CHANGE OF PACE by Julia Flanagan Rudden, 1995 juliafr@sun.lclark.edu The narration changes between Louis and Lestat. Changes of narrator are noted in < >. * * * Pt I. Lestat suddenly jumped up from the floor, where he'd been sitting at my feet. I loved it when he would flop onto the floor in front of me, as I sat on the couch or a chair in our living room, reading. I won't tell him exactly how much I like it. His ego is too large by far as it is. I also knew better than to comment on is sudden change of position. No point. He went straight for the Compact Disc player and stopped the lovely version of Saint-Saens's Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso to which we were listening. David's head came up when the music stopped. "Lestat, I was enjoying that, if you don't mind", David said. "Mind?" said Lestat, distractedly, as he rummaged through the CDs. With a cry of glee, he found the one he wanted and popped it into the player. Immediately, the room filled with the sound of ...I'm not sure but it was very loud. "Lestat!", I said irritably, "What are you doing?" "Don't you like it?", he said. "Like who or what? All I can hear is noise!" "It's Pearl Jam. Vitalogy. I'd forgotten how much I like their music." And with that, he started singing along, "Don't call me daughter..." David and I looked at each other and sighed in unison. No point indeed. I glanced down, and saw Lestat's magazine, quickly discarded in his quest for his ...music. A Rolling Stone, with this Pearl Jam on the cover. Lestat noticed me looking at his magazine. "Great interview with the band in that issue. It made me want to hear the music." "Are you thinking of another musical career?", I said, more sharply than I'd actually intended. "Maybe...", he said thoughtfully, luckily not rising to my unintentional barb. "And maybe not. I'm happy here, now, with you Louis, and David." He grinned at me, and, turning, sat back down between my legs and rested his blonde head against me. I reached down and stroked his silky, golden hair. He may be a brat, but he's also irresistible. He responded to my caress by taking my hand and slipping my index finger into his mouth. Suddenly, my novel became boring, and I let it fall. Lestat turned and climbed into my lap. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw David discreetly close his book and leave... Part II I woke up the next evening to find Louis' arms still wrapped around me. My mind flashed back to the previous night's love-making. Every evening, I thank whatever or whoever there is to thank, that Louis moved back in with me. It was more than I deserved, after my ill-conceived acts, but, there it is. That's me. Incorrigible. Ah, well... He stirred then, moving against me. I reached over and stroked his cheek. "Wake up, lover. Time to face another moon-lit night." He merely turned over and buried his face in the pillow. After I'd finally coaxed Louis out of bed and we'd showered and dressed, we met with David in the living room to plan our evening. I wanted to shop, as usual. Louis wanted to finish the novel he'd been reading when I ...interrupted him. David wanted to look for some dusty old books. Never can have enough of those, can you? I refrained from commenting out loud. I do try to be nice, really! Feeding, of course, was first on the list for us all. I'd taken a fancy to drug dealers, the petty ones who will cheerfully ruin lives to make a buck. I cheerfully dispatch them, and leave their bodies where their colleagues will find them. "Lestat," said Louis, "I'll join you tonight." I was speechless, Louis willing to join me in shopping? "Wonderful," I said, "And you David?" "I really must get these particular books. My research is going so slowly, I feel I must devote all my time to it." "Um, David? In case you hadn't noticed, you *are* immortal now. You really have all the time in the world." He glared at me. He's been a little touchy since we returned from Rio. I'm not sure why. He'll tell me in his own time. He is still a fledgling, which I sometimes forget. Ah, well... Louis and I walked arm in arm through the crowded streets of New Orleans. We'd fed quickly. Ever since Rio, Louis hasn't objected to my accompanying him when he hunts, so we were able to take much less time with it than in the old days. We wandered through the shops, browsing. I never tire of shopping- -seeing so many lovely so artfully displayed enchants me. As we walked into a music ship, Louis said, pointing to a poster in the window, "Isn't that the group you played last night? Pearl Jam, wasn't it?" "Yes", I said, surprised he remembered the name, "They're one of my favourite bands right now. Do you want to go in?" Again, surprisingly, he did, and so we went in. The surprises ended however after we entered. Louis headed straight back to the classical section. I checked the new releases. And there, on a poster, were the dates for Pearl Jam's tour. I'd missed them in New Orleans, well, actually, I hadn't heard of them when they played here. Their next date was scheduled for this Friday, in Seattle. Seattle was their home city, as I recalled, and that would probably be the best show to attend, with a home-town crowd. An idea, a crazy idea, popped into my head, and, heedless of the other shoppers, I pushed my way back to Louis. "Louis", I shouted, "their last tour date is Friday, Louis, and it's to be in Seattle!" "Lestat, what are you talking about? Whose last date? What about Seattle?" "Louis, don't be dense, Pearl Jam of course! Who else was I just talking about? Their last concert is to be in Seattle, this Friday. They're from Seattle, it will be a great show. I think we should go! And, I've heard Seattle is very romantic!"I grabbed him and kissed his stern mouth firmly to make my point. He blushed-it's evil of me, but I love having the power to make my Louis blush. "No", he said quietly. "No?", I said, "Why not? You liked Rio, didn't you? And that was your idea! Seattle isn't even as far as Rio. Today is only Monday, and the concert isn't until Friday. That gives us plenty of time to have a little vacation, just for two." "Let's discuss this outside, now?" was all the reply he would give me. Grumbling, I followed him to the cashier, where he paid for his selection, a new release of opera arias sung by Kathleen Battle. He does have good taste in classical music. Once outside, I started again, oblivious to the stares from passersby. I told him how much fun a little trip would be. I was actually getting truly excited about this trip. I started remembering all that I'd heard about Seattle-its fertile music scene, as well as its reputation for over-caffeinated residents. I was going! I needed a trip, some excitement! Louis said not a word throughout my speech. When I finally ran out of steam, he gently said, "No. I'm not interested in traveling right now. I'm staying here." And then, curiously, he added, "You go if you must. I was planning on assisting David with his research anyway." Stung by his refusal to even consider my (brilliant) idea, and by his implication that reading old dusty books with David was more interesting than traveling with me, I said, "Fine! I will!" And I did. I rose so fast no one but Louis could see me. Sometimes, I don't understand why I stay with him. He is the damnedest creature. I walked back, alone, to the Rue Royale flat. I wasn't worried about Lestat. I actually believed he'd be at the flat, if not by the time I walked back, by dawn. He's impulsive, but I believed even Lestat wouldn't simply take off for a distant city like Seattle. Especially since our return from Rio. We'd become very...close, closer than in the past, and I flattered myself to think I had a calming effect upon him. When I stepped into the flat, I heard only the tick of the hall clock and the scratch of David's old fashioned pen. No loud, raucous modern music. Lestat wasn't home. I spent the rest of the evening chatting pleasantly with David. He was too polite to ask why I'd come back alone, and I didn't mention anything. I did look up too often at the noises of the night, though. Lestat didn't return that night. Or the next. On the third night, Wednesday, when I was beginning to worry, there was a postcard in the mailbox. The front featured the photo of a strange, pointed, skeletal structure. "The Space Needle" was printed on the card. On the reverse, in Lestat's bold handwriting, "Having a great time! Don't you wish you were? XXX Lestat". It was at the sight of that card that I broke down and told David. Our spat, Lestat's impulsive act, my refusal to believe he'd really leave me as he did. I should be used to it, I know. But things had been so good with us. I'd felt we were actually having a mature relationship. And for Lestat to just...take off as he'd done had hurt me very deeply. "Louis, you know how he is. He is impulsiveness itself. And he probably will never change", said David "It's true, David, I of all people should know. But I had so hoped..." I couldn't help myself, I couldn't hold back any longer. The tears fell, red, staining my shirt. Actually, it was Lestat's shirt. I'd grabbed from the closet we shared, not realizing it was his until I'd pulled it on and the smell of his cologne wafted to my nose. I'd almost pulled it off...but hadn't. I missed him, damn it. Damn him for making me care. Damn my own sentimental nature. David watched the emotions fly over my face. He was concerned for me, and I felt the gentle, reassuring touch of his mind. "Maybe...", he started to say. I looked up at him. He continued, "Maybe you should go to Seattle." "What? Why? What purpose would that serve? I don't like to travel, anyway." "As I recall, you liked Rio very much. Why not see what Seattle has to offer? I've been there in the past on Talamasca business. It's an interesting city, with a very different feel from New Orleans." "No", I repeated, and quietly left the room, left the flat. I didn't want to go, to seem to give in to Lestat so easily. To seem weak to him, running to him. I've never been able to resist Lestat. But I would now. Besides, knowing him, he'd probably be walking in the door just as I was on my way to the airport. He'd be home soon...wouldn't he? Monday Seattle I don't think I'll ever understand my Louis. He deliberately pushed me! "Planning on assisting David", indeed! "Excuse me...", said a voice. I looked up