Typical London night, it was. Fog. Cold. Damp. I was toasty warm in my tiny breadbox of a flat puffing my sweet nicotine and flipping through a new deck of tarot cards, modeled after a similar one designed by Meleos himself. Each card gave my hand a separate sensation. Rage, depicting a wolf, made the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention while the insides of my stomach burned with anger. I nearly let out a howl, but I dropped the card in my lap instead. Best to move on before I begin to throw things, I always say. Next card in my vicinity, the Moon, made my head spin and my mind go into flip-flops. There was great euphoria and a feeling of drunkenness that I always feel with this card. On those nights I need to get away, I hold this card close to me and feel its energy. But that evening, something else in that deck was calling me. I heard a soft whispering, "John, John, John. The card is calling you. Find it. Touch it. Need it."
I felt a wave of heat come over me. I turned around and looked at the black Franklin stove. The fire was burning intently and dancing like the women in the SoHo clubs. The spears of the flames taunted me and seduced me. Staring off into the fire, I rummaged through the deck further. All cards fell out of my hands one by one, burning my fingers like my mother's hot iron pot that I so readily touched in one of my more asinine moments. Finally, the last card in the deck stopped the burning. It was cool for a moment, to ease my fingers. Then it became lukewarm and slowly became soft, and sinful, smelling of chocolate and chili peppers. I began to salivate slightly and I felt a slight stirring in my lower regions. I flipped the card over and was stunned. Death.
She's coming for me, I thought slowly. There is no way in hell I can go now. I'm in the middle of a serious case.
I suddenly felt a bit terrified. I knew it couldn't have been my time. I lit a cigarette and stared into the fire again. I don't have emphysema yet. No heart disease, my chest isn't hurting. Lung cancer, not yet either. I wasn't shot at today. Things have been relatively quiet on the home front recently. In fact, I placed a circle of protection around my apartment. What could she want?
The flames of the fire began to take form. They began with small streaks of black dancing in the flames. She's coming. She's on her way.
I stood up and looked down at my clothes, or lack thereof. John, you're expecting a lady visitor, maybe you should put something on. Then the whisper came again, "Don't be concerned. The Endless sees all. We've seen you in your skivvies before."
I supposed the voice was right. Whoever it was was in my head. It was a strange sort of whisper, androgynous and quite pushy. The flames were pure black, by this time and I began to pace. She would be here at any moment.
I decided to tidy up some while I waited. Every article of clothing I had in the tiny room was thrown into a larger, more organized pile on the wardrobe floor. I couldn't do anything about the dishes in the sink, except draw the curtain on the kitchen so she couldn't see in. I kicked random articles of debris under the bed to play with the dust bunnies while she and I had it out for my soul. As I was pulling knick-knacks off of the ground and placing them in their proper locales, a familiar and playful voice sounded from directly behind me.
"Mr. Constantine, I presume!" She exclaimed then burst into giggles. "I've always wanted to say that!"
"And now your have, my dear," I said coolly, and turned to face her. She looked different tonight than she typically had when I'd met with her and her brother on previous occasions. The black tank top was replaced with a short black kimono robe with her trade-mark ankh and lotus flowers printed all over. Her skin was not as pale as usual, but it may have been a trick of the fire, which provided the light for the room. Her legs were bare, and on her feet were simple thong shoes, much like those worn at the geisha houses in which I'd hid so many times in the past.
Her face was stunning. Her typical wide smile was as gorgeous as ever, and her make-up more subdued than usual. Her eye, however, was still painted with that silly eye-of-Horus thing that she has been doing since she met Horus and Isis at an afterlife party. Still, she was beautiful. And for the first time in years, I saw her eyes for what they were: full of life. Everything about her was full of life, which may even be logical for someone who took lives on a daily basis.
"I'm not ready to go, my dear. I have much to do," I said, getting straight to the point. It isn't my time to die, and most don't realize that Death can be reasoned with.
"And why do you say that?" She asked coyly, stepping in a slow and catlike manner toward me. She looked deeper into my eyes, nearly piercing my soul. "You still have a great deal of work to do for my brother... And, besides, we have met many times without me taking your life, why would I start now?"
"Because you're alone," I said firmly, but quietly. She was getting even closer into my personal space was so close, I could smell her. I never knew how death smelled, and I'd never been close enough to try. Sandalwood and White Lotus flickered inside my nostrils and teased my senses. I began to stir inside again. Her smile wasn't waning and I knew something was going on in that strange mind of hers. She stood on her tip-toes and pushed her nose against mine.
"I'm alone because nobody else needs to be here," she giggled again and then kissed my lips. Her lips were nothing like the lipstick, plastic lips of the women of London. They were soft and natural. There was no slimy clear goo that tasted like cherries, no disgusting, paste-like chapstick, and no unnatural pigment or product. Hers were just pure, soft skin. They were beautiful and perfect, but they were also dangerous. Realizing this, I pushed her away and moved myself out of her path.
"This is most unusual," I said with a chuckle. "An endless lusting for a human is very strange, indeed. I thought that was more your brother's tendency."
