The Indie Fic Contest – Comedy/Satire
Title: When Sam met Callisto
Characters: Sam and Callisto
Word Count: 5835 Content Rating: M
Disclaimer: All characters are borrowed from the Sookie Stackhouse Vampire Mystery series, copyrighted to Charlaine Harris
Summary: Sam Merlotte met Callisto, the maenad, but how and what happened?
When Sam met Callisto
Just for kicks, Sam Merlotte was tracking a most revolting smell.
He'd needed to clear his head after another long night at his bar. He'd been pining over his telepathic waitress, Sookie Stackhouse, again. Really, she had no clue! She was getting more involved with a vampire. He'd wanted her more involved with a shifter. Himself. So not happening, it seemed. He'd kissed her and he'd liked it. He'd been rejected and he hadn't liked that. It had been nice, the kiss and as rejections go that had been nice too, but Sam had felt as sad as a dog with no ... you know, bark.
Yes, he'd been sad, he'd been mad, he'd felt like doing something bad.
Instead of doing bad things, though, Sam had just run. Leaping through the air into his favourite collie-dog form, clothes shredded behind him, he'd run and run and run through the night-darkened woods beyond the bar's car park. The pleasure of the run had taken hold, until the malodorous breeze wafted by carrying that revolting smell, and had sparked his curiosity into a hunt.
Sam's super-sensitive nostrils whiffed it up, nose quivering as the positively putrid breeze drew him on. His animal brain told him that a stonking great stench to roll in, doggy-style, was just what he needed. He'd let his nose lead his four padded feet.
That nose led him to a clearing in the woods. The creatures in that clearing, both turned their eyes towards Sam, whose hair-raising pace slowed to a lollop, as he arrived at the pong's epicentre. Sam shifted, in a full-body way, in surprise at the sight before him, the smell quite forgotten. Crouched, now naked on all fours, in human form, Sam watched the two. They watched him back.
A completely naked woman was disengaging the ugliest bad-ass-looking pig he had ever seen from the jaws of a steel trap, using what looked like a long stick with a pine cone on top. The pig's two front legs, broken and rotting in the trap, were only partly responsible for the stench. In its distress, the small wild beast was noisily producing backend blasts to add to the already fetid air. An enormous amount of excrement, for such a small animal, must have blasted out of that backend already as the clearing was scattered with pong pellets. Wow! What had that pig been eating?
"Hey, gorgeous!" the woman appealed. "Help me." Sam looked behind him to see who the woman was talking to, then realised she was addressing him.
"Yes, you!" she said, laughing softly at his bemused expression. "You beautiful piece of shifter meat." Definitely me then, Sam thought, with no one behind me and shifter to the bone. Shit! When, he wondered, had he got so down on himself, that he hadn't believed someone would call him gorgeous? Of course, he was gorgeous, with his reddish-gold hair, brilliant-blue eyes, firm fit physique. He suddenly felt …... good!
Sam smiled back saying, "You're not too bad yourself," as he took in her moonlight-drenched, naked form. Long, long black hair, a lithe athletic body and, hmm, somewhat glowing eyes. Slightly crazy looking too, Sam thought, but then he'd always liked slightly crazy.
Sam rose from his doggy pose to an erect stance and walked towards the piggy-freeing action. The woman's eyes swept his form. "You are so well ... proportioned," she observed, eyes lingering a little longer below the waist. The compliment boosted more than Sam's ego. His penis twitched, determined to be as erect as its owner. "You have soooo much potential for development. I like pride in a man, especially pride that is growing," the woman continued. She was flirting with him. Flirting! Sam suddenly felt more ... well, better! Yeah – definitely less sad, mad or bad.
Her attention returned to the stinker in the trap after a series of high-pitched snorts assaulted the air, acoustically and aromatically. God! The pig's breath even smelt like a bad ass. "Help me here?" she queried.
Sam ignored the eye-watering piggy pong. "Of course, I'd love to offer you my ….. help," he flirted back, with a little grin and ever-growing innuendo. Then recalling his good southern manners, he introduced himself with a small bow. "Sam, the gorgeous shifter at your service."
"Callisto, the mad maenad," she replied and somehow managed a small, cute curtsey while holding onto the stick.
Sam's penis deflated along with his mood. His body froze, statuelike, and not because the maenad had done anything more than introduce herself. It was just the shock. Help her? I'm going to be the one that needs help, he thought.
