A/N: This story takes place somewhere between LDiD and CD. The title comes from Charles Perrault's 1697 version of this fairy tale.


Pantoufle en Verre

Part 1 of 2

Bon Temps is awfully quiet after two in the morning. The sidewalks around here roll up around nine, and then only Merlotte's stays open until the morning hours. I've always been wary about turning on the radio as I drive home, afraid I'd wake someone up with all my singing along to country songs. So, on my way home, I just stare out of the windshield and hope I don't pass out before I pull up the driveway, collect the mail, and stumble into the house. Lately, my…what…boyfriend (that didn't sound right), Bill Compton, had taken the liberty of showing up on my porch steps to fill my early morning hours with a healthy variety of erotic displays of affection. Sure, I was up even later now, and had dark circles under my eyes sometimes, but I think it might be worth it. After all, I was a virgin for twenty-five years! Everyone needs to break out of their shell sometime!

I rolled through the ruts in my gravel with a sigh, parked behind the house in front of the back porch, and hopped up the stairs without any kind of grace. Bill was waiting for me, and he took my hand and pulled me to him as I reached for the door knob. I let out a little giggle and kissed him politely (sleepily) on the lips. The vampire, my vampire, took my house keys and unlocked the door. His hand slithered around my hips as I walked inside. Mmm, he was definitely a treat to come home to, and out here in the middle of nowhere, without a neighbor for miles, I didn't have to worry about waking up the neighbors. I could yell as loud as I liked, and I often did.

"Sookie," he said, touching my neck with his lips. I shivered. "Are you free on Saturday?"

"I have to work," I murmured. "I have the day shift."

"So you are free for the part of Saturday that will allow us to visit with one another?" His lips roamed down to my clavicle. He pulled aside the collar of my uniform shirt.

"Mmm, yes," I gasped.

"Eric has sent us an invitation to a party in Shreveport." Bill held up an envelope. He'd opened it already, but he'd folded the invitation and put it back inside. I took it from him curiously.

"Really?" Okay, so I didn't like Eric so much, but how many parties did I get invited to, huh? I stuck my fingers in the envelope and pulled out a daintily folded white card with an embossed two-line border. Fancy. Bill's lips were trailing down my stomach, but I was so excited about the card that I barely noticed him. Okay, okay, priorities. I flipped open the card. It read:

Eric the Northman, Sheriff of Area 5, requests your presence at a semi-formal ball.

At the Lakeshore Hotel

Shreveport, Louisiana

Saturday, the 10th of June

11 o'clock

"Ooh," I giggled. Then my heart sank. What on earth was I going to wear to a ball hosted by a vampire? A little voice in the back of my head told me that the canary yellow dress I'd worn to my senior prom wouldn't be quite appropriate for the occasion.

"You will attend with me, then?" Bill asked. He'd resumed his standing position, and he took the invitation from me and placed it on the side table. His cool hands pressed against my sides and pushed my shirt up over my head.

"Well, twist my arm, why doncha?" I grinned at him. Bill stared at me blankly. Okay, some colloquialisms (word of the day!) were completely lost on him. "Yes, Bill, I'd love to go with you."

"Do you have something to wear?" Bill was kissing me between my breasts. I closed my eyes thoughtfully. Nope, I didn't have a thing to wear, but I certainly wasn't going to tell Bill that! When we'd gone to Dallas, on business for Eric, I'd spent a bundle of "business money" on business attire. This event wasn't business-related at all, and darnit, I was not going to keep accepting gifts and charity from my boyfriend (or whatever). I was sure I could find a dress all on my own. After all, I had three days to shop (after and before work) before the night rolled around.

"Yes," I lied. I turned my attention back to his caresses before he could inquire further as to my intentions in the clothing department. My hands slipped into his hair, and I traced his sideburn with my thumb. Bill made a quiet murmuring sound and unhooked my bra with a flick of his fingers.

With my breasts free to suck into his mouth, Bill lifted me up off the floor and carried me back to my bedroom. Still giddy from the invitation (to a real ball), I giggled as he scooped me up and tossed me onto my bed. I fell back against the pillows and the fluffy mattress. My hands reached up to pull the ponytail holder out of my hair. Bill's expert hands floated over my skin, stroking my hips and thighs. His wrist wiggled up between them and I shivered with delight.