from my notebook. I'd been trying to sort out my thoughts, and to that end had acquired a little notebook. Since Rio, and my re-union with Louis, I've been trying to be less...impulsive? What is the right word? In any case, I'd decided to keep track of my feelings, to try to really feel and not just act. Maybe, I'd thought, I could change... "Yes?", I said, looking up. The owner of the voice was a pretty, young woman. Soft, curly brown hair, nice features. A little too thin for my taste. "Is anyone sitting there?", she said, indicating the other chair at my table in the little coffee house. There seemed to be one on every corner in Seattle. This one was now much busier than it had been when I, cold from my flight, had arrived. "No, please join me", I said. She sat down, smiling her thanks, and immediately pulled a large book out of her bag and began to study it. I snuck a peek at it. Music, a score of some sort. Interesting. I went back to my scribbling. Her coffee arrived shortly, and she stopped her study long enough to pour herself a cupful of black coffee from the little decanter. The same thing I had ordered, I noticed. I'd asked for coffee and the clerk, a woman with a shorn, green-coloured head of hair and quite a few metal rings pierced through her features had said, "You mean an Americano?" I'd agreed, not wanting to argue. This wasn't New Orleans, after all. I paid her what she asked, leaving too large a tip in the little jar by the cash register. I was told to find a table and wait. Which I did. After an interminable amount of time, the same woman finally brought my "Americano". It tasted like coffee, but almost a little burnt. I liked it immediately. Head down, writing still--feelings seem to gush out when you let them, I reached for my cup only to find it empty. My table companion noticed my disappointed sigh, and said, "Would you like some of mine? I drink it so slowly it will go cold if you don't..." Before I could refuse, she had poured the rest of her decantor into my glass cup. "Thank you, but please, I'll buy you another, you needn't give me your last drop", I protested. "It's no problem. Besides, you look like you need something warm." "Well," I said, "Thank you. I'm forgetting my manners. My name is Lestat." "I'm Nicole. You have a very interesting name." "Thank you, it's French." We chatted pleasantly for a while. When I finished the coffee she'd so kindly given me, I went to order more, deciding to treat Nicole. Impulsively, I ordered some delightful looking chocolate cookies. She seemed far too thin. Though she protested the expense and insisted that I did not need to treat her, she nevertheless seemed to enjoy the cookies. I, of course, only sipped my coffee. Although I can and do enjoy some mortal beverages, I haven't eaten food since I was in David's current body. We talked some more. It seemed she was an actress and singer, which explained the score she'd been studying. It turned out to be "Le Nozze di Figaro", and she was in the chorus of the version the Seattle Opera was currently performing. She also mentioned that she was the understudy for Susanna, one of the leads. The woman playing Susanna, though, had an unfortunately strong constitution, and Nicole had been stuck in the chorus except for certain rehersals. "You'd like my lover. He is an opera fiend. Myself, I enjoy it greatly as well, but Louis is addicted." "Louis?" she asked. I realised she'd been hoping I was single, or at least, straight. "Well, as Michael Stipe once put it, I'm an equal opportunity letch," I said, grinning at her. To her credit, she blushed. "I'm sorry", she said, "I didn't mean..." "No", I said, feeling contrite, "I'm sorry. Let's just say that while it is true that I'm here in Seattle and Louis is not, I wish he were here." "Oh", she said, "Are you traveling on business then?" "No...no, I'm here for a vacation, and I just wasn't able to convince Louis to accompany me. He's never been fond of traveling." On impulse, emboldend by her sympathetic look, I told her of how I'd tried to convince Louis to join me, his strange comments, and my abrubt departure. I did not mention my exact mode of travel, of course. I told her of our on-again, off-again relationship, and of how happy I had been that it was "on" again. She listened patiently, and thoughtfully. "Perhaps he just prefers more planning to his trips. Or perhaps he simply wasn't in the mood to travel, but didn't want to spoil your trip. If you are as close as you say, he probably misses you. You could give him a call." "No", I said, "I couldn't do that." We sat in silence for a few moments, and then she asked me the time. I glanced at my watch, and replied that it was 7:30. "Oh, no! I'll be late for the performance! If I'm not backstage by ten of 8 I'm out of the cast." She frantically began to gather her things, muttering "Now, when is the last bus?" under her breath. "Wait", I said, "Can't you just drive or take a cab? Isn't that faster?" I stood up to help her with her bag, but she was already heading for the door. I grabbed my little notebook, thrust it in my pocket and followed her to the door. A bus whizzed by just as we got out onto the sidewalk. "Why not just take a cab?" I repeated, confused. "Because I can't afford it! I spent my last dollar on coffee. Now, I'll have to walk and hope I make it by the second act." "Wait", I said firmly. I didn't have a car here, I hadn't found one yet. But what are preternatural powers for if one can't help a new friend? I let my mind wander the area, and made contact with a cab driver. I strongly suggested that he come to this corner, not knowing the street names, I described it in my mind, and told him to hurry. In a remarkably short period of time, a yellow cab pulled up to us. I hustled Nicole inside, and said, "Where is this place you need to be?" "Seattle Center. The Opera House. And please hurry!" she said, to the driver. "You are too much!" she said to me. "You will let me pay you back for this, you know. I may be a starving actress, but I have my honour." she said with a smile, "And thanks to you, I'll still have a job tonight!" "You don't need to pay me back", I said, "It's my pleasure. Besides, it's my first night in Seattle. Attending the opera sounds like a great way to spend the evening." We arrived in plenty of time. I insisted that Nicole meet me after the opera and let me take her to dinner. Surprisingly, she agreed without protest, and ran off to the backstage dressing rooms. I bought a box ticket, and with some little time before curtain, I wandered out into the Seattle Center, as she'd called it. I didn't need to feed, having done so earlier that evening with my Louis. A sadness washed over me. Why couldn't we ever be in harmony? Was it always my fault? No, I decided, this time he had goaded me! I realized how irritated I really was with him. I stopped at a little stand, and bought a postcard. It had a photo of this strange needle-like building on it, and I looked up to realize that I was standing at the foot of it. "That's the Space Needle. You must be from out of town", said the vendor. "Yes, I am. I'll take this one", I said, indicating the card. "Do you sell stamps as well?" He did, and I wrote my message quickly, tersely. On impulse, I put three "X"s by my signature. I couldn't bring myself to write "love". My feelings were too jumbled at the moment. I found a post box, and mailed the card. The opera was wonderful! I was able to pick out Nicole's fine, clear soprano from the chorus. I actually thought she had a better voice than the woman who sang Susanna. I thought I might have to take care of that, and began to hatch a little plan. After the finale, I met Nicole in the lobby. "You were wonderful!" I said, and kissed her cheek. She took my hand, and thanked me again, "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't found that cab." "It was my pleasure", I said, smiling, pleased with her appreciation of me. "Now, shall we go somewhere to celebrate my cleverness?" She laughed, and agreed. We made our way to the street and I found us yet another Seattle cab. The drivers seemed unusually friendly for cab drivers. "I don't actually have a place to stay here in Seattle", I remarked, as we entered the cab. "Do you have a recommendation? I like...luxury, when I can find it." "Is money an object?" she asked. I smiled, and shook my head. "Then, you should certainly go to the Four Seasons. That's about as luxurious as you can get in Seattle." I instructed the driver, who'd been waiting for a direction, and we were off for the Four Seasons. Upon our arrival, I asked Nicole to go to the lounge and order whatever she liked for herself and a glass of red wine for me. I went to find the Maitre d'Hotel to arrange a suite. I've found it best to speak with someone in charge when one has requirements like my own. I emphasized my predilection for late nights, and my need not to be disturbed during the day. A couple of hundred dollar bills ensured his temporary loyalty, and I soon joined Nicole in the lounge. She'd ordered a bottle of a very nice Petite Sirah, and was sipping appreciatively from her glass. She poured for me as I seated myself. As we enjoyed the wine, she entertained me with the backstage gossip from that evening's performance. She told me of her dream of singing a lead role in a large production. She'd been in Seattle for five years, and had been in numerous plays and productions, but she had yet to get her "break". I told her a little of my own days on the stage, changing the details of course. I insisted that she tell me what I should do in Seattle, this being my first visit. I told her of my plan with regard to the Pearl Jam concert. "It's undoubtably sold out, Lestat. Of course, if you can afford to stay here, you should have no trouble affording the prices the scalpers will be charging." We conversed until close to one, when I sent her home in a cab. I got her phone number from her, and insisted that she take some money, just in case. To my surprise, she did, saying, "Somehow, I think you really just want to help. And some day, I'll pay you back." The suite I'd been given was on the top floor of the hotel. I stood by the window, and looked down at this new city. So far from my Louis...I really missed him, so much so that I almost lifted the phone to call. Of course, I didn't. I refused to be the one