Paranormal After Dark

by Rebecca Hamilton

  I take a small sip. “Mmm. Delish!”

  “You asked for cool and amber. This is amber.” He points to my beverage. “And this is oh-so-cool.” He waves a hand up and down his torso.

  I laugh. “You got that right.”

  The waiter plunks the Mezzaluna in front of Jonas. He bats his lashes. “And there you go!”

  “Thanks.” Jonas looks up at him and gives him a manly glare.

  The waiter smiles indulgently. “Don’t worry, sugar, you are so not my type. She’s the one who’s caught my eye. The name’s Magicka, by the way. Magicka Santorini.”

  “Hands off. She’s my friend.”

  “And she can defend herself, thank you very much,” I say, stopping the macho madness. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Magicka.” I extend my hand to him.

  “Girl, the pleasure is all mine.” He kisses my hand before releasing it. “Mm mm mmm, you smell good.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Jonas bristle. “Let’s order.”

  After Magicka sashays away with our order, I turn to Jonas. “You’re always happy, Jonas. That’s one of the things I can count on. And I doubt that Jenner’s snark today was any different than usual. It’s what she does.”

  “You’re right about that.” He takes a healthy slurp of vodka. “It’s me who’s changing. I told you. I’m getting tired of it. I want to move in another direction.”

  Nope. Not pursing that line of thought. “Have you told her that?”

  “All the fucking time. So much so that I’ve given up. Now it’s just ‘yes, dear’ and ‘no, dear.’ It makes me sick. It makes me feel weak. And I tell you what—I do not like feeling that way. I’m a fucking man, goddamn it. I’m no one’s bitch.”

  I frown. I’ve known Jonas for about eight years. He’s been with Jenner half that time. Before that we both dated around, never with one another. I’ve never seen him this way. “Yeah, but you are a nice guy. I know you. You want to do the right thing.” I shrug. “Maybe it’s time for a switch. Maybe that’s what’s right.”

  He brightens, grinning at me. “I was hoping you’d feel that way.”

  “Not like that, friend.”

  His eyes turn puppy soft with longing. “We’d have a wonderful relationship. You know that we would.”

  “We already do have a wonderful relationship. It’s easy. It’s not messy or complex. It’s something I can count on when I’m blue and delight in when I’m happy.” I take a long swallow of my drink, smacking my lips. I glance around the room. Anything to keep the focus off of Jonas.

  “And you could be howling with pleasure when you’re turned on.”

  I smirk and reach for my beer again. I pretend to be all cool and together but my insides have decided something else. I’m wet where it counts, hot where it matters, and my heart is beginning to pound with a vengeance. “Off-limits topic, remember?” I wipe my lips with my soft napkin. Jonas says nothing so I take another swig of the frosty ale. “Remember?” I ask, facing him.

  When I meet his eyes I almost cough and choke. He’s looking at me with an openness that’s fall-in-and-take-a-swim enticing. It’s like he’s torn away any façade he puts up when we’re out goofing around. There’s this new Jonas—this undiscovered mystery Jonas—looking back at me. “Jonas, don’t…”

  “Don’t what, Vienna?” He continues to gaze at me.

  “You’re making me…”

  “I’m not doing anything except looking at you the way I’ve always wanted to look at you—adoringly, with a generous dose of desire.”

  I swallow, hard. I drink him in. I know I shouldn’t, but he looks so fine, so delicious, so inviting, I’m at a loss as to how to behave right now. I reach for a straw of truth to put between us. “Jonas, I told you I won’t be the excuse that lets you free yourself.”

  He nods but doesn’t look away.

  I wrench myself away from his gaze once more and stare at the other diners. My gaze lands on a couple in the shadowed corner across the room. I blink. “Isn’t that Jenner over there? I thought you said she was at art class.”

  Jonas’s head whips around to see where I’m looking. “So that’s what’s going on. I guess she’s decided to meet Brian in the evenings, too. I wondered what her new interest in art was all about.” His face turns an angry, blotted red.

  “It might not be what you think,” I say reassuringly, thinking and who’s calling the kettle black, hmmm?

  “Oh?” His voice is laced with sarcasm. “And what might it be?” He starts to scoot out of the booth.

