Damon walked into the room and immediately felt a difference about it. He glanced around but, before he could realize there was no obvious change, was thrown to the ground by a force from above him. When the room stopped spinning around him, he found he was pinned to the floor underneath one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, regardless of the fact that he had seen her before.
"Hi, Damon," she grinned from on top of him, straddling his waist and holding his shoulders down with her slender hands. She was exactly like he remembered her: petrifying blue eyes surrounded by the blackest of makeup and even darker hair, translucent skin with a whisper of the freckles she once had in her human life, the body of the best kind of predator.
"Isaura?" he said in disbelief.
"You say it like there's a possibility that I'm someone else," she noticed slyly, "Or maybe," she paused, "You wish I was someone else." She went to lift herself from him with a small pout disgracing her elegant face but he stopped her, grabbing her upper arms and flipping them over.
"I always did like you better on the bottom," he smirked at her eyes widened, "Why are you here, in Mystic Falls, of all places? It's not like you." He knew she would not be offended by going straight to business.
"But causing trouble is," she winked up at him and her red lips parted to frame a bright smile. "While I do admit that New York is much more," she paused, unable to come up with the proper word she was looking for, "Muchier," she settled with, "Than Virginia, I figured I'd come and visit since I heard I wasn't the only foreigner staying in town."
"Katherine is anything but a foreigner to Mystic Falls," he mused, wondering who else might have heard that was important enough to matter.
"I don't want to talk about that slut," she murmured, pouting her full lips again, "She stole you from me and she didn't even love you."
Damon scowled, knowing this as the truth but having refused to acknowledge it for a very long time, almost a hundred forty years now, "Why are you here, Isaura?" he asked, not wanting two combative female vampires in the same humble town of Mystic Falls, but not really minding too much.
"I'm just here to have some fun, you dreary mongrel," she giggled, "I missed you. Besides, it's already been a hundred years and I'm bored of doing the same thing always. Modeling is so bleak."
"I saw you on a bulletin last time I was passing though Milan," he remembered distantly, "It was that one with the black Dolce and Gabbana lace boy shorts from the back with no bra." He burned with desire just picturing it so clearly in his mind.
"Yes, I got to keep those panties, you know," she laughed, "I lost them though, not sure how," she deliberated sarcastically, glaring half-hearted daggers at him.
Damon would have blushed; he never thought she would have figured out that he stole those from her drawer the morning before he left. "Memories of a good fling," he commented openly.
She hummed with the satisfaction of knowing the truth from his lips, "Some things are hard to let go of." She smiled and pushed forward to press her perfect lips against the corner of his mouth, the restrained passion of a previous lover. "What are you doing here, Damon? Come to New York with me, just for a short while. You can try it out, see how it goes."
"Why would I go to New York?" he asked uncertainly at the spontaneous offer.
"Because you're stuck dwelling on a woman that doesn't care about you and I had fun with you all those years ago," she smiled like the foxy girl in her magazine ads, "I can make you happy." She stressed her point by grinding her hips against his; gravity defied him as he stood erect for her. He scowled again, knowing she had that power over him no matter what.
"I can't go to New York with you," he said decisively, "Yet," he corrected himself faster than she could narrow her eyes dangerously, but it didn't stop her.
"Is that, 'Yet,' worth wasting my time in this town to wait for you?" she asked bluntly.
"You'd wait for me?" he asked dubiously.
"For a hundred years," she whispered sweetly, nibbling his earlobe affectionately. A note of melancholic remorse suddenly overcame him as he thought of the hundred years he spent waiting for Katherine.