KOOl THINGS
Chapter 2 "Dirty Boots"
I walked up to the front porch, snickering at my little rhyme, while I dug my hand into my pocket to retrieve my front door key. It took a little wriggling, my shorts were a bit on the tight side, especially since I was partaking in the drown-your-heartache-in-cheeseburgers diet. Damn that asshole, heartache and an additional 5 pounds.
As I raised my key to the door, a whoosh of air and pressure knocked past me, taking with it the key. I stood dumbfounded, when it happened again, coming from the other direction. Alright, I wasn't born yesterday, some supe was messing with me. Oh goody. Too subtle and, well, graceful for a were. Too quiet for a fairy, they like to talk. I didn't perceive the presence of any misplaced animal, so, not a shifter. It had to be a vampire. Fuck. Which one is it this time?
Eric dangled my key in front of me as we both heard a clap of thunder. Was it thunder or was it my heart beating out of my chest with surprise and fear? Yes, surprise and fear, that's what we'll call it (not lust and guilt… no, not that at all.)
"I need to talk to you about the body we hid during my mental leave of absence. I think I may have discovered where it lays. Come to my house, Sookie."
"Eric, you can't just pop out of nowhere, surprise the hell out of me, and demand that I just come to your house. It doesn't work like that in this day and age," I said. Who was I kidding, with Eric's awe striking looks, confidence, and sardonic charm I believe I was the only woman on earth, and some close planets, who had the resolve to resist him. I'll admit, if I didn't know Eric as well as I did, this would have worked on me too.
"That's right, you like to play with me. I'd forgotten," he said, giving me that slightly twisted smirk. He didn't forget at all, he just wanted to use this opportunity to demonstrate an assertion of power. "You like to make me work. This is both infuriating and intriguing. Hmm..." He paused for a moment, calculating the most condescending and yet charming way to address me with his request. "My dear Sookie, will you please do me the honor of accompanying me to my home so I can discuss the matter of one missing corpse with ..." He trailed off, pursed his lips and wrinkled his brow. "I don't do this. Sookie, get in the car, we need to talk."
Well, at least he made a (minimal) effort. I knew that was a step for him. I dropped into his car and he was in the drivers seat, the car already started, by the time my bottom touched the seat. Vampires relax their human pretenses and move at their usual pace when they aren't around questioning humans. I was definitely on the inner circle of supes. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.
Eric sped out of my driveway and the crunch of the gravel sounded slightly smoother under the wheels of his Corvette. Only Eric could get away with driving that car. No one assumed he was suffering a midlife crisis or was compensating for a small penis. People just saw a hot guy in a hot car. Although I wasn't in it for attention or to be wooed, I did enjoy the luxurious leather seats and the smooth purr of the engine. I could see how this car could be used as a seduction tool, although, God knows, Eric didn't need any enhancement in the seduction department. Although I tried to forget it, I very much remembered he was well equipped with said tools. I'd seen his toolbox many nights, when he stayed with me during his memory loss.
Never seeing his house before, I had a vivid mental picture of what I thought Eric's abode would look like. I pictured him being a very modern guy with the latest and the greatest. After all, what fun is it spanning centuries of various decors when you couldn't redecorate every decade or so? The interior would be very open, absent of clutter. I pictured stainless steel countertops atop bamboo cabinets spilling onto polished concrete floors. I could imagine a meandering koi pond surrounded by expertly landscaped trees and shrubs set off perfectly with halogen ground and down spotlights. I'd envisioned the house facade to be modern with lots of spanning picture windows. I figured Eric for a guy who liked to show off his view, inside and out. Speaking of showing off, for some reason I'd imagined an extensive bar filled with top shelf liquor and imported blood, fit for royals, would be placed strategically in the home. He did own an actual bar after all, he would definitely take his work home with him. I knew for a fact that Eric did a lot of "entertaining".
We sped on through the night and slowed slightly as the road became more wooded. Eric took a sharp right turn and we started onto his private drive. We motored slowly down the smooth paved road while I caught a glimpse of the house and surrounding grounds. Well, I was right about the pond, but nothing else. Eric's house stood at the end of a long lane flanked on both sides with a solid row of oak trees covered in Spanish moss. A vast green lawn sprawled out from the structure, filling the space between the house and the road. To the left of the massive structure a mid-sized pond (moat?) was brimming with life. I couldn't put my finger on what was so special about this pond, but I knew I had to come get a closer look at it. We drove up to this massive Greek revival-style house and my mouth dropped open in amazement at the grandeur and traditionality that presented itself before me. The entire home was surrounded by a porch, both the upper and lower levels. This was Disneyland's "Haunted Mansion" on (acid) steroids. Great white columns solidified the porch every few yards while the immense cypress front door beckoned us to come inside. This place would look insane with Christmas lights, I chuckled, while I wondered if Eric once owned slaves.