Sam panicked, realising he was way too near to an especially dangerous madwoman; a woman that had clawed, poisoned and scarred Sookie, his friend; a woman that ate animals raw and had just called him meat. Shit. Shit. Shit, as if there wasn't enough of that around already.
Sam's thoughts continued to roil. Was she going to eat the trapped pig, or him, or both? Maybe he could run before she sent her madness into his mind, which it seemed she could read, as she said, "Stay."
Callisto regarded Sam's edgy expression and then with a sigh, she did pin him in place with that glowing gaze. Yeah, he was going to be a sitting duck, a lamb to the slaughter, dead meat …... He wondered how long the maenad liked to play with her food, before eating. Piggy starter, shifter main course. God, he was so fucked, and not in the good way. Well, maybe he could hope for some of that. That would be the way to go! And maenads were renowned for their sexual prowess; years of orgy experience, he supposed. Fuck, what was he thinking?
As their eyes met, a wave of ease, not madness, swept through him. Well, that was reassuring. Not! On the bright side though, he supposed he could be calm while being ripped to shreds, right down to the very bone.
"Shush, Shush," Callisto's voice gentled. "I'm not going to eat you, Sam, or Poppy here," she explained, gesturing to the pig. "I am entirely sick of raw meat, and I never cook, so I'm not going to sauté, roast or grill you either. Although I must admit you are a tempting morsel, I'm also not going to fuck you. Well, not to death anyway! I've gone completely off mindless sex as well. Much too much of a good thing over the millennia, I guess. But let's get back to the introductions. This is my pet, my travelling companion on my American sojourn, Poppy, my pig. We've travelled together from further south, but I've been away for a few days, you know, working, making contacts, messaging, drumming up the tribute that is due to a maenad such as myself. I thought Poppy would be safe here in these woods - safer than traipsing all over with me, meeting all sorts of unsavoury, dangerous, supernatural types. But as you can see..."
And Sam did see. The pongy pig was Callisto's friend. God! That was sad! And Callisto looked sad, as she regarded him. "Come Sam, lift Poppy out when I open the trap's jaws. I will not harm you." His paralysis faded, but still he remained unmoving, observing the supposedly mad maenad. Mad? Definitely more like sad. And lonely. Just like me, he thought. Must be catching.
Callisto calmed the pig with a surprisingly gentle touch to its tufted head and gleaming tusks. Then it was Poppy's turn to be pinned by that gaze. Poppy stood paralysed as Sam once had. He hesitated no longer and moved forward to assist as Callisto pushed the phallic-looking stick, with ivy woven around it, into the slit where the trap's jaws held the pig's odourous appendages. Forced apart by the magic stick's sparkly energy, the trap's jaws opened silently. Bending quickly, Sam carefully pulled the pig free. The little, stinky statue didn't make a peep, or an oink even. Thank God, Sam thought, as every time that pig opened an orifice, something awful came out.
The trap clenched shut as Callisto withdrew the head of the stick.
She then gracefully whipped the stick up to point in Sam's and Poppy's direction. Sam felt another oh-shit-moment coming on, but before he could panic, the pig let out an enormous anal acoustic with accompanying odour and maybe even a projectile pellet or two. Sam had squeezed Poppy too tightly, gripped as she was like a hairy bagpipe, under his arm. Callisto and Sam looked at each other, and laughed, and not in a crazed way. It was just funny.
When their laughter subsided, Callisto explained. "Relax Sam. I'm just going to heal Poppy's or should I say, Poopy's legs with a blast from my thyrsus." Sam gathered that the phallic stick was the thyrsus as Callisto flicked it towards the pig's legs. After intoning something that sounded all Greek to Sam, a little sparkly breeze of magic wrapped around the pig's injuries and Sam knew all was well when the odour's intensity faded along with the sparkles.
"Wow. You can heal things. Magic!" Sam was impressed.
"Yes, well, I am an immortal magical being, you know, and despite my reputation, I am not crazy. Well, not all the time. I used to be my God's, that is Dionysus's, nurse when he was young and he was always getting into scrapes. So, it was all about the healing. Then he grew up, and it was all about the dancing, the sex, the wine, the sex, the violence, the sex, the frenzy, the sex, the sex, the sex ... Well, it just all became maddening, in more ways than one, two, three – orgy! Anyway, enough about me..."