  I lean over and grab his shirtsleeve. “Not so fast, cowboy. Cool your jets.”

  “Hell, no, I won’t cool my jets. My jets are burning at full throttle right now.”

  “I can see that. Calm down. This is not the time for an angry confrontation.”

  He downs his vodka. “This is the perfect time for an angry confrontation. It will be in front of everyone. She always wants to look perfect in public.” Once again he scoots away from me.

  I lunge across the table, grab his arm, and hiss at him. “Stop it, Jonas.”

  A few diners have turned to stare at us. Jenner and Brian are too far away and too absorbed in each other to notice anything.

  “It’s okay, he just received an alarming pulse-com,” I say to the onlookers, trying to get everyone to mind their own business. “I’ve got this.” At least it takes the focus off of me and him.

  An older woman nods and turns to her companion. The other diners follow suit and I turn back to my friend. “Now you calm the fuck down, Jonas. You don’t know what she’s doing or why she’s doing it.”

  “Yeah? Well, she sure looks cozy doing it, whatever it is.”

  “What’s Brian do for a living?”

  “He’s an event planner for the high and mighty.”

  “So maybe they’re planning an event.”

  “And what might that be? My funeral?”

  “Don’t be dumb. I’m sure you’ll get to the bottom of it. Hasn’t she ever planned an event with this guy before?”

  “Well, yeah, she’s got some pricey clients at her work.”

  I scoff. “At her ‘work.’” I make quote marks around the word. “And what work might that be besides sponging off of you? She’s a volunteer at the Nuevo Opera. She helps sell tickets. What kind of a job is that?”

  “Yeah, I know. But sometimes her duties there extend to making sure a diva is treated in true diva fashion. But you’re right. I don’t want to make this evening about her. I want to enjoy my friend.”

  “And your friend wants to enjoy her friend.” I smile warmly at him. “So let’s do that.”

  Our salads and freshly baked bread arrive and we set to eating. The beer, food, and camaraderie are making me feel warm and relaxed. “I really think you’ll sort all this out with your girlfriend, as much as it pains me to say that. You’ll get your head on straight.”

  “So we’re back here again.” Jonas signals for the waiter. “I’ll have another one of these,” he says, pointing to his drink. His eyes flick over to where Jenner is sitting and back to me. “Now I know what you mean about topics you wish you didn’t have to discuss. I had almost gotten her and bozo Brian out of my head.”

  “Things have to be dealt with. You can’t sweep a topic under the rug just because you find it uncomfortable.”

  He gives me a pointed look. “You do hear yourself, right?”

  “Oops. I do.”

  “So don’t go getting all pop psychology on me since we haven’t touched your forbidden topic once tonight. I gave you my word.”

  “Got it.” I gesture to our gender-bender waiter and point down at my empty beer glass. He nods and I turn back to Jonas. “It seems we’ve gone down the wrong road this evening.”

  “It’s not going the way I’d planned.”

  “And what was that plan? That you and I would sail off to bed and be happy ever after?”

  He chuckles. “No. That’s a great idea, though. I
merely wanted to have an easy outing with you. Life sucks lately.”

  I reach out to touch his hand. We touch affectionately all the time but this time Jonas’s return squeeze feels a little too intimate. His fingers find their way to the top of my hand and start stroking, back and forth, back and forth. They wander up along my tender wrist and make slow circles along my forearm.

  “So what happens?” he asks softly. “What happens that stops you from coming?”

  My heart jerks up into my throat, catapulted from my clenching stomach. I decide to pull up my big girl’s britches and put my money where my mouth is. I swallow. “Kissing really turns me on. I love a good kisser. I love to have my neck bit. I get all turned on from having my nipples sucked. I love surprises, too—a kind of touch I’ve never felt before, or some technique the guy has mastered. But then, when the attention drifts downward, I…” My gaze falls away from him. This is too hard. I’ve never talked about this before…not since…. My eyes squeeze shut, trying to trap memories where they’re supposed to remain—locked tight, buttoned down, buried deep.

  “You what? I know this is difficult to talk about. I’m here for you.”

