Meridiana loved to sit out on the wraparound deck that covered the entire width of the front of her house. It afforded her a clear view of the town and anyone approaching for miles around and she felt safe knowing that the only way to breech her outdoor sanctuary was through her bedroom or to climb one of the huge support beams holding it up.
Conversely, the only way down was either through her bedroom or over the railing and she had no compunction about tossing an unwanted visitor off the deck like so much trash. It had never come to that because only the invited came, willing and docile, like lambs to the slaughter. Although she hadn't had the opportunity to invite him yet, she wasn't surprised to see the black Impala drive up the driveway nor was she surprised when, a short while later, John Winchester stood in her bedroom doorway. By no means docile or weak he had, however, come willingly.
"Join me, please. I'm just enjoying the moon," she said indicating the chair across from hers at a small wrought iron table with a gloved hand, her breath frosted white in the crisp night air.
The deck, freshly shoveled and swept clean buy her only help, a combination butler and grounds keeper, was bathed only in moonlight. It was an inordinately bright moon and John made his way easily to sit opposite her, a decanted bottle of 1985 Domaine de la Romanée-Conti and two wine glasses on the table between them as if she'd expected him.
"Beautiful home," he told her pouring for them and offering her one of the glasses.
"I guess I need to install a better security system," she said smiling and reached out for the glass, "or draw and quarter my caretaker."
John took her gloved hand in his for a moment to take a look at the wrap she wore to protect her from the frigid night air.
"Beautiful coat."
She was snuggled in a full-length fur coat with matching headband to protect her ears and matching boots to keep her feet warm. The thick white pelts showcased her stunningly dark beauty.
"Thank you," Mari said as he let go of her hand and took the pro offered glass from him, "It's arctic wolf."
Taking a drink of the wine, John kept his face passive and inhaled deeply, her perfume, as well as the wine, going straight to his head. Meri was a classic beauty with long, straight, coal black hair and startling dark blue eyes and, as he continued to study her serene face, he found no sign of lycanthropy or of impending transmogrification.
Her eyebrows were perfectly arched, her nose, small and aristocratic and, from what her could tell by the shape of her hands hidden in the warm leather gloves, her fingernails looked to be straight and he would hazard to guess perfectly manicured. She looked to be human but the only way he could be sure she didn't have bristles under her tongue was to kiss her. The urge to do just that became suddenly overwhelming.
He stood and extended his hand to her and, quirking a dark eyebrow, she let him help her to her feet. He then tugged the headband from her hair and threaded the fingers of his right hand through the fragrant, silky strands and pulled their joined hands behind him forcing her up close to him.
Meri came willingly, her mouth hungry for a taste of his sensual lips and they kissed in the moonlight. His tongue searched her mouth and found only a yielding tongue and wine scented breath and, instead of pulling away to end the kiss, he kissed her deeper all the while moving her from the porch to the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind them.
A fire burned in the sitting area of the spacious bedroom suite and a fire burned deep in his gut but Meri broke the marathon kiss and took a step back. John took a step forward to close the gap again but she pushed him away giving herself just enough room to slip off the fur boots and to unbuckle the diamond encrusted belt on her coat.
The satin lining allowed the coat to slip easily from her shapely shoulders and puddle luxuriously around her feet. Underneath, Meri was as naked as the day she was born and John sucked breath nosily into his lungs while all thoughts of werewolves, incredibly hot blonde bartenders and even his own kids were suddenly and completely wiped away. Gone completely until the sun rose and burst over the horizon, its golden rays streaming through the tall windows of the big house on the hill.
Deep in the arms of Morpheus, John Winchester continued to slumber, his dreams dark and disturbing. A raven swooped in and landed to perch on the deck's railing pacing back and forth agitatedly, cawing repeatedly before hopping to the deck where it began to peck at the dead rabbit that lay frozen to the redwood planks. The bird's incessant tapping and intermittent cawing pulled John from his dreams and back to reality and the night before came rushing back. He kept his eyes closed and, though he could smell her perfume, he couldn't feel her heat or hear her breathing next to him. Finally, he opened his eyes and took a quick furtive look around and sighed. Thankfully Meri was nowhere to be seen and he was suddenly steeped in 'morning after' remorse and knew, if she had been there, she would read it on his face and in his eyes.
The hunter had come to her in the middle of the night to find out if she was a werewolf and, finding no overt signs, he'd evidently lost his mind instead. In his insanity he'd then decided to find out if she was a mink...or if she just fucked like one…and now, sitting up in the huge bed with its disheveled designer bedding, he covered his face with his hands and cursed himself for his obvious weak will and general stupidity. He was in town to do a job and, although Mari was most likely "the job", he felt disgusted that he had actually "done" the job.
The damage was done and he could only hope to keep the repercussions to a minimum. Not because there was any future for him and Jewels or for him and any other woman for that matter but because Jewels Downey was a wonderful woman and deserved better than to have this get back to her. The events of last night would go to his grave with him and he would let Meri know that it was simply a one-night stand and a huge mistake. She would probably just laugh at the suggestion that it was anything but and send him packing like she would any of the other lovesick puppies she picked up in her bar. As he hurriedly dressed he noticed an expensive, heavily perfumed parchment note resting against the bathroom mirror. She had left it for him, written in a delicate hand, and it read simply "See You Tonight."
"You can count on it," he said aloud and the damnable part of it all was that, even now, he couldn't be one hundred percent sure that she wasn't a werewolf. Some lycanthropes showed no signs of the "illness" except for that one night when the moon was at its fullest so tonight he would pack up what gear he needed, head up the pass and put himself out there as bait and wait to see who or what bit.