CHAPTER 2
Cold hands gripped her roughly, submerging her into hot, sudsy water. "You reek of him!" he snapped. He muttered something about letting a disgusting, sweaty human pollute her body. "Scrub that filth off yourself."
Alexander Grayson had lived for a very long time. No, that wasn't the right. He had existed for a very long time. And he had used that time to experience much of what the world had to offer. There was art, literature, travel, culture, wildlife, a diverse offering of pleasure. But of all those things, he loved the hunt the most. The wild game, stalking prey, the rush of life flowing from his victim into him. Some hunts were better than others, some prey more satisfying. Louise McCloud had proved satisfying indeed. Existing for so many hundreds of years could prove tedious, so much repetition, humans being the utterly predictable beasts that they were. But she was so unexpected, so deliciously refreshing.
He watched from a corner of the room as she did her best with the soap and sponge provided. She would rub her skin right off, if he commanded. She had proved exceptionally pliable to his suggestions and fucking her had given him a euphoria that he hadn't felt since his early years of the change. This diversion of hers upset him. And he was so rarely upset by human convention these days. To be upset would mean he cared, and he had become altogether apathetic to humanity. But with Louise he was... Smitten? The idea was ludicrous but still befitting, he supposed. He wanted her.
July 1861
As far as cages went, this one was luxurious - water closets with marble baths, an expansive library, beautifully cultivated gardens, and gourmet meals. The absence of bars made her no less a captive. Her restraints were secure. They coiled around her mind, slowly disintegrating her will, erasing the person she used to be. The perpetual desire for her captor swelled whenever he was near. She craved his approval, his satisfaction, the way he looked at her and touched her whenever she pleased him.
This morning she sat in her usual spot at the kitchen table and looked at the vibrant summer greens of the garden. The late morning sun radiated warmth through the large bay window. She glanced down at the drawing that sat next to her steaming cup of coffee. It was a picture of horses galloping through a prairie of wild flowers. Sketching, another lesson of his. She had no memory of herself without him. These things that occupied her time were who she was. Other times she was nothing but pure sensation, soaring through space, her physical body one pure pleasure conduit. Other people did not live this way, she knew. But they were different. Better, he told her. She smoothed the picture of the horses over with one hand while using the other to take a sip of her coffee.
Their home in Boston was a stone Victorian with a sprawling yard that included a British styled tea garden. It was circumferenced by a wrought iron fence covered in ivy which thoroughly obfuscated them from passersby. It was meant to provide privacy but, somewhere in the back of her mind, Louise knew it was also meant to keep her in.
Morning meals were generally taken outside on the patio. Days were spent under the lone oak reading and drawing, or tending to her small garden that Alex had helped her plant. From the outdoor patio she could look up and see the balcony that extended from her bedroom on the second floor. During the warm weather she took her baths there, outside beneath the stars, surrounded by the smell of night blooming jasmine. It was idyllic, yet she still felt so empty sometimes.
The doorbell chimed and interrupted her morning musings. It could only be Cara, the one person she had regular contact with that was not Alexander. She closed her sketchbook and rose from the table and let the young woman in. She undid each bolt and swung open the heavy wooden door, letting a burst of sunlight into the previously dark hallway. She averted her eyes for a moment as they adjusted. Cara did not wait for an invitation but crossed into the house and closed the door behind her.
"Good morning Mrs. Grayson." For all the times Louise had tried to convince Cara that she could call her by her first name, it had done no good. "The usual this morning?"
Cara emigrated from Ireland and found work in America as a house maid, like so many other Irish women her age. Every other day she would come by and clean the rooms, do the laundry, sweep the fireplace, and see to anything else that might need attention. This was one of many houses that she worked at during the week, and the grandest. Most of her other employers could not afford a full time servant so they hired her. But she could tell from their home and possessions that the Graysons could have several servants if they wished.
