The air was stagnant, still, rife with the rancid smell of old beer, even staler cigarette smoke, and, she bit back uncertainly …blood?
The odor was a little musty, most likely not fresh, at least, she hoped, but the faint metallic scent tinged everything like the stench had been indelibly written across every surface of the bar never to be completely wiped away or erased from memory. It would only make sense, Sookie distastefully figured as she carefully made her way toward the club's slick bar top, considering that this was a vampire owned watering hole, a fanged haven replete with garish coloring, blasé decorations, and an obsequious sign that declared 'no biting on premises.' Uh huh, yeah, like that little admonition was really necessary for patrons of whatever gender, breed, or dental pedigree to realize that they weren't exactly on the tea cup ride at a family themed amusement park but rather, they'd been dropped head first into a campy but decidedly gory thriller.
Warily, she eyed her nearly empty surroundings, the barren black lacquered chairs were lined up around battered tables like a mindless battalion of support flanking all sides, and tried to decide which was more pitiful, the downright tacky and altogether too stereotypical pandering of the establishment's décor to a pathetic subculture or her near frantic need to be here in the first place.
Somehow, she figured that it was literally a toss-up.
Swallowing her pride, she ignored her initial misgivings, plastered on her most genial smile, and amiably reached out her hand as she sweetly greeted, "Hello, I'm Sookie Stackhouse. Is the waitress position still available?"
Vacantly, the overly processed blonde behind the counter looked past her like the woman wasn't even aware of where the words had possibly come from never mind that Sookie was the only other human in the place. Somehow, recognition seemed to be overly taxing to the scrawny, woefully underdressed female but it wasn't a hardship for the highly observant telepath, quite the contrary. Although, she'd have had to be blind to overlook the serpentine game of connect the dots she could have played with all the bite marks the faux blonde displayed without even a lick of shame like they were tooth shaped trophies proclaiming a coveted desirability rather than scarred constellations mapping out her pitiable misery.
When the other woman continued to look dumbfounded, Sookie gently prodded, "Umm, has the position already been filled?"
"Oh, right," the absentminded blonde instantly replied dropping the raw drink ingredients she'd awkwardly clasped within her wiry arms on the counter behind the bar. An orange went rolling as a ditzy smile accompanied the woman's quick exclamation, "Let me just get an application from the back."
Her external words were swiftly followed by an intrinsic thought; Pam will kill me if I let another person leave without filling out her paperwork.
Reluctantly, Sookie watched the slender woman scurry off like a roach hit by light and wondered if the bar's daytime worker was being flippant in the proverbial, joking sense, or being literal in the, she'd be dead as a door nail come night fall kind of way.
Normally, Sookie wouldn't pry. She wouldn't use her disability, whether readily apparent or not, to intrude upon another person's thoughts if she could help it but, the telepath squelched down a little surge of guilt, this wasn't a time to be altruistic and rest on her superior laurels thinking that she was too good a Christian to be so sneaky and underhanded. No, sir, this was an instance where Sookie truly felt that she really needed assurance that she would be relatively safe if she were to work at the most notorious vampire bar in northern Louisiana.
She'd caught a few notions of what transpired at this place from a coworker at Merlotte's, the family type bar and grill that she'd worked at for the past few years, but she assumed that as long as she avoided an invitation to the infamous basement she'd be just fine. Seriously, she'd almost choked on nothing but air when she'd caught Dawn's previous memory of being down in the hard, concrete confines of debauchery. Blindfolds, chains, and pleasure running the rough edge of pain just weren't her thing, although, if the barmaid was being completely honest, she couldn't really say what soothed her intimate itches because she'd yet to experience anything carnal with the opposite sex. Period.
Still, there was an undercurrent of sex that rippled through most bars between the amassed congregation of people seeking something- anonymity, oblivion, or an instant elixir to crushing loneliness- between sips of the ever present flow of alcohol so that wasn't a shocker. The type of sexual fulfillment that would pervade an establishment for vampires and their groupies, well, that might be a whole other bag of eye popping tricks; the nasty, dirty, and rotten kind.
So, really, Sookie justified her choice by rationally claiming that she needed to peek into the other woman's mind to get some assurance that taking a second job here temporarily wouldn't be hazardous to her overall life expectancy or her nearly dead libido. She didn't want to earn the extra money needed to finish paying off Gran's modest tombstone if she was only going to end up in a shallow grave of her own.
"You don't need to worry, they're really very nice here," the dimwitted blonde from earlier commented, breaking into Sookie's reverie with her return, and giving her sudden pause. Had the barmaid somehow come across someone else who enjoyed her special brand of gift?
No, the telepath quickly realized as the older woman easily slipped a mundane looking piece of paper onto the counter in front of her just before pulling a well-used pencil nub from behind the ear hidden under her brassy colored hair. The only thing this woman was shielding was her lack of self-esteem and, even at that, the older woman was doing a shabby job.
"You just fill this out," the bar worker warmly stated with a sincere camaraderie that shamed Sookie for her previous unkind thoughts, "and I'll do the rest."
Sookie wasn't sure what the rest would entail, exactly, but the sheet seemed rather normal and straightforward. Forming the wrote characters of her name and address was rather dull, almost tediously familiar, and put her nerves at ease, as her worn pencil swirled in time with the other woman's slicing motions against the cutting board. The clean, fresh, homey smell of orange, lemon, and lime filtered over her like a soothing balm, reminding her of her beloved Gran, as she worked her way down the ordinary questions making her forget the dark nature of those that normally frequented this place.
A sloshing sound interrupted Sookie just as she finished the last number of her social security identification and, automatically, her pencil rose along with her curious eyes to the full stemware that had been unceremoniously placed in front of her. Hopefully, the other blonde asked with near giddy anticipation, "Could you try this for me?"