"Kiss me?" I asked him in a quiet but happy voice. He bent his head over me and consumed my lips, parting them with his tongue. My eager hands squirmed between us to pull his belt free of the buckle. I could feel his fangs drop down and lightly graze my lower lip. Mmm.

"Sookie," Bill rumbled, shoving his pants down his hips. I stroked him with the palm of my warm hand. He was rigid and ready for me. His hands went back to my hips and lifted me up off the bed. I squeaked in my surprise and let out a new burst of happy giggles. My vampire's eyes filled with laughter, though his mouth remained hungry for me, short on the smiling. He entered me with a suddenness that cut off my giggles in favor of a gasping moan of pleasure. "My Sookie," I shivered.

We spent the rest of our night repeating the same or similar gestures of desire. He had me in a few positions, biting my neck each time to savor the experience of pleasure. I let waves of climax wash over me before I finally fell asleep. I dreamed of the way in which Bill would dance me across the ballroom floor, waltzing through a wonderland of live music and astonished guests. I was Cinderella with the Prince. I was Princess Aurora. I was Belle. I was even Katie Scarlett O'Hara, dancing in her mourning gown with Rhett Butler. It was all perfect.

I woke up around ten o'clock and yawned, stretching my arms toward the licks of sunlight that probed through my wooden slat window blinds. Have you seen those silly Disney movies where little animals help wake up the sleeping heroine and get her chores done while she dances around and sings in perfect pitch? I suddenly, achingly, wanted one of those moments. I didn't have a pet, let alone one that could do my hair or put my wash in the laundry. I sighed. Sometimes real life is just too tough for words to express. I slumped out of bed and fell into the shower.

While I was rubbing myself with a bar of cucumber melon soap, I remembered that I needed to get to the mall and home again before work at five o'clock! Crap! I washed the shampoo out of my hair and the soap off my body. I found some old denim clamdiggers in the closet and squirmed into them. I threw on a v-neck purple tee shirt and started blowdrying my hair. Honestly, that task took the longest. Finally, I slapped on my make-up, grabbed my purse and car keys, and was out the door lickety-split.

The closest mall is in Shreveport. We have a women's boutique in Bon Temps, but the property is owned by my boyfriend, Vampire Bill. I didn't want him to know that a) I'd lied to him about having something to wear, or b) that I wanted to pay for it myself. Besides, the stuff at Tara's boutique was nice, but it was always really expensive! I really couldn't afford to spend too much on the dress. It would have to be something nice, pretty, but crazy cheap.

I wandered the mall for almost an hour, but I couldn't find anything that fit all of the requirements for a dress. Some were cheap (in the after-prom sales) but neither nice nor pretty. Some were really pretty but not that nice (read: slutty!) or terribly cheap either. Some were really nice, but maybe a bit too nice-girl for a vampire event. I wandered down to the Couchmann's department store in a last ditch effort to find something suitable. The thing is: Couchmann's doesn't really have a lot of dresses that fit into my three categories. Most of their things are nice and pretty, but they're usually really expensive too. But darnit, I wasn't going to show up at the party in a canary yellow prom dress that was several years old! I probably wouldn't even fit into it anymore!

After heaving a great big sigh, I stepped into the formal dress department. I looked around through big racks of floor length prom dresses in a variety of colors, many of them with beads stuck on the bodice or gathered parts in the skirt. Some of them were beautiful, but most of them were well over $100, even on sale. I soured and turned to leave. In my path, taking up most of the breathing space even though she wasn't too much taller than me and obviously quite a bit thinner, a sales lady stood grinning at me. She was beautiful, the kind of woman you'd expect to see modeling bikinis in a Harper's Bazaar, not selling ball gowns to Louisiana teenagers. The sales girl, Claudine according to her nametag, was tall and thin, but not thin in an annoying way. She had a beautiful face, a gorgeous pink-lipped smile, and long dark brown hair that fell around her face in a perfect frame.

"Hi there!" She greeted me happily. It was a genuine happiness, not like the plastic grin I reserved for the drunks at Merlotte's.

