Diary of an Incubus

by Diary of an Incubus (lit)

  As I settled down into the hot water and bubbles I let the mournful tune flow over me. I could see Vincent no matter what I was looking at. I finished my drink and seriously considered seeking therapy. Maybe I needed help. But how would I even begin to explain what bothered me? I couldn’t, not without telling my secret and that was something I had no intention of doing.

  After a few shots of vodka I sat eating olives and flicking bubbles with my toes. All the alcohol and warm water was finally starting to relax me. I put down the jar, placed a bath pillow against the rim of the tub, leaned back and closed my eyes.

  I had a few moments of blissful peace before he appeared in my dream. He looked exactly as he had at the audition today and in my dream he was standing in my front yard. The wind picked up just then and his coat billowed about him. His hair whipped against his face and his dark eyes seemed to glow. His eyes had been without light so long that they had started to produce their own. There was magic in the way he looked at me and it made me shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked.

  “Are you afraid of me?”

  “Should I be? You’re tormenting me!”

  He took a step closer and my knees nearly buckled. I couldn’t take much more of this.

  “I never meant to,” he said softly.

  “What is it you want from me?”

  “I’m not sure anymore.”

  He placed his hands against my arms and I moaned. Just that simple contact was breathtaking. I wanted him to touch me so much. But this had to stop or I would lose my mind. He wasn’t real. He couldn’t be real. I fought desperately to wake up, but I couldn’t.

  “Are you angry that I told your story?”

  “A little bit.” His brow knit as he looked down at me. “What’s wrong?”

  “Let me go,” I pleaded. “This has to stop. You’re not real. You’re ruining my life!”

  Chapter Six

  “I never meant to,” he repeated.

  He seemed sincere and I desperately wanted to believe he was. I could feel myself spiraling out of control, like one of those dreams where you keep falling and falling, but never hit the ground.

  “Help me,” I said. “I think I’m losing my mind. If you’re real then help me.”

  Finally I was awake. I was thrashing about in the tub and I could still feel his hands on my arms. Wait a minute. His hands were on my arms! He was leaning over my tub!

  “Fuck!” I screamed. “How the fuck did you get in here?! What are you doing in my house?!”

  “Calm down,” he said. “I can explain.”

  “Well, fucking start.” Then I said more calmly, “And hand me a towel.”

  I wasn’t going to have this conversation naked.

  “I am sorry,” he said, straightening his black shirt. “I came by to apologize.”

  He handed me the towel and I stood to wrap it around my body. I’d be damned if I was going to let him know I was embarrassed.

  “That’s an interesting tattoo.”

  “Get back to the subject. You’re in my house and you weren’t here when I fell asleep. I want to know why or I’m calling the police.”

  “Like I said, I came by to apologize.”

  “For what?”

  I stepped out of the tub and took another towel from the cabinet to dry my feet. My heart wouldn’t slow to a normal pace and I really didn’t want to faint in front of him.

  “For the audition this evening. I could tell my performance unsettled you and I wanted to apologize if I said anything offensive.”

  Well, that made sense. But what was he doing in my bathroom?

  “How did you know where I live?”

  He smiled and my heart jumped into overdrive.

  “You are listed in the phone book and your name is on the mailbox.”

  “Fine then.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “What the hell are you doing in my bathroom?”

  “The door was unlocked. When I went to knock it swung open. I could hear you upstairs. You sounded like you were in trouble and unless I’m mistaken, you asked for my help.”

  Goosebumps rose on my arms. I had asked for his help, but in my mind.

  “So, you ran up here to help me?”

  “Yes. It looked like you were about to drown. Perhaps you had a bad dream?”

  Dreams of Vincent were never entirely bad, but in this case I decided to go along with his theory.

  “Yes, I think so. In that case, I owe you an apology. What should I call you?”

  “Vincent.”

  His voice ran over and through me. It moved up and down my spine like velvet covered fingertips and I fought to maintain control.

  “Are you serious?” It was all I could think to say.

  He smiled and some of my fears were washed away with that simple gesture.

  “My name really is Vincent,” he said as he extended his hand. “And I am pleased to meet you, Ms. Mathers.”

  “You’re sticking to that story, huh?”

  He nodded and I accepted the offer to shake hands. I had wanted to know what his hands felt like. Sure, I had memories … but not like this. He was warm and that surprised me. I tried to pull back and smile appropriately, but I still held his hand for a bit longer than I should have.

  “Then please, call me Jewel. After all, you’ve seen me naked. I see no need to be formal. And apparently you just saved my life. So, won’t you stay for a drink?”

  His smile was suggestive and I felt myself blush.

  “Look, this is awkward. What do you say to someone who just rescued you from your own bathtub? Especially someone who looks exactly like the character you’ve lived with for the past three years. I mean, you are the exact image and then you keep insisting that your name is Vincent …” I threw up my hands in surrender. I didn’t know what else to say, but I was certain I wasn’t in any immediate danger, other than maybe my towel falling.