to give in, especially given the farewell I'd received from him. Dusty books! Instead, I lay on the bed and wrote in my notebook. My mind began to clear, as the words flowed onto the paper, as though the little notebook was taking in all my confusion and leaving me with a clean slate. When the first finger of dawn touched the Seattle sky, I closed the drapes, locked the door (after carefully hanging the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob) and slipped into bed, pulling the covers firmly over my head. Tuesday I awoke the next evening slightly disoriented, but refreshed. I quickly jumped out of bed, showered and belatedly realized that I had no clean clothing. Well, that's easily remedied, I thought. The Four Seasons was in the heart of downtown Seattle. I asked at the concierge what the best options were for men's attire. The woman at the desk, young but stern looking in a dark suit with her hair in a tight bun, suggested I try a shop called Nordstrom. I was directed out, and told it was a short walk or the hotel could call me a cab. I elected to walk, enjoying the sights and smells of this new city. The ubiquitous coffee shops gave off a rich, roasty aroma, and the air smelled clean and wet, with a bit of an ocean smell mixed in. On my way to this Nordstrom, a beautiful green suit in a shop window caught my eye. Not the emerald of my Louis' eyes, but darker. I walked into the shop, and found myself in an elegant men's clothing store. Once the young clerk realized that I was a serious shopper, he showered me with attention and I left with enough clothing of various degrees of formality to last me a week. I let the clerk guide my selections, taking advantage of his local knowledge. I also flirted with him, I can't help myself, and to my delight, he flirted back, returning my suggestive comments with his own. He was a lovely, dark-haired man, with a slight accent, lighter than my own. When he realized my accent was French, he began calling me "Monsieur", which I found absolutely delightful. As I was about to leave, he gave me a card, and said, "Monsieur, I think you would enjoy this club, please try to stop by during your stay in Seattle." He let his hand brush mine as he handed me the card. I enjoyed his attentions--it was too good for my ego. Oh, and I bought that green suit. In Louis' size. I took a cab back to the hotel, changed and spent the rest of the night exploring Seattle. I wandered through downtown for a bit, and then took a bus, choosing the first one to stop near me, and riding until something caught my eye. I ended up in what the driver called the University District. I saw young people sitting on the sidewalk, begging for change. Most of them had rings through their ears, noses, lips and sometimes eyebrows. I found them most intriguing. The drunks who also adorned the sidewalk I liked less, as they smelled awful. The few well-dressed couples entering or leaving the several movie theatres seemed out of place. I stopped in a corner coffeehouse, and ordered that Americano that seemed so popular here. The clerk was rude to me in a strangely pleasing way. I paid with a ten dollar bill and stuffed all the change in the little cup by the cash register. I found a table and pulled out my notebook. I was coming to enjoy this journal-keeping activity more and more. I looked around the room, and saw a number of other patrons were also writing in little books. I felt very comfortable, like I belonged. I finished my coffee, and left to continue my wandering. The coffee wasn't as good as the other cafe, the one where I'd met Nicole. It was thinner, like the blood of the elderly. I continued my exploration. I'd picked up a map at my hotel, and I made my way to the Arboretum. I enjoyed the smells, the freshness of the air. I flew discreetly over the rooftops, and down to the edge of Lake Washington, the large lake that separates what the locals call the "West" side from the "East" side. I'd gathered that this East side was not very interesting, populated mostly by high-tech firms and families. Certainly not my idea of fun! Dawn found me back in my suite at the Four Seasons. It was a very pleasant place to stay, although the large, firm bed made me long for Louis. I didn't let myself think of him for long, I was still angry with him, and I'm very stubborn. Wednesday The next night, I decided to visit the club that the handsome young clerk had suggested. I went down to the lobby and asked at the concierge, trying to determine what appropriate attire would be. "Please", I said, "be as exact as you can. Not being a native, I really don't know what it correct, and I don't want to dress inappropriately." The woman, who was growing used to my strange requests, laughed. "Well, you're the right gender for Hammer's! If I were you, and I really wanted to fit it, I'd wear your tightest jeans, a black t-shirt, a black leather jacket, and some heavy boots. That is, if you're looking for an...interesting evening." I thanked her with a twenty, and grabbed a cab. I had some more shopping to do! Upon my arrival at Hammer's, which was in a part of town the cab driver called Capital Hill (I wasn't sure why they called it that, as I saw no capital building), I found myself dressed almost too appropriately. Every other man, and the crowd was almost all male, was wearing jeans with either a black or white tightly fitting t-shirt. Oh, well, at least my attire won't cause me to stand out in the crowd. As had become my pattern, I'd fed earlier, in a part of town called Pioneer Square. There seemed to be a great many of my favourite meal there, and plenty of places to stash the bodies. So it was that the crush of human smell didn't affect me as strongly as it might have had I been...hungry. I made my way to the bar and ordered a beer, more to have something in my hand than to quench any thirst. The place was packed, and I had to push my way through a crush of handsome, toned bodies. Of course, I myself fit that description, and I felt more than one hand graze my ass as I wandered through the club. My young clerk spotted me and called, "Monsieur Lioncourt!" I was pleased and flattered that he had remembered my name, and I joined him and his companions. They were all three dark and quite handsome with skillfully cut hair and fashionable clothing. We all chatted, with some little difficulty as the pulsing music was rather loud. My clerk's name, which I had neglected to discover at the shop, was Rauol, and he was from the Philippines, as were his two friends. He was studying fashion design, which explained his exquisite taste in clothing. His friends stood up and went to dance. Rauol asked me to dance with him. I agreed to , too tempted by his charms to decline. I wondered if I might not be tempted to do more than dance before this night was over. The pulsing beat of the techno music melted into me, and I was bumping and grinding to the beat, thrusting my narrow hips against Rauol, who thrust his own back enthusiastically. He reached up, framed my face with his hands, and leaned up towards me. I moved my head forward to receive his kiss. Our mouths opened in unison, and we both let our tongues explore the other's mouth. He tasted sweet, and faintly, pleasantly, of cloves and smoke. I pulled him closer to me, thrusting my pelvis into him, reaching around to grab his tight, hard ass and squeeze it gently. He moaned into my mouth, and then, breaking our kiss, said, "Let's go!" He led me off the dance floor and into the back of the club, where there were several small, private rooms. We went inside one, and closed the door. The room was dimly lit, with a couch and a small table. On the table was a basket full of condoms, latex gloves and small packages of lubricant. "It's great, isn't it? They're courtesy of the club." "So that", I said, grinning my half grin, the one that hides my fangs, "explains the high cover charge!" Before he could reply, I locked my mouth to his, and we tumbled to the couch. I reached around and pulled his tight t-shirt out from his jeans, and off over his head. He was so beautiful--the honey-coloured skin of his chest was lightly sprinkled with soft, dark hairs. He was firm, but not overly built, his muscles gently defined beneath his skin. I smoothed my hands over his chest, stopping to squeeze his nipples. He moaned with pleasure and reached his hands under my shirt. I quickly pulled off my well-chosen black t-shirt, the force pulling the tie from my hair, freeing it to tumble about my shoulders in its golden glory. We made quick work of our jeans and boots, and were soon writhing naked on the couch. I let my lips wander down his chest, nipping gently at his nipples, licking his firm abdomen, and finally, I let my mouth slip over his erection. He gasped as I enclosed him in the warmth of my mouth, and he fastened his hands in my hair, gently pulling me closer to him, pushing himself deeper into my mouth. Carefully, so as not to let my fang teeth graze him, I moved up and down, pulling the sweet length of him in and out, faster and faster. He kept moving against me, letting his hips writhe, running his hands through my hair and caressing my shoulders. His thrusts became faster, and I increased my speed and pressure, and reached around to clasp his firm ass in my hands, squeezing as he cried, "I'm coming!", and when he did the taste was as sweet as his kisses had been. I slowly lifted my head, releasing him, and saw him close his eyes and heard his deep sigh. "That was...wonderful..." "My pleasure", I replied, gently. "Can I do...", he started to say, but I stopped his question with a kiss, letting him taste himself from my tongue. "I'm fine", I said, breaking the kiss. Although I would have loved to feel the heat of his mouth on my desire, I didn't want to have to explain why it wouldn't give me an orgasm. Only the blood could do that...and I prefer to receive it only from my Louis. We dressed languidly, and went back into the crush of bodies. I stayed for a little while longer, and when I stood to leave, Rauol stood as well and we walked out together into the cool night air. "Do you need a ride to your hotel?" he asked, solicitously. "No, I think I'll walk. The air is so fresh here." "Well, be careful downtown this time of night. We've had some incidents of gay bashing recently." I appreciated his concern. He couldn't know