"Hi," I said. I smiled at her because her personality seemed to exude delight. It was contagious.

"What can I help you with?"

"Well, I'm not sure," I frowned and looked around me at the racks of dresses. "I'm going to a fancy dress ball in Shreveport this weekend. I need an inexpensive, semi-formal dress to wear." I frowned. Might as well be honest. "I really can't afford to spend more than, maybe, $75."

"I know just the thing!" Claudine giggled. She took my hand and led me off into another section of her department. She smiled happily at every other customer we passed, and they all smiled back. Claudine seemed to inspire joy in everyone. I liked her instantly.

"Okay, here it is!" She parked us in front of a lonely dress on a solitary rack in the back of the store.

The dress was perfect. Perfect. It was a candy apple red color, bright and attractive to the eye. It had a halter tie around the neck with a wide strap that wouldn't be too uncomfortable as the night wore on. The sweetheart bodice had black trim and an empire waist that would make my breasts look perfect and not bulgy. The whole thing taped out into a full skirt with a crinoline slip that stuck out just below the hem and had a black satin trim of its own. The dress was meant to fall just below the knees and flare out when you spun around on the dance floor. I think my jaw dropped open when I saw it.

"It's…" I breathed.

"It costs $50 on sale, last one we have. And I have a twenty percent off coupon you can use too!" Claudine beamed at me. "Now, do you have shoes? What about a clutch?"

"I…no…" I stuttered, still staring at the dress.

"Okay, well, let's get you some then!" Claudine beamed.

The sweet sales girl took the dress off the rack and carried it with her while we walked to the shoes department. She steered me right to a wall of beautiful dress shoes, and found me a pair of high-heeled, open-toe, patent-leather Mary Jane pumps that were on sale for a glorious $15 (How? Why?), and then paraded me to hosiery (Cuban heel nude thigh-highs for $3), and then to accessories. There, we picked up a small shiny black leather clutch for $10. Claudine rung me up, included the twenty-percent off coupon, and bagged my outfit. I'd managed the entire thing for less than $65. I stared in amazement.

"You're amazing! You're a complete life saver!" I squealed with delight, practically falling over the cash register to hug her.

"Just call me your fairy godmother!" Claudine giggled, blowing me a kiss and throwing in a wink for good measure. I laughed. No kidding.

"Bill is just going to die when he sees me," which was sort of true since he was already, technically, dead.

"You know it!" Claudine grinned. She handed me my bags. "You be sure to come back and see me sometime, girl!"

The two days of time between now and the ball couldn't possibly pass by any slower! I had a wave of extra energy that I threw into my work at the bar. Sam even commented on how cheerful and happy I was, greeting every customer (even Jane Bodehouse) with a delighted and perfectly genuine smile. I washed tables down while whistling to myself, and I gossiped with Arlene about Bill, and I asked Holly and Danielle about their children. Maybe I was a little over-excited, but I tried not to be annoying about it.

On Saturday evening, after work, I drove home at whirlwind speed. The sun was still up and I had several hours to get ready. I thought about taking a little nap, but I was so pumped with energy that I couldn't sit still. For awhile, I lay on my bed and thought about Bill in a suit. I wondered what he would wear. Would he put on something from the Civil War era, with tails and buttons and a black bowtie? No, no, Sookie, this event is semi-formal! He's not going to wear the 1860s version of a tuxedo! Maybe he'd put on a dinner jacket and a collared shirt, and maybe a neat blue tie. No no, erase the tie. In my mind, I put him in one of those beautiful outfits from a Jane Austen period movie. He'd wear a green velvet jacket with wide lapels, a vest with brass buttons, and a pair of tan pants with high black riding boots. Oh, and a hat! I giggled with sheer glee. Oh yes, that would be perfect. Except, you know, we wouldn't match at all.

