Chapter 15

Sometimes All You Can Say Is "Holy Shit"

The face painted on the framed canvas in front of me was familiar and alien at the same time. There's no doubt that it was me, but the "me" in the painting was more beautiful than I had ever considered myself to be. The fact that I knew, from Eric's admission, that this painting had to have been made from his own memory of me pleased me and puzzled me as well.

In this painting, I was clearly wearing my Merlotte's work shirt. The portrayal was only from slightly below my elbows up. My hair was in it's usual tight ponytail and my makeup was light, also par for the course of a nights work. The problem was, I couldn't recall Eric ever having set foot inside Sam Merlottes's bar before. How could he possibly have a memory of me from there? I couldn't take my eyes off of the painting. It was executed so beautifully, one who didn't know better might argue that it was a photograph and not the result of a palette and brush.

I knew the look on my face. It was the one I get when I am doing my damnedest to block out everyone's thoughts, when each person's own inner monologue becomes too much and I feel like screaming for everyone to shut the hell up. That would be dumb because I get paid to be nice and plus, no one was really saying those things out loud, I was the only one in the audience. I looked pensive, a little anxious, my brown eyes had a far away look, my brow a tad furrowed.

Another question was circling inside my head, like a bee in my bonnet, if you will. Why did Eric feel the need to hide this from me? It's obvious now that's what he was doing after we first came down here last night. I'd just been too tired to notice or care. Whatever the reason, I was the dummy who went snooping and I had no right to feel perturbed about this, I'm sure he had reasons and I'm sure that I probably didn't want to know them. Dread had been creeping into my heart since I had woken up and this only served to accelerate it. What if every single thing I'd felt, everything I'd believed Eric had felt last night, was different today? What if, when he woke up, I couldn't look him in the eye or he told me to get the hell out?

It wasn't some big secret that Eric Northman could be a manipulative asshole, he was more than capable of telling me whatever I wanted to hear just to get what he wanted. Holy crap, what if I was just some damn Viking conquest. What if, instead of storming and plundering villages, he'd stormed and plundered my heart, mind and underwear?

Stop talking crazy, girl. He doesn't bring just anybody to where he sleeps. He doesn't have just anybody's picture as a painting hanging (leaned against a wall backwards) in his secret underground vampire hidey-hole. He'd left you with no instructions about where you could and couldn't go in the event of you waking before he did. That implies trust, doesn't it?

My inner voice made a lot of sense but I still felt that fear of rejection. I've had more than my fair share of that particular brand of emotional pain. My insecurities run deeper than the Mississippi is wide because I KNOW what people really think of me, I've never had to guess. All these silly sayings I'd heard Gran repeat over the years were darting in and out of my thoughts. Especially one about 'don't put the horse before the cart'.

I was getting myself all worked up and I think it may have had something to do with exhaustion from the physical activity of last night. Still, my insatiable curiosity was revving me up, telling me I might not get another chance to do some recon and find out as much as possible about my mysterious lover who would be dead to the world for another couple hours.

I put my hand to the door knob again and opened it slowly.

Holy Harold! What a closet! I don't think you could even call it a closet, it was more like a clothing warehouse. This room, although oblong, had every bit as much square footage as the sleeping area behind me. I was like a kid in a toy store, I didn't know what to look at first.

Let me say that it was awe inspiring, like time traveling into the past. There were clothes in there from just about every era that Eric had lived through. I had several thoughts about some role-playing we could do as I looked at his dapper, Godfather looking suits that he must have worn in the 20's or 30's. The seventies polyester lounge-lizard clothes made me laugh, I couldn't imagine Eric in a powder blue leisure suit. The eighties, well at least now I knew where he came up with the neon pink spandex he'd worn to the orgy and his Miami Vice looking pastel suit was a trip! As I suspected, when I got into his more recent clothes, there were a lot of fitted tee's, track suits, flip flops and jeans. He had a few button down dress shirts and I took one off of the hanger and pulled it on. It smelled clean and starched but sadly, it didn't have his scent on it. Further snooping revealed his underwear drawer and I looked in vain for something I might wear as bottoms. Nothing would stay up on me.

