Louis Horror Picture Show
© Daeva

Disclaimer: The characters herein are the sole property of Mater. I am just letting them have some fun, not getting rich. So don't sue me, you greedy bitch. I've got nothing that you can't afford for yourself!

Notes: Well, it took me all night, but as promised, here's the off beat Louis story I mentioned earlier... It's silly, but not really *silly*, if you understand my meaning. No real spoilers, but it will definitely make much more sense if you are familiar with the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Hope none of you Louisians throw rotten veggies at me for this one! I think it's kind of cute, myself. The theatre mentioned herein *does* exist, but not in the location mentioned.

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I so love autumn in New Orleans, there's a certain crispness to the air. It's not truly cold - it rarely ever becomes so, really. But there's just something pure about the season, which I've never been able to place my finger upon.

It was on one such night in late October that I awoke and, having stepped onto the balcony off the front parlor, which overlooks the Rue Royale, for some air, I decided I'd like to take a walk.

Finding Lestat in his office 'surfing the net' on his computer, I tried to entice him to join me, to no avail. My golden haired amoureux simply can't be dragged away from that contraption some nights. However, I wasn't about to allow his reluctance to cease basking in the ethereal glow of the monitor deter me from my plans.

So, pulling on the lovely butter-soft black leather jacket Lestat had recently purchased for me, and with something of a lilt in my step, I set out to stroll the Quarter. It was just past nine in the evening, and the streets were, naturally, teeming with throngs of both native New Orleanians and tourists. Wishing to avoid the bulk of them, I decided against braving Rue Bourbon.

Shoving my hands into the pockets of the jacket, I exited the townhouse and headed east on the Rue Royale, walking five blocks before turning south onto Rue Orleans at an even, mortal pace. This wasn't an evening to be spent moving at high, vampiric rates of speed, but rather to be enjoyed at leisure.

Entering Jackson Square, I paused frequently to admire artwork displayed in several booths set up by the artisans, and purchased a few prints that I thought Lestat might like to hang in his office. Leaving the park finally, at its' southern end, I ambled past Café du Monde. I considered stopping in to buy a cup of chicory coffee and some beignets for the simple pleasure of savoring their scent and warmth when something further up street caught my attention. A larger and noisier than normal crowd seemed to be gathered outside of an establishment and curiosity got the better of me. I headed up to the corner of Rues Decatur and Dumaine, and found myself before the Skyfire Star Theatre, where I beheld a sight unlike anything I'd seen in my more than two hundred long years.

Milling about were dozens upon dozens of men and women (and in some cases, it was difficult to determine which was which!) wearing scandalously skimpy clothing! Men done up in elaborate makeup, wrapped in black satin cloaks with high collars, women in what is typically referred to as a French maid's dress. There were a handful of people dressed in the more conservative style of the 1950's, and some men wearing very brief tight gold lamé shorts and little else.

As I stood gazing at this spectacle, two young women approached me. One wore the maid's dress I previously described, her hair teased and fluffed to an outrageous degree, her eyes rimmed thickly with black makeup. Over her shoulder she had slung a heavily laden satchel. The other was dressed in very short shorts, of a multi-colored striped material, with fishnet stockings, a black sequined bustier and cut away gold sequined tailcoat, with matching top hat and a fuchsia sequined bow tie. Her short hair was dyed an unnatural shade of red, and she too wore elaborate makeup. My first instinct as they came closer was to bolt - I prefer not to let mortals get too close to me, unless they are to be my evening meal. But something kept me riveted in place. It was the red haired one who spoke first, her voice little more than a squeak.

"Ooh, lookie what we got here, Magenta! A virgin!"

Blinking several times out of confusion for this assessment, I looked at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"A virgin, sugar!" she teased. "You never been to see Rocky Horror before, have ya? I can tell by the way you're checkin' everyone out! S'ok, baby, we all gotta start sometime!"

Her explanation left me no less confused than I had been before. Glancing up at the theatre's marquee, I noted that the night's featured film was titled The Rocky Horror Picture Show. So, it would seem that she was noting I had never viewed this particular film.

"Ah, well, actually, no. I've not really even heard of this particular film, much less viewed it. I simply noticed this crowd from down the street, and wondered what the commotion was."

The one with the satchel, whom the one that had spoken to me referred to as 'Magenta', laughed uproariously at my comments. "Never heard of Rocky Horror? Darling, where have you been? Hidden away beneath a rock somewhere?" Her voice was husky, with a trace of what seemed to be an affected accent, resembling that of Eastern European stereotypical Hollywood vampires.

"Well, I suppose you could say that I don't get out as much as I should these days."

