmth spread from her mouth to her throat, chest and further downward. His hands weighed her breasts. His thumbs teased her nipples. The sensation was more intense; she whimpered. He forced her lips open with his tongue, met hers and played. She moaned in his mouth. She was ready for more of him, and sensing this, he nestled between her legs. His penis pressed against her clitoris. Automatically she moved against him. He slid into her entrance. “I’ll be gentle,” he moaned between kisses. “Okay?” She shook her head briefly, then before she could answer, he pushed forward, swallowing her gasps and moans with his moist tongue. He waited for a sign from her to stop. Joy gave him a trusting smile instead. Her breath mingled with his as she watched him. She felt the head of his penis just beyond her vaginal entrance. It was huge, hot, hard and filled her. He pushed forward with another inch. Gradually, her body accepted his, astonished at the lack of pain. She held his shoulders, bracing herself. She could feel him trembling under her hands and around her. She 126


felt her inner muscles expanding, stretching to receive more of him. She wanted to cry from happiness, delight. He gave her more of him, pushing in further until he was at the hilt. He grasped her soft hips, raised her upwards to meet him, and held. He didn’t move, and neither did she. Somewhere in her hazy, lusty fog, she knew he was still trying to keep his priorities straight. This was containment. To her core, it felt right that he should be there, but she wanted more and more of him. She moved her hips up and down his shaft, making him stop his thrusting. “Joy,” he groaned out. She stopped moving her hips and let him take the lead. He moved his hips slowly forward, barely making the bedsprings creak. Loud moans heralded each thrust. Raphael increased the speed little by little. Joy kept up with his pacing—in tune with him. Her hands gripped the comforter. She needed something to anchor her. Each stroke she felt deep within her. His entry and exit was smooth and slick. She was wet and having a good time. Then Raphael changed from thrusting to rotating. Sensually his hips moved around clockwise and counterclockwise. “Oh,” she breathed out. She closed her eyes and let the feeling overtake her. The tension built in her repeatedly. He kissed her lightly on the neck. A tiny nip pierced her skin. So 127


many sensations at once, then the ripples of pleasure from him nibbling her neck were incredible. She struggled to prolong it. Blindly searching for his lips and not finding them, she moaned in protest. She kissed him back fervently, unknowingly sparking her release. Her hands gripped his hips—nails digging into his skin as he continued to move inside her. Her undulating vagina gripped his penis, prompting his release. Finally he came, bathing her inner walls with his warm liquid. He breathed with her as she took the last of his seed. Her smile was slow, lazy and content. Laughing triumphantly, she hugged him to her. Later, Raphael felt wetness on his nipple. Contented, he smiled. Her braids were all over the place; in his face, under his shoulder blade. It spread out on the pillow. Joy lay curled up on her side with her head on his shoulder and the evidence of their lovemaking soaking his thigh. She was a lusty, sated mess. She was exhausted.

128


Chapter Fifteen

O

ne by one, Joy’s limbs moved. She yawned. Her eyes opened to the water stain on the ceiling. She felt the throbbing between her legs. She became aware of the sound of the radio playing light music. She felt beside her for Raphael. Empty. She sat up, hugging her knees to her and waited. She didn’t hear anything. She got out of bed, put on a tank top and boxer shorts. It was cool in the loft. Raphael never felt the cold. She hugged herself, trapping what little warmth she had and walked into the living room. He wasn’t lying on the couch. He wasn’t in the kitchen that was plain to see from her vantage point. She walked around the corner to the entertainment room. He wasn’t in there. Maybe he was downstairs in the club. She wasn’t going to go down there looking for him. That would be embarrassing. Hi, have you seen Raphael. He left me after we had mind-altering sex. She imagined all the looks she would get from his staff. She walked back to the bedroom and saw a note on the night table. Her shivering increased as she reached for it. I’ll be 129