that any gay basher had much more to fear from me than I from them! "Don't worry", I assured him, " I am very good at taking care of myself." I gave him a grin, and then a kiss, and turned to go. "Wait!", he cried, "Here...". He fumbled in his pocket and came up with a card. It read "Catwalk". "If you are interested in a slightly...different...aspect of Seattle nightlife, you should stop by that club tomorrow night. I'll be there. If you need anything to wear, you should go to Fantasy, Unlimited. It's downtown on First Avenue. I hope to see you again, no?" "Yes!" I said, smiling, and I turned and walked away. Wednesday Ever since I read that card, I haven't been able to stop thinking of that last conversation with Lestat. Something made me say what I had-- why? Why did I essentially tell him to go? I got up from my desk, and joined David in the living room. My new opera CD was playing and Kathleen Battle's clear soprano filled the room "David...", I started. "He'll be back, Louis. You know that. He always comes home, eventually." "I do know that, David, but...can I tell you something?", I asked. "Of course", he said, reassuringly. "I didn't tell you the whole story, about Monday night." He was silent, but his eyes stayed on mine and his expression was encouraging. "I...told him to go. I don't know what got into me, but I practically sent him off. I didn't realize what I'd said until...until he left." "Lestat is impulsive. He could just as well have left without your saying a word." "No", I said, "I don't think so. Not this time. I think...I think I was testing him. Checking the depth of his devotions?" I laughed, a sharp sad little laugh. "I don't know. And now, he's gone. And I can't help missing him." Once again, the tears fell. I can't count the number of times Lestat has made me cry. This time, though, I felt a deep guilt, a regret that filled my soul. David was sympathetic and supportive, though I didn't feel I deserved it. "Louis..." he started, "you should go to him." "No...I couldn't. I can't give in, not again." "Why not? If you love him, and I know you do, you should let him know that you didn't mean what you said. You know how vain he is, he's probably feeling rejected, and I'm sure he wishes you were with him." He smiled then, and added, "Besides, I've heard there are more bookstores per capita in Seattle than any other American city." "Do you really think so? I don't want to make a fool of myself." "You won't. Everything will be fine. Do you want me to call the travel company Lestat uses? " "No", I said quickly, "Let me think about this..." I left the room, and returned to my study. I spent the rest of the night writing in my journal. I just needed to sort out my feelings. Thursday The next evening, I entered the living room dressed in what Lestat refers to as my rags. Worn black jeans. A black shirt, and my favourite black sweater. My comfort clothes. Just what I needed for a plane ride. "David", I said quietly, so as not to startle him from his reading, "Can you take me to the airport?" He looked up, saw the small bag in my hand, and said, "Of course. Let me get my jacket." An hour later, I was in a first-class seat, bound for Seattle. Thursday After the lovely time I'd had the previous night, I was more than willing to try another of Rauol's suggestions. I stopped at my concierge. She seemed to be growing quite fond of me, and of course, of the bills with which I repaid her for her helpful advice. "So, where to tonight?", she teased me. Despite her staid appearance, I was realizing that she was very experienced with Seattle night-life. "The... let me see", I fumbled for the card Rauol had given me, "The Catwalk. That's it." "Hmmm...", she said, taking the card. It was actually more like a ticket than a regular business card. "Well, you should know that tonight is, well, it's special. A special interest night, if you know what I mean." "I don't actually. I was told though, by a ... friend ...that I should shop at a store called Fantasy something or other. Do you know the place?" "Oh! You mean Fantasy Unlimited. OK, sure I do." She sounded relieved. I was getting more and more confused and wished she'd just explain! I was about to read her thoughts in frustration when I stopped myself. Why not enjoy a little surprise? "It's on First at about Pike Street, just up from the Pike Place Public Market." I knew the place to which she was referring. I'd seen the red neon sign that read "Public Market" and wished I could experience it in the forbidden light of day, when it was no doubt filled with people and bustle. "And this Catwalk", I asked, "How do I get there?" "I'd take a cab. It's in Pioneer Square, and that's not where you'll want to wander once you're appropriately dressed." I thanked her, not mentioning of course the fact that I had been to Pioneer Square and was none the worse for wear. I hadn't run across this Catwalk though, in my wanderings. I walked the short distance to this Fantasy store, enjoying the night air and sea-kissed breeze. Fantasy Unlimited turned out to be a novelty sex shop. Feeling like I was being made fun of, I was about to turn to leave when I spotted the stairway in the back of the store. Curious now, I made my way to the stairs, past the joke gifts and magazines. At the top of the stairs, I understood what the concierge had meant when she said ... special. The room was filled with racks of clothing, mostly black and mostly leather. Then I saw the racks of whips, crops, and collars. Display cases filled with trays of metal rings, like the ones the coffee house cashier had worn in her nose, and eyebrows. "Can I help you?", said a young, dark-haired woman. She had rings in her lips, nose, ears, eyebrow and a stud in her tongue, of which I caught a fleeting glimpse as I turned to face her. "Yes", I said, smiling. This was going to be fun! "I'm going to the Catwalk tonight and I've left my usual outfit at home. Home, being New Orleans." "OK. Sure, we can fix you up. First time in Seattle?", she said as she guided me to a rack of leather clothing. "Yes", I replied, "But I'm growing quite fond of it!" "Yeah, I wouldn't live anywhere else. Now, what do you need?" "Perhaps you can make some suggestions. I don't like to advertise the fact that I'm from out of town." "Well, sure, I'll help you choose something good. But, with an accent like yours, it's pretty obvious you're not a native." Miffed, I said, "My accent is not that strong!" "Hey, whatever you say. But I can sure tell...now let's see, you look like about a size 30? Am I right?" She proceeded to choose black leather pants (which she insisted I try on) and a vest of chain links and strips of black leather. My boots, from the previous evening's excursion, met with her approval. She hesitated at the rack of collars. "Hmmm... well, you look like a switch to me. Top or bottom for tonight?" I thought quickly, the full realization of what I could be in for at this Catwalk coming to me. "Top", I said, and her hand moved from the studded collars with "D" rings, rather like Mojo's actually, to one with fewer studs and no ring attached. A metal-studded black leather belt completed the outfit. As she began adding up my purchases, I looked into the display case. On impulse, I asked her for one of the multi-coloured rings, in a size suitable for an eyebrow pierce. She called the metal niobium, and asked if I wanted to set an appointment. "We do piercings here." she said. "If you'll just sell me a needle. I'm quite comfortable with ... piercing", I said, giving her my half grin. "Suit yourself", she said, "Just make sure you keep everything sterile." I assured her I would. No point in trying to explain why I wasn't going to worry about it. One of the better aspects of vampire existence was a delightful immunity to all those little bugs that plague humans. Back at my hotel, I changed into my new purchases, admiring myself in the mirror. The black leather pants hugged my legs, and showed off the muscular definition my difficult youth had given me. The vest displayed my chest, my skin too pale, but it made a nice contrast with the black leather strips. Besides, I'd noticed that the people here seemed to be more pale than those in New Orleans. I wouldn't look too out of place. I slicked my hair back into a ponytail. Then, I took the sharp piercing needle the clerk had sold me, and, while one hand pinched the skin around my right eyebrow, I slowly pushed the needle through. It was an interesting and not altogether unpleasant sensation. I used my preternatural strength to bend open the coloured ring, and it followed the needle through my skin. I gently closed the ends, and looked at myself in the mirror to admire my handiwork. It looked quite nice, and the colour of the ring, which seemed to change from blue to violet with the light, mirrored my eyes. I wonder what Louis will think. He'd undoubtedly hate it. But, who cares! He's not here! And I so wish he were. A wave of sadness passed through me. He's at home with David. And their damn, dusty books! It suddenly occurred to me to wonder if there was perhaps something else...was there something between David and Louis? Could that explain David's odd moods, and the strange encouragement Louis had given me, "Go ahead, Lestat. Have fun!", wasn't that what he'd said? I began to grow angry at the thought of Louis and David together, that Louis might want him more than me. With that thought driving me, I took the elevator down from my suite and, heedless of the stares the patrons in the lobby gave me, I headed for the door. "Sir!", called the concierge, "Do you want me to call a cab for you?" "No, I'm walking." "But...". I was out the door before she could finish. I was looking forward to being hassled. It would give me a good excuse, not that I needed one. Besides, I wanted to be nice and full before I arrived at the club, and someone with an evil mind sounded very tasty. Thursday Why did I ever decide to do this? I was lost. My plane had arrived almost half an hour ago, and I was still wandering the corridors of the airport, trying to find the exit. I'd received directions from 3 different people, traveled on 2 different little trains and still had had no luck finding an exit. I cornered a woman with a name tag. "Please", I said, "I have to find the exit." "Sir, it's just down that way." She pointed back the way I had