He drove past the front steps and slowly pulled the car to the back of the house. I didn't know if my legs would work. This testament to Southern fortitude and tradition, well, impressed the hell out of me. Thus began our descent into the night and my descent into... something.
As we exited, he said, "Come take a look at the pond. It's...unusual. When I returned home, after spending those two weeks at your home when I'd lost my memory, I unpacked. I had a pair of boots with me that were soiled and covered with moss. I was uneasy wondering why I had soiled boots that I had no recollection of dirtying. The moss alerted me to my own pond. It's changed. Take a look."
I got out of the car and followed Eric down the cobbled path to the pond. It was amazing. Although I had never heard of a natural Louisiana pond being illuminated, this one was. Well, part of it, anyway. An ominous, eerie green light subtly glowed from the center of the pond. The longer we looked at it, the more the hue shifted. At the top of the water a perfect ring of white water lilies bloomed above the light. These were larger than any waterlilies I had ever seen. "Eric, it's beautiful." I said. "That light is so interesting and the flowers are magnificent."
"Keep watching," he said.
As I watched, the light faded from deep blue to purple and then glowed a bright red. As it hit the hottest point of red, the lilies withered and turned brown.
"What in the world is going on? How can you make flowers do that?" I asked. Then all of a sudden the red glow changed to amber, while the flowers seemed to heal. Once the light had changed back to green, the lilies had returned to there original fervor. They were shifting. A two-natured flower?
Eric said, "I can't make the flowers do that. Also, there are no luminaries at the bottom of the pond." He paused and looked at me directly. Rain was starting to sprinkle on both of us, darkening Eric's beautiful pale hair to a slicked down shade of wheat. Shit, he looked good wet.
"Well, what is making it ch..." I cut my self of mid sentence, suspecting the answer.
"Debbie Pelts' corpse," he said. "The witches must have enchanted her with some sort of foul-play spell. Someone wanted to be able to find her body."
"How do we stop it?" I asked.
"I'm working on it. I almost have a plan solidified. I needed you to see it. It's a rather beautiful sight, when you don't think of the circumstances that surround it."
The rain came down harder. Very hard. Very, very hard. In an instant, we were soaked to the bone. As a clap of thunder roared around us, a streak of lightning illuminated the sky.
"Let's get inside. Now," Eric commanded.
"Why don't you just take me back home?" I asked, even though I really didn't want him to. I wanted to see the inside of the mansion, of course. Yes, that was it. I sure didn't want to be all alone in a massive house with a beautiful vampire on a stormy night. Who would want that? So cliche.
"Because I don't want your wet skin on my leather." He said casually and grabbed my hand, pulling me briskly towards the back door.
We entered his home through the kitchen.
"Sookie, you're soaked to the bone. You need to get out of those clothes..." He paused and lifted his eyebrow which accompanied his sly smile, "... before you leave a watermark on my walnut floor. Although, I do appreciate your t-shirt much more in its current state of saturation and non-existent opacity."
"You're getting your floor just as wet," I said.
"Yes, but it's my floor, I can mark whatever I want," he continued.
"Oh Eric, just get me a towel!" I paused, "Please." I couldn't forget my Southern manners after all, even through a weighted innuendo. "I'll be dry in no time."
"I have clothing options for you," Eric said. Oh great, what could that be? Leftover clothing from some Fangtasia Fangbanger who bled out just a little too much? "Eww," I thought and it obviously showed on my face.
Eric said, "Pam has clothes here. She spends the night sometimes, when she's, um, had to much to drink," he smiled again.
"Oh great, Pam's clothes. Yes those will fit," I said sarcastically. Pam is slender. I am curvy.
"The guest room is the seventh door on your left," he said.
"Second?" I asked.
"No, seventh," he corrected me.
I couldn't wait to see the upstairs of a home that contained seven rooms just on one side of the hall alone.
"Go change, I will get you something to drink," he offered. I was thirsty, and cold, and wet, and ...curious, and a whole other list of things.
"That would be nice. Let's see, it's a little late for coffee, unless you have decaf. Perhaps hot tea or cocoa? That sounds soothing. I'd like some decaf chamomile tea please."
"Bourbon it is," said Eric. "Now go."
I ascended the back staircase, leaving small puddles of water as I went up. Good, I could leave my mark too.