Callisto 's gaze returned to Poppy and she released the now-healthy beast from its paralysis. Sam lowered the pig, its fit legs paddling ready to roar off. Grounded, Poppy ran in circles trying to catch her own little, swishing, tufted tail as she span, before racing into the woods, like her ass was on fire. Maybe it was burning a little too, after all that gas.
"Come with me, Sam? Let's run."
"Sure, I'd love to come with you Callisto," Sam flirted. He couldn't seem to stop it.
"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Promises, Promises. I'll give you a head start and then you can catch me if you can."
"Sure, my pleasure," grinned Sam, a little surprised and a lot excited that he was looking forward to the maenad's company so much. He ran in the same direction as Poppy and changed mid-stride into his collie form. Callisto was moving easily, gliding at his side in no time, carrying her thyrsus, like a spear. Sam wondered if they were on a hunt, certainly the little pig would be starving after being stuck for a few days in a trap.
Before he could consider further, Callisto streaked ahead, her firm buttocks and lengthy legs propelling that lithe body along gracefully, powerfully. Suddenly, she planted the tip of the thyrsus in the ground and twisted up through the air, pole-vaulting over a loblolly tree's branches, about 15 feet up. She was just sex on a stick! That body arched, twisted and landed again, this time in front of Sam, breasts pert and quivering with the landing jolt. Oh My God!
Sam felt like a deer caught in the headlights, two small, perfectly-formed, brown-nippled headlights, that is. His stride faltered, but renewed when Callisto teased, "What you got, Sam?" An excited yelp was all Sam could manage in response, but the deer/headlight situation had given him an idea. He visualised a klipspringer, an African antelope that could leap from crag to crag so quickly it looked like it was flying. Sam had never thought watching so much late night Animal Planet on his lonesome would come in handy. Concentrating his shifter magic while visualising the small beast, Sam transformed into the tiny two-horned deer. Using the run's momentum, now on hoof tips, he bounced, ricocheting from tree trunk to tree trunk until he could leap over the top of one of the lower branches.
Sam landed sure-footedly, hooves digging in to increase his speed. But Callisto was still ahead, not that Sam minded the view at all. He zigzagged up and over another branch before Callisto shouted over her shoulder, "I love wild animals, Sam, but really, the bigger the better. Size does matter!" Suddenly, Sam saw a picture of a giraffe in his head. "Change Sam," she shouted. Sam hesitated. He'd already used a lot of his shifter magic and continuing to transform on the move would take a lot, lot, lot, lot more.
Sensing Sam's unease, Callisto stopped. Balancing on a tree branch ahead along the wooded path, she encouraged, "I'll help," and pointed the thyrsus, at Sam. Shit. Shit. Shit. He wished she'd stop swinging that all-purpose magic wand around. It made him as nervous as a long- tailed dog in a room full of rocking chairs. But he began to shift, keeping the giraffe image firmly in mind. The maenad-supported shift was so fast, dizzyingly instantaneous, that he didn't have time to register much as he practically popped up to his new 19-feet-high elevation.
Gracefully galloping (well, for a giraffe) onwards, the next thing Sam did register was Callisto landing on the middle of his 8-feet-long, spaghettied neck. As fast as greased lightning, she straddled it, gripping his mane with one hand, her thyrsus still held tight in the other. Then Callisto lay flat against his neck, one breast pancaked on each side. The force of her landing had pushed his neck down to a more horizontal position, so he missed an overhanging branch by a whisker. She had saved him from a very nasty pain in the neck, quite literally. Sam snorted, then hummed with pleasure. Who knew giraffes could hum? He was sure he heard Callisto mutter something about getting horizontal with him! He hummed louder.
As Sam broke out of the woods into the open near an old lakeside cabin, he raised his head to its full height. Callisto had the ride of her long life as she slid down that long coarse-maned neck. Legs astride, she enjoyed every second of the slightly prickly descent, until she lodged high on Sam's smoothly rocking shoulders, and then she enjoyed that more. "I knew I loved big game, for a reason, Sam," she sassed.
Sam felt the moist maenad riding atop, wrapped tightly around him, one hand fisting and tugging his mane for balance. His animal wildness began to rise and another extremity spasmed in an attempt to rise too. The sting of a smack across his big orange-marked butt from the maenad's thyrsus, spurred him to a faster gallop, and did nothing to lessen a certain appendage's stretch. Ew, so not going there, Sam thought, that would be a real bad thing.