"What a shame," Magenta lamented melodramatically. "Such a very pretty boy like yourself should come out to play more often! Columbia," she glanced at the first girl. "He would make such a stunning Frankie, don't you think?"

Columbia squealed with delight, clapping her hands together excitedly. "Oh, you're right! Look, he's so fair to start with! And that hair! Gorgeous! Just cut it a bit and give it a good curl - he wouldn't need a wig!" She then took a few steps back and, as they say, 'gave me the once over'. "I betcha he's got really nice legs too!" This sent the both of them into fits of girlish giggling.

"If you ladies will excuse me, I'll now be on my way."

"Oh, noooo!" cried Columbia. "No, you gotta come see the movie! Everyone has to see it at some time or another! It's a blast - we don't get all gussied up like this for nothin'! Come on, I'll buy your ticket! That way, if you don't dig it, all you're out is a couple of hours of your time! Whatta ya say, cutie?"

Admittedly, I was more intrigued by the idea of this than I cared to think. It had been nearly thirty years since I'd last let mortals engage me in this level of discourse. Glancing at my watch, I noted that it was twenty minutes till midnight. Lestat was undoubtedly still playing on his computer and would likely not even miss my presence. He'd probably tease me mercilessly if I told him I'd allowed two mortal women who were barely clothed to talk me into seeing a film with them. On the other hand, he's always telling me I need to live more.

With a cordial smile, careful not to give them a flash of fang in doing so, I accepted the invitation. "If you insist, then I should be happy to join you. However, you must allow me to purchase the tickets - it's unseemly that a gentleman should allow a lady to pay his way."

Again the two of them giggled with delight and eagerly accepted that offer. Magenta hooked her arm right arm about my left, apparently not noticing that my body was much firmer than that of your typical man on the street.

"So, you haven't even told us your name, doll! What is it?"

"Ah! Forgive my rudeness! I'm Louis."

Columbia sighed my name wistfully. "Mmm, Louis! What a perfectly gorgeous name!" she squeaked. Eagerly, she inquired, "You got a girl, Louis?" This question was accompanied by the batting of her outrageously mascaraed eyelashes.

"Well, no... I do have a lover, however."

Both nodded knowingly, murmuring "Ahh...!" in unison.

Now Columbia joined her left arm with my right, and we proceeded to the box office. "Is he as pretty as you are, Louis? Your boyfriend?"

I winced a bit at her referring to Lestat in this manner, but neither seemed to notice and I didn't care to make an issue out of it. "Indeed he is, my dear. He's quite a beauty. Lovely golden skin, penetrating gray eyes that are ever changing with his mood and the surroundings, and a mane of golden hair that women would kill for!"

The two of them looked at each other and burst out into laughter. Again, with one mind and in unison, they cried out "Rocky!" I took this to mean that Lestat's description matched that of the film's title character.

Purchasing the three tickets, we moved into the theatre, which was already quite full of patrons garbed similarly to what the two of them wore, as well as many others dressed normally. Most had bags with them, though I had never seen people bring such things to films before.

Finding some seats, we arranged ourselves so that I sat between them, with Magenta to my left and Columbia to the right. I glanced to Magenta as she bent to open her satchel, and finally I could contain my curiosity no longer, and asked her, "What is it that everyone has in their bags? What is the purpose of it?"

"Oh, darling!" she cried. "This is the best part of coming to see Rocky! You get to bring props!"

That was as clear as mud. Apparently Columbia noted my confusion and leaned over a bit closer to me. "See, sugar, there's scenes in the movie where everyone in the audience will do what the characters on screen are doin'. Like, there's a wedding, and when they throw rice at the bride and groom, everyone here throws rice. When one of the characters proposes a toast, everyone here throws toast. Get it?"

"Erm, yes. I suppose. But, what's the point of it?"

Magenta laughed - it seems she found most things I said quite amusing. "The point is to have fun, Louis! Damn, you don't get out much, do you? Guess that blond boy-toy of yours keeps you plenty occupied," she snickered.

"Oh, be nice, he's a virgin, he's gonna have questions!"

At last, the lights dimmed, which was met by rounds of the patrons chanting 'Start the fucking flick! Start the fucking flick!'. As the film began, a pair of garish red lips appeared on the screen, singing something exceedingly silly.

I wanna go - Oh, oh, oh, oh, to the late night, double feature, picture show.

At various points during this opening song, the audience called out unusual additions. Little did I suspect that there would be fifteen or so similarly silly tunes throughout the film, each with outrageous extra lines thrown in.

First came the wedding scene that Columbia had mentioned, where we meet the film's protagonists, Brad Majors and Janet Weiss. Before long, Magenta's hand nudged mine and she pressed a handful of rice into it. No sooner did I have it than a rain of rice showered toward the screen. Mine joined a few seconds late.