A long hallway stretched out before me, peppered with large dark wooden doors. I wondered which one led to the king's chamber. What on earth would his walls contain? Did I want to find out? I'd think about that later. Dark wood wainscoting hugged the bottom portion of the deep burgundy walls which were, of course, covered in medieval type sconces. Way to mix centuries, Eric. Gothic sconces in an antebellum home. I wondered if he'd been the original owner of the sconces. Probably not. He was a nomadic Viking for many centuries, probably not the best lifestyle for picking up antiquities. Scattered amongst the sconces were animal head mounts. Now these I knew he had killed, all with his bare hands, even the full sized male lion that stood guard at the end of the long hall. That was something to think about. I was alone in a vast home with a man who could kill a lion with the flick of a fang. Why did that turn me on?
I found the guest room and upon entering was taken back. I expected this room to match the hallway: dark, mysterious, masculine, Eric-ish. But this was obviously Pam's room. It's cream walls and beige stone floor reflected a parchment-colored bedspread, sprinkled with cabbage roses. The four poster bed housed in this English-garden style room was high enough to require a foot stool and was even topped with a knit lace canopy. A knit lace canopy in the Viking vampire sheriff's man cave, it was a nice touch.
I quickly discarded my wet things and grabbed a plush white towel from the private bathroom. Two things about this I found strange. One, why would Vamp Pam need a bathroom? Did she brush her fangs before bed? Oh, for HER guests. The second point of wonderment was: white towels in a house accustomed to bloodplay? That was asking a lot of the laundry service.
I stood, wrapped in the cozy towel and opened the closet. Yup, Pam's stuff alright. She had the usual Fangtasia work garb: small, black, shiny, tight, short, filmy along with her day wear of polo shirts, velour sweatsuits, and designer jeans. All of it was a size Pam, not a size Sookie. One of my boobs alone would bust out the zipper on that navy Juicy Couture hoodie. Not to mention the Sevens.
Maybe the dresser held some secrets garments I could resurrect. No, more of the same. More of the same, that is, until I opened the bottom drawer. Jammies! Heaven! A drawer full of lounge pants, tank tops, loose tees, college sweatshirts (College? Who did these come off of? Hopefully a willing co-ed), and boxers. I was grabbing a pair of baby blue pin striped GAP jammies when something else in the drawer caught my eye. The delicate, beaded ivory strap hung tauntingly over a nondescript gray wifebeater. I fished it out and looked at this beautiful chemise. This was a wedding night kind of garment if I'd ever seen one. How did this get in amongst the, um, rubbish? I thought about how funny it would be if I came down in this instead of the uber-sexy jammies and tee combo, if I came down dressed as vampire bait. That'd be a kick, to lure Eric in and then throw on a sweatshirt and huddle into a cozy blanket.
That's where my train of thought suddenly derailed. My urge pulled me to put on the delicate chemise. It looked about my size, although it was rather short. Very short. That would get me, well, that would get me fucked. And fucked good from what I remembered. I stopped and shamed my brain for going there. I was still in love with Bill, though I knew it was over. I knew I was a free woman, so to speak, but this was Eric. It was complicated. This was Bill's boss, his friend (no, not friend, but something.) Besides, Eric was, well, Eric- deeply engulfed in vampire politics. I was deeply attracted to him, who wouldn't be? He was attracted to me, I literally felt that on many occasions, and his attentions seemed almost sincere, as sincere as the conniving 1000-year-old vampire could muster. But the clincher was this: aside from his breathtaking sexual appeal, did I actually like him as a "person", for lack of a better word? That's when I came to the startling conclusion that yes, I wanted Eric in all senses of the word.
I chose the ivory chemise over the loungewear. I didn't want to resist him anymore. That thought gave me butterflies as I realized that after tonight, my heart and body would probably ache from this decision.
Well, if I was going to hell, I may as well enjoy the ride.
I looked in the mirror and fluffed my hair and settled "the girls" into place. That was a very small place and they took up a lot of room. This outfit left nothing to the imagination. It wasn't meant to be worn for very long, it was meant to be taken off. I shuddered with the delight that thought held.
While I was a little lost in thought, Eric knocked on the door and opened it. I was surprised he would even knock on a door in the king's own castle. I looked at him, wondering what his reaction would be. He'd been trying to get into my pants for so long and now I had basically taken them off.