From his height, Sam spied Poppy as she came into view near the cabin's neglected garden. She was chowing down heartily on something that clearly smelt like an ass with a problem, even from a distance. Sam concentrated on the smell to rid himself of visions of a certain maenad and giraffe doing unmentionables, but the vividness of an image shocked him so much, that he shifted back to his human form, somehow managing to grasp Callisto, piggy-back style, as he changed. Fuck!
Callisto slipped from his grasp as they slowed to a walk and she looked at Sam rather guiltily. "Ah. The image I put into your mind - too much on first acquaintance? I'm a bit of a loner, and my best friend is a pig, so my social graces may not be what they should be. But I guess I just like you … in any form. You're fit and you're very fuckable."
Sam's eyebrows had risen as high as they could, without completely disappearing into his hair.
"Ah, well, we have that in common then." Sam stuttered a bit. "I mean, I mean, I'm a bit of a loner too." Then realising he may just have insulted a dangerous supernatural, he added hastily, "And you're very fit, very fuckable yourself. Shit. I'm so not handling this well. Guess my social graces are a bit off too. Still, social graces probably dictate that ….. kinky is using a feather, perverted is using the whole damn chicken, or giraffe, in this case!"
"Ah, well, you can't blame a girl for trying. I was so enjoying the run and transformations, that I might have got a bit, a big bit, carried away! It was just the idea of that 20-inch-long giraffe tongue. Yum ... seems you just can't take the maenad out of the girl," Callisto said, a little apologetically.
"Hey, don't sweat it! I haven't had so much fun for ... well, way too long. I like that you like the animal in me! And I'm flattered that you would like some of that animal in you! Shit, did I just say that?" Sam started to half-turn away, embarrassed. God, he really was out of practice at this girl/boy and certainly maenad/shifter stuff.
Callisto looked happy though. "Now you're getting the idea Sam! Bottom line is, though," she said and pointedly looked at his naked butt, "that I'd like to get to know you better." And with that, she kissed him lightly on the cheek; on his face, that is. And she smelt good, earthy and fresh.
Sam was suddenly feeling soooo much better. He wasn't sad; he wasn't mad, (well, not in an angry way) and he might actually get to do something real bad! And she'd kissed him and he'd liked it.
He couldn't stop himself smiling broadly; happy as a dog with two ... you know, tails to wag! "It seems we have a lot in common, 'cause I'd like that too, Callisto. You know, I could take you on a date; that's what Americans do if they want to spend time with someone they like. You're here for the American experience, right?"
"Yes, so explain. Explain this date to me, Sam." Callisto looked bemused.
"Okaaay. I guess, there's usually three parts to a date; the entertainment, like our running; the refreshments, like food and drink; and then a certain level of ... affection."
"Affection?" Callisto looked very interested in the concept.
"Well, it depends on the couple, how much ... affection ... there is! That's the mystery. Tonight, this could be our first date if you like. We've already had a very entertaining time running. We could go back to my place for a bite to eat and drink. That's the next step on a date - refreshments."
"And then some affection?" asked Callisto, wanting to clarify.
"Sure."
"Well, I'm only off mindless frenzied sex! What about some mind-numbingly boring sex? I have noticed in my American travels that many expect only one partner, missionarily positioned. I think I'd like to try that with you, Sam."
Sam looked a little stunned. He had never negotiated mind-numbingly boring sex before. He didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted, disappointed or relieved! He was certain the maenad hadn't quite got the concept of affection though.
Callisto waited in the silence. "Are you alright, Sam? Have I said something wrong? Because I would very much like to go on this date." Callisto tackled the refreshment component of the date next, not leaving Sam time to reply. "I wouldn't have to eat anything raw or drink wine, would I? I am so sick of raw meat, especially beef. And wine. Ugh."
To emphasise her point, Callisto stabbed her thyrsus's head into the Louisiana soil and as she withdrew it, a fountain of red liquid spurted forth. "Red wine, Sam, or white?" Callisto queried, as she smacked a nearby rock with that ivy-clad stick. The rock soon glistened with a stream, of what Sam could only presume, was white wine. It flowed in an ever-increasing spring, inching its way towards the dark lake. "Chardonnay, Sam?"
"Wow!" Sam exclaimed.
"Wow, nothing," said Callisto. "Try drinking those two choices for a millennium or few and see how you feel."