come! "No, just take me there, won't you? I've tried following directions, but this place is simply incomprehensible! Please?" Maybe it was the desperation in my voice. Or maybe I just sounded pathetic, I don't know. But she sighed and gestured for me to follow her. Two minutes later, I was in a cab, heading for downtown Seattle. The scenery was nothing special, so far as I could see. Malls lined both sides of the highway, and I could see nothing worth traveling close to 2000 miles for. And then, we came around a bend, and I saw the brightly lit towers of a city. They were so tall, and so close together, rising suddenly to the sky. "It's beautiful", I said aloud. "Sure is, first couple of times you see it. Me, I'm so used to it I don't notice anymore." the driver replied. "So, where to in downtown?" "Where?", I said, stupidly, "I'm not sure. I'm ... meeting a friend, but I'm not sure where he's staying." "You don't have the hotel name or anything like that?" "No", I answered, thinking furiously. Where would Lestat stay? He usually prefers luxury hotels, but he might have chosen to go for character this time. "What's the best hotel in Seattle?" I asked the driver. "Well, the Four Seasons is sure the priciest." "Take me there!" I'd try luxury first, then think of what to do next if he had chosen character. At the hotel, I first asked at the desk for Lestat de Lioncourt. He doesn't always use an alias, so it was a good place to start. "Yes", said the clerk, "We have someone registered by that name. Would you like me to ring the room?" "Yes, please." She tried the line but there was apparently no answer. I declined her offer to leave a message, and turned away from the counter, disappointment clouding my face. "Excuse me..." said a woman's voice. I turned to see a trim woman wearing a dark suit, with a tag which said "Concierge" pinned to her collar. She was smiling at me, and asked, "You're a friend of Mr. de Lioncourt?" "Yes", I said, hope rising in me, "He's not expecting me. I was planning a surprise." "I see. Well, you don't really look like his type." She smiled at me, and continued, "I think I know where you might try, if you want to look for him." "You do?", I said, excitement in my voice, "Yes, of course I want to look for him, I want to find him as soon as possible!" She led me to the front of the hotel, and gave an address to the driver of one of the waiting cabs. "Have fun!" she said, with an odd little smile. I wondered what Lestat could be up to. From the manner in which the concierge had spoken of him, he was acquiring a reputation. Not his type! What *had* Lestat been up to? I soon found out... The cab ride was quick, and the car had soon stopped outside a doorway with a small neon sign above it. I got out, paid the driver and looked around. Not a very nice neighbourhood, I decided. That was actually a good thing. I'd fed earlier in New Orleans, but there was always the possibility of a confrontation with Lestat, and I would need to be as strong as possible. I quickly found a low-life, after sending my thoughts out in search of evil. Luckily, he was not on any drugs, and my head stayed clear. I walked the block back to the club, girded myself, and walked in. "Ten dollars and let me see your ID." The door cashier was a thin man, young, with his head shaved and metal rings in his nose and ears. I fished in my pockets, coming up with plenty of bills, some change, and my driver's license. Fake, of course. I'm never awake when the licensing bureaus are open. The cashier looked at it closely. It said I was twenty-four, which I did indeed look. "I'm from New Orleans", I said, and when he heard my accent, he nodded, handed me back the little card, and stamped my hand. Loud music was playing, not Lestat's Pearl Jam, but something with a throbbing beat. Most of the other patrons were dressed in black, so I didn't feel too out of place. They were, however, wearing far less clothing than I. Naked legs, bare chests and buttocks were all around me. Most people had at least one metal ring through some part of their anatomy. I saw women baring their breasts, and some of them had rings through their nipples. What had Lestat gotten himself into? I wandered around the main room, searching for my golden-haired lover. I didn't see him, and, as he had made me, I couldn't reach out for him with my mind. On my second walk around the room, I saw a doorway with a curtain hanging in it. Light showed beneath, so I walked up, parted the curtain, and stepped through the doorway. There, spread-eagled to a wooden rack, wrists and ankles bound, his back to me, was my Lestat. "Lestat!", I called, frightened and worried and about to go into shock. As I said his name, I heard rather than saw the whip strike his back. At the sound of my voice, he turned his head towards me and grinned at me, almost showing his fangs. "Louis! What the hell are you doing here?" "I ... I came to see you." "You did, eh? So, where's David?", he said with a sneer. "David?", I asked, stupidly. "Yes, isn't he your new lover?", he said, and turning his head the other way, he called, "Rauol!" A young man, holding a whip, stepped up. He was the one who'd been whipping Lestat! But why? And, moreover, why had Lestat tolerated it? For it had to have been fully voluntary, no mere human could restrain him. The thoughts raced through my head. And what was this about David? We were dear friends, but I'd never had ... that ... sort of interest in him. What was Lestat talking about? "Rauol", continued Lestat, "This is Louis. Louis, this is my new friend Rauol." "I'm pleased to meet you", said Rauol, and he transferred his whip from one hand to the other and reached out to shake my hand. Dazed, I returned the greeting. "Lestat", said Rauol, "How are you doing?" He had a gentle concern in his voice which seemed at odds with his prior behavior. "I'm fine, but let's stop for now. I think I need to have a little chat with our new arrival." Rauol freed him from the bonds, and Lestat stood, flexing his back like a cat. He reached down for a bit of leather and chain and donned it, and after kissing Rauol firmly, he grabbed my arm and practically dragged me back into the main area of the club. We ended up near the bar, at a small table. A scantily clad waiter brought us drinks. Lestat leaned back in his chair and glared at me. I was very confused. "Lestat ...", I started to say. "So, why are you here?", he interrupted, "Did the dusty books prove less ... exciting than you thought?" "Lestat!", I said firmly, "I won't have you speaking to me like that. I just thought it might be nice to see Seattle." "Nice, eh? Hmm ... So, why did you send me off? You can be honest, Louis, I know David's been needing something. He has always had a, shall we say, fondness for you." "Lestat, please", I said, close to tears from his cutting remarks. Despite my resolution to be calm and cool, the tears began to fall. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for you to leave, I didn't want you to go." "Then why", he asked his voice still full of ire, "Did you tell me to?" "I don't know ... I've been trying to find the answer to that question myself. But I'm here now. I actually got on an airplane and flew 2000 miles to come here and find you. Can't we try to enjoy this time together?" "And what about David?", he asked, less fiercely than before, but still sounding cautious. I'd really hurt him I realized, more deeply than I would have thought. One more rejection I'd given him. Too many. "David is very happily reading his dusty books back at home. He ... suggested that I come." That seemed to reassure him more than any other thing I had said. "So", he asked, with the ghost of a smile on his face, "How do you like Seattle?" "Well, it's interesting ..." "Good!", he said, and took my hand. "I'm really glad you're here Louis. And, you've come in time to attend the concert with me. It's tomorrow night, remember?" I did remember. I told him I was looking forward to it. "But, Lestat, if I can ask ...", I started. "Yes?" He was caressing my hand, which was terribly distracting. I had to focus my thoughts to frame my question. "What was that young man doing to you? Why were you letting him ... beat you?" "Rauol? Oh, that was a new game he's been showing me. He's very skilled, Louis, I can have him show you if you like." "I don't think so. Being whipped is not my idea of fun!" "Louis...", he said, with a slightly distant look on his face, "it's pain so exquisite it becomes pleasure. It was like a caress, as he guided the leather to my skin. Like nothing I've ever felt before." "Nothing?", I said, with just a hint of teasing in my voice. "Well", he replied, leaning across the table and taking my face in his hands, "Almost nothing." He pressed his mouth against mine, his silky lips firm against my own. I let him coax my lips apart, and his tongue wandered into my mouth. I let mine explore as well, and it brushed against the tips of his fangs and I pressed it deeper into his mouth. He moaned, and without breaking our kiss, grabbed his chair with one hand and moved closer to me. I let my hands wander across his chest, feeling his firm muscles and the cool metal of the chains. I was breathless when he broke the kiss. I was probably blushing as well. Despite the nature of this club, we *were* in public and I'm really rather shy. "Let's go back to the hotel, cher", he said, standing up. I let him lead me to the door. He stopped, and said, "Wait here, I'll just make my farewells to Rauol". He was back in a moment, grinning. "He says to have a good time. I think he likes you, Louis!" He put his arm around me, and we headed out the door. I grabbed a cab for us outside the club. My mind was full of thoughts-here was my Louis, he'd come all the way from New Orleans to join me. He wasn't with David, he wanted me. I still didn't understand why he'd practically sent me away, but that didn't matter, not now. He was here, and we would make good use of the king size bed with which my suite was equipped. The short ride to the Four Seasons was agony. I tried to take Louis into my arms, but he wouldn't let me. "Prude", I whispered in his ear. "Lestat! Can't you wait?" He's so shy sometimes. He let me slide my tongue down his throat in the club, but he won't let me in a cab! Finally, we were there. I winked at my concierge friend as I whisked Louis