Mr. Grayson was always at work in his basement laboratory where he invented things of great value, apparently. He was not to be distrubed. She never saw him, was never asked to prepare a meal for him. Infact, they had only met once, when he had hired her, on an evening shortly after they had moved into the house. She imagined that he didn't want any prying eyes seeing his work. She knew that designs and such could be stolen before they were legally patented. Many of her clients eyed her as if they didn't really want her in their homes, as if she would steal all the silver as soon as they turned their backs. Cara assumed this was why they didn't want her in the lower levels of the house, but she still thought it was odd that she had not once seen Mr. Grayson since she'd been hired. This was not the only thing about the Graysons that she found disquieting, but as the missus was more friendly than most, the work wasn't exceptionally arduous, and they paid her better than any of her other employers, Cara put her head down and focused on her work.
If you asked what it was about this home that disturbed her, she could list a few peculiarities. For one, there were days when there was no one there to greet her, just a note on the door that she should let herself in with the key she'd been given and a list of chores to complete before she left. The house felt eerie when she was alone.
There were other little things, rooms with windows blacked out, the fact that she never saw the man of the house. She dealt more with the ladies of the house than the men as a general rule but none of the others gave her as much autonomy over her work as Mrs. Grayson. Also, none of the other wives would ever receive her in their dressing gowns. She also knew, from local gossip, that the Graysons did not receive guests nor did they engage in the usual social functions like other couples of their class. Mrs. Grayson never left the property without her husband, and they never ventured out till after dark. Then there was the blood. On the sheets. More than once. The first time, she assumed it had been the missus's time. But it kept happening. One of them must be sick or prone to nosebleeds. But still… It poked at her and even after she left for the day, she would wonder what was going on in that house. But she was a servant. That wasn't her business.
While Cara cleaned the kitchen, Louise went to her bedroom to dress for the day. This room was hers. Alex didn't spend much time here. Pale blue and gold walls complemented the gleaming mahogany furniture. Louise had her own water closet, a desk facing the large windows where she could sit and draw, and a vanity that held the only mirror in the house. She kept a small stack of books on her desk, often reading multiple novels at a time depending on her mood. There were pencils and piles of sketch books. She looked at her rumpled bed sheets and felt a pang of guilt that Cara had to clean up after her. She should be able to make her own bed but Alex told her to leave it for the girl.
Her thoughts drifting to the woman downstairs, she forgot about dressing for the day and pulled out one of her sketches. She had been drawing the young maid without her knowledge. Looking at the picture she saw many ways it could be improved. Cara was thin, like her, but taller. Her skin was pale and freckled, and her dark red hair was always pulled tightly into a bun. Louise imagined that if she let it down, it would be wavy and thick, like her own. She had been trying to get her features right for days, she had sharp cheekbones, pale, close set eyes, and a tiny snub nose. She was pretty but not stunning. That is how Alex described her.
After a while she returned the sketchbook to it's drawer and opened the wardrobe to select an outfit for the day. She dressed out of habit. It wasn't like she was going anywhere. Her hands rifled over the dresses and skirts, silks and satins and wools of various colors. She picked a smart blue skirt and cream colored blouse to match. Tossing them onto the bed, she dropped her dressing gown and pulled off the nightgown underneath. Her frame was thin and her breasts were modest. She rarely wore corsets and instead preferred a silk camisole and matching underwear. The weather had cooled but it was still too warm for stockings so she just pulled on some knee high socks and her boots - simple, flats of black leather, good for walking. As she had no intentions of leaving the house, she didn't bother with her hair or applying makeup. Her thick brown locks reached her shoulders and she combed them out with her fingers.
Satisfied with her appearance, she grabbed two books from her bedside table - The Constable of the Tower and The Count of Monte Cristo - and made her way downstairs. The former was the novel that Louise was currently engrossed in. The latter she wanted to offer to Cara. To keep or to borrow, it really didn't matter. The two women didn't talk much but the one thing she knew was that Cara liked to read when she wasn't busy working. She'd encouraged Cara to borrow any book she liked, but as far as she knew, the girl hadn't taken her up on the offer. She hoped that she had not already read this one. The thought gave her pause and she stopped halfway down the stairs. She fingered the binding of the books in her hands. Alex would tell her that she was overstepping the bounds of their working relationship. But she was so lonely during the day sometimes, always waiting on Alex to wake. If Cara had already read this one, then she would simply suggest she choose another from their vast collection. Hopefully one that she herself had read so that they could discuss it together.