At seven, I finally went into the bathroom to begin my toilette. I took a long bath, shaving my legs even though I'd just done them and my underarms too. I trimmed my eh-hem (as Gran referred to it) and then washed my hair under the running water. Out of the bath, I smoothed a luscious mildly scented body cream over my skin to make myself extra soft. Then I applied just a tiny bit of perfume to my breasts and wrists. In the bedroom, I put on a lacy black thong and a waist garter with clips to hold up my thigh-highs. They rolled over my skin easily without tearing. The heels looked really different and very pretty, and there was a black line up the backs of my legs that drew attention to me in a subtle and pleasing way. Thanks to the powers of Victoria Secret, I had a convertible black lace bra that looped around my neck under the halter strap of the dress. I held the gown up in front of myself in the bathroom mirror before I unzipped it and put it on.

"Wow," I gasped at myself. "Sookie Stackhouse, you look amazing."

I got out the curler and curled my hair, deciding to leave it long. I put a little barrette on one side for color, but let it out over my shoulders. Perfect. I danced around in front of the mirror. The skirt swirled around my hips. Yep, absolutely, one-hundred percent perfect. I was just putting on my shoes when the phone rang. I grabbed it off the hook and put it carefully to my ear so as not to mess up my hair.

"Sookie," Bill said coolly. A little shiver rolled down my spine.

"Hey Bill," I beamed.

"I'm sending a car to pick you up. I am being called in early to do some errands with Pam."

"Oh," I frowned a little. "You don't have to call someone. I can just drive."

"It's already been done," Bill said. "The car will be there for you at ten o'clock."

"Oh, wow. Thanks!" I couldn't help but giggle. How fancy! "Will I see you there?"

"Of course," he said plainly. "I will meet you at the hotel. Travel safely."

He hung up. I went back to the bathroom to put on my make-up. It was nearly ten o'clock already!

Just as I was stuffing my face with a leftover biscuit and putting my wallet and house keys into my clutch, there was a knock at the door. I poured a glass of sweet tea down my throat, reapplied my lipstick, and went to answer it. The chauffeur had arrived, dressed like all chauffeurs are, I guess. He had on a black suit and a little black hat. He took my hand and led me out to the car. It was all ridiculously fancy, and I had to hold back my giggles so I wouldn't look like a newbie. I was totally a newbie.

The windows were tinted, so I couldn't look out of them while we drove to Shreveport. Thankfully, there was a little personal radio in the back, so I turned it on. I flipped through the channels for awhile before I landed on a station playing Frank Sinatra. Normally, I'm not a fan of oldies, but with the swing dress on and the 1950s hair style, I felt like I should be listening to the music my Gran probably liked when she was my age. Really, it had a great beat. I knew a lot of the words because, let's face it, who hasn't been to one of those retro diners? I sang along to a bunch of doo-wop hits and Motown songs and even a couple of old Elvis numbers. I was having such a grand time that I didn't even notice when we passed into the Shreveport city limits. We rolled up in front of the hotel at a few minutes past eleven o'clock, and I shut off the radio just as the door opened wide and a hand dipped in to help me out. I took it, assuming it was that of my chauffeur, and stood up on the paved sidewalk.

There I was, Sookie Stackhouse in all her finery, staring into the quite beautiful blue eyes of Mr. Eric Northman, thousand year old Viking vampire. I think I gasped a little without realizing it because his eyes filled up with laughter, and his mouth turned into a smile.

"Miss Stackhouse," he greeted me. He dropped his eyes and inclined his head because vampires don't really shake hands. "It is my great pleasure to receive you this evening."

And oh I'd be lying if I told you it wasn't a great pleasure to see him too. The Viking vampire was dressed casually, and yet to the nines. I wanted to fall right over and do that Southern belle fainting thing just to show my appreciation for the glory that was Eric. Wow. He'd worn a white dress shirt, but he'd uncuffed the sleeves and left them to hang loose around his large hands. The shirt was only buttoned two-thirds of the way, and his beautiful pale skin had a slightly luminescent glow that only I could see (well, I was the only human that could see it, anyway). He'd worn tight black jeans, probably designer, and they perfectly accented his figure. I found myself wanting to ask him to turn around so I could see the back. His hair, which was as long as mine and as blond as mine, was pulled back in an intricate and quite beautiful braid. A few wisps of his fine mane fell around his face like a wheat-colored halo. I tried without success not to bite my lip with sheer wonder. The action only made Eric smile more. I just thanked my lucky stars he wasn't leering. I had a date.

