Nice bothered Pam. She didn't exude it. She didn't aspire to have it describe her. The word was a plague in itself. Pam's persona was sarcastic, dark, sensual—not fucking nice. For the first time since Tara became intimate with Nora, she was concerned that Tara may develop feelings for the elder vampire. She was everyone's type and no one had ever described her as nice. Pam wracked her brain remembering the kiss. Tara developing feels could be the only possible explanation, because she was a great kisser.

Tara's words were meant to goad her maker into finishing what she started. Unfortunately, she had become angry and gone to bed. Her arousal carried over into the dream world creating a fantasy she wished reality had fulfilled.

Pam was on top of her. She loved the feeling of being surrounded on all sides encompassed in all things female. Her breasts dangling above her mouth, Tara opened to accept the nub when her phone rang obnoxiously. Shook from the dream she took it from her pocket glaring at the name and the message. She turned the volume on her phone to silent.

Having a bad dream?

Tara's coffin was sandwiched between Jessica's and Pam's. Turning her head to the right where Pam's coffin sat she smiled.

You know what kind of dream I'm having

Pam's phone vibrated. She read the message with a quirked brow, wasted in the confines of her coffin.

Nora?

Tara snorted, running her fingers along the keyboard quickly.

You.

Moments passed in the dark of Tara's coffin. Time stretched by and Tara realized her maker wouldn't be answering her back. Laying her phone on her stomach she turned her head in the direction of Pam's coffin. Her hand brushed against the side of it in the same way she would like to touch Pam. There was so much of the vampire that she liked. They were the same and different, but they complimented each other. She could see it. It was hard for her to accept at first. When she did she couldn't see a life without Pam. She didn't want to see a life without her.

Impatient Pam got out and ripped open Tara's coffin. "I can't sleep," she accused.

"I don't do lullabies nor do I have warm milk," Tara offered too innocently for Pam's liking.

"You aren't helping with your…you know," the blonde ground out unhappily.

Tara shook her head, "this can't be the only night you've noticed."

"Go to bed."

"All that subconscious shit bubbles the surface," Tara told her idly. Pam's breasts were pleasantly rounded and Tara was curious how soft they would be in her hand. She smiled to herself knowing the answer. "Could you at least look at me like I have clothes on…?"

Tara's head jerked up. Tara locked eyes with Pam. They were beautiful even more mesmerizing than the lips she wanted to reach out and claim in a kiss. With arms wrapped around Pam's waist she pushed her against the wall. Pam could easily overpower her. But she didn't want to. She wanted more of what they had earlier. Though, she didn't plan to make it easy. She wore a bored mask that Tara's arousal would have to contend with.

"Don't go fucking with my dreams if you can't fuck me for real."

Pam was on the verge of putting up a fight.

"Fuck you Pam."

Tara desperately wanted the words to sound angry. They came out all wrong. It sounded like a moan or a plea. Pam was impossible—she was making restraint impossible. Pulling away, but still within arms reach Pam reached for her.

Tara was new to reading feelings if the context involved her. Some were plain. Others were more difficult to decipher and pin point why they were being felt. She felt a rush of wanting and then it was replaced with something else. She knew what to call it she felt the same, but love was too strong of a word to use just yet.

Swallowing Tara moved back to her coffin.

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"The bitch shot me, ate pieces of me in front of my fucking face. Excuse me if I'm having trouble wrapping my head around the possibility that hookah can love."

"I think it's romantic. Maker and progeny overcoming old feelings of hate to find a common ground falling in love."

Tara rubbed her head. When the sun went down she immediately grabbed Jessica for patrol. She ignored Nora's gaze and she avoided Pam's. She needed time to breathe and rehash the situation with people, who were willing to listen. She couldn't say she had the best group of confidants because they were biased in their own way. Lafayette wasn't Pam's biggest fan. And Jessica was too soft hearted to look at Pam as anything more than a heroine in a love story she depicted in her head.

The duo accelerated around the town and looked over every inch of Bon Temps. They separated and went around twice more before they ended up at Lafayette's. He had called in sick. They found him on the couch or rather Tara did when walked in. He had to invite Jessica in.

When Tara looked at his blunt after he told them why he wasn't at work he answered, "I'm medicating bitch."

Tara gave him the finger.

"Shouldn't you be saving that for Pam?"

At the mention of her maker's name she was rendered useless to stop the barrage of emotions. The story was simple. Tara felt like had proved herself. Pam felt, she didn't know exactly what Pam felt. She described the feeling of warmth from earlier in the day. Lafayette and Jessica both agreed that the symptoms sounded like love. Then they went on their different tangents about love and Tara's maker.

"Ask her out on a date."

"I did."

"What happened?"

"Ginger and Jessica and a stripper almost got me killed. Other than that nothing if I'm fucking asking advice from you too," she responded annoyed. She caught both their gazes, "you just don't have the best track records with love."

"Bitch if you want our help shut the hell up," he pinched the air then took a hit. "What do you know about her?"

After a minute Tara stared blankly in her hands. She looked at expectant faces, but there was very little she knew of Pam. "She's into fashion. Her favorite hobbies are torture and shopping. She's a hell of a kisser," when she finished they still had little to work with.

"She's high fucking maintenance. You sure know how to pick them," her cousin groused getting up. He went in the back leaving the other two alone.

"I'm sorry."

Tara looked at Jessica oddly.

"For Jason and asking you to lie," Jessica helped slowly. She didn't like not being able to talk to Tara especially since they were becoming closer.

"Water under the fucking bridge," Tara accepted her apology in a way only Tara could.

Lafayette with slipper clad feet signaled his return. Handing his cousin a card he explained, "Back in my V dealing days I met a character who's the friend of a guy I was fucking with. He's got access to a house in New Orleans. And when I say access he's got the keys and when I say house I mean a nice fucking house. You following me?"