"I just thought then we could have something in common, something to talk about," she tried to explain.
"You live at your leisure. You have every form of distraction. I don't know what you wish to gain by conversing with a servant girl, Louise."
"Having hobbies and having friends are two different things."
"Friends? Hmm." A human need he'd failed to consider. "As you wish." He continued to pour her wine, pricking his finger and allowing the tiniest drop of his blood to spill into her glass. "Here my love, taste."
She hated him, but needed him. He raped her, but she wanted him. She sickened herself but his touch could make her forget all that. In his bed, she would give herself to him freely. She would cry out when he brought her to climax, uttering yes as they came together. Hadn't they always been together? Hadn't she always been with him, been his?
And now, after dinner by candlelight and wine by the fire, here she was again. Her sweaty body clinging to his cold, hard one, her legs wrapped around him pulling him deeper into her, head thrown back, moaning with pleasure. She was wracked with her first orgasm as his needle-like teeth sank into her breast and she felt the soaring sensation, saw the stars and all the heavens behind her eyes. She felt the gentle sucking at her breast and the corresponding flood of arousal between her legs. She wanted to believe he was forcing her. Her mind knew she was not in control. But her body was already lost to him.
He loved her resistance. He loved breaking it down more. She submitted but more than that, she reciprocated. There was nothing comparable to the warm, pulsing life of her, wrapped around him, flowing down his throat, the heat of it all in his veins.
"Is this what you wanted?" he asked, placing his head at her entrance. When she only nodded, he took her chin with one hand and forced her to face him. "Say it Louise." He pressed ever so slightly into her. Lou's fingers dug into the hard, cold flesh pressing down on her.
"I want you...inside me," she bit out, feeling completely defeated.
His hand closed around her neck, applying slight pressure as he pushed into her. His steady thrusting quickly grew until he was pounding her hard and fast. Lou's only movement was the jostling and bouncing precipitated by his aggression. She floated somewhere above herself in a wave of ecstasy and horror.
She woke to darkness. She removed herself from his embrace and slipped out of the bed. The space between her legs throbbed from the relentless penetration he had inflicted upon her. How her body had managed to take him again and again, she didn't know. Her orgasms had come quickly and powerfully until she believed her body would explode into a million pieces. Finally it had been like floating in an abyss of stars as pain and pleasure perforated every inch of her, so twisted together that she could not remember ever feeling them as separate sensations. This periphery was where she existed. She felt his hands reach for her and she fell back into the darkness, the stars, and the sublime pain.
A week later Cara and Louise sat together in the tea garden discussing the plot of The Count of Monte Cristo.
"'There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness.' Do you believe it?"
Cara contemplated Louise's question. "I've never experienced one or the other so I guess I couldn't say." Louise seemed lost in her own thoughts as she stared down at the passage they were discussing. Cara felt that her employer had a distinct aura of melancholy about her.
"I wonder if it's worth it. The pain I mean."
The missus had excused herself shortly after that, claiming to have something needing her attention. Cara returned to her chores feeling more unsettled than ever.
Upstairs Louise sat at her desk and poured over the numerous drawings she had done during the months she'd been here. She had no memory of arriving here or anything before that. She did recall in detail a conversation between her and Alexander.
"You were a poor little orphan about to be turned out by a flesh peddling drunk when you ran away. To protect what was left of your virtue, you took on the dress and manner of a man to get a decent job, as it were. Riding horses, doing chores, working in the dust and dirt and shit that humans always leave in their wake. You bunked with men, slept with a couple of them."
"You lie!"
"I found you like that. Wreaking of man."
"Fuck you!" She yelled back. "Why can't I remember? What did you do to me?"
He grabbed her roughly and held her in the air before him like a rag doll. "I saved you from a life of boring normality. Gave you luxory you would never know otherwise. I give you sensations you would never know from any ordinary man." He threw her roughly to the bed.
She looked down at the images scattered around the floor - prairies, mountains, horses. None of these things were in Boston.