"As bored as a dwarf in a theme park," Sam managed.
"Yes, a bore. Exactly! and intoxication? Puts me to sleep. Demented frenzy, forgettable fucking and then unconsciousness. Ho Hum." Callisto mimed yawning.
Sam couldn't help grinning. He'd managed to meet a maenad that was sick of intoxication and demented frenzied sex. He could do with a lot of both of those right now! The irony! But he said, "Alrighty then, Callisto. Come back to my bar and I'll cook. How about another American experience - Burger à la Sam, washed down with some non-intoxicating, but totally refreshing sweet tea. And then..." Sam raised his eyebrows suggestively.
Callisto giggled, just as if she were a much, much, younger girl. "The affection, yes! And oh! I love bars. I'll feel right at home." Turning her attention from Sam, Callisto called "Poppy, come." The pig looked up, slightly cross-eyed, lips reddened, with blood and red wine. Poppy hadn't given up raw meat or wine like her mistress. It seemed she would have to be dragged away from her pleasures, kicking and squealing.
"Poppy will be safe in the woods now, you know. The trap was one that Terry Bellefleur sets sometimes. He must have seen Poppy and thought wild boar would be nice on the menu. I'll let him know Poppy is the pet of a ... friend," Sam said.
"Friend! Well, I've been called lots of things before Sam, but never that!" She looked quite pleased, still girlish. A loud slurping sound returned their attention to Poppy. She was guzzling at the red wine fountain. Callisto looked on sadly. "I may have been a bad influence."
"Ah, well. You've been a real good influence on me. I feel much happier in my own skin, whatever the shape, and Poppy looks happy enough. She'll probably sleep soon, you know, from that intoxicating effect you were mentioning earlier! Ho Hum!"
Callisto smiled at Sam and then crouched down. "Stay here, Poppy. I'll be back." And Sam knew the pig would do as it was told. You didn't mess with a maenad, especially one that had identity issues.
Then Callisto was off at light speed, back towards the woods they'd emerged from. She paused, turned and shouted happily, "Sam, my beauty, get that perfect ass into gear. Americans seem to be fixated on bottoms, asses, butts, hineys; ass this and ass that. And yours is worth fixating on, so hurry up. You're up front."
Sam sped ahead, showing off that beautiful butt, taut and terrific, to perfection. Then he recalled Callisto's taste in animals. Big game, she'd said. He concentrated hard and transformed. Something strong and powerful to match the woman Callisto was. With a snap, crackle and pop or two, the lion, that he now was, roared, long and strong.
Sam looked quite the cat with his thick, lustrous, reddish-gold mane flowing as he ran, paws pounding, tail whipping, eyes glinting. Dangerous. Wild. Callisto showed her appreciation of his form by running her fingers through his mane, as she caught up with him. "Meow," she mimed.
Exhilarated, Sam felt free – he was not the Sookie-scorned suitor, the never-nasty boss any more. He purred his pleasure, ready to kick ass, not kiss ass.
But there was one ass, tight in all the right ways, that he wouldn't mind kissing, Sam thought. He watched, almost yowling, as Callisto raced, glided and vaulted ahead again, naked as the day she was made maenad. Their date, the entertainment, had started. They ran.
Sam never knew when she was going to turn and send an image into his mind. Animal, always. Wild, always. With the help of her magic thyrsus, he could change with exhilarating speed, fur-flying, mid-stride. Although he knew he should be peeing-his-pants alarmed, that Callisto had so much control over him, the experience, being in so many forms, was a shifter's dream come true. Elephant, monkey, rhinoceros, cheetah... zebra Sam skittered into the car park at Merlotte's with Callisto riding on his back, standing erect, thyrsus horizontal for balance.
Callisto leapt down gracefully. Human-shaped Sam re-formed. Naked and panting, they stood at the bar's back door. "People usually dress for a date, you know," Sam advised, "I've got some Merlotte's uniforms inside, if you'd like to try one. I have always loved a woman in uniform."
Callisto contemplated the dress code. "Hmm. Okay, as long as my ass doesn't look big in it! But I definitely like your ass in fur, Sam. Let me dress you, as you will dress me." With a flick of her slim wrist, the thyrsus sprang up, ever ready for action. Sam felt the magic tingle over his bare flesh, the brush of something soft and pliant against his waist, butt and thighs. Glancing down, Sam saw he had a real Tarzan jungle-look going on. He brushed his hands against the soft, beige, fur mini skirt. So did Callisto. She stepped in close and reached round. Her glowing eyes held Sam's, as she rubbed her hand downwards over the fur slung low over his hips, over those firm butt cheeks.