This was such a strange experience for me. I'm far more accustomed to viewing films in the traditional manner, where the audience remains silent, or at least keeps any commentary on the films to a low whisper. Here, the entire audience was, in unison, calling out generally vulgar comments and lines to coincide with what was happening on screen, including my two companions.

Another song played, I found it rather catchy, albeit rather nonsensical. The beginning was sung by a ghoulish looking character who was apparently called Riff Raff, and by a woman named Magenta. Ah, I understood now. Magenta and Columbia were not my companion's true names...

I've got to keep control... I remember doing the Time Warp, drinking those moments when the blackness would hit me, and the void would be calling. Let's do the Time Warp again!

Oh, dear... this was just too much! Now there was a man dressed in women's underpinnings - corset, thigh-high stockings, high heels and God-awful makeup strutting about. Now, let me clarify that no one would ever call me a prude. But not even in my mortal days, where any manner of perversity could be found for a price in the brothels of Storyville, had I seen such a thing.

We now learned that this... gentleman was Dr. Frank N. Furter, and that in his laboratory, he'd created himself a tanned, well muscled, blond haired lover, named Rocky. After bringing his creation to life, and much silly singing, the two of them proceeded to their 'honeymoon suite'. Again, Magenta's hand nudged mine, this time filling it with paper confetti. As the pair on screen entered the boudoir, everyone tossed confetti at them.

On and on it went, more cat calls, more silly songs, including one where our good girl heroine turned libertine nymphomaniac Janet pleads to Rocky for him to toucha, toucha, toucha, touch her (though admittedly I liked this song, and thought perhaps it might be a good one to remember...). At last, we were once again assailed by the garish red lips singing, and the end credits rolled. As we stood to leave, a variety of thrown items - toast crumbs, confetti, rice - fell from my hair and shoulders.

"Here, lemme help ya with that, Louis," Columbia cooed as she vigorously brushed my jacket and hair off. "Not too rough for ya, am I?"

Laughing at this, I told her "No, don't worry. I have a higher than average pain threshold."

We exited the theatre together and stood just outside for a bit, the two of them gushing over the film, excitedly interrogating me as to my thoughts of the whole experience.

"I must admit, it's rather interesting. Nothing like anything I've ever seen before."

En masse, we began walking down Rue Decatur, soon finding ourselves in front of Café du Monde.

"Mmm, those beignets smell fantastic!" exclaimed Magenta, inhaling deeply. "Either of you feel like stopping? I'm starved!"

"Sounds good to me! You up for it, Louis?"

"Well, I'm not particularly hungry, but I'll sit with you for a bit."

Proceeding to the counter, they both placed their orders and were overjoyed when I insisted upon paying. Hmm, I forget how very easy it is to please mortal women...

Seating ourselves near a window, we chatted away as if we were old friends. Did I think I'd want to see the movie again? Yes, possibly, it had been fun, shocking as some of the content was. Would I consider going in costume? Well, that might be pushing it, but I don't like to say no to anything without first trying it. Might my (ugh!) boyfriend like to join the three of us some time in seeing it? This one made me laugh. Certainly it was entertainment more to Lestat's liking...

Finally, looking again at my watch, I saw that it was nearly three in the morning. "Well, ladies, it's been a pleasure, but I really must be on my way now."

"Aw, man," pouted Columbia. "Just when we were havin' fun. Can we all hook up again some time? It doesn't even have to be to see Rocky, maybe just to do dinner or club hop? Would that be cool?"

Smiling, I nodded. "I think that could be arranged."

In a flash, she ran to the counter, returning shortly with a pen and some paper. "Here, lemme give you our number and email..." Quickly, she scribbled out the information, sliding the paper across the table to me. Glancing at it, it said:

Danicia (Magenta) and Jules (Columbia): 504-234-1212. RHPSBaebes@hotmail.com

Folding back a strip of the paper, I tore it off and jotted down my email address for them:

Louis - BeautifulOne@pdl.net

I rose from my chair and paused before them to press kisses to their cheeks. "Danicia," (kiss, kiss - both cheeks, classic French style). "Jules," (kiss, kiss). "Thank you for a most memorable evening. I enjoyed your company more than you can know." I flashed them my most charming smile and made my way to the door. Together, they called out as I walked away: "Night, Louis!"

As it was growing late, I decided to forgo the leisurely walk back home and moved at top speed, pausing along the way to feed quickly, stashing the body in the trunk of an abandoned car. I had barely stepped into the townhouse when Lestat rushed to meet me.

