A One-Shot…..
Sometime within the month after Sonata, Mick and Beth are in that happy discovery era of their relationship.
How do you like me now?
Coraline was like a tick. She'd get under some guy's skin and the fever would ensue. The kind of fever a beer or a bath wouldn't slake. From the time she slithered out of her red dress right in front of me until the time she stole my mortality I was one of those poor saps. Evidently so was Hank. Poor fuck, unlucky bastard was in the same leaky life boat as I was. Evidently there was no truce between us though…he always played hardball even when it could be evident that two against Coraline might have gotten us both over the dry hump she'd throw us every now and then.
I had a grudge against the seamy bastard from the first time I saw him clutching a drink in C's living room. I may have been human, but I could remember a face. Especially a pasty white face, sitting in silent expectation wondering if the lady was going to being in a 3rd wheel to their little party. I would have been history right then and there if she had….C always had control (that I could think of) but I couldn't vouch for Hank.
Hindsight tells me she set that up like she set up so many other "unfortunate coincidences". Too bad this coincidence was the last for Henry Mattola.
Now there was a time when you loved me so I could have been wrong but now you needed to know
See, I've been a bad, bad, bad, bad man and I'm in deep,
Yes I am
I found a brand new love for this man
And I can't wait till you see. . . . . . . I can't wait
The night had started slowly, Beth beaten to a sleepy heap in the new leather chair I had just bought. I hadn't even tried the fit of my hands on the arms when she burst thru the door, pastrami and Swiss cheese reeking from the greasy bag in her hand, "I'd give Talbot a piece of my mind, but I can't spare one iota", from her mood I didn't want to agree or disagree.
"This mean you'll give notice?" I had been after her to retire, she thought I was being provincial, too 50's.
I got the "look", head tilted, lips pursed, eyelids closed slowly enough to register her "no", then the drawer slammed open and she shook the bread knife at me, "Enough Ozzie Nelson, I'm not up to debating tonight BECAUSE I'm just about to walk out on him, no notice"
I wondered how many more buttons I'd have to push to get my way, so I started pressing, "What was it today?" I knew she'd spill. Instead she cut the halves of the sandwich in half again, wrapping half in the wax paper and tucking into the fridge to stink up the nearly empty kitchen appliance. I guess she doesn't yet realize how unselective vamp senses are.
She froze her mouth full as she stood at the island.
"Come on over and sit with me" I offered to carry her soda and her baggie of mini carrots to the coffee table; she acquiesced and followed me still chewing that first 'too big' bite.
"He's the worst, I know the job is details, details win cases" I heard the words thru her swallowing the hasty bite; she swigged the soda like a thirsty sailor and sat for a beat.
"There's a little hinky thing going on down at the depot, bodies that look suspicious" she hooked her fingers to her neck and I knew this wasn't the garden variety crime she usually had.
"Have you seen, G?" and I wondered why he hadn't called me.
"Didn't want to connect G to funky stuff so soon after you know….." her voice trailed off referring to the night she threw me for a loop and I had to admit what she meant to me, the night the Monaghans caught their justice, "Could we take a spin over to see him later?" Beth began a second bite while I tossed the idea back and forth, remembering how Talbot chewed he up for seeing me at the Fordham's home.
"You eat, let me make some calls, perhaps we won't have to make an appearance", I trotted off to the office and opened up the subject of the evening.
"G, Beth just got home, tells me something looks like family" I never knew when lines were tapped, let them think we're talking Mafia.
"Yeah, where you been? You ever get out of bed these nights since you have a house guest?" his chuckle was evident, but he caught himself before I could say anything, "Sorry, bro…..you've been thru the changes lately….having Cora back and being human and then this thing with Beth. Don't take it the wrong way; I'm happy for the two of you"
"Right, cause now that I have my life in order maybe there can be world peace too" I wanted to brush on past this subject. G was right, life had been bumpy in that "bend over, here it comes again' way. Beth was the peace in the storm, our happy place.
"You heard much from your buddy, Hank?" G posed the question as he continued working; I could hear the clatter of instruments in his hands.
"You think this is him?" That would make it so easy….. I was praying for easy. Otherwise it could be vamps running for their safe corners and me standing in the light of day with empty hands, "What makes you say, My Buddy"?
"Well, not in that friendly way, Mick. I meant that open rivalry way" G kept chuckling as he kept working.
So how you like me now, How you like me now, How you like me now, How you like me now?
How you like me now, How you like me now, How you like me now, How you like me now
Remember the time when I eat you up you know that I wasn't lyin' that you can't give up
So if I was to cheat on you baby would you see right through me
If I sing a sad, sad, sad, sad song would you give it to me?