  “It’s been longer than that,” he replied smoothly. “And my name is Vincent.”

  “Vincent what?” I pressed.

  I took a step closer to him and once again recognized the cologne I had smelled long ago on my pillow.

  “You know my name,” he whispered.

  I had wanted to touch him so many times and here he was, right at my fingertips. An energy I couldn’t describe seemed to radiate from him. The top few buttons on his shirt were undone and I moved closer as if drawn by that small expanse of skin. I remembered what I had wanted to do before when I saw him. I had imagined what it would feel like to touch him. I wanted to know what he would feel like beneath my hands. I closed my eyes as I placed my fingertips gently over his bicep. When he didn’t stop me I touched him more firmly, caressing his arm beneath the silk shirt. Touching him was everything I had imagined it would be.

  I moved to those buttons and loosened a few more before placing my palm against his chest. A shuddering breath escaped my lips. His skin was so smooth. He felt like velvet stretched over granite and I imagined what the rest of him must feel like.

  “I didn’t expect it to be like this,” he said softly. “For so long nothing has mattered.”

  “And this matters.” It was a statement of fact. Of course it mattered. I did not put my hands on strange men who suddenly appeared in my bathroom. At least, not normally.

  “Yes. It has to matter. I have to find out how you know my story.”

  That seemed to help snap me out of whatever spell had fallen over me. I took a step back and reluctantly moved my hand from his chest.

  “Whoever you are and whatever you’re doing this for … it’s cruel.”

  His eyes were full of compassion and it nearly made me cry. “I didn’t come here to be cruel to you. I came here to find out what you know and how you know about me.”

  I was getting tired of this. “If you’re really Vincent, then you tell me,” I said sarcastically.

  He seemed to consider the question very carefully before saying
, “I’d better not.”

  “Because you don’t know.”

  “Because you could not handle knowing. If it helps you to believe I am just an actor then believe that. If it helps you to believe I’m a circus clown then I’ll paint my face. But you and I at some point will have to speak of this again.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But not tonight.”

  I pointed toward the door and Vincent turned in that direction. It seemed odd to call him Vincent, even in my mind. But what else was I supposed to call him?

  He preceded me down the stairs and I admired the way his ass looked in those tight black pants. Whatever he was up to, he certainly looked the part. When we reached the door he turned back to me and in spite of all that had happened I almost asked him to stay.

  “You can trust me,” he said softly. “You have to trust someone or I can’t help you.”

  “You already helped me, remember? I’m not drowning anymore.” I reached for the door and it was locked. For some reason that didn’t immediately register in my mind. Vincent moved past me and I almost sighed as I breathed in his cologne once more. He paused and looked back at me again from the doorstep.

  “Good night, Jewel.”

  “Good night.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to call him Vincent out loud. It was as if saying that would acknowledge my belief in him and I wasn’t prepared to do that. When I closed the door behind him it occurred to me then that I’d had to unlock it to let him out.

  “Shit.” I backed away from the door and nearly slipped on the marble tile before reaching the stairs. “How did he get in here?” My mind was racing as I ran back up the stairs. Sure, he could have locked the door behind him. But would he really have done that if he’d heard me thrashing around upstairs and calling for help? Wouldn’t he have just ran and left the door open? I honestly couldn’t remember if I’d locked the door that night when I got home. My mind was in another place.

  When I reached the bedroom a cold wind tickled across my skin. I watched my sheer white curtains flapping in the breeze and another idea crossed my mind. But that just wasn’t possible. I walked over to the open French doors at my balcony. They were open wider than I remembered leaving them, of course the wind could have done that. Still, it was creepy. There was nothing to climb on outside my balcony window. No trellises, no vines, nothing but a sheer wall for one story before reaching my small patio.

  I tossed the towel into the bathroom and pulled back on my silk robe before stepping outside. I wanted to look again for myself. Maybe he’d used a ladder and had forgotten to take it with him. If so then I was definitely calling the police.

  “The truth is I came in from your balcony.”

  The sound of his voice made me jump. I looked over the railing to see him standing on my lawn.

  “What are you still doing here? I’m going to call the police.”

  He smiled again, that same devilish curling of lips that did so much for me.

  “You haven’t yet,” he said.

  “So you’re admitting that you broke into my house? Where’s the ladder you used?”

  “I didn’t need a ladder.”

  I crossed my arms angrily and propped against the railing. “Right, cause you can fly,” I drawled.

  Suddenly everything grew very still. The night around us fell silent and I was afraid. His dark eyes seemed bottomless and reflected the stars above as he looked up at me. They were completely black and yet they glowed with the light of distant stars.

  “You invited me in when you called for help. You said that if I were real then I should help you.”

  “Get out of here,” I said shakily.

  He held his arms open wide as if welcoming me home. “Your first taste of love still lingers on these lips. Are you really going to turn me away?”

  “No.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but I knew by the look on his face that he had heard me.