right back, it said. Don’t worry! Fine, she would wait for him. Though waking up in bed by herself was not the confidence booster she was looking for. **** Harlem was beautiful this time of the year. Striver’s row still held its historic charm. Brownstones and townhouses hadn’t been touched for over a hundred years. If he could, he would tour every house on Striver’s row and take pleasure in the ghosts who lived there in secret. But this early morning he wasn’t strolling down this celebrated block for pleasure. He was hunting. His prey lived two doors down. Raphael stood at the front door. Stately home for a rapist, he mused. It was more than he deserved. His gloved hand hovered over the doorbell. “Ah, we’re family. I’ll let myself in,” he said to himself. All the doors opened to let Raphael in. With stealth, he made his way up the stairs. He adjusted his leather jacket. The smell of sex hit him before he saw Corey. It made Raphael wonder if it had been consensual sex. He spotted Corey still in his studio, leaning over his drawings. Raphael stood behind him silently. Corey reached his hand out to the right. “Where you looking for this?” Raphael held a ruler in his hand. Corey jumped and fell off his chair. The lamplight glinted off the long metal rectangle. 130


“Who the—“ “Don’t you remember me, Corey?” He feigned indignation. “I’m shocked.” He threw the ruler away. It landed in the corner of the studio with a loud tinkle. “Raphael?” Raphael watched the sweat bead on his brow. He couldn’t help but smile. He was going to enjoy this immensely. Corey backed up against the wall. “My wife will hear you.” He gestured with the cane. “Your pretty wife is sound asleep, as are your children. They won’t wake until late.” “What did you do to them?” “Hypnotism is grand. You can make people do anything you wish them to.” “What do you want?” “You know why I’m here. You took advantage of Joanne, your cousin.” “I didn’t—“ Raphael hissed, showing his sharp fangs. “No time for denials, Corey.” He reached out, trapping Corey between him and the wall. “You made her feel like shit, then you raped her. Your own flesh and blood.” “Sh—she told you that?” “It’s a funny thing about your cousin, Joanne. She is still protecting you. So is your aunt. That should not be a burden for your victim to endure.” The blood in Corey’s face drained away. His breath smelled of potato chips and beer. The smell singed Raphael’s nostrils. 131


“She wanted it.” “She did not. Why would a sixteen-year-old who knew every play by Shakespeare front and back ask you for sex? Why would a young woman full of integrity ever want to have sex with her cousin? No, you malicious, deceitful pervert! You found your opportunity and raped her.” “What do you want?” “I’m here to warn you. If you so much as look her way, I will kill you. If you call her, I will kill you.” “I haven’t seen her since—” “I’m not finished.” His voice held a steely edge despite the smile on his face. “Once a rapist, always a rapist. If you touch your children in any inappropriate way, I will kill you. Do you see the theme in this?” Raphael watched Corey’s brown eyes widen. Then his gaze moved around the studio, no doubt looking for something to hit him with. If he tried to strike him, Raphael would have no choice but to fight back. Kill. If he killed Corey, his lover’s cousin, she would never forgive him. He fared well without Joy in his life for nine years. When she reentered his life, again he was feeling. He was happy and looked toward the future with renewed interest. “You know, Corey, I’m rethinking this.” “You won’t kill me?” “No. I have a good heart. I don’t like to show it, but it’s there. I think I will spare your life,” he chuckled. This was Joy’s doing. Somehow, she made him think about another’s feelings. He would have killed Corey 132


if it weren’t for her. He watched the relief settle into Corey’s eyes. Then he leaned into the man still sitting on the floor with his chest heaving. “I think if you do all of that’s required, I won’t kill you. I’ll take everything you ever loved away from you instead of killing you.” “M—My family.” “If you don’t heed my warning, you won’t live long enough to see your family next week.” He continued. “Confession is good for the soul. You might want to sit your wife down and school her on all things, Corey.” The acrid smell of ammonia filled the air. Water pooled under his shoe. Corey had wet himself. Raphael sighed as he shook his head. “I see I’ve made my point.” He saluted Corey. “Good morning.” Raphael kept his eyes on Corey’s as he faded back into the shadows. **** He walked into his loft apartment, knowing Joy was still there. He felt her presence, felt her emotions. He took off his leather coat, tossing it on the couch. She was in the tub. He could hear the water trickling from her arms into the bath. He plucked an orchid from the bouquet on the table behind the couch. He took off his sweater and pants. He opened the door of the bathroom, letting the cool air rush into the bathroom. 133