to the elevator. Once the doors closed, I was on him, pulling his sweater off over his head, almost tearing it in my haste. I let it fall and took him into my arms, forcing my mouth on his over his protests. Ah, he was so sweet, my Louis, my lover. Too soon, the doors opened. Luckily, no one was in the hall. Grabbing Louis' sweater, I led the way to my suite. It had been made up, and the drapes opened. They'd done that each night, and now I was glad of it. The city lights were bright, and the glow of the moon was on the waters of the Bay. I walked with Louis to the window. "It's so beautiful", he said, a look of wonder on his face. "Yes. I find I like Seattle", I said, as I stroked his midnight hair. So soft it was. I freed it from its tie, and Louis shook his head, his hair fanning about his face before settling against his shoulders. He looked at me then with such love in his eyes. How could I ever have doubted him? I pulled his black t-shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor. He stood, not protesting and let me do as I would. So I did. I unbuttoned his tight black jeans, working them down his legs. He wasn't wearing any underwear, and he smiled at me as I gaped. "I ... left in a hurry", he said, and kicked the jeans off. He was so beautiful--his slender, firmly muscled body was pale in the moonlight, and I wanted him desperately. I could resist no longer. I picked him up in my arms and placed him on the bed. He didn't protest. He was letting me lead, all the way. I unbuckled my vest and tossed it across the room where it landed with a thud against the wall. My eyes locked on Louis', I unfastened the leather pants and pulled them off. I was about to unsnap the collar when Louis said, "Leave it on. It's ... sexy." He blushed as he said that last word. I kept it on. I joined him on the bed, and then I let my mouth explore every inch of him. I nipped and licked and caressed until he was shivering with pleasure. Then, looking at his beautiful face, I opened my mouth over him, and unlike with Rauol, I didn't spare my fangs. He gasped as my fangs broke the tender skin, and began to moan as I gently sucked his sweet life-essence. His blood poured into my veins, and I could feel all of him within me. Too soon, he reached his peak with an involuntary cry. I released him, and moved up on the bed to lie beside him. I kissed him, letting him taste himself on my tongue. "Mmmm ...", he said, "I do so love you, Lestat." "Yes", I said, "Of course you do." I slipped off the bed, closed the drapes and hung the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the doorknob. Though there were still a few hours left until dawn, Louis would be ready to sleep after what I'd done to him. I joined him in bed, pulled the covers carefully over our heads, and wrapped him in my arms. Friday I woke up slightly disoriented. Lestat was standing by the window, absorbed in the night's scenery. I stretched, reaching for the foot of the bed with my toes. I must have made some sound, for Lestat left the window and joined me in bed. He pressed his firm, naked body against mine, and grinned at me. I smiled back, a little shyly as I recalled what he had done the night before. And then, I noticed something gleaming at his right eyebrow. I reached to touch it, and found it was a little ring, multi-coloured, and it went right through his skin! "What is that ... thing ... through your eyebrow?", I asked. "Louis", he said, "I'm sure you've seen an eyebrow pierce before. They're not completely unknown in New Orleans." "Yes, I believe I'm aware of the phenomenon, but ... how? And, moreover, why? "If you have to know". he said, sitting up and crossing his arms across his chest, a piqued expression on his face, "I did it myself. Just for fun, really. I'm actually surprised it didn't grow out during the day. Do you want one? I found this lovely shop with a wide selection ..." "No, no, no!", I cut him off, "I most assuredly do not want one." "Suit yourself!", he said, and jumped out of bed. "Come on, let's shower. We've got a full night ahead of us!" We showered, and then I had to put up with Lestat's attempts to dry me. He seemed to be having a deliberately difficult time coordinating the towel--his hands kept finding excuses to caress me. Not that I didn't enjoy his touch, but ... "What *are* the plans for tonight? I do need to ... hunt." "Don't worry! I've got everything planned. You just get dressed. I've been shopping ..." He very obviously had. Bags of clothing lined one entire wall of the suite. I'd brought very little with me, being familiar with Lestat's habits when traveling. "What shall I wear? I don't want to dress inappropriately." I asked him. He came out of the bathroom, his golden hair damp and curling against his shoulders. He'd discarded his towel, and seemed to enjoy my slight discomfiture as he strode towards me, his sleek muscled figure tense with excitement. He unceremoniously dumped the sacks of clothing, and a riot of colour and form soon covered the bed. He rummaged through the pile, and tossed items at me. I ended up wearing jeans which had seen better days (Lestat insisted they were "vintage" and told me he had paid over a hundred dollars for them), a plaid shirt that was equally as worn as the jeans, and a white t-shirt with some odd, abstract design on it. The black shoes which I had arrived wearing met with his approval. Lestat dressed in much the same way, choosing a black t-shirt which contrasted with his luminescent, pale-gold, skin. We took the elevator to the lobby, where Lestat stopped to chat with the same female concierge who had assisted me the night before. "This is Louis". he said, proudly, and put his arm about my waist. I tried to discreetly shrug him off. "I'd say he was worth waiting for", she said, and winked at Lestat. He answered with his characteristic grin, and we were off. Lestat seemed to know his way around, and we walked briskly down the street. The traffic was still quite heavy, despite the hour, and a number of the shops were still open. We seemed to be headed for the same area of town where that strange club was located. Despite my attempts to free myself, Lestat had kept his arm about my waist. I really didn't like such public displays of affection. It always seemed to draw attention ... "Fags!", said a voice. Lestat stopped abruptly and I almost lost my balance. "What did you say?", he asked the owner of the voice, a young man, tough-looking, with a very unpleasant demeanor. Thoughts of violence seemed to emanate from him. He was standing near a large refuse container, at the entrance to an alley. "I said you're fucking fags! I don't like fags. And I'm gonna do something about that!" He threw down the cigarette he'd been smoking, and spit onto the ground. "Hmm, Louis? Did you hear what he called us? I think our friend here needs to get to know me better. He might change his opinion of ... fags." Before the man could make a move to follow through on his threat, Lestat had grabbed him, moved him behind the container, and was at his throat. The man struggled in vain, but was soon drained. Lestat could be very quick when he chose to be. The body was soon in the dumpster. "Well, that was a tasty snack", he said, licking the stray drops of blood from his lips. "What do you fancy, Louis? Shall we find another gay basher, or will a drug dealer suffice?" I opted for the latter. Unlike Lestat, I do not enjoy the emotion of a confrontation with my victims. I prefer to know as little as possible about them. We were soon on our way to the concert, which was being held at a place called the Seattle Center. Lestat seemed to know exactly where to go, and he found a scalper with whom to negotiate. I'm not sure why he bothered. We could easily slip into the concert using Lestat's mental abilities to cloud the minds of the mortals tending the door. However, he seemed to be enjoying himself, so I decided not to question him. This was his event and I was still feeling guilty for the way our last conversation in New Orleans had turned out. The crowd outside the hall was enormous. Fans, scalpers and security guards all pressed together in a crush of humanity. I was very glad we'd fed, for the smell of so many humans would have been overwhelming for me otherwise. After an eternity of waiting in that crush, we were allowed in. Once inside, Lestat headed straight for the stage. I was pulled along in his wake. I sighed, resigned to an evening of noise. Apparently, a different band was to play first, followed by this Pearl Jam. They were called the Fresh something or the something Fellows, I'm not sure. But their music was actually rather interesting, once I resigned myself to the decibel level. Lestat was fascinated, and seemed to be having a wonderful time. And that was enough for me. The concert was all I'd been hoping for. Only being on that stage myself would have been better. Enthusiastic young people crowded around us. Most were dressed like Louis and I. Thanks to Rauol's advice, I'd managed not to arrive inappropriately attired for any of my Seattle excursions. I really must think of a way to thank him ... The opening band was good, better than I had expected. They played with enthusiasm, as well as talent, and their songs were clever. Half-way through the set, someone in the crowd yelled "Amy!" I was confused, as all the band members appeared male. I turned to Louis to speculate, but he was gazing at the stage and actually looked mildly interested. With the hope of encouraging his interest, I decided not to disturb him. Another fan repeated the cry of "Amy!", and more followed after that. Then the first voice cried, "Amy Grant!" and the whole crowd took up the cry, "Amy! Amy Grant!" Finally, the band stopped playing and the lead singer spoke to the crowd, "You really want it, huh?" The crowd replied with a cry of "AMY!" "OK, why not?" the singer replied, and, signaled the rest of the band. They began a song, and I tried to listen carefully to the lyrics to understand what the crowd had meant. I suddenly recalled why the name Amy Grant sounded familiar. She was a Christian pop singer. Not to my taste! The lyrics of the song turned out to be a cutting parody of Amy Grant and Christian pop music. I couldn't help laughing, it was so clever and unexpected. Louis turned to me, a look of confusion on his face. "What is so funny?", he