Title: The Monster's Alphabet
Author: alliterator
Summary: A series of vignettes, from Adam to Zookeeper. Spoilers for all seven seasons.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything belongs to the great and power Whedon.
Natalie French
Takes place sometime before Season 1
"There is nothing ugly about these unique creatures. The reason they live alone is because they're cannibals!"
- Natalie French in Teacher's Pet
The interior of the house was decorated with various paintings and artifacts – she was glad she had chosen this one. She had found throughout the years that an interior like this would calm people as much as the drug she put in their drink.
Right now she was in New York City, New York. It was raining outside and the young man she had invited over was drenched.
"Oh my," she said rising from where she was sitting on the loveseat. "You must be soaked to the bone. Let me get you something to warm you up."
"Thank you," he said. He was young – only a boy really – but that was okay. She knew the younger they were the better chance that they had not had their first experience yet.
She came back with a towel in one hand and a martini in the other. "Here's something to warm you up," she said handing him the towel and then held out the martini, "and here something to really warm you up."
The young man looked at the martini with bewilderment. He had never been offered a drink in his life – even though he had asked many times. He held it with a shivering hand and drank it all in one gulp.
"My goodness," she said. "Come, sit on here." She sat down on the loveseat and motioned for him to sit adjacent to her. He did. His eyes were immediately drawn to her dress, which managed to show enough cleavage to entice him, but not enough to really give anything away. She liked this part.
It had been a while since she last did this. The last time she had practiced seduction was in the 1930s – but then the '40s came around and everyone suspected of everyone else being a Nazi spy and she couldn't go around leaving a trail of disappearing bodies. She remembered the last one she did; 1941, Cleveland. An art student whom she persuaded to come home with her. She was a redhead then – she could have any hair color she wanted, any body shape she wanted. The only thing that couldn't change were her eyes.
But that was then, this was now. And now the young man was shivering on a loveseat in a house she had taken from a corpse in the basement. She grinned, exposing her pearl-white teeth, and placed a hand on the man's wet knee. "Have you ever been with a woman before?" she asked.
She wasn't surprised when he shook him head.