"Are you greeting guests yourself?" I blinked at him, looking around at the crowd meandering up the short flight of marble stairs into the hotel. Eric's eyes were on me only. It was as though he didn't even notice his own party guests.

"Only the most important ones," Eric said. He held out his arm to me, and, trying to be polite, I took it. He walked me inside through a revolving door, and we glided past a number of beautifully dressed vampires in varying states of refinement. No one looked as casual as Eric, but it was his party. He could dress however he liked.

"Have you seen Bill?" I asked him quietly as he led me into an extravagantly decorated ballroom. There was a shining wooden dance floor in the center of the room, and round tables with white damask tablecloths in a circular layout around it.

"I've asked him to take care of some things before arriving. He should be along." Eric was nodding his head to some of his guests. "Would you care to dance?"

The dance floor was empty, even though a band was playing. I looked over my shoulder for Bill, though I knew he wasn't around. Reluctantly, I agreed with a vampire-like nod of my own head. Eric grinned again, in a very Eric-esque way, and led me out onto the dance floor. He slid one hand around my waist, and with the other he took my hand. In perfect time with the music, the Viking vampire swirled me around the dance floor.

When a man lives for a thousand years, you expect him to acquire a few skills. But really, I had no idea that any man could really master the art of dance. I thought about my brother Jason, a man who could bump and grind with a girl when he was three sheets to the wind, but that was about it. Jason was the only man I'd ever seen come close to any real dancing ability, and he was practically having sex with the girls he chose to share that…talent with. Eric Northman, on the other hand, could dance. I mean, he could really dance. He led me through an elegant waltz, and as the dance floor began to fill with guests, he ordered a swing from the band. They complied with a spunky Latin-based tune. I'd never tried to swing dance before, though I've seen it done a couple of times. Eric, being a great lead, twisted me and shimmied me, and even sent me shooting between his legs in an elaborate and exhilarating move. I couldn't help but glance up quickly to note that he was aroused by the dancing. And boy was he aroused. Wow.

Eric and I danced for two more fast numbers before the band switched to a slower melody. I was having so much fun that I didn't mind it when he pulled me against his chest, clasped me around the back, and rocked our bodies to a quiet love song that drifted through the ballroom. I had to tear myself away from a dreamy state when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Bill's eyes were glowering at Eric, and at me too. I gave him my most innocent smile, but I could not have felt more guilty. That Viking was a terrific partner.

"May I cut in?" Bill asked Eric through clenched teeth. His fangs were slightly out and he looked murderous. Eric only smiled and nodded.

"Thank you for the dances, Sookie," he said to me. Then he nodded to Bill and walked away. I tore my eyes away from him by force to look at my boyfriend, Bill Compton. Bill looked considerably more refined than his boss, and I certainly enjoyed it. He'd put on a beautiful white shirt (buttoned up to the neck), and a black dinner jacket with black pressed slacks. He looked nice, really nice. But he wasn't smoldering with pure charisma and absolute confidence like Eric. They were two very different men.

"I have been wandering around for twenty minutes, looking for you," Bill said, taking me against him in Eric's place. It was a little strange, adjusting to Bill's shorter stature, his lankier build. I wrapped my arms around his neck and we danced in a small circle. The band began another ballad.

"We were only dancing while I waited for you," I said innocently. That was true. I rested my head on Bill's shoulder and looked out at the crowd. My eyes fell instantly on Eric, standing a few feet away, talking to someone. I could see his backside now, and it was better than I could have imagined. The thin denim hugged his tight, muscular backside in a way that would have excited me to glorious embarrassed giggles in other circumstances.

"Eric should not have intruded. You are mine," Bill said, his voice raspy with possessiveness. Oh good grief.

"He didn't do anything untoward," I frowned. I lifted my head to look at Bill. "You really need to learn to trust me."

"I trust you, Sookie." He touched my face. "It is Eric I do not trust."

"Well it takes two to get frisky," I moped.

"Yes," Bill replied. He still looked sour and cranky.


Stay tuned for part two, the conclusion of "Pantoufle en Verre".