asked. "Never mind, cher, I'll explain later. Just enjoy the music." Finally, it was time. The lights dimmed, and Pearl Jam took the stage. The crowd screamed as one, but was respectfully silent as the music began. I was enraptured. Eddie Vedder had my full attention, his voice reaching to touch the depths of my soul. The music filled me, and I couldn't help singing along, raising my voice to join the band. Louis reached for my hand and squeezed it, just to let me know he was still beside me and paying attention. I was glad he was here with me, sharing this moment, but mostly all I felt was the music within me, echoing the feelings I'd felt so many times over the centuries. When the notes of the last encore had faded, I let Louis take my arm and gently lead me out of the hall. We moved slowly, allowing ourselves to be pushed and pulled with the crowd like flotsam on the Bay. Finally, we were outside, in the fresh night air. I breathed deeply, and without saying a word, turned to Louis and wrapped him in my arms. He returned the embrace and we stood there, still, for the longest time. Louis broke our contact, and quietly asked me what I wanted to do. "Well", I said, trying to bring my mind back from the emotion of the experience I'd just had, "There's a lovely coffeehouse I'd like to take you to. They have the best Americanos." "Whatever you would like", he said, smiling at me. We set off, walking slowly toward Capital Hill. I wrapped my arm around Louis and for once he didn't even make a show of protest. I started talking, slowly, quietly, telling him a little of how I'd felt during the concert. While he didn't share my emotional response to the music, he listened, patiently, attentively and told me he was touched that I had shared the experience with him. I felt closer to him than I had in a very long time. Almost too soon, we arrived at the coffeehouse I'd wandered into upon first arriving in Seattle. The same green-haired woman was at the counter. She complimented my eyebrow pierce as she took our orders. Familiar with the routine, I led the way to a small table near a window. We sat down, and watched the cars whiz by. It began to rain then, and the gentle drizzle made a soothing sound as it hit the cars and the pavement. "Lestat...", Louis began, "I ... I do want you to know how sorry I am. I really don't know why I said what I did, back in New Orleans. I'm glad I came, really I am." "Cher, I'm glad you're here. I ... perhaps I should not have left so ... abruptly." There, I'd said it. That was as close to an apology as I could get and Louis knew it. He smiled at me, affection glowing in his emerald eyes. I'm too lucky, I thought, I don't deserve him. He took my hand, and gently caressed it, stroking my pale skin with his thumb. I moved my leg closer to his, and pressed against him. He smiled, his shy smile that told me he was enjoying what I was doing, and a faint blush crept up his cheeks. We were interrupted by the tinkle of glass cups against their saucers. Our coffee had arrived. The waiter smirked at us, and winked at me as he left. We talked for hours. I told Louis everything I'd done in Seattle, including my little adventure with Rauol at the bar. He understood, as I'd known he would, that it had been an act of friendship. I would never do anything to jeopardize our closeness, not again, and he knew that I wouldn't. The staff had to tell us it was closing time, and we walked arm in arm through the drizzle back to the hotel. I'd never felt so content as I did then, walking through the soft rain, my arm around Lestat, his around me. I wanted to make love to him. From what he'd told me, I knew he must be aching for release. Although his little interlude with the young man had no doubt been pleasurable, it couldn't have given him any real satisfaction. And the previous night, he'd taken me so thoroughly that I'd fallen into sleep before I could reciprocate. I wanted to give him all that I could, to show him the love for him that filled my soul. I began as soon as the elevator doors closed. Lestat's face held the dreamy, distant expression it had had after the concert. I reached for his plaid shirt, and began to gently pull it off. "Louis, what are you doing?", he said. He wasn't used to me initiating such contact, and he looked confused. "Shh ...", I said, "Let me." He smiled and, with a lift of his eyebrows, let me do as I would. Once in the room, I proceeded to remove the rest of his clothing. I let my hands caress him through the cloth before I took each piece off. His body was perfect, before me. My Brat Prince, all muscle, slender and beautiful. Perfectly made. I freed his golden hair, and ran my fingers through it letting them graze his scalp. My fingers wandered to his neck. The pale subtle gold of his sun-kissed skin was smooth and cool to the touch. He stood still, silent but for his quickened breath. I was aching to taste his lips, his tongue. I kissed him, gently at first, and then as his lips opened under mine, I drove my tongue into his mouth, loving the smooth feel of him. I loved the gentle scrape of his fangs against my tongue. I let my hands roam, and stroked his back, first with my hands and then with my fingernails. He gasped into my mouth and I drew my nails down his back again and again, enjoying his response. He was pressing himself into me, pushing his hips up against mine. I could feel his erection through my jeans. "Louis, you're torturing me!", he gasped. "Yes, I am, and you love it." I replied, and then took his mouth again. I moved my hands lower, to his firm behind. I squeezed, gently, feeling the muscle give under my hands. He was shuddering now, against me. I led him to the bed, and we tumbled onto it together, a tangle of limbs. I rolled over, and straddled him, my jeans pulled tight over my crotch showing him I too was excited. I smiled at him beneath me, so beautiful, his blonde hair fanned out on the pillows, his eyebrow ring winking in the light. I bent over him, and ran my lips over his chest. He sighed with pleasure as I let my tongue wander over his muscled form. I sucked his nipples, then bit them, gently, with my fang teeth. I let myself suck the tiniest amount of blood, such sweet ambrosia, rich and filling. The merest taste of him was overwhelming. I kissed his lips and let him taste his blood from my tongue. "Take me, Louis, take all you can.", he moaned. I let my mouth continue its journey, down his body, until I reached his erection. I wanted him in my mouth, I wanted to feel the length of him, filling me, reaching down my throat. I wanted to feel his rich blood flow down my throat and into my veins. He gasped when my teeth touched him, and arched against me when they sank into his tender skin. I sucked and pulled at him, stroking his chest and legs with my hands, loving him with all of me. I drew from him until I thought I could take no more, nor he lose more. But he wouldn't let me stop. He held my head to him until, finally, with a deep. powerful, shudder, he reached his peak. I released him, and, exhausted and over-sated, fell down onto the bed to lie against him. He turned his head to me, and reaching his hand out to move my hair, gently sank his teeth into my neck. He drew back most of what I had taken, and with each draught he pulled, he brought me closer to ecstasy. Finally, both exhausted, we lay still. Lestat, always stronger than me, was the first to stir. He got up, closed the drapes and locked the door, which I, in my haste, had neglected to do. Then, gently, he took off my clothes-I'd never gotten around to removing them.-and climbed into bed. He pulled the covers carefully over our heads, and we slept, wrapped in each other's arms. From juliafr@sun.lclark.eduFri May 19 13:26:36 1995 Date: 16 MAY 1995 22:34:40 -0700 From: "R. Julia Flanagan Rudden" Newsgroups: alt.books.anne-rice Subject: SPEC Change of Pace 7/7 Here is the last part. Surprisingly, it's not rated. I must have gotten all the XXX out of my system:-) If anyone needs any previous parts of this, I'll be happy to send them by e-mail, or you can try The Black Rose's web page http://www.eskimo.com/~ash. Enjoy! There may be a sequel... Julia Change of Pace 7/7 A Vampire Chronicles Speculative Story by R. Julia F. Rudden I'm sure I had an enormous grin on my face when I awoke the next evening. Louis had never been so ... forward. I'd loved it. He'd given me such pleasure and shown me such love. I truly didn't deserve him. I looked over at him, still trapped in the death sleep, his hair dark against the white pillow. I loved to look at him while he slept. His face was relaxed--no worry or guilt touched his delicate features, and he looked so peaceful. I still couldn't quite believe he'd been so forward, almost aggressive, and I, used to taking the lead, had found it surprisingly enjoyable to surrender to him. After I'd been staring at him for a good fifteen minutes, he finally stirred and opened his eyes. When he saw me looking at him so intently, he blushed and turned away. "No need to be shy", I said, turning his face back towards me, "I loved what you did last night. It was ... exquisite." He smiled and blushed even more, which must have been difficult, considering we had yet to feed. "Do we have plans for tonight?", he asked. "Yes", I said, "We're going to the opera." "Opera?", he said, sitting up, "Really? You'd go to an opera with me?" "Of course! Le Nozze di Figaro is one of my favourites, and the Seattle Opera is quite good. We'll ... dine ... first, then enjoy some Mozart." "That sounds like a lovely evening, Lestat. I don't suppose you have any clothing suitable for the opera in that mess?" he said, indicating the massive pile of clothing against the wall. "As a matter of fact", I said as I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom to shower, "I do." His surprise and pleasure when I presented him with the green suit were palpable. I'd bought a white dress shirt with a standing collar to go with it. He was so touched, tears began to form in his eyes. "Lestat, I ...", he started. "No, don't say another word! And don't start crying either. You'll stain the shirt and that was the only one in your size", I teased. The suit was striking on Louis, as I'd known it would be. It echoed his eyes, and his black hair formed a lovely contrast to the rich green of the jacket. Myself, I wore a simple