"Umm," Sookie warily started, "what is it?"
"Oh," the other female seemed to happily come alive at her question, "it's this yummy drink I tried one time at this Spanish restaurant called sangria."
"The drink," the blonde woman, Ginger, added with a little shoeing laugh, "not the restaurant."
What the other waitress hadn't included was that Ginger had imbibed it while on a date with a man she'd thought was the marrying kind, and, unfortunately, the gentleman was but he'd previously tied that knot with another female. Suddenly, it was a little easier to understand why this woman might just prefer the honest company of vampires who she knew did, in fact, value her if for nothing other than her blood.
"Looks good, what's in it," Sookie asked with just enough interest to please the older woman but she already knew that it would contain rum along with the unknown brand of red wine standing empty on the bar's work surface.
"The recipe says to chill it well first, whatever that means," the platinum blonde shrugged her bony shoulders, "but I didn't want to waste time if it didn't taste good and Longshadow doesn't trust my taste buds, even though I'm human, because I smoke."
As expected, the other woman didn't really provide an answer to the question asked but Sookie didn't need the information, not with her unique talent anyways. She'd already heard what was in the concoction placed before her and, now, knew that Longshadow was the bartender here, a vampire, and this woman's occasional lover. She hadn't needed to spend much time in the blonde's mind to know that it was all purely consensual and that Ginger was merely trying to impress him with something besides her bloody pincushion of a body.
She didn't really want to drink the beverage and then drive but one sip wouldn't hurt, it certainly wouldn't impair her senses or hinder her judgment on the road back to Bon Temps. Without any outward reluctance, Sookie pulled the glass toward her with the intention of pacifying the other woman.
The layered pieces of citrus were pretty streamers of bright color floating in the deep red sea of her glass. Waves of the pungent aroma tickled her nose as the spicy liquid lapped against her parted lips, crashing into her system, and nearly drowning her in the overwhelming taste.
Sookie had heard that sangria had the tendency to be slightly bitter if not sweetened properly but that clearly wasn't the case with this batch. No, ma'am, this was pure molten sugar, flavored with a sensual liquor that shot fire through her veins as she swallowed. The heated fluid burned all the way to female parts that had never been affected by alcohol previously and made her smolder with unprecedented want.
Damn, Sookie blushed furiously in response to her body's sudden arousal, glad that she hadn't taken a larger sip and gulped down the urge to consume more. Suddenly, she wondered if this was actually that stuff called Spanish fly that her classmates had all whispered and tittered about back in high school.
Whether it was or not, Sookie couldn't in good conscience let the other woman offer shots of sexual encouragement to unsuspecting patrons that she suspected were already well past a level of wantonness that was good for their health.
Uncomfortable, nearly squirming in her seat to relieve the erotic pulsing that grew in a southern region that needed the comfort of release, Sookie coughed out, "Ah, Ginger, I think there's something wrong with this. Are you sure you followed the recipe properly?"
"Well, shucks," the blonde replied with a careless shrug as she hastily poured the remainder of the pitcher down the stainless steel sink, "I'll just have to start again while you finish your application."
Desperately, Sookie turned back to the abandoned paperwork in front of her trying to focus on anything but the pounding want that coursed through her and tapped into feminine places of wet, tight need that she hadn't thought existed just five minutes prior. Anxiously, she readjusted her body, hoping that the tiny friction of the barstool would temporarily solve her problem as she prepared to read the next question on the form.
Unwanted, a tendril of yearning whispered along her spine like a lover's caress as she finally deciphered what the check boxes containing a few odd letters and a positive or negative sign could possibly mean. Shocked, she dropped the unfinished paper like a white flag of surrender and promptly retreated from the bar.
Sookie wasn't a coward, far from it, but there was no good reason that a job application should require disclosing her blood type even if it was something that the telepath had known out of hand anyway. With a surety that kissed her nether lips with each purposeful step she took away from the seedy bar, Sookie knew that Fangtasia should never be the workplace she called home.
.oOo.
Instantly, Eric awoke to the long forgotten feel of sunshine radiantly beaming through his undead form, casting shadows of flaming desire against the dark corners of his heart and burning a relentless craving that hardened more than his eternal soul.
Regardless of the unexpected intrusion upon his daytime slumber, he immediately pushed opened the sleek travel coffin he'd chosen to rest in rather than leaving his office the previous evening when dawn approached faster than his Sheriff's duties had been sufficiently completed.
Her sweet scent assailed him, cut him down into nothing but demanding need like the deadly blow of an assassin's blade before he could protect himself from the intoxicating bloodlust her decadent aroma caused. The hungry beast inside basked, luxuriated, reveled in the honeyed fragrance that wafted over him like a dangerous embrace pushing him to the edge of his restraint when he felt her matching arousal.
Lowly, he growled with rabid anticipation of tearing into the tasty treat being dangled in front of his proverbial nose when he finally saw her through the security monitors. The shapely blonde looked like a scrumptious vanilla cupcake with droplets of blood covering the glaze of her Southern belle dress, her soft curls a decorative layer of frosting that framed the fresh beauty of her face. She was luscious, tempting, a human confection of all that baited a vampire's primal senses.
Suddenly, her aroma became slightly thicker, earthier, a tad bitter, as he felt a sliver of fear slip along the bond of her sexual awakening. All too soon, the departure of her flirty red heels snapped him to attention like the masterful flick of a matador's cape, daring him to follow, challenging him to dominate the lesser creature, to charge forward and simply take what now belonged to him.
No doubt, he would.
Ravenously, Eric paced the confines of his office, impatiently watching the seconds of the girl's freedom tick by until night fell and he could greedily answer the wild call of his blood.