"Fawnskin. Lovely, just lovely," Callisto said admiringly, giving little squeezes to his rear end, leaving Sam in no doubt that Callisto admired more than just the fawnskin. Encircled by Callisto's slim arms, Sam's Sookie-battered pride swelled. "That's right, Sam. Hold your head high," Callisto encouraged, affectionately it seemed.
Gently disengaging Callisto and smiling happily at her, Sam opened the bar's back door, turned on the lights and positively strutted towards his office, fur skirt swinging, glimpses of butt cheeks gleaming in the low light. Callisto brought up the rear, literally, enjoying the view. Sam selected a white T-shirt and short black skirt combination for Callisto from the uniform store-cupboard in his office. Callisto ran her hand over the fabric held in his hands, concentrating on the Merlotte's embroidered logo emblazoned on the shirt. "I will be branded as yours, when I wear this, but by wearing the maenad's fawnskin, you will be mine."
Sam was surprised. He was used to supernatural beings being possessive, but had always assumed maenads were much more free-spirited with their favours. "Okaaay. That's a mighty interesting way of looking at things. For our date, your ass is mine and my ass is yours! We are each other's – just us two, monogamous. And speaking of asses, I hate to cover yours up, but would you put the clothes on while I fire up the grill, for the next part of the evening? I'm working up quite an appetite!"
Sam moved towards to door and quipped, "I'll get my ass back here quick smart."
"Sure Sam. I love a smart ass!" Callisto laughed, struggling with the unfamiliar clothing. Specially Sam-selected, the shirt was tight and clingy, the skirt low on her hips. Her trim, tawny midriff was shown off to perfection, Sam thought, as Callisto turned on his return.
Callisto queried, a little uncertainly, "What do you think? Fashion's not my passion. It's usually all fur or nothing for me. The top's a little tight and the skirts' a little loose and...
"You're a lot hot! Yeah, I thought the grill was hot until I saw you. Smokin', sizzlin', somethin' else!"
Callisto blushed! What? Who would have thought it! Blushing when clothed, blasé when naked. The woman was full of crazy contradictions. Fuck, he liked her and those contradictions.
"Alrighty. So. Now that we are dressed for dinner, let me get you a drink at the bar."
Callisto moved towards the main bar area using her nose as a guide, Sam clasped in one hand, thyrsus in the other. She breathed in noisily relishing the scent of alcohol; the scent of sexual pheromones; the scent of blood spilled by violence. Fuck, she liked him and his place.
"My God. This place smells so good, Sam."
"I've always thought so! Just another thing we have in common!"
She relaxed, propping her wand up against the bar, as she sat on one side, while Sam poured two sweet teas on the other. He added plenty of ice to cool himself down. He'd been hot from the run and now he was definitely hot to trot in another way. Sam swallowed. Hard.
"Sweet tea, Callisto. Refreshing, not intoxicating." She watched as Sam took a long swig from the tall glass, before tentatively sniffing, then tasting the brew.
"Mmm. Sweet. Like you, Sam." Callisto sipped, like a lady. "You have a wonderful bar, Sam. Thank you for inviting me." God, she did have some manners! Who knew?
Sam was as happy as a horn dog. "It is my pleasure. Will you be alright here while I cook us up a burger or three?"
"Oh, yes!" Callisto purred. "Happy as a maenad in a bar, Sam. Woods or bars, both my natural habitat! I'll just soak up the atmosphere, drink up my tea, imagine your..."
Now it was Sam's turn to blush. The image she'd somehow put into his head was red-hot, positively pornographic, and apparently …. possible! Oh My God! He was getting so done with the refreshment stage.
Reading his mind Callisto just smirked. "Don't worry about the food, Sam. You look more than good enough to eat."
"That's just as well, 'cause it looks like I'm going to be your American dinner. Let me just turn off the grill in the kitchen," Sam said, feeling slightly nervous now that they seemed to be moving, lickety-split, towards the affection stage.