  “I don’t know, I just disappear. I get all tense. My mind fills with negative bullshit talk—this isn’t going to happen; will it happen; no, it won’t. It’s nonstop. By that time, I have left the building, as far as awareness goes. Gone, baby, gone. And then the guy pumps, he shoots his load, I fake it and that’s that.”

  He threads his fingers with mine and pulls my hand into his lap. “That sucks, Vienna.”

  I don’t think he means to do this, but my hand brushes something hot and hard under his slacks. I inhale sharply. Then again, how can he not know?

  “What?” He pulls my hand out from under the table and kisses my knuckles. “Don’t ever be afraid to share with me, V. You know that anything you say is safe with me.”

  “I know,” I breathe. “But I’ve never talked with anyone about this little problem of mine.”

  He smiles. “A little problem needs a big solution.” He laughs at his own joke. “Sorry, but you set me up for that one.”

  I smirk and shake my head. “So, since I’ve answered your questions, will you promise to get more details before you explode—with Jenner, I mean?”

  “Yes.” He releases my hand and pushes his hand through his hair wearily. “She did lie to me…I’ve got her on that one.”

  “True,” I say and we both glance over at her. I look back at him. “I’ll add that to your evidence file, sir,” I add playfully.

  “And,” he says, “I do believe I’ve got her on cheating on me. Evidence is being presented right now.”

  I turn my head to see Jenner and Brian standing up from their meal. Brian walks around to Jenner’s side of the table. He takes her coat and holds it out for her to slip her arms into. When she complies, he wraps his arms around her, and kisses her hair and neck. He swirls her around and kisses her full on the lips, apparently not caring whether or not anyone sees them. When he releases her, she looks breathless. She turns to leave and her head pivots to see me and Jonas staring straight at her. And that’s when the fun begins.

  Chapter 7

  I HAVE JONAS’S body out of my vehicle and guide him up my front steps. The guy is trashed. After confronting Jenner and Brian, he decided going on a bender was just the ticket. I decided being his designated driver was my duty and responsibility as a friend since his heart was set on getting wasted. Even though his vehicle would have guided him home safely, it wouldn’t have taken the good care that I’ve been taking with him all night. I’ve listened, raged along with him, commiserated, and soothed. I’ve guided him to the bathroom, waited patiently outside, wiped the vomit from his lips when he emerged, and guided him back to the table. And finally, I said, “enough’s enough,” and hauled his ass to my vehicle. We’ll get his car in the morning.

  “I’m fine,” he protests as I guide him up the steps. “I could have driven.” It comes out sounding like a slurred mess.

  “Yeah, yeah, I needed the company. Roll with it.” I doubt he’ll remember a thing.

  Nigel greets me when I open the front door. Where’s he sleeping? He asks with a sniff. Not on my couch, I hope.

  I glare at him and steer Jonas toward the couch.

  Nigel leaps up onto the back of the couch and snarls. Oh, no, you did not. You can’t leave him there. He stinks. And that’s where I like to nap.

  “You don’t nap at night,” I say. “You prowl.”

  Have you checked the time lately?

  I tap the time chip in my left index finger. “24 October, 4:24 a.m.” flashes in front of my eyes. “Oh, no,” I groan. “It’s a good thing I make my own hours.”

  Yeah. About that. You know that service you use to field potential clients?

  “HoloMess 500, yeah. What about it?” The name makes me laugh. It’s a warehouse of bots in Southeast Asia. Those warehouses seldom see a human inside them. Anyway, something got lost in the translation of “messages” and it became merely “Mess.”

  You know how they try to reach you when there’s an urgent message?

  “What are you getting at?” I grab a blanket from the closet and drape it over Jonas’s snoring form.

  I’m talking about the disturbance—they tried to reach you tonight. They kept trying to access the mainframe and it kept messing with my Zen prowl.

  “The mainframe? Why would they do that?”

  Did you request a “do not disturb”?

  “No, I…shit, I’ve been way preoccupied! Jonas decided to go on a bender tonight and it took my total focus. He’s not in good shape right now. That’s why I brought him home. Damn! The pulse-com system sometimes can’t get through if you’re preoccupied. You can intentionally turn it off but tonight it just couldn’t reach me. I was too upset and busy taking care of Jonas.”