She pulled the sliding door back. “What happened to you?” He smiled at her as the water dripped from her face. Frown lines settled between her brows. He knew her so well. She had most likely been analyzing their lovemaking and his abrupt departure. He walked to the tub and stepped in behind her. Joy’s eyes bulged out. “We made love, Joy.” “I know.” “So?” “I’m being ridiculous.” “No, you‘re not. Just relax,” he soothed. She stepped forward giving him room in the stall. “I had to take care of pressing business issues. That’s why I left,” he assured her. “Want me to wash your back?” “Please?” He took the soap from her and rubbed it against his hand, making a lather, and rubbed the soap onto her back. Back to the beginning, he thought. “It must have been serious from the look on your face. Is everything all right?” “I think it will be now.” At least he hoped. What he did would come out; eventually and hopefully not bite him in the ass later. After they finished their shower, they dried off and both agreed to put on their nightclothes. It was freezing in the loft. He placed an orchid in her braided bun. “Something’s on your mind,” she said. Placing his arms down, he cocked his head to one 134


side. Amazed at her perception of him, he asked, “How do you know?” “Whenever you’re brooding over something weighty, you look down and your eyes are hooded.” She shrugged. “Classic Raphael.” “We should talk.” Silently, she nodded her head in agreement. He rubbed her back with the soap. “Making love confused you and—“ She interrupted him. “It didn’t confuse me.” “Are you sure?” “All right, it did somewhat. I was so sure that after the last session I would be able to walk away.” “I love you.” “What?” “I said I love you.” “Just like that?” “It’s been a long time coming,” he said. “When did you know?” “I always have, Joy. I went away to Nepal thinking that when I returned you would be of age and we could be together, but instead I stayed away longer than I thought I would.” “And when you returned, you waited a year. Why?” “I fell back into my old pattern of behavior. Age doesn’t always mean wisdom,” he said ruefully. She turned around, and then Raphael pulled her towards him. “You have to fill in the blanks, Raphael.” “I thought you would be better-off without me in 135


your life. Age will be a factor soon. Your family might not approve of us being together, though Barbara seems to think we make a good fit.” “You spoke to my mother?” “I had to. I needed to know what happened to you after I left.” She pulled out of his arms and walked to the window. Her back was turned to him. “What did she say? Let me guess, Joy slept with all the boys in high school, right?” Raphael closed his eyes, his annoyance mounting, not at Joy but at her mother, Barbara for giving her one hell of a head-trip. “Barbara admitted she gave you a hard time,” he said simply. “She did.” “She also regrets her actions.” She sighed. “I know. We’ve talked about it.” He stood up and walked to her with his head cocked to one side. “She mentioned other things also.” “Like?” “She said she always knew I loved you, and knowing how astute Barbara can be, I had to admit she was right. The question is, do you love me?” “I pined for you years after you left. I compared you to the men I dated,” she said. “I never stopped thinking about you.” “I can’t have children, you know,” she said sadly. Raphael remembered, and he wanted to kill Corey for damaging her, but it was time he moved on for Joy’s sake. He shrugged her inability to have children 136


off, not the seriousness of her admission but her need to warn him off. “I don’t have reproductive hang-ups. We can adopt.” She cupped her face. “This is too easy.” Raphael covered her hands with his and gazed at her “Sometimes it is. Let’s run with it and see what happens.” With his arms around her, he waited. In his heart of hearts, he knew she wanted to be with him. It was in her eyes the moment they laid eyes on each other four weeks ago. “Saranac Lake is beautiful year round,” she said as she leaned into him. “You still love upstate New York after all these years?” “It’s beautiful and quiet up there, and you can see the deer running around at night. Remember when we used to catch fireflies on the back porch?” “I remember,” he said. They used to take turns swinging on the old tire swing tied to the tree behind the house. It was simple back then. He wanted it to be a little simple now. “I know so little about you, Raphael.” He kissed her forehead. “You know me better than most. I knew you before you were born. We are exceptionally close.” She cut him off. “You left for Nepal fifteen years ago.” “You were jailbait back then.” “I was almost seventeen, by the way. You forgot about me after you came back,” she said evenly. 137