He dragged a sharp claw over the skin between her breasts. As quickly as the thin crimson line appeared, it vanished under the exploration of his tongue. He moved slowly inside her, pushed deeply into her. He loved to watch her struggle against her own desire, to fight her body for control. She never stopped trying.
"You have luminous eyes Louise, dazzling. One of your best features but then they're all good."
He bit into her neck and, as the heated blood rushed into his mouth, felt life flow through him again. He imbibed copiously from her and that set her off. The exquisite rush while he fed turned her barely checked lust to fervor. She grasped at him with arms and legs, licked, bit, kissed, and bucked herself against him. Only after, when she was sweaty and laying naked on the thick carpeted floor beside him, would she realize she had his blood on her lips.
"You've worked yourself into quite a frenzy darling." He wiped the wet blood from her lips with his thumb, smearing it down her chin, and bent to kiss her gently on the lips.
She woke encased in a tangle of sweaty sheets, no idea of how much time had passed. Between her legs was a throbbing ache. She was in her own room, the large marble bath filled with steaming hot rose water. Plush white towels had been left for her as well as a silk dressing gown. Bathe and wait was the message.
She used the pitchers of warm, clear water to rinse herself in the portable tub before easing into the hot bath. The heat turned her skin red and perhaps she should have felt scalded but she had become so immune to extreme sensation, it barely registered. Something scratched at the back of her mind, some unnamed sorrow. She sunk down into the cleansing heat and cried softly, not really knowing why.
Alex came to her to help her change into her undergarments and corset, then into a fine pale pink evening gown with gold embellishment. The sleeves were white lace and fell off her shoulders. He stared at her intently while combing her hair into an intricate updo. She thought he might devour her then and there.
"How do you know how to style women's hair?" she asked, trying to distract herself from his eyes. She inhaled sharply as he finished with her hair and ran his fingers down her neck. Alex stared at the rise and fall of her bosom, feeling the vibration from her quickening heartbeat.
"I've had time to learn many things." He ducked close to her ear and whispered, "now we should be on our way before we lose all control, don't you think?" Her head swam, vision blurred, and she felt her body tremble. She whimpered as he took her by the arm and lifted her from the chair. He gripped her chin lightly, forcing her eyes to his, "focus love." And she did.
"What does it feel like to be you? To be beyond death? Do you feel pain?" They were on their way to dinner, walking through the city streets amongst all the other people, as if they were like them.
"I feel exquisite pain."
Louise huffed. "Your answers aren't answers at all. I want understanding not, poetry."
He grabbed her by the arms and stopped her in her tracks, turning her to face him. "Look in my eyes Louise." She shook her head trying to avoid him. "Look!" She gave a small sound of distress as the blue of his eyes filled her vision. "Life is pain. Death is pain. Finding the pleasure in the pain is what I offer you. What I have given you. It is no poem nor riddle. You have felt it. When you cum for me, that is your understanding. You are flesh. I give you the pleasures of the flesh and take what I need to survive in return. I am generous with you." He looked her up and down. "Should I rip your dress off here in the street and give you a lesson?"
Her head snapped and she caught his eye again, pleading silently.
"I would never." He stroked her cheek gently and took her hand in his. "Now let's get you some dinner. You're looking pale."
As usual, they went to one of the finer restaurants in the city for dinner. Alex ordered for her and then he watched her eat.
"We have no use for this war between the states Louise. Human conflict is so drearily predictable. Perhaps we should leave the country, go somewhere warm enough and private enough you won't have to wear any clothes at all." His tone was joking but the look in his eye was ravenous and her pulse quickened.
"It is possible to go one night without having sex," she told him, averting her eyes to the plate infront of her.
"Yes, but why deny ourselves?" He gave a deep laugh. "You wonder how you could possibly want more after last night? You do understand more than you think, my dear. Being always hungry, that is part of being what I am." He swirled his wine before taking a large swig. "Finish your steak love; you need the iron."
"Well perhaps I wouldn't need it so much if you hadn't drained me practically to death," she snapped.
He only looked at her with amusement.
"Your sweet blood, your sweet cunt." His cool breath raised the hairs on her neck. His fingers dove deeper into her. "Your sweet ass." He pulled his fingers from her throbbing pussy and used her wetness to push them into her other hole. "Tight and sweet and wet you are."