I never expected his reaction. He looked at me for a long time, his face blank. He did swallow and cleared his throat, but then went back to the same expressionless stare. It was like I was still standing in my wet work clothes. He couldn't care less that I was asking for it. My heart sank a bit and I suddenly felt a little dizzy. I was sad. In that moment I realized how much I wanted him. Dammit. I felt very deflated, but I then negated that thought. His loss. At least I'll get a good night's sleep in Pam's big comfy bed. I shrugged off the whole inner monologue I'd just had, it wasn't the right time I guess. He handed me a drink, bourbon of course, and took my free hand in his.
"Sookie, I want to give you the tour."
"Of course," I paused, trying to collect my thoughts. "I'd love to see it," I said as a took a swig of my cocktail. I'm not a drinker, but I was out of my element and more than a little shocked at this point in time.
We exited Pam's room and Eric led me down the hall towards the main, massive staircase. It spanned at least 10 feet across and gently curved downward, finally ending it's boundaries in an ornately inlaid dark wood foyer. I think they may have used this staircase in "Gone With the Wind." To the right of the stairs stood a superbly polished grand piano, surrounded by a vast two story living room encircled by wood paned windows. Of course, an enormous lit candelabra adorned the piano.
Eric led me down the stairs, slowly, cautiously. "I want to play f…for you," he said as he glanced over his shoulder. Our eyes met and I could see he was trying to diffuse a hint of lust behind them. Good. He did stumble a little with the word "for". It would have been more characteristically Eric for him to say "with".
We descended the stairs, and when Eric was on the ground floor and I was one step up, I suddenly stopped. I wanted him. Tonight. Now. I gently pulled our clasped hands and laid them on the small of my back while I leaned into him a little. His strong hand rested perfectly in the crook there. I reached my other hand (I had ditched my drink at the top of the stairs, I hope it didn't leave a ring on the banister) around his neck and bent his face to me. His eyes drank me in and filled with the Eric desire I'd come to know and love. Then I found his lips, and I kissed the hell out of Sheriff Northman.
I broke away for a moment and Eric's beautiful lips trailed after me. As he slowly opened his eyes, he smiled and exhaled with an "mmmmmmmmmmm," tracing his lips with his finger. He took the hand that still remained in his, kissing it softly while melting me with his eyes. Then he led me towards... the piano. The piano? Shit, was he serious? He wants to play a song? I thought he'd be leading me over to that comfy couch with all of the pillows. What is with this whole Beethoven shtick?
"Eric," I said, "I'm not in the mood for...listening."
He smiled back at me over one shoulder and kept leading me.
"I know," he said smugly. Smug in the sexiest way possible.
Once we got to the grand piano, he picked me up and sat me on top of it. My feet dangled over the side, just touching the keys of the high notes. Of course he'd set me on this side, Eric was a low notes kind of guy. He sat down, looked at me, then spread out his long fingers, doing a cracking-of-the-knuckles-motion. Can vampires crack their knuckles? Does it make a sound? Bear? Woods? He placed his fingers on the keys and struck out a few notes of an unfamiliar tune. I quickly slid myself over, so that I was sitting directly in front of him. I placed both of my feet on his piano-attempting hands, almost daring him to keep playing. Without hesitation he looked me deep in the eyes and took one foot in each hand while slowly parting my legs as wide as they could go, placing my feet on the faraway keys. Then he resumed playing. I laid there propped up on my elbows, wondering where the hell this was going. I shifted my hips a little and gave him the "fuck me eyes." He smirked and continued to play, just for a minute, then stopped. He took a very deep breath (even though vamps don't need to breathe) and tried again. He was distracted. I was getting to him. Finally, geez. I was spread out like a buffet, on top of his piano. Time for a Snookie Snack, Eric. I was aching here. God I wanted to get pillaged by the Viking. He played some garbled mess for a second, then abruptly stopped.
"God, you win. You absolutely win," he said, kissing the top of my knee slowly, then casually laying his long, muscular arm across my thigh. "I'm a thousand-year-old Viking vampire who can control every emotion with calculated precision, but I am a puddle of goo in front of your ...charms," Eric said, eyeing me. "No more, mmm, playing," he continued, "I'm still overwhelmingly full of inspiration, not one ounce of it musical."
He stood up, then both of his hands grabbed my legs, wrapped them around his slender hips and slid me into his groin. With his hands on my ass he picked me up and laid me down on the piano bench. Then Sheriff Northman kissed the hell out of me.
I lay on the bench with the full weight of Eric on top of me. It was even better since this was the whole Eric; the whole package, so to speak. Before, during the memory loss time, he was a kinder, gentler Eric, but he wasn't the same. Of course being with him then blew my mind, but this was even better. Better because we were both fully aware of the situation.