How you like me now, How you like me now, How you like me now, How you like me now
How you like me now, How you like me now, How you like me now, How you like me now
Does that make you love me baby, Does that make you want me baby
Does that make you love me baby, Does that make you want me baby
How you like me now, How you like me now, How you like me now, How you like me now
I didn't, like her now.
I could have sworn it was just a few months ago that Lance staked her and carried her off to an uncertain punishment. Was locking lips with Hank Mattola part of the punishment? I doubted that. I tucked my chin and nodded my head slightly to the barkeep.
"You know her?" the barkeep all of a sudden warmed up to me, leaning in speaking low. Our eyes met and he chewed at the toothpick in the corner of his mouth, "intimately, right?" That guy must see a lot of that from his next words, "Whatever you want to do, buddy, please don't do it here"
I raised a neutral hand and nodded slightly, "Wouldn't dream of it. Got to keep it copacetic, right?" I nodded to the guy wailing a sad coronet while the rest of the gang followed his improvisation. The singer did his best Cab Calloway "Hi, di Hi di High, heedy, heedy….." while I sat back thinking about seeing Cab in Baltimore after the war. Coraline shared a few traits with Minnie the Moocher; her heart just wasn't big as a whale….
"Yeah, copacetic…." He nodded and trailed to the end of the bar to serve up more therapy and alcohol to the bleary eyed hangdog guy in the rumpled suit.
folk's here's the story 'bout Minnie the Moocher (hidey-hi's!) she messed around with a bloke named Smokey
she was a red hot hoochie coocher
she was the roughest, toughest frail
but Minnie had a heart a big as a whale
she loved him, though he was coke-y
he took her down to Chinatown
and he showed her how to kick the gong around
I felt the emotional wave throttle my reason, how was I supposed to contain my ire when I could feel her sidle up behind me with Hank's stink all over her? I took an unnecessary deep breath and spun on the barstool.
"Hello, Mick" her voice like silk over soft flesh, the undulating grind of her hips as she planted her booted feet shoulder width apart in front of me.
Hank nodded with that "I have what you had" look that jackasses wore. This time around Hank notioned Coraline was his big score. I knew better.
"G'd evening, Mrs. St John" I tipped an imaginary hat to her, ignoring Hank. I leaned my elbows back on the bar, the heels of my boots hooked on the rung of the barstool. She saw my knees wide as an invitation and I clamped them together before she could launch her sexual assault. The look of frustration transformed her face to the familiar image I had lived with for decades, seems like I can never quite make Coraline happy. I was doing a half swell job with Morgan yet that was probably because Morgan hadn't sunk the hook.
"What are you doing in this club; don't you have the succor of a warm, human, bosom?" she replied tossing her brunette locks over her shoulder. Those weeks away she had grown a wilder look than "Morgan".
"Just tracking a killer, all the leads brought me right here" I pointed to the barstool and pursed my lips; my "tell" that she was getting under my skin. I knew it would creep back into my mannerisms; I should have controlled that better.
"Well, as you can see…. I'm upright and taking nourishment" her flippant comment seemed to fly in my face as I hadn't run after Lance to release her.
Was this the same creature who had engaged my embrace in my shower stall? Had I been foolish enough to clamor for her smile, for a wet caress as I stared at the Fleur de lis brand on her shoulder?
It was weeks ago that felt like decades. In the nights following my "returning" I'd bounce those scant seconds around in my brain, had I grinned like a fool and begged for her to tell my why she came back to me… She came back as Morgan to consume me, only giving me the "cure" because of guilt…and the chance for me to "owe" her. What a fool I had been, why did "there" seem to be more fascinating than "here"?
"Good to know" I sniffed in diffidence, wishing them away.
"Shouldn't you still be . . . . . eating?" she had sniffed me up and down, confirming my undead nature. It seemed like an excuse to slink closer to me while Hank watched and simmered.
"That was a bit of a handicap, I had to come back sooner than expected" I looked over her shoulder and leaned away from her.
"What a waste for Beth" she snapped back out of my space and waved down the barkeep as Hank stepped up and actually opened his wallet to pay for their drinks. When she uttered Beth's name I wanted to spit. As I closed my eyes and spun back around to finish my drink I had hoped she'd go powder her nose. When I saw how close Hank hung on her I knew it would be a waste of my time to try and talk to Hank. I slipped a ten under my empty glass and waved goodbye to the barkeep.
The night washed the cloying bar air out of my head. I scanned the parking lot for whatever mode of transportation they had arrived on. The line of motorcycles to the left of the door were cold, evidently their leather garb was for fashion and was misleading. I heard the cooling tick of the engine on the end; she still had a thing for Jaguars. I slipped the tracking bug under the rear bumper and went on my merry way. Hadn't Coraline reminded me that I in fact had a warm bosom at home to cuddle up to?