I was about to close the drawer when I saw something white and lacy shoved to the back. I pulled the delicate fabric out and was surprised to see that it was a woman's thong. It looked suspiciously familiar. I checked the tag and sure enough, they were my exact size. These were my underwear! When the hell had Eric Northman managed to steal a pair of my unmentionables? Why wasn't I furious? Why was the fact that Eric was a panty-thief arousing me instead of frightening me?

I started to put them on, then I realized they would be a dead giveaway to my snooping and nosing around. I could explain the need to go looking for a clean shirt but not how I had come to find the thong that had been buried almost all the way in the back and bottom of a drawer. I shoved it hastily back to where I had found it. I'd just go commando, I didn't think Eric would mind one bit.

I'd made a pretty thorough tour of his wardrobe. There was one more room to see and I was running out of daylight. I double checked to make sure that I left everything as I had found it and made my way back to the door.

I tip-toed back to the bed like an idiot. It was a silly gesture since I could have probably set a cherry bomb off next to his head without getting a reaction. I wanted to get a glimpse of the time. It was 7:06, I had right around an hour before sunset. If I was going to continue my investigation I would have to be quick.

I ran for the last door, my heart fluttering out of control, I felt like Nancy Drew, unlocking the secrets of Eric Northman. I was absolutely giddy as I turned the knob.

I stepped into the mother of all home theater/entertainment rooms. Christ-Almighty, Eric really knew how to indulge himself. I found it rather interesting that he would have dropped such an obviously huge wad of cash on what appeared to be at least a thousand DVD's and an even bigger Plasma television than the one upstairs. It didn't seem to me that he was here all that much. But I guess when you're somewhat immortal, entertainment of any kind helps to pass the eons.

The power light on the DVD player was on. I had to know what he had been watching.

After a few moments of frantic fumbling with the half dozen remotes laying around, and accidentally blaring some weird Celtic music that sounded like a sheep in it's screaming death throes, I figured out how to turn the T.V. on. I couldn't have been more shocked if he had been watching a tape of me and Bill getting' it on.

"So, you're worried, not that you'll be in a house full of vampires, but that they won't approve of you?"

Twilight? Eric had been watching Twilight? Oh, this was classic! Robert Pattinson's handsome face was humongous on the T.V. as he drove away and glared at the hot Native American boy and his father. I'd seen this movie more than once, I owned this D.V.D. myself. Old Rpattz had played several roles in my fantasies.(Like I said, I was a big fan of the self-love.) Regardless, what the hell was Eric doing watching Twilight? Okay, I needed to move on and focus.

Perusing his collection revealed the kind of movies I would have thought he would be into. War movies, war movies, war movies. Vampire porn... wait vampire porn? The titles were hilarious, Intercourse With the Vampire, Fangtastic Four(some), World's Biggest Fang-Bang starring Jenna Jameson. What a perv. I'd never been much for pornography, I could make better stuff up in my head when I needed some stimulation, however I did love the shoes the women wore.

Time was short and I didn't dare to dally anymore. I put everything back to where it had been, I even reset the D.V.D. to it's exact position with Edward Cullen mid-leap into the bed of Bella's truck.

Poor Bella, she had 3 more movies to go before she would see any vampire action. And these guys didn't even have fangs. I tried to imagine Eric sparkling and it sent me into a fit of hysterics. The thought of him in a gray pea-coat and shoved behind the wheel of a silver Volvo made made me laugh until it was painful. Once I calmed down, I gave the room a final glance before I backed out and closed the door. I made my way back to the bed and found Eric in the same position I had left him in almost four hours prior.

I was sliding myself into position next to him when I got a most mischievous idea. I slid myself under the covers and used all my strength to roll Eric on his back. Slowly I worked his silly pink spandex down his hips and off of his legs. It took some maneuvering but I finally got him back onto his side and snuggled as close to him as possible, my ass tight up against his cock.

Let him wake up and feel that, first thing.

I brought my hands together twice and the Clapper worked it's magic. I pulled Eric's long, muscled arm back over me and lay there in the blackness with a smile on my face. The anticipation was delectable and building by the second.