Both of his hands were passionately intertwined into my hair and he was kissing me roughly at the base of my throat. My knees cradled his hips and my hands were above my head, gripping the edge of the piano bench.
"I need a taste of you or I'm going to explode," he said through extended fangs.
I arched my neck up, offering it to him, but that wasn't what he had in mind. He backed off a bit, straddling the piano bench and lifting my leg up to his mouth. With one hand under my knee and the other on my opposite hip, he bit gently on the fleshiest part of my inner thigh. A cry of unexpected ecstasy flowed out of me as I arched my back up with pleasure. As if on cue, Eric's fang tore apart the side of my panties and then the other, and then they vanished. His pants were gone equally as quickly. He'd shed his shirt after the rain incident. Still straddling the piano bench, he pulled my hips onto him and entered me in a quick fluid movement, like he'd been doing it for a hundred years. Eric filled me completely and I gripped my legs even tighter around this specimen of pure perfection. The rain fell hard. It was pounding all around us and the lights, what few of them there were, had gone out. It was the perfect cliche, a dark and stormy night, white flowy garment, candelabra, and fucking a vampire. The rain fell at an unrelenting pace and I couldn't hear anything but the pounding of it against the windows and roof. It was begging to come in at a ferocious pace. Over Eric's shoulder I saw a flash of lightning, and it illuminated him so that he looked like an angel, a dark angel full of fresh blood and sex. Eric's hands gripped my hips harder and I arched even higher, drawing myself even farther on top of him as we were surrounded by a cloudburst of thundering rain. The lightning flashed again, immediately followed by a loud clap of thunder drowning out the pounding of the rain, my heart, and all of the other noises that were coming from that room. Everything came unglued with that clap of thunder and I was lying breathless beneath the sheriff, unable and unwilling to move.
Eric's head lay on top of my stomach. The fragile chemise had been pushed up and now it cradled his head like a pillow. I traced the contours of his face and began stroking his beautiful blond hair. The weight of his head pressed into my loins and aIl I could feel was the passion sitting there, expelled, but ready to rise again at a moment's notice. I didn't have any words, and I wanted to lie there silently for countless more hours, but it was Eric who spoke first.
"Sookie," he said softly, "Sookie, I remember everything."
"So you remember putting Debbie's corpse in the pond?" I replied.
"What?" Eric said confused. "Well, yes, that too, but that's not what I mean. Sookie, I remember every detail of the time I spent with you, at your house... around your house, under your house." He smiled. "When I opened the bedroom door and saw you standing there it all came back to me. The feel of your touch, how your breasts felt in my hand, in my mouth. Your intoxicating scent and the taste of your...blood. When I saw you in that sexy nightgown I lost myself in a daze of remembrance. I was awestruck with the memories and the hope for a reenactment." We lay there for a while, surrounded by the hardening rain, basking in the cliche-ness of it all.
"Sookie, this all feels like a dream and I'm a vampire, we rarely dream. I feel all of you here with me, your body and your heart. I know you still feel something for Bill, but right now you are mine. "
"All yours," I said, stroking his face and sealing the statement with a lingering kiss, nibbling lightly on his bottom lip as I released it.
"It's been quite a night," Eric said. "You need some rest. We have a project to take care of tomorrow evening."
"Debbie?" I questioned.
"Debbie," Eric confirmed. "I have some preparations to make tonight. I will be awake until the dawn. You will sleep in Pam's room. She will surely enjoy your scent on her sheets the next time she's here," Eric smiled slyly. Pam was also a fan of my, um, "charms" (read: tits).
Eric rose from his temporary home on my belly and stood up, extending a hand for assistance. When I got to my feet he quickly picked me up as if I weighed no more than a dried leaf. I wrapped my arms around his strong neck and pressed my head into his shoulder. His strong biceps cradled my back and I was awash in a sense of delight, enjoying my Scarlett O'Hara moment.
He carried me up the stairs (My oh my, Rhett, I do declare) and returned me to the guest room. He deposited me on the luxurious queen bed and pulled the crisp white down comforter on top of me.
The sensation of the cool sheets against my warm skin caused goose bumps. That's all it took. Within seconds Eric's lips were on me again and we were warming up the icy sheets.
I remembered my reluctance to go with Eric that night, when he'd showed up at my house. I couldn't imagine being at home now. I couldn't fathom the idea I earlier wished to stay the night alone at my house. In fact I couldn't imagine not being here at all. I was saddened by that thought. There was no place I'd rather be, quite to the contrast of my prior thoughts about being alone with Eric. I wasn't going anywhere tonight.
In fact, I stayed there for the next three nights.