"Louis! Mon Dieu! Where have you been? I've been worried sick! Do you know what time it is?!" Ah, the alarm in his voice was so touching!

"I'm sorry, mon ange. I... met some women and saw a film with them."

"You what!" he cried. "You went to the movies with mortal women? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes, Lestat, that's exactly what I'm saying." I brushed past him, removing my jacket and hanging it in the hall closet.

"Whatever possessed you to do such a thing? And how bloody long could a movie possibly run? You've been gone for six hours!"

In an instant, I recognized what an unprecedented opportunity I had before me, to, as they say, 'fuck with' Lestat's mind. And after viewing that particular film, I was, indeed of a mind to do so. So I began quoting lines from the various songs that had played in the film.

"It's astounding, time is fleeting..."

"Well, yes, it is, but that's no excuse for such odd behavior!"

"Madness takes its toll..."

"That I'd believe, listening to this nonsense!"

"But it's the pelvic thrust that really drives you insane..." I sang softly, gyrating my hips in time with the words, as the cast had done during the song and dance called Time Warp.

"Ohh... Louis. Yes, you know it does!" He was staring at me lustfully now.

Now I was really starting to get into this...Throwing my arms into the air dramatically, I cried out, "It's so dreamy! Oh, fantasy free me!"

I went into the back parlor and peeked around the corner at him.

"What are you doing, mon cher? Why are you hiding?"

"So you can't see me no, not at all. In another dimension, with voyeuristic intention, well secluded, I see all."

"Louis, enough of this! I'm starting to think you've lost your preternatural mind!"

I now switched briefly to a song sang by Frank N. Furter. "Don't judge a book by its cover.  I'm not much of a man by the light of day, but by night I'm one hell of a lover..."

"Well, yes, I won't argue with you on that point... But cher, I'm worried about you! What's gotten into you?"

Strolling casually towards our bedroom with him following, I sang as I went. "I thought there's no use getting into heavy petting..."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"It only leads to trouble, and seat wetting..."

"'Seat wetting'? Oh, Louis... No, such base things cannot come out of your mouth!"

I turned to him, throwing my arms about his neck and caught his lower lip between my teeth, biting him sharply enough to draw blood, and I licked it from his mouth teasingly. "I've tasted blood and I want more...!"

This little turn made Lestat growl deeply. "Oh, and more you shall have, mon beauté!"

Pressing against him, I lowered my eyes demurely and continued singing. "I'll put up no resistance...  I've got an itch to scratch, I need assistance..."

"And what kind of assistance do you require, mon coeur?" Lestat purred, not quite understanding, but now thoroughly enjoying this game.

I grabbed his hands and placed them squarely on my ass. "Touch-a touch-a touch-a touch me, I wanna be dirty!"

Again, he growled lustily, kneading my ass firmly. "You are, cher! Very dirty, and I love it!"

Drawing away from him a bit, I ran my fingers along the waistband of the jeans he wore, and let them brush teasingly over his groin. "Then if anything grows while you pose..."

"Mmm, if you keep this up, something surely will grow!"

"I'll oil you up and rub you down." Slipping my hands under his shirt, I pulled it up over his head and tossed it aside. I caressed his abdomen and chest lovingly, giving his nipples each a sharp pinch as I continued to sing. "And that's just one small fraction of the main attraction..." I let my hand slide back down over his belly and cupped his crotch with it, eliciting a moan from him. "You need a friendly hand..." Grasping his wrists, I inched slowly towards our bed until I fell flat on my back upon it, pulling him down on top of me. "And I need action!" Again wrapping my arms about him, I cast a seductive glance up at him. "Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me, Creature of the night!"

It's a good thing dawn comes later this time of year - it allows me to stay awake a bit longer, gives Lestat and I more time to play. It was now nearly half past five in the morning. I lay, tangled in Lestat's tight embrace, and observing sadly that my favorite sweater and jeans lay in a mangled, torn pile next to the bed. Poor démon, he could only take so much of my teasing before it'd been too much. I'd have to remember to retrieve Danicia and Jules' information from my pocket before tossing the jeans in the trash. Oh, but no, I'd placed it in the inner pocket of my jacket, so it didn't matter after all.

Lestat pulled me over onto my back and hovered above me for a moment, raised on his hands. His golden hair, matted and tangled as it was from our amorous play, brushed over my face. "Mon beauté, tomorrow I shall demand an explanation your behavior this evening!"

"Lowering my eyes, I smiled coyly. "You don't want it now, mon ange?" I murmured.

With a weary sigh he flopped back over onto his back, drawing the blankets up around us. "Ugh! Mon Dieu, no! I shudder to think of what it might be, and the nightmares it would cause me!"