  Exactly. Hence, there’s been this hum in the house for hours. It’s been driving me mad. And now you drop a smelly, drunk man on my bed? You’re going to pay for this.

  “What will you do? Wage a protest? Hunger strike?” I wander toward him and scratch his head. My hand moves down his back, right in front of his tail. He loves that spot. He starts to purr.

  Stop it.

  “You know you don’t want me to.” I move up to his chest, stroking his silky hair and feline muscles with my fingers. He purrs louder.

  Stop it.

  “Stop it some more? You’re a hoot, Nigel. Now, I’d better check that message.”

  All I have to do is draw the digits of the com number I need in front of my face to place a call. I do this and an automatic voice answers.

  “This is HoloMess 500. Please enter your five-digit identity code.”

  I write it in the air.

  “Thank you. Now enter your six-digit business code.”

  I comply.

  “Thank you, Vienna Venetta. You have eight messages. The messages have been labeled urgent. Here is message one. ‘Sultana, you don’t know me—yet. My name is Himeros. You’re going to want to know me. Com me. Any time, day or night.’”

  I roll my eyes. They all think they’re all that. I flick my fingers to delete it.

  “Message two. ‘Sultana, I’m your next client. You won’t want any more after me. I guarantee you’re going to like what we do together. Com me. Seriously. Any time.’”

  I cock my head. Someone’s impatient. Once again, I flick my fingers and the com is deleted. Messages three, four, five, six, and seven are similar in nature. The only difference is a growing edge to the voice. It disturbs me to hear it. This com caller is going to need to be vetted, big time. I have a service that vets potential clients to ensure that no one is a psycho, serial killer, or deranged in any way. Even though this is just a fantasy game, I still don’t need to contact the headspace of a crazy person. Like I said, I feel everything about them—who they are, what they think and feel.

  The last message does the complete opposite of the first s
even. It turns me on so much, I’m stunned. It’s like the guy has reached up into my pussy and found the place—that place. His voice snakes down my throat and into my chest. It insinuates itself up my thighs and parts my tender lips. It’s deep and delicious and makes me feel like an orgasm is on the way. Could it be that this guy will help me unlock the secret code inside? At least it would keep me from crashing and burning with Jonas. I make a mental note to get the guy vetted pronto, and then make my way into my bedroom to crash.

  Chapter 8

  WHEN I ENTER the kitchen, Jonas is sitting at the table with a huge mug of coffee, an ic e pack on his neck, and his head in his hands. “Hey,” I say softly. “Not doing so well?”

  “Got a Hangover Zapper?” he asks, without looking up.

  “Nope. Never had the need. I’ll call for one if you like.”

  “Would you? That would be fantastic.” His head slips out of his hands, down to the table, and hits with a dull thud. The ice pack slides to the floor. “That’s better. One area of sharp, shooting pain instead of throbbing needles and dull ache everywhere.”

  “Oh, honey, I hate to see you this way.” Back in control, I pick up the ice pack and place it on his neck. Last night at dinner must have been an aberration, a mere slip up. We’re back to friends again.

  “Jenner’s pulse-commed me fifteen times,” he says. “Or is it twenty? I’ve lost count.”

  “Just turn the com off.” A stab of jealousy lances my chest. Fucking bitch. I reach into the cupboard for a porcelain bowl wishing I could smash it on the countertop and use the shards to slice Jenner’s perfect face. Whoa, girl. Calm down. “I don’t suppose you want anything to eat.”

  “Hell, no. Just get that Hangover Zapper here soon and I’ll be fine.” He rolls his forehead side to side on the table. The ice pack drops to the floor once again.

  “It doesn’t do much good on the floor.” I pick it up and set it next to him.

  “It’s not doing anything on my neck.”

  I shake my head and set about getting my breakfast. While I’m moseying around the kitchen, I pulse-com the pharmacy. “Can you deliver a Hangover Zapper? Rush order? Yeah, yeah, I’ll pay. Just get it over, fast.” I did just make a boatload of money. My mind drifts to the new client and his avatar. Strange guy. I make a mental note to vet him today. Find out who the hell he really is. And never talk with him again—ever. I’m done with thoughts of orgasm. Finished. Back to my normal cool. Why vet him then? I ignore that pesky thought and pour myself a cup of tea.