black suit and white shirt. I let my hair fall freely, the gold curls falling against my shoulders. My concierge called a cab for us. She looked at us together and said to Louis, "I guess you are his type after all!" I grinned at her, and we were off. Once at the opera house, I asked Louis to buy our tickets, saying I had a quick errand. We'd decided to wait until after the opera to feed. Though difficult for Louis, he finds it enhances his enjoyment of the music. I quickly made my way backstage. I wasn't questioned. In my black suit, I may have looked like a member of the orchestra. I found the star soprano's dressing room, and quietly opened the door. She was sitting at her dressing table, applying her makeup. Before she could call out, I was on her. I took just enough blood to weaken her, and she fainted at my feet. I bit my tongue and let a few drops of my blood fall into the fang marks on her neck. They closed quickly and then I left, after arranging her gently on the floor. Louis was waiting patiently in the lobby. I kissed him, which was a mistake for he tasted the woman's blood on me. "Lestat, couldn't you wait?", he said, irritated. "No, and it's not what you think. Just be patient. You'll see", I smiled smugly. He sighed deeply and headed for the stairs. Louis had managed to get box seats for us, though we had to share the box with two mixed couples. They don't know what they're in for, I thought. Le Nozze di Figaro is a very funny, very romantic opera, and I intended to let Louis know how romantic I thought it was. I wasn't about to let his dislike of public displays of affection get in my way, not at a good date opera like Figaro. The lights dimmed, and I quickly grabbed Louis' hand. Surprising, he didn't squirm away. Perhaps he's finally become resigned to me. A voice came over the speaker system, saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, due to unexpected circumstances, the part of Susanna will be sung by Nicole Brennan." The overture began then, the cheerful, infectious notes filling the hall. Louis had pulled his hand away and was staring at me coldly. "What have you done now?", he said, sotto voce. "Do? Me? Why, nothing, really." "Lestat, please, don't insult my intelligence. I heard that announcement, and I know what was on your lips. You've been up to something and I don't think I like it." "All right, but it's nothing really. I just thought Nicole should get a chance to show what she can do. She deserves a chance." The other opera goers in the box were giving us nasty looks. I was about to point this out to Louis and suggest that we continue this conversation later. But Louis was looking at me with an uncommonly angry expression on his face. "You mean you killed the woman who had the part?", he asked, still under his breath. "No, of course not. I just ... took the little drink. She'll be fine, I'm sure. No harm done. Besides, as you'll soon hear, Nicole has a lovely voice. It's much better than that other woman's." I took back the hand which Louis had snatched from me. He let me, but his face still held a disapproving look. The look didn't fade until Nicole came out as Susanna and began her first aria with Figaro. I could tell he was impressed with her vocal abilities, and, by the end of the first act, he'd become so absorbed in the opera that my mischief seemed forgotten. At the intermission, I sent a note backstage congratulating Nicole on a lovely first act and requested the pleasure of her company at dinner later that evening. Louis agreed with my assessment of Nicole, but asked me again for assurances that the woman I'd deposed would suffer no ill effects. Such a conscience! He let me put my arm around him during the next two acts, to the discomfiture of our fellow opera goers, but put his foot down when I tried to nuzzle his neck. "Enough!", he whispered, elbowing me and removing my arm. Feigning pain, I sulked for a bit, and then slyly put my arm back around him, which was where it rightfully belonged. He must have secretly missed it, for there it stayed until the finale. The crowd insisted on three curtain calls, and Nicole was very obviously the star of the evening. She'd been a lively, flirtatious Susanna, and I'd noticed that Figaro's performance had been more energetic than the first time. "You see", I said, "Didn't I do the right thing?" "I hate to admit it, but perhaps so. Sometimes, intervening is the right thing to do ...", he said, thoughtfully. We waited until most of the crowd had gone before leaving our seats. I suggested that we go backstage, so that Louis could meet Nicole. I wanted to know if she had received my note. The back halls were chaos, and it was easy for Louis and I to slip, unnoticed, into the crowd. I let my mind drift, feeling for the touch of Nicole's mind. I didn't want to knock on the wrong dressing room door. I found what I sought, and I led Louis to a door at the end of the hall. I knocked firmly, and Nicole, out of costume but with her stage makeup still covering her features, opened the door. "Lestat! I'm so glad you waited! They gave me your note, but I didn't have the chance to answer. It has been too crazy tonight! How are you?" She noticed Louis then, and looked at me, a question in her eyes. "Nicole, if I may present Louis de Pointe du Lac. Louis, this is Nicole." "I'm pleased to meet you", she said, extending her hand, "You're very lucky to have a man like Lestat in love with you." Louis, to his credit, blushed, and returned the greeting. "Well, now that you two know each other, shall we go and celebrate?" "I'd love to", said Nicole, "But I feel that I should go to the hospital to check on Christine, you know, the regular Susanna. The backstage manager found her, collapsed, in her dressing room five minutes before curtain. This was the last performance, so it was a wonderful opportunity for me. But I want to be sure she is all right. I feel a little guilty." Louis glared at me. I gave him a quick grin, then turned a sympathetic face to Nicole. "We could stop by the hospital on our way", I offered. "Would you? That's so kind. Let me change and get this mess off my face, and I'll meet you in the lobby, say, in fifteen minutes?" "Wonderful!", I said, and kissed her on the cheek. Louis and I returned to the lobby. Louis reminded me that he needed to feed. He always skirts around the issue. We went outside and quickly found a petty thief to satisfy Louis' needs. We were back in the lobby just in time to meet Nicole. Yet another pleasant Seattle cab took us first to a large hospital, where Nicole went in to check on the singer. Louis and I waited in the car, and discussed the performance. Then, we were off to Nicole's recommendation for dinner, a small, crowded little bistro. The decor was an attempt at a European feel, which, while not authentic, was at least not offensive. A supercilious waiter led us to a dark corner table. The entire restaurant was in fact so dark that I wondered how the mortal waitstaff managed not to trip. A jazz trio was playing softly, and the smell of basil and rosemary filled the air. I invited Nicole to choose a wine, still impressed with her choice at the lounge of my hotel. She chose a dry, fruity Italian red. I told her to order whatever she liked, Louis and I having dined before the opera. "You're sure you won't mind?" she asked politely. "Please", encouraged Louis, "You must be hungry after such an energetic performance!" "Yes, I am, but..." "No buts", I said, opening her menu. She chose a pasta and a salad. Louis and I played with the bread, mostly for a diversion. Louis and Nicole got along fabulously, as I'd known they would. They discussed the relative merits of sopranos and mezzo-sopranos, as witnessed by the current popularity of Cecilia Bartoli over Kathleen Battle. On and on they went, until I actually began to doze off. Louis tapped my shoulder, and I woke with a start. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty", he teased, "They're closing." I stretched and reached into my pockets for some bills. Dropping a few large ones on the table, I caught up to Louis and Nicole who had gone ahead to the door. The air outside was cool and refreshing. Louis and Nicole were still talking, now about what role modern opera and musicals should play in a company's repertoire. I was certainly pleased that they seemed to like each other so well, but I was also feeling left out. "Well, what now, mes chers?", I interrupted. "Actually, I should go home. I've just realized how exhausted I am", said Nicole. "Of course", said Louis solicitously, "I'll find a cab." "Thank you for inviting me out, it's been lovely. You must call me before you leave Seattle, maybe we could have brunch?" "Ah, well, Louis and I aren't good for much in the morning. But I will keep in touch, cherie." The cab arrived and I paid the driver too much to take Nicole home. She waved, and Louis waved back. "That was a lovely thing you did, Lestat", he said, and after glancing around to be sure we were alone, he kissed me. I was stunned. I'm so used to being endlessly chastised, even when things turn out for the best. I wasn't sure how to react. I settled for kissing him back. I could taste the wine on him. I was about to suggest we take the most expeditious route back to the hotel when he pulled back and suggested we walk. "I'm enjoying the cool air, so different from New Orleans", he said. How could I refuse him? Once back at the hotel, however, I planned to have my way with him. We shared a night of pleasure which rivaled all those before. Sunday I awoke refreshed the next evening. There was no better place for me than wrapped in my Louis' arms. Nothing felt so ... right. I liked waking before him, for it gave me the change to drink him in with my eyes. I stroked his soft hair, and let my fingers caress his pale cheek. Despite all that had happened in the last 200 years, I'd never regretted bringing Louis into darkness. Making him had turned out to be one of the few truly right acts I had ever done. He was my true companion, my other half. He stirred then, and turned over. I spooned up next to him, letting him know in a very real way how he made me feel. He snuggled back, and, encouraged, I started nibbling at his neck. He pushed me away half-heartedly, and turned to face me. "You can never get enough, can you?", he asked. "Never, lover, never!" THE END