A short while later she was on her hands and knees in front of the fire, her nightgown pushed up to her hips. He fucked her with slow long strokes, plunging himself fully into her and pulling almost all the way out before pulling her hips to him and forcefully pushing his entire length into her over and over. It was painful and pleasurable and delayed her orgasm. When he was soaked with the juice of her, he worked his way into her ass and gave her other tight hole the same treatment. He could drag this out indefinitely, bringing her so close but not quite there. He came before her and she felt the coolness coating her insides. Then she was empty, he was gone, she heard him washing himself for her and when he returned he sat in his chair, still erect.
She pulled her nightgown off and crawled to him. She licked his shaft up and down before taking him fully into her mouth. He came again, deep in her throat this time.
Easing her onto the thick carpet, he trailed delicate kisses across her skin, down her throat, over her breasts, paying particular attention to her navel, making her squirm. When his mouth finally met her wet center her body was humming with need. She moaned, she writhed, she sweat, and shook as he gave her orgasm after orgasm, each one longer and more powerful. When he finally sank his teeth into the muscle of her inner thigh she was barely conscious.
He fed eagerly, the heat of her blood exciting him until he had to take her again. She was unconscious now, spent from the physical exertion and drained literally of her life's blood, but he had to have her. Her body jerked involuntarily while he pounded into her.
Alex looked down at his prized possession as she slept in his lap. "I may have overdone it a bit," he told her as he stroked her hair. "You make me lose all control Louise."
In the majority of their interactions she sought to appease him and keep an emotional distance; unless, he could get her angry or curious or in some other manner worked up. He loved to watch her argue, to feel the change in the rhythm of her blood, then strip her down and take her a dozen different ways as her body yielded swiftly to him. His blood ignited a strong reaction in her. It drove her to extreme acts of salaciousness. She was perfect for him. However, she was bored and listless, and he desired to see light in her eyes. Louise was used to adventure and excitement, not to mention travel and independence. This isolation had been necessary at first but now, with his complete control of her, perhaps a bit of freedom would do her good.
Just before dawn he carried her to her room and put her to bed, pulling the sheets around her and making sure she was comfortable. He kissed her forehead before wishing her good sleep and retiring to his own room.
Lou dreamed. At first she felt she was flying but then she was on horseback and she was flying through a prairie, like the one in her drawing. She was on a black mare and as she rode faster and faster she felt that she was free. There was someone with her, just to the right of her but she couldn't turn her head, couldn't see who. And then she felt warmth and wetness gathering between her legs and when she looked down she was bleeding. Bleeding from between her legs, from her neck, her chest and stomach, her arms. She was covered in blood. She woke panting and soaked in cold sweat. Her body was sore and weak but there was no blood. She was whole. She lay in bed for a long time, breathing heavy, arms hugging herself tightly.
When Alexander had told her that she could go out alone during the day, she had felt excitement brought on by something other than physical touch. It was a strange sensation to look forward to something.
Her favorite activity, now that she had this new found freedom, was to walk to the harbor and watch the ships. She would watch them for hours, appearing and disappearing into the vast blue expanse. Looking down into the water it appeared dark and cold, but in the distance, when the sun was shining, it was cerulean and inviting. Sometimes she imagined jumping in, sinking until there was icy water all around her, and letting the tide pull her far away from here. She imagined little sea creatures gobbling her all up until there was nothing left. Or being swallowed whole by a giant whale. She sighed and tilted her head back, bathing her face with sun, feeling the wind.
Until she was startled by someone clearing their throat and saw a very handsome man eyeing her with curiosity.
Louise ran her hand along the bindings of the books that lined Jack's desk in his tiny cabin. Most of them were on sailing and history, but he had Shakespeare too.
"You know the sheet's kind of unnecessary at his point." He grinned at her from the bed where he lay, arms folded behind his head, gazing at her. He was a flirtatious joker. Louise felt lighter in his presence. She let the sheet that she held around her body drop to the floor.
He exhaled sharply as he looked at her. "Much better."