"We all have our moments of weakness, Constantine," She said softly, holding her face down and looking up at me, like a lioness watching her prey. She would pounce on me at any moment, so I jumped from the floor, onto my bed, ran across the mattress and stood in front of the door. "It's best not to leave," she purred softly.
"As stunning as you are, this may not be the best of ideas."
"I'm not looking for commitment here, John. I just want to close the deal once and for all."
She had a point. On several of my meetings with Death and Dream, Death and I would watch each other from across the table. The both of us had a certain attraction that couldn't be vocalized. I'd never seen her without her brother, but I've felt the intensity of her longing. She may have felt mine, but I've been generally good at hiding these things. I'm not one to play along easily, but she never has been either. That may have been the attraction. She always had a feisty streak in her and she never followed the rules.
"You're going to have to work harder than that," I said, beginning a game. I could feel the excitement rise in her with those words.
"Well, there is always this," she snapped her fingers and suddenly, we were in her realm. I watched the walls around me change from grey and shabby, to dark velvety red, adorned with black velvet curtains. Gothic-era candelabras dotted the corners of the room and in the middle, by a giant window looking out into nothing, was a black wrought iron bed. A black mosquito net canopy draped around the edges and the linens were black, satin sheets with a red velvet duvet. This was truly a room intended for one thing. I had to make things more difficult, despite the fact that my excitement grew in the atmosphere.
"You might be getting closer," I said as I gave her a wry, half-smile. My smile could charm the panties off of demonesses, why not Death herself?
She snapped her fingers again. On the bed, leather straps appeared dangling from the headboard. "This is more your speed, I'm assuming?"
I nearly melted. She had studied me. She had learned my weaknesses; I wasn't ready to give in. "It could be, depending on the one being strapped up."
"And that depends on you." She stepped closer to me, as she waved her hands and produced a giant black feather. As she approached, she brushed my chest lightly with it, giving me goosebumps. My nipples stood on end and a shiver ran up my spine. She circled me and ran the feather up and down each vertebra. Then the androgynous voice came back to me: Give in Constantine. Give in to her.
I turned around quickly and faced Death. My hands quickly grabbed her wrists and I pushed my face directly into hers. "I'm the one in charge here. You may have been the one to seek me out, but I'll be the one to call the shots." I pushed her against the wall and flashed a fiercely naughty grin. I could feel her weaken and she smiled back, equally lasciviously.
My lips made their way across her forehead. I could feel her breathing get heavier as I pushed my way down her cheeks. Her face moved as she tried to kiss my lips, but I pulled away, moving down her body lower to her neck. Small kisses turned to small nibbles and small nibbles to bites. She began to squeal in delight when she gasped and caught herself. She began to wriggle about and I couldn't hold on any further. She slipped out of my grasp and pushed me away.
"Your terms? You have no terms when dealing with Death. The Endless make their own terms." She then reached up to her hair and pulled the chopsticks out. Long black locks tumbled like water down a hill. Her hair shined in the candlelight and she looked like a vixen for the first time since I'd met her. She reached to her waist and pulled the ties of her kimono. It opened, but not fully. My eyes wandered from her eyes, down her neck, over her perfect breastplate, down her body. Her perfect, tiny belly button crowned lace, boy-short panties (black, of course). The opening of her robe left more to the imagination than desired, but just enough to drive me insane. Just a hint of her perfectly round breasts could be seen at the silken edges of the garment.
"My terms, or no terms," I said, stepping to her so that I was inches away. I ran my finger from her neck, down her chest and stomach and finished by circling her belly button and running it along the top of her panties.
She sighed for a moment and then snapped her fingers again. Suddenly, I was in on the bed. My wrists were held tightly by the leather straps and I struggled to remove myself from them. My body was completely bare, my boxers no where in sight. She stood next to the bed, smiling wildly, running her feather over my feet while I squirmed.
"I told you, we make our own terms. These are my terms, John Constantine, and you will follow them."
"I will get out of these. My powers make me like Houdini in these situations."
"Ah, typically, that may be so." She then climbed onto the bed and straddled my waist. She flattened her hand, and appearing was a clear glass bottle of a honey-colored substance. She pulled the cork out of the neck and poured a stream the width of a millimeter over my chest. The liquid was warm and thick. It smelled of pure lust and nag champa and the scent grew stronger as she ran her fingers through it, rubbing it over my chest and stomach.
My pipe began to stand on end, and rubbed gently against her arse. She continued to rub the thick oil into my skin and it heated up on my body. I struggled harder to get out of the straps and they began to chafe my wrists a bit. She smiled at my struggle and began to lick down my body. She licked each nipple slowly as I continued to fight with the insidious straps. Her tongue edged my pectorals and slowly ran over my abs, then circled them one by one. Her fingers ran softly over my sides as she slid further down my flesh.