He returned from the kitchen to Callisto's side at the bar and pushed her long, dark hair back from her face. Leaning in close, he kissed her softly, affectionately, on the cheek. Joking to cover his nerves, Sam quipped, "Dinner is served." He did a little spin as he pulled back, bowed and met her hot, glowing eyes. "Do you like to play with your food?"
Callisto smiled, revealing teeth that suddenly looked to be as sharp as razors. Sam shuddered, but not with fear. Desire. And this desire went hard and fast down south! Who knew he would be so turned on by dangerous, wild, and sometimes crazy women! Shit! Should he worry about that?
Callisto looked at him knowingly, her ancient eyes holding a wisdom he hadn't seen before. "My friend, Sam, you are nice man, but you are much more dangerous and wild than you have allowed. You are shifter. You will be wild, you will be dangerous. And you will be a hunter and a killer. That is your nature, but you are still a nice man. I, on the other hand, am not a nice woman, but I am like you in nature, wild and dangerous; a hunter and a killer. Of course, I am a little crazy too, and you liking crazy makes us a natural fit! And we have both been too alone for too long. You'll show me niceness; I'll show you wildness."
Callisto's wise eyes twinkled, then flashed, searing Sam with an eye-fuck, maenad-hot in intensity!
Yeah, those eyes glowed for a reason. Sam heatedly replied, "Now your dinner's all warmed up."
"So let's get on with the affection then! You'll show me the mind-numbingly boring sex, missionarily positioned, and I will show you some hot monkey sex, if you are game!" Callisto responded.
Sam knew Callisto meant monkey literally!
"Ooh ooh ooh ooh eee eee eee eee aah aah aah aah!" Sam screeched. "Just practising," he teased, "but, honestly, I'm really not up for the monkey business."
"Hot hippo sex then," Callisto countered, smiling cheekily.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Big Ew!"
Callisto just grinned. "You know, I can be very persuasive, Sam..."
And that's what happened when Sam met Callisto. It was all good in a bad way or all bad in a good way, depending upon your point of view.
Slightly earlier
A local policeman, Andy Bellefleur, drove up the rutted lane as stealthily as his old police car would allow, headlights off, moonlight-directed. He braked and turned off into the woods, before heading on flatfoot towards the dark lakeside cabin. He had heard bad things about this cabin. Orgies!
Creeping now, slowly, towards the clearing's edge, he hid in the bushes. The cabin seemed very still and uninhabited, but a hideous looking razor-back pig snuffled at a spring in the foreground. Suddenly he heard a wild animal roar, certainly not the pig, and then he rubbed his eyes in disbelief as he saw an enormous ... lion, followed by a completely naked woman carrying a wooden phallic symbol, run into the trees at the opposite end of the clearing. Shit! What was happening to Bon Temps? It was worse than he'd thought. Wild beasts were involved.
After an hour, the pig staggered off and all remained quiet, the cabin still deserted. Andy made his way forward then, towards the glistening stream. He hadn't noticed that on any previous stakeout. And he'd developed a thirst while waiting. Cupping his hand in the spring, he allowed the chilled fluid to pool, before lifting it to his mouth. Andy spluttered as he sucked it up and spat it out at the same time. What the heck! It tasted like wine, a very good white wine! Being no stranger to alcohol himself, on a second tasting, he easily recognised the flavour of a nice Chardonnay – lean and crisp, with a rich apple aroma. Hmm. That pig might taste good. He'd always liked pork and apple together! Looking around further, he saw a red pool. Surely not a red wine, he thought. This place could make a man very, very happy! Maybe that explained the orgies. Further investigations determined that the pool was indeed filled with a very lively Merlot. Yum! Andy scratched his head, then filled his belly, with a lot of both!
The world was just getting stranger and stranger, he worried. Of course, it had all started with those blasted vampires coming out of the closet, grave, whatever! After another slurp or two, Andy felt no need to worry any more.
Epilogue
Andy did return the next night, only to be bitterly disappointed. Not only was there no orgy-action at the cabin, but both the pool and spring had dried up! The place was unnaturally quiet too, until he heard
ooh ooh ooh ooh aah aah aah aah eee eee eee eeeeeeeeeeeeeee ... aaaaaaaaaaaaah.
What the …...? Was that a monkey in the woods, or a man giving a very realistic imitation of one? Whatever it was, it sounded a heck of a lot ... more satisfied than he was.
Perplexed, Andy gazed out across the rippling lake's dark waters. Whatever next – hippos?
The End