"You think you can make this happen?" Tara asked skeptically at the indirect connection.

"Ifs you wants this shit to goes down alls you gots to do is ask." Tara rolled her eyes at her cousin's antics.

Pam didn't appreciate the quaint country. She was a city girl. If Tara had a snow balls chance in hell of seducing the woman, it would be in New Orleans. The smell of and endless supply for warm blooded people milling in streets, with the colors and sounds would help to set the mood.

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"I'm surprised you've let this torture go on as long as you have."

A century together exposed odds and ends in a personality that a simple glance could detect. Pam was fond of her progeny. He knew the responsibility meant a lot of patience. Pam was a selfish vampire, but when she was called to be selfless she was. For years he was only one that saw that side of her. Now, it seemed Tara replaced him in a small way. She occupied Pam's thoughts and worry. She took to her role as well as he expected, but he saw a spark of something else.

Pam stood in the middle of the charred remains of the bar. Her nail grew dark as she scratched at a soot covered chair. She felt Eric's presence long before he stated his observation.

"I'm making a point," she shrugged staring at the throne.

Glass and wood crunched under Eric's weight.

"Which is?"

Pam mulled over her point.

"You're not going to break her Pamela."

"That isn't what I said Eric."

"I didn't know her well before she was turned. But she survived you as a human. That's something to think about."

Tara's humanity seemed ages ago. The unadulterated hatred was gone, but it helped that along with the bitch Marnie dying her curse did too. She touched the side of her face with a long nail. She had been hideous. Her coveted beauty had been taken forcing Pam to retain in through needles.

Alive, in her former line of work, she was a narcissist that knew the value of beauty. In the dark she indulged in self pity knowing that she wouldn't always be beautiful. Then Eric came along and changed temporary beauty to a permanent state. He gave her eternal beauty and a life worth living because he saw her potential. Granted, she slit her wrists to show her commitment to avoiding her fate as a pariah. Still, he could have watched her bleed out then disappear in the night never to giving her corpse a second thought as it rot in her room.

Eric was a worldly gentleman. Wise and honest and cruel the best and worst of each attribute people and vampires hide and flaunt. She owed Godric for creating Eric. She owed Eric for creating her. Tara had a great name. She only wanted her to fulfill it to the best of her ability. She told her maker as much.

"I want to make her worthy of your legacy Eric."

"Do that, but don't deny yourself or her in the process. That's not fair to either of you."

Pam loved to hear him talk. His voice was calming and for a long time it had been her only certainty in a cloud of bad and good. It was comforting to have a constant like Eric. He encouraged and joined her enjoying their life. Men and women were no match for the duo, they still weren't. But Pam wasn't interested in looking for any more vaguely European looking obstetricians. She wanted Tara.

Sensing her progeny and a grateful look to her maker she sped from his sight in search of her. She arrived outside Lafayette's door. Tilting her head she looked inside and Tara, Jessica, and Lafayette were watching An Affair to Remember with Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr.

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Tara had lost two to one. Lafayette was a sucker for old movies and Jessica was a fucking romantic. Her cousin claimed she could learn something. That would only happen if she stayed awake for it. She didn't hate old movies or love stories. They could be interesting when she was in the mood for them.

"I'll be back," she stated to the rapt duo.

She went outside. She leaned her head back to look at the stars.

"Beautiful."

Pam stated from the shadows.

"Yea they are," Tara eyed her maker strangely. She had sensed her. The stars had been an excuse to buy her some time to talk.

"Fuck the stars."

Pam sped to Tara slamming her on the ground. Tara wasn't sure what her maker was doing. They were in the dirt. Pam was wearing jeans and a loose fitting shirt that hung on her body showing left shoulder. It started with a kiss. Hard then soft—slow then fast neither woman knew the recipe for the perfect kiss, but they would try every combination until they found out.

Tara's legs opened admitting the blonde's body between them. Pam slid her hands over Tara's body. The dark skinned woman whimpered when Pam pinched her right nipple experimentally. The hand palmed her waist then slid down to her center. Tara jumped voicing her surprise with a grunt.

Pam biting the inside of her cheek smiled at the elicited response.

"Oh yea," Tara whispered as Pam's hand went inside her pants. She could have sworn she heard her jeans tear, but she was passed caring for something as simple as clothing.

Hands met wet running along the warm getting to what Tara liked. Three fingers slid inside Tara easily causing her hips to rise to meet the appendages. "Fuck me," she moaned. Pushing her jeans down without losing contact with Pam's fingers she pushed them down to her ankles. Her legs could widen. Sitting up she looked down at the hand working inside her too fast to appreciate through human eyes. Tara watched with fascination, her vision blurring from pleasure as she ground her hips into the hand trying to get pace with her lover's speed. Her ryes struggling to say open.

Pam was fast, too fast and on the pinnacle she raised her hips flabbergasted at the pleasure of two fingers massaging her center. Three fingers pumping inside her in an unforgiving rhythm. Two fingers rubbing her clit up and down—down and up, blood tears came to her eyes falling unchecked. Tearing her legs out of her jeans ignoring the ripping sound she held both her legs up bending her knees.

She wanted to take it all, but her legs just weren't getting wide enough.

Pam intended to do just that. She pumped in and out of her begging lover until she dropped down on the dirt again sated with a pleased Pam staring down at her handiwork.

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Tara was missing the movie. It didn't surprise either one since she had been against watching it in the first place. Though, as her absence drew on and sounds that resembled two people fucking became too apparent to ignore he had to tune out his movie. There were the sounds.

Tilting his head to the window he saw Jessica had forgotten about the film as well.

Lafayette lay back on his couch and eyed Jessica who returned his perplexed look.

"You hear that shit?"