Author's Forward (Chapter 2): 05-30-2011
Thanks to Schafer for letting me know that this chapter was in need of a serious edit! Also, for some reason every time I upload a document, all of my comma and apostrophe entries seem to be deleted. Please forgive any additional errors. I've run over this several times now, so they should be more sparse.
He watched her suck on an ice cube from her drink, glancing around the room with vacant, dispassionate eyes. She idly combed her fingers through her hair, gathering it all to one side and beginning to twist it into a giant spiral knot. When this no longer served to occupy her, she shook it all out and let it fall in loose tangles over her back, absently drumming her fingernails on the table top.
The more he observed her, the more he became assured that this girl could not be Katherine. He admonished himself for jumping to such a hasty conclusion and yet continued to stare fixedly at her from across the room, blindsided by her ignorance of him. Damon propped up an elbow and rested his chin lightly on his knuckles, daring her to look at him.
Instead, the girl retrieved a cell phone from her purse and fumbled with it as she dialled out a number, muttering a few light obscenities under her breath. Damon smiled privately to himself, reading her lips and distilling the slight vibrations into sound. His crude gaze wandered from her throat to the length of her collarbone, to her shoulder, and then to the line of her cleavage. It was an ample display for such a slight girl, no doubt employed by the use of a push up bra, he deduced.
Damon sighed out of boredom and hunger, finally deciding that there was no moment on which to act but the present. He sauntered over to her booth with a casual and good natured smile, pausing to rest his hand on the back of an unoccupied chair.
"I couldn't help noticing that you're minus one. Mind if I join you?"
She smiled weakly and shrugged.
"It's alright with me, I guess. I was probably going to be minus one for rest of the evening anyhow."
"Somehow I doubt that," Damon returned with a duplicitous grin.
"How about a drink?" he offered.
"Sure... I'll take a sweet iced tea," the girl answered somewhat apprehensively.
"My, we are modest."
Damon continued to grin as he motioned for their hostess with a slight wave of his hand. In a few short moments, a lively, opportunistic blond appeared, wearing her best fake smile and pushing out her chest in the manner of a bird offsetting its plumage. Damon remained casually indifferent, glancing over the menu and adding a seafood appetizer tray to their order of drinks.
When the miffed hostess finally disappeared, Damon turned his gaze back to the girl.
"Now, I don't mean for this to sound like a come-on...but I could swear I recognize you from somewhere. We've met before, perhaps?"
The girl shook her head and laughed, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders.
"I don't think so...You have a pretty memorable face."
"No relation to the Pierce family then?"
"Nope. I'm a Gilbert, actually. Elena Gilbert. "
Damon nodded as he extended her a hand, with Elena politely following suit.
"Damon Salvatore," he said with a wide grin, providing her an ample viewing of his canines, all white and glistening. He drew her hand to his mouth in an old world gesture and lightly pressed his lips to it, meeting her eyes as he did so.
Elena was certain she was being deceived by the overhead lamp's incandescence. Once a soft, cerulean blue, Damon's eyes now ran a deep purple; a scarred setting to such an unlikely pallor. Unlikely, though not unlikable, given his other assets which, to Elena, reeked of Southern gentility.
Damon released her hand finally, leaving behind a cool, electric current that wound its way into the veins of Elena's right arm.
He reclined further against the chair and smiled disarmingly, while she, in turn, offered up a meagre, speculative glance.
"So, now that we've had our introductions, Elena...I think you should tell me a little about yourself. You could start with something you enjoy doing..."
Elena narrowly held back a grin, caught off guard by his forwardness. She paused for a moment, considering several responses that might make her appear more worldly, but finally opted for the truth.
"Reading...riding horses, going for the occasional bike ride...maybe slipping in a movie night here or there, " she responded with a nervous laugh.
"I suppose that's candid enough. Very safe, very demure though. I have to admit I was picturing something with a little more panache. Mmm...for instance...let's say you're a masseuse in training who likes to wakeboard on her off days...and makes killer fondue."
He exaggerated his tone and widened his eyes a little with this last turn of phrase.
"You're joking. You thought I was going to just make something up?"
"I'm dead serious, in fact. You were glancing off to the left like you were dreaming up something that would have had me very impressed by your sense of spontaneity and worldliness."
He cocked an eyebrow in her direction and smirked.
"Go ahead. Tell me I'm wrong."
"Ok. If I admit to that, I get to ask you the next question," Elena demanded playfully.
"Alright, fair enough," he conceded.
As the hostess returned with their order, Damon folded his arms comfortably across his chest, watching with some degree of amusement as Elena gave careful thought as to what she might ask.
"Well...I haven't seen you around town before and Mystic Falls is pretty much the size of a postage stamp. So, what brought you here? Family? Friends? New job?"
"Aaand she plays it totally safe."
Damon clucked his tongue in feigned disapproval and shook his head.
"Well, if you really want to know I have a brother who I share joint property with. Actually, it was where we grew up as kids. You know the Salvatore boarding house just outside town? That's us. He's been here for a few months now. I thought I'd pop by and check up on the little guy. "
Damon paused to take a slow sip of bourbon and smiled.
"My turn," he said with the satisfaction of a child.
She nodded, picking up a ring of calamari and chewing discreetly.
"What do you find visually stimulating on a man?"
Elena near coughed on her half-masticated bite of food.
"Do you really expect me to answer that?"
"Of course. How else am I going to get to know you if you don't answer?"
Damon took another sip of bourbon and stared at her from over the rim of his glass.