She joined him in the bed. "Don't you have important business to get back to?"
"Not as important as the business I have right here."
He pulled her close and turned her underneath him. His hands and mouth wandered her body for a while before he slid himself inside her.
One arm braced him above her while his other hand roamed over her body, trying to feel every inch of her. Louise was lost in the sensations of his warm flesh on hers, of the smell of him, muskiness and sweat and man, human, breathing, warm, living man. She could taste the salt of his sweat when he kissed her. She could hear the strain in his breathing, see it on his face as he tried to hold back his own orgasm. He slid his hand between them, found her clit and rubbed circles that sent her over the edge. He came with her, spurting his warmth inside her without concern. Her orgasm had been satisfying but not nearly as good as the feeling of joining with another human being.
He rolled off of her and pulled her tight. She twined her fingers with his and took in the smell of him, of his body, of their sex. She tried to memorize everything about this moment.
There were still a couple hours of daylight left by the time she returned home. Louise took the brandy from her liquor cabinet and poured herself a glass. She had time before he woke. Time to get good and drunk before she had to face him with what she'd done. Her tainted flesh, would it be enough to push him to the point she needed him to get to?
By her third glass, on an empty stomach, she was having trouble standing and her vision was slightly hazy. This will do, she thought. Even though she was feeling slightly sick she kept drinking, and waited.
"You're drunk." Her eyes were glossy. The smell of brandy mixed with the scent of sweat and cum, the stench of sex. The man's seed was still leaking out of her. She hadn't washed. She had wanted him to find her like this. He smiled. "This isn't going to work, you know."
She shrugged, as if she didn't know nor care what he meant.
Alex licked the blood that dribbled slowly from Louise's neck as he held her in his lap. Her legs spread wide, he stroked her clit while savoring the taste of her. She shook and moaned as the pleasure engulfed her. "Does Jack make you feel like this love?" She shook her head, unable to form the words.
Suddenly she was shoved to the floor. He twisted his fist in her hair and brought her mouth to his hard, cold dick. He teased her, brushing his tip along her parted lips but no further. She wanted desperately to taste him and feel him deep in her throat. He pushed her onto her back. She lay completely naked and vulnerable before him. All she could feel was her desire for him.
"Perhaps you need to lie there and consider that Louise." He only gave her a few minutes for contemplation before he picked her up off the floor and set her on her feet. "How about a choice?" Everything was so muddled. Her body screamed for his touch, its release. A choice? Yes. She nodded slowly.
"You spend the next, oh let's call it three, days, with me." He rolled his head in the direction of the door leading downstairs. "No Cara, no sunlight, no excursions, no Jack. Or I won't touch you, not a hand, nor a bite and you can spend three days and nights away from me, with your sweet little sailor."
She swallowed. It was an unfair choice.
"I can't." She whispered.
"You can dress, walk out the door right now. Go to him."
"I can't."
"Make your choice."
Three days later she found herself alone in her own bed, her body bruised and sore. She had chosen this. Chosen him and his sick games over Jack and his gentle love. She was broken, perverted. Alex had proved his point when he gave her that choice. She was irrevocably his.
Louise sat on one of the park benches across from the dock where Jack's sailboat bobbed in the cresting waves. She thought it most likely that he had gotten what he wanted from her. She didn't know much about real men, but Alex told her they only wanted to bed women and then send them on their way. He told her she had made a whore of herself. Yet, he had still given her leave to roam the city and there had only been one place she wanted to go.
"Louise?" She'd expected to see him appear on his boat and was surprised when she heard his voice to her side. He was carrying some bags of groceries which he put aside to sit next to her on the bench. "I was hoping you would come back."
"You mentioned you give sailing lessons. I thought… I would like that. If it's not too much trouble." She stared at her gloved hands, clasped tightly in her lap. Then her hand was folded up into Jack's as he tugged at her.
"Only if we start now."
"My father was a fisherman. Wanted me to take over the business but I much prefer giving lessons," he told her as he put away his few groceries. "My students are rarely beautiful young women, though. Mostly rich boarding school kids and the like. You're much better company."