“I didn’t. I thought you would be better off without me.” She crossed her arms. “You should have let me decide that for myself.” “I was stupid and assumed too much. I know that, now.” “What about your girlfriend, harem—whatever?” He looked up at the ceiling not believing he was hearing that word again. “They don’t exist for me now. Tell me you believe me.” If she didn’t he would beg, plead, whatever, to convince her. “I believe you.” “Then it’s settled.” “Not yet. Soon the wrinkles will pop up, sagging— “Then when you’re ready, we will take care of that.” Smiling, she placed her hands on his shoulders. “Honestly, tell me where you went.” He hesitated wanting to remember that trusting smile on her face. He was dreading the moment coming up. “I won’t lie to you.” She stepped back from him. It was scary how she could read him so thoroughly. Not that he minded. He trusted her implicitly. “But you’d rather. Why do I feel like the bottom is about to drop out from under me?” “I paid him a visit.” Asking who would have been ridiculous. She knew whom he visited. The bottom indeed, dropped from beneath her. “I don’t believe this!” She turned around, stalked to the bedroom and began pulling on her 138


sweater. “He’s still alive, Joy.” Her trembling fingers unfolded her jeans. “What did you do to him?” “I gave him a good scare, that’s all.” Anger pumped through her veins. “How can I believe that? You know what? Don’t explain anything. I’m leaving.” But the weight of holding onto her burden felt lighter suddenly. It wasn’t a state she was used to being in. “I can see that.” “I have to do damage control before it’s too late.” “It had to be done.” “If Barbara finds out— He interrupted her. His eyes cold as ice. “So what if she does? Besides, he’s been disowned from the family. Who would want to hear his groveling now?” “I have to go.” “Are you coming back?” She pressed in her temples, massaged. Her stomach muscles contracted, conflicting emotions warred inside her. “I don’t know.” She was the one who was betrayed, not him. “After what we shared, you would walk out on me?” Her lungs ran out of air before she could inhale. Her feet wanted to stay were they were but her heart wanted out. “You kept digging for information. I knew you wouldn’t let it rest until you figured it out and…and you went after him. How can I trust you?” “I only did what should have been done years 139


ago.” “He left me alone, Raphael.” He did, but for how long? He had a mean streak that lasted forever. At least now, she could breathe in some peace. “No one, not even a blood relation, should get away with what he’s done. How can you ever be secure within yourself?” “How did you figure it out?” “When I visited Barbara, I noticed the family pictures on the mantle in the living room. The pictures of your cousins had been removed.” She made a step toward the door of his bedroom, her bag clutched deftly in her hand. “Don’t go, Joy.” “I should. I should run like hell.” “Isn’t that what your family has taught you to do?” Deep down she knew there was a part of her that recognized Raphael was right, He needed to pay. Raphael and Cheryl were right. Leaving would only give Corey more power. It felt strange to think of his name after so many years of never saying, more power to ruin her life. And why should she ruin her life for an asshole? How long was she going to have to pay for her rape? How long was she going to run away? “Stay with me. We can make a clean break. Start over.” She looked down at her coat. Shakily, she pulled it off her. “I’m in the mood for Chinese takeout.” Her stomach growled and she her body felt as if she ran a marathon. It was time to be Joanne ‘Joy’ Smith again. 140


“What about in the morning?” He was standing rock still, his protective wall up. But there was no need for him to protect his heart. She wanted to be with him, wanted to change from victim to just being Joy. “Make breakfast for me.” His shoulders relaxed, his steel-gray eyes now a soft dove gray. “Lunch?” She hugged him. “I’ll make lunch. I’m home, right?” “You’re home.”

141

About the Author

K

.R. Wilson originally hails from New York City and currently she lives in the Midwest. She is a former pastry chef and watercolorist that now puts all of her energy into writing. She is happily married to her husband of seven years and deeply entrenched in motherhood. Her first novel, Crimson Wings, jumped off the virtual shelves its first week. Look for the sequel coming soon. Wilson has an intense love of vampires, werewolves, Charles Fort, Royksopp, H.R. Giger and Jamiroquai. This is her second story and first novella.

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