"And don't bother trying to make something up this time. I'll see it coming. "
He continued to stare at her with dead-pan expression as Elena shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She reached for her glass and downed a third of its contents before responding.
"First off, if he has an ego twice the size of his head, then no matter how attractive he is, I don't think I could see past it, " Elena stated, a slight hint of accusation working its way into her voice.
"Well, that was uncalled for. Not terribly sexy either. But...I am willing to overlook it and continue having drinks with you, if you answer my question seriously. "
Elena pursed her lips together, feigning a look of grave internal debate. Then she let out a short laugh and nodded her head in friendly compliance.
"Good girl. You've made the right decision," Damon returned with a small chuckle.
"So...am I allowed to be brutally shallow here? " she asked.
"Hey, it's your answer. Anyways, it's not as if I'm handing out any brownie points. I think I'm the last person qualified for that. "
Elena paused to consider her answer.
"Right. Well, I think it really boils down to how a guy carries himself. Someone who has zero confidence is going to show it in their posture, and vice versa. But...if we're talking purely features, then I suppose I'd have to say the eyes. Maybe a nice smile too but...what a stupid question, honestly. I think you just wanted to pick my brain."
Damon spun his finger along the rim of his glass, generating a softly pitched, undulating noise.
"Tell me Elena, why do you think it was that I approached you?" he asked her, continuing to stare at the glass as it sang its solo note.
"Truthfully? I thought you were trying a little too hard with the kiss-on-the-hand thing. The lead into what's attractive on a guy...totally overdone. At the end of the day, I guess it all comes down to someone wanting to get in your pants."
And there it was. She had given him her raw and unadulterated opinion without relying on any emotional baggage in the process. Damon felt a genuine well of admiration building for her.
"Were it anyone else, I would happily agree but...seeing as how my motives, and I know them well, are slightly more...complex than that, I have to say that you're quite mistaken."
Now it was Elena's turn to raise her eyebrow.
Damon cocked his head to one side, pausing to admire her obvious defensive posturing. Then his lips pulled up into a careful smile as he stood and nonchalantly pushed in his chair, giving the appearance of his departure from the conversation altogether. The first traces of anger and disappointment rose from the surface manicure of Elena's composure.
"So, what? Have I insulted you?" she prodded, trying to illicit a reaction from him.
Damon, requiring no more of an invitation, slowly angled himself back into a seated position and retreated into the booth where Elena sat.
"No. Not at all," Damon stated simply, refusing to waiver in his proximity. Elena stared at him questioningly, her insides awash with confusion and suspicion as she continued to breathe in a heady stream of his cologne.
Damon decided to up the ante. He leaned in close to her ear, making sure that she understood the very intimate nature of his words.
"As much as I'd enjoy treating you as a first and last course meal...somehow, I can't see it affording you the same pleasure. So, I'm going to propose something off the beaten path of my usual dining habits, something that will require a certain amount of...compensation on your part..."
Elena shook her head a little in misapprehension.
"I...I don t understand. What are you saying exactly?" Elena swallowed hard, a nervous lump beginning to settle in her throat as she visualized numerous scenarios and their possible outcomes. None of these seemed particularly desirable.
"Let me make this abundantly more clear..."
Damon slid a hand between her thighs, clutching her roughly through her jeans and making no attempt to hide his actions from any scrupulous clientele or would-be voyeurs. Elena sucked in a sharp breath, fear and trepidation emerging in the slight O-shape of her mouth and in the widening of her eyes.
"It would be to your advantage...if you followed my instructions precisely. I don't repeat myself and pity is not an emotion I succumb to easily. But...if you remain pleasant and agreeable, I doubt I'll have to resort to much force... "
"Are you threatening me? Elena hissed, emotions bubbling over.
Damon raised one corner of his mouth, running the tips of his fingers along the length of her carotid artery.
"Hardly. I haven't even begun to show you what that looks like."
He smiled, once again exposing those alarmingly white canines.
"And you're off your fucking rocker if you think I'm going to let you," Elena spat at him, hastily beginning to slide herself from the booth. As she hooked her right leg over the edge of the seat in an effort to stand, Damon very discreetly clamped a hand over her left thigh, bearing down on her with only a fraction of his upper body weight. Its pressure, however, was great enough to make Elena wince.
Damon's smile hardened, its surface veneer gradually slipping to an undercurrent of anger, and as Elena redoubled her efforts to slip her leg out from under his grasp, Damon slowly drove his nails through the denim of her jeans. They snagged at her flesh with such ruthless energy that it took everything within Elena's power not to scream. Damon grazed his lips past her ear, dragging out each syllable in a smooth, hypnotic rhythm that somehow dampened her sensation of pain.
"I'm quite sure you're going to let me. In fact, I'd venture to say that you'll enjoy it. Now...as for that coarse language," he cooed against her skin.
"It's a bit of a turn on, really...and, to be honest, you've done an excellent job of working up my appetite already."
Damon breathed in her scent heavily as he groped the upper region of her uninjured thigh. Elena's muscles tensed beneath his palm, inching her spine as far back as the seat would accommodate, her whole body in retreat.
"Don't pretend Elena," he whispered hungrily.
"I can smell that heat of yours...and don't think I'm going to ignore it for modesty's sake-"
"Fuck you!" she hissed again, angrily cutting him off.
Damon let out a short bellow. This girl was certainly full of surprises and hadn't failed to impress him yet. He stared heatedly in her direction, another self-congratulatory chuckle rising up from his throat.
"Oh, that can and will be arranged..."