The look he gave her told her exactly what he meant and she found herself blushing. "Well, let's get started."
Louise liked sailing. She liked learning the names of the different parts of the ship and she was quick at learning the knots. The motion of the sea, which Jack had been concerned about upsetting her stomach, she actually found quite soothing. And the vastness of the ocean, amazing. She took it all in while her and Jack sat on either side of the rutter. It was just them, the sky above, and the ocean all around them. They sailed for hours until they were both hungry and he docked the ship so that he could make them both some lunch. He fed her sandwiches and they shared a bottle of beer. After they ate, he took her to the cabin below.
She scooted up on the bed and looked expectantly at him. His eyes didn't leave her as he discarded his jacket and shirt to the floor. He kicked off his boots but left his pants on. Kneeling before her on the floor, he undid the laces of her boots and slipped them off. He trailed his hands up her calves, over her knees, her inner thighs. He found the ends of her underwear and pulled them down slowly. With one hand he untangled the soft cotton briefs from her ankles and with his other he traced the line of her slit. It was damp and slick. He kissed the side of her knee before rising and joining her on the bed. He found the hooks of her dress and undid them.
He pulled her dress off and she was naked before him. He smiled and thought her wickedly indecent walking around town with barely any undergarments on. She reached for his pants and undid them, pushing them down until she saw all of him. He wasted no time positioning himself between her thighs. He didn't tease her or whisper obscenities. He didn't make her beg. He just made sure she was ready for him and then he pushed himself into her.
Later, as they lay together in the sweaty sheets he would tell her about himself. His father had been a fisherman as he'd said, but he'd also been a mean drunk and Jack had left that house when he was fourteen, living on the streets and getting odd jobs around the pier until he'd managed to get a deckhand job on one of the tall ships. His dream had been to own his own boat, a sailboat he could take wherever he pleased, whenever he wanted. He named her The Plain Jane - his only possession in the world.
Louise was surprised he had not chosen a different profession, one further removed from his father's influence. Jack replied that his father had only seemed happy when they were on the boat together. Those were his best memories. From stories he learned that his father had been a gentler man once, but had turned cold when Jack's mother left him for a more successful fisherman. They had gone south, and apparently she hadn't given a second thought to the husband and son left behind.
He was incessantly curious about her as well. She tried her best to answer him but with her past being not much more than a blank slate, it had been difficult. An amnesiac orphan plucked from a life of servitude and manual labor by a sadistic benefactor, that was all it amounted to. She had no one and nothing. When she'd told him this, he had seemed very sad. She would think back to their conversation as she sat in the steaming hot water and scrubbed herself clean for Alexander.
She continued to see Jack. The more she did, the more Alex punished her. She thought he preferred it this way - her infidelity, the penance he doled out because of it.
"What is this place?" She followed him up a set of rickety stairs that skirted the side of a red brick building.
"You'll see."
She thought perhaps he meant to leave her here. That he had finally had enough of her. The idea brought forth warring emotions, longing for freedom, fear of losing her master. "And you?" He turned and set her with a quizzical stare. "I thought we would be together…."
"Is that what you want?" She opened her mouth. Closed it again. She stared down at the front of her dress. Want? No. It was need, all consuming need. He didn't wait for her answer. "Come Louise."
It was a cathouse. About twelve young working women and a madam occupied the two floors. They had passed by such places. She had seen him feed off girls like these, sometimes to their end. The rooms were colorful, draped in silks of various colors. Opium smoke and perfume permeated the air. Alex procured them a bottle of brandy, the best corner room, and one girl. She was brown skinned, maybe mulatto, with wavy long black hair and almond shaped brown eyes much like her own. Alex whispered to her as they entered the room, "this one is clean, healthy."
At first she thought they were here so he could feed, but the look that Alex and the girl exchanged told her that they had already made plans for how this evening would go.
The girl, Ines, focused her attention on Louise. "She's beautiful as you said," she spoke with a French accent. "Louise," she drawled as she circled her, stopping when they were face to face she reached out and fingered Louise's loose, wild hair. "She's flushed. You have already had her tonight," she looked accusingly to Alex and pouted.