  “Then let me in.”

  “Meet me at the front door.”

  “But I could …”

  “If you really can fly I don’t think I could handle knowing that just now.”

  My heart was beating so hard that my chest hurt. I really don’t remember walking down the stairs. The next thing I knew I was at the door. Even before I opened it I could feel him on the other side. He hadn’t had time to run around the side of my house and if he had he would be out of breath.

  When I opened the door he was so still he didn’t even appear to be breathing, much less panting from running around my house. I was tired of wrestling for explanations.

  “Where’s your coat?” I asked. When I saw him in my dream he was wearing it.

  “I believe I left it in your bedroom.”

  “You had time to remove your coat before you helped me?”

  He smiled as he said, “I’m a lot quicker than you think.”

  “Listen to me,” I said softly. “Tonight you are Vincent because I need you to be. That doesn’t mean that I believe what you’re telling me.” I looked up into his eyes. They were warm and welcoming. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t believe either.”

  “You are open to the possibility then?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. That is a good place to start.”

  He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. I reached past him and locked it. My arm brushed against his waist when I moved and I could scarcely control myself. I wanted to tackle him right there. Whoever he was, he was Vincent tonight … my Vincent.

  “What else do you need me to be tonight?”

  His voice touched me long before his hands ever did as he moved to cup my face in his palms.

  “Mine.”

  The word barely had time to escape my lips before he kissed me. My body responded instantly. I ached for so much more than a kiss. But these lips! How many times had I tried to remember every detail of these lips? He was right. My first taste of love was still here and it was just as sweet as I remembered. I didn’t know how it was possible and tonight I wasn’t going to try to figure it out anymore. I needed this.

  He said before that I had loved him with my eyes. Now I planned to do so with my body. I had read so often of his loneliness and as he touched me now I could feel it. He needed this as much as I did.

  He deepened the kiss and I moaned as he plunged his tongue inside my mouth. As he penetrated my mouth I could feel myself growing wetter. My mind filled with images of what he was about to do to my body and I somehow knew that he was mimicking that motion with his tongue.

  I pulled back with a gasp and started unbuttoning his shirt. He placed his hands on my shoulders and watched as I undressed him. I began to kiss every inch of flesh as it was revealed to me. I savored the taste of his skin, the feel of the fine hair on his chest as it brushed against my face. I stroked his body with my lips and my hands, drinking in the familiar scent of his cologne. When I pressed my lips against the curve of his hip he asked, “Is my body everything you remembered?”

  I stood then and looked closely at his face. I had never told him about my first dream all those years ago. He had no other way of knowing that unless ….

  “I was there,” he whispered. “It did happen. This is happening.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He smiled and I reached up to trace the contours of his mouth. I ran my fingertips lightly over his thin moustache. It ran in a fine line past the corners of his mouth and became fuller beneath his chin, coming to a point underneath his lips. His smile grew wider when I touched that point. I think it tickled.

  “You said that tonight you would accept me as Vincent. Then speak to me that way.”

  I stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss against his cheek. His hair spilled forward, cascading over my face and I cried. I couldn’t help it.

  “I’ve missed you,” I said softly and my voice shook with emotion. “I’ve missed the way your hair smells, the way it feels against my skin.” He held me tighter and I pressed myself against him. I
needed to feel his body again. “I’ve missed the way this feels.” I pulled back to look at him and felt tears sliding down my face.

  “I have turned down so many men because they couldn’t compete with the memory of you. And you weren’t even real.”

  Chapter Seven

  “I am real now,” he said softly.

  I touched his face once more and marveled at the way he felt. He was just as solid as the floor beneath me. He was really standing there.

  “I never intended for this to happen,” he said. “And I especially never meant to hurt you. Every time you reached out for me I tried to resist. I tried to stay away.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “No matter how much I fought, I could feel myself surrender each time I saw your face.”

  I cried harder and fell into his arms. This wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind when I invited him back in, but it was what I needed. I wept for all the pain I felt when I had read his words, all of the loneliness I still felt in his touch. I cried for all the sleepless nights, for all the times I’d had my heart broken when another real live man didn’t live up to my expectations. My knees began to buckle and he lowered us both to the floor. My arms were still wrapped tightly around his waist underneath his shirt. I pressed my palms against his back. I was starving to death for the feel of him. I had been deprived for too long of just his nearness.

  I ran my hands over his chest, trying to stop the flow of tears.

  “If I touch you now and you disappear in the morning I might go crazy. I can’t take that again.”

  “I cannot take the sunlight,” he said softly. “But if you want me to stay, I will be here in the morning. Is that what you want?”

  “I’m not sure. I just don’t want you to go away again.”

  “Then I will stay.”

  He was so close when he spoke that his words were a whisper against my lips, a warm promise of what was to come. He pressed his lips against my face, kissing me as he wiped my tears. What began as a compassionate gesture quickly turned to something more. His touch brought back so many memories. It was killing me and yet I wanted more.