I drove off with that song worming thru my brain….somewhere there just wasn't a verse about taking a man to his honeymoon bed and making him a monster. . . .. hidey, hidey, hidey ho….. she had a dream about the King of Sweden (fast hidey-hi's!) he gave her a townhouse and his racing horses (hidey-hi's, one mo' 'gain!) poor min, poor min, poor min!
(hidey-hi's!)
he gave her things that she was needin'
gave her a home built of gold and steel
a diamond car, with the platinum wheels
each meal she ate was a dozen courses
she had a million dollars worth of nickels and dimes
she sat around and counted them a million times
I dropped the top on the Benz in the night air, there was something sublime about LA at night, of course the old car attracted attention, but that's not why I did it. Sometimes it clears my head to feel the breeze whip past me. So it's cathartic, relaxing to feel the night around me as my thoughts blur. Tonight was not the right time for me to assault Hank with my questions. If the opportunity presented itself, Hank could die another day….
Hell is a place of uncomfortable extremes. You could die a virgin and never know you could miss the joys of sex…..however, one did have to eat and it seemed just the taste of her drives me to untenable ends.
To bite or not to bite, if Shakespeare had been undead, would that have been his question?
The living blood makes me more of a predator, everything that frightens me near Beth. Although she thought once of ending all of this….my confession brought her back to me and I deal with the burden of her safety every time we touch.
How does an immortal handle mortal feelings? With two arms and two lips…..just the way the living would.
The bite question is history once I'm lying with Beth in our bed….yes, our bed, finally, naked. My body, skin so highly sensitized by my nature, was inflamed beyond thought merely by the feel of her engaging, glistening body exposed underneath mine. I was almost overpowered by the nearly inconceivable sensation of her warm flesh meeting my undead flesh. I knew Beth felt the same as I when I heard her profoundly soft whimper of delight, and she rubbed herself slowly against me until I notioned I might explode from the utter bliss of it.
I had stripped silently as I caught the site of her in her restless half sleep and slid into bed beside her, melting into her embrace. Powerfully tender emotions washed over me.
"So glad you made it home" she whispered, nuzzling me back, initiating my launch sequence.
We rolled as we wrestled for domination; I love that about her…. I revel in the thought of her riding me, watching her golden hair loosed and glowing while she grinds down on me, it is so invigorating to plunge headlong and hard in between her creamy thighs.
All thoughts of foreplay evaporate when I see she's gone to bed naked, soft from a bath. Gone is the garlicy smell of corned beef and pastrami, gone is her daily frustration from work. All I find is her butter soft skin wrapped in silky cotton sheets, her heady honeyed scent floating above her in our bedroom.
When my hard, thick length slips inside her again and again so easily, there is no suppressing our groans of supreme satisfaction. She bucks under me when I simply exhale against her throat. As before, the feeling of being so firmly, hotly sheathed within her body nearly undoes me. Beth holding me inside herself, taking me deeply as she could, we craved this...our bodies begged for this. Was it the "honeymoon" atmosphere of the new relationship or would we be like this for an eternity?
My undead soul reveled in this coupling….weeks ago this would be unbelievable, at least for me. How long was Beth plotting all this? I think back to the furtive embraces she had initiated since we "met". All her soulful kisses on my cheek, did she chase me until I caught her? It was almost more than I could fathom.
Shifting over her I began to move slowly within her, the hot, slick friction causing both of us to cry out. My control for the moment firmly in place, I retreated almost all the way out of her, feeling the chill from the loss of her heat. Then listening to her mewls of protest I silently agreed the abandonment would be brief. My extensive, excruciatingly measured return commenced as Beth squirmed against me. Together we were, driven nearly mad by our joining.
All I could voice was "My Beth, my Beth" as a prayer on my dry lips. Her responses were wordless, nearly breathless as her legs wrapped around my hips. My lips skimmed a deliberate, ecstatic assault upon her passion blanched flesh. I was so hard it carried a sweet, hot pain within me. About that biting thing, I teetered on the brink of control now, when I felt her shudder as her climax rolled thru her, I wanted to feel her buck and roll more than I wanted to bite.
"Fuck me hard, Mick, fill me up" she breathlessly begged, her body aquiver under me. That's when I gathered myself and drove powerfully into her, then pulled back, returning deeply again, then back, until a rigid rhythm was took over. The pace picked up, Beth's movements calling me on, and we rocked together like waves in an ocean in hurricane frenzy until, finally, our simultaneous climaxes dizzied us.
Our love was electrifying, beyond belief. Grasping Beth with both my arms we rolled onto our sides, legs entwined to cling together, and our pulsing pleasure became a pleasant memory. I was nearly spent, Beth was exhausted, gasping for air, and still we found the strength to whisper endearments. As Beth fell back into an angel's sleep I kissed into her ear, "Beth, I love you" and I caught her breathy reply, "Always, Mick."
Yeah, Hank Mattola could die another day.
The End