"No need to worry. You'll find her desire unquenchable, I assure you." He nodded, indicating for her to proceed.
Louise looked from Alex to Ines. Alex only smiled at her. Ines continued to explore Louise with her delicate fingers. She twirled her hair before letting it spring back and trailed the same forefinger across her lips and down her neck to her exposed collarbone. She hooked her finger in the top of her bodice and tugged Louise towards her.
Louise's head swam as the other woman undressed her, kissing, licking, caressing . She closed her eyes, dizzy, and felt her hand pressed against a breast. She opened her eyes to see they stood stark naked before each other. Alex hovered in her periphery, watching. She let herself be led to the bed. She reveled in the pleasure of Ines's mouth, closing over her nipple, kissing her inner thigh, finally her tongue gliding over her again and again, her fingers pushing inside.
Then Alex was there, turning her onto her stomach, laying her between the woman's legs, guiding her mouth to her entrance. She tasted tentatively and then with excitement. Ines moaned and bucked. Louise gripped the girl's thin, tanned thighs and plunged her tongue into her warmth just as she felt Alex sink into her from behind.
However many hours later, Louise woke to find Ines's pale body, drained and lifeless beside her. She rolled out of the bed, feeling drunk. The three of them had shared each other over and over, Alex plying them with wine and brandy and drinking from them both. How long had it been? Was that Alex's blood on her lips? She stumbled out of the room naked and looked upon the pale female corpses. He had gorged. He sat in a corner, also naked, looking drunk and half mad. His frenzied feeding had left him stoned.
"Louise we must get home. The sun is coming."
Louise could not sleep. She could smell blood and death all around them and if she tried to close her eyes and sleep, the bodies of the girls appeared to her, bruised, bloodless. Instead, she lit a fire and stripped down to her slip. She grabbed a bottle of scotch and a glass, wrapped a shawl around her and sat watching the flames, tears running down her cheeks. Thoughts of the dead women tortured her. Blood streaked her skin, hers and Ines's. She poured another glass, and another.
Later that morning, Cara found her, passed out on the hardwood floor in front of an ashy hearth.
She moved groggily as Cara half dragged her upstairs and began preparing her for a bath. She was limp as the maid stripped her clothes off and checked her over for wounds.
"Whose blood is this?"
Louise tried to focus on the girl, on her voice. Alex was wrong about her. She was beautiful. Louise reached out a hand to touch Cara's cheek and saw the dried bloody streak across her arm. She snatched her hand back quickly.
"Is it Mr. Grayson's blood? Is he… Is he here?" Her first thought was that someone had broken in, attacked them. Louise only stared at her. "Louise?"
She gradually came to her senses. "Alex hurt himself in his workshop earlier. He's fine now. It was just, a lot of blood," she stammered. "Sorry to worry you." She covered herself with her hands, suddenly aware of her nakedness. "I can bathe myself. Would you make something to eat, and coffee, please Cara?"
Louise kept to herself for the rest of the day and Cara continued to wonder if her story about the blood was true.
"I thought you rather enjoyed yourself."
"You didn't have to kill so many."
"They're just whores, Louise. How long do you think their pitiful little lives would have lasted?"
September 1861
Sweetwater, Nebraska
"A funeral?"
"Maybe it's time Jimmy," Rachel offered gently. "There's no sign. And maybe we all need to move on."
As if he could. "How can you suggest we give up?"
"Son, we done all we can." Teaspoon tried to lay a reassuring hand on the young man's shoulder, but he shrugged it away. "Lou wouldn't want you living your life in limbo like this."
Six months had passed since Jimmy's whole world had fallen out from under him. He knew what they were telling him made sense, knew Lou would hate to see him like this, isolating himself, drunk half the time. But he just couldn't bring himself to mourn her, and certainly not over an empty grave.
"Count me out."
Kid caught him outside the bunkhouse door. "Jimmy. If I thought we would find something, anything, I'd never stop looking."
"I know Kid. But I don't think there's any moving on for me."
Kid had a feeling he was staring at a man hell bent on finding his way into the path of a bullet. "Fuck it," he mumbled, and followed after his friend. Afterall, it was what Lou would have done.