The candles flickered wildly and cast strange shadows on the walls and curtains. The shadows seductively swirled and gyrated, exciting me further and further. I got lost in the shadows, as the straps began to loosen slightly. By then, she had cleared my groin area and had taken the head of my cock into her mouth, licking around it as if it were covered in hot fudge. I watched her as she teased it softly in the beginning. I began to throb, barely being able to handle the deprivation of her entire mouth. Then, my struggling came to a climax and my right hand was free. I reached down and grabbed her hair, pulling slightly, massaging her scalp. She took my cock deeper into her mouth and I squeezed her silken locks as tightly as I could. Then, my left hand was free.
I reached down and pulled her head off of me, as she grabbed my wrists and tried to get me to let go. I loosened my grip on her hair and used her grip on my wrists to flip her over. I moved my hands together so her wrists were nearby, and in one quick movement, I had both of her slender wrists in my hand. "You nearly had me there, luv, but not nearly enough."
I began to kiss her neck again and with my free hand, I opened her robe. I chuckled softly as her nipples came into view. Of course they were pierced, just like every Goth in Manchester. I teased them with my fingers and looked into her eyes. She was smiling but still fighting to be free. They became hard as I gathered her left breast into my hand and licked the nipple softly, flicking it with my tongue. She suddenly stopped struggling and her body relaxed. I looked up at her face and her eyes were closed in ecstasy. I moved back up her body and kissed her lips, loosening my grip on her wrists and letting her hands roam free. "You win, Constantine," she whispered to me. "You win this time."
Her arms wrapped around my body and I came in close and kissed her lips deeply. Our tongues played gently and I entered her slit slowly.
The warmth and wetness of her insides sent butterflies to my stomach. I felt like a virgin again and moved leisurely in and out of her. Her legs wrapped around me tightly as I reached my hand down and massaged her clitoris, which was hard as a tiny pebble. With each movement over her clit with my finger, she writhed. Her forehead wrinkled and her mouth parted with ecstasy. My face was still inches from hers. Her breath smelled like fiery cinnamon and her body squirmed rhythmically, matching my own pace. I began to thrust deeper, rubbing her button harder and faster. She moaned loudly and sweat beads began to form on her brow and her chest. I placed my lips on her ear and licked it softly as I whispered, "I didn't know the Endless could sweat."
I blew on her ear and watched the tiny hairs on her neck stand straight away, and she moaned louder and louder. I felt the muscles of her inner walls tighten around my cock and I began to moan with her in unison. I put my lips over hers and kissed her wildly while we moaned together, our breath only able to escape through our noses like mating beasts in the Serengeti. Her fingernails scratched my back giving me an exciting, yet painful sensation, and her hands cupped arse and pulled me deeper into her body. Neither of us could take it much further and we pushed our bodies tightly together for one final climactic thrust. She screamed with her eyes still closed and unable to control herself. Her muscles clasped tightly around my manhood and squeezed my shaft into orgasm. I knew I had to keep quiet, as to not show weakness, so instead, I breathed heavily into the pillow, right next to her ear and squeezed her body tightly. I never wanted to let her go. I never wanted this to stop.
Both of or bodies began to loosen up and I rolled over to lie next to her. Her eyes were still closed and her lips were still parted. Her breathing was beginning to normalize and I just stared at her profile in the flickering candlelight. Her nose was perfect and her eyelashes long and graceful. I then realized, maybe the eye of Horus wasn't so silly and maybe the Endless aren't so dangerous. I then rolled over onto my back and looked above me for the first time at the mirror on the ceiling. I stared at her body, still glistening with sweat and unmoving. She may have felt my gaze, because her eyes opened and met mine in the mirror.
She smiled her child-like smile once again. "Dream will kill me," she said.
I chuckled softly and said, "He may, but he isn't one to talk. Just drop Thessaly's name. Or if you really wanted to hit low, Nada."
"Then he'd kill me again!" and she giggled once more.
The first thing every man sees as they are crossing over from life to afterlife is Death. Several men and women fall in love with her at first site. I've always known her to be lovely, charming, funny, and youthful. That night, she added vivacious and vixen to the list. Our relationship was ever changed. We continued on for quite a while, stealing time together between cases and lives. We met in secret for years, and nobody was the wiser.
On the other side of the mirror, two faces watched as John Constantine and Death slowly drifted into sleep. The smiles on both faces reflected pure evil. The one with the short blonde hair, horns, and chiseled body ran his lips up the neck of the androgynous, dark haired one. "I won this round, Desire."
"That you did, Morningstar, and you ran your Constantine puppet very well. But mine will win in the next round, you wait and see." Desire turned and kissed Lucifer's lips and then backed off. As Lucifer began to lunge forward to grab Desire, it smiled and disappeared in a puff of red smoke. "And your desire will build until you cannot take it further. Then my puppet shall win. Death will prevail eventually."
Lucifer smiled at the air in front of him and the mirror portal that was once a view into Death's bedroom was now showing his perfect reflection. Tease the Devil, Desire, and you get burned, he thought to himself as he laughed heartily. His arms rose into the air and he disappeared as quickly as Desire had and the viewing room, became nothing again.
fin.