by Ashley Black
He was gone.
My beautiful Brett was gone.
Thornton’s face glowered at mine on the TV screen. “I have never met one who has more than one spirit,” he drawled, eyes flashing. “Do tell me, Elena, how do you manage it?”
Three
“So he just left you?” Aaron, my agent and one of my best friends asked again as we huddled in the darkest corner of the only decent bar in Ashby – Revolver. The black and silver decor suited me just fine.
“Yes,” I said flatly. Answering the question for the millionth time didn’t help make it seem any more real. It was getting annoying.
“Nothing before he left? No ass fucking?”
I laughed at that. “We only do that on special occasions,” I reproached.
“Leaving you is sort of an occasion; actually it is more an unspeakable event,” Aaron mused, his generous lips quirked into a sympathetic smile as he considered me over his glass of red. I wanted to sleep tonight so I had asked him to order the biggest, baddest, boldest red wine he could find. Red wine always made me sleep.
I handed over a note Brett had painted and left on the easel of his studio, before he had left me bent over our kitchen table bare-assed. Fucker. Asshole. I hated him so much right now.
“He tries to explain it in this.”
Aaron’s puffy fingers flashed over the note. “Does the man not know how to leave you a text message?”
“He’s an artist,” I sighed. “I guess this was easier.”
“There is nothing easy about leaving you, Elena,” Aaron disagreed, and quickly scanned the contents of the note painted and smudged in blue paint. I peered over his shoulder and reread the horrendous piece of shit.
El -
I am sorry. I really am. I tried so hard. I did. But be honest now, things haven’t been right between us for a while.
I want to marry the fuck out of you.
I mean this.
But I have an important exhibit coming up and I need complete focus.
Where we are right now, this awful indifferent place is distracting. I can’t create for the distance between us.
Just let me get these pieces done alone for the show.
A break will be good for us.
To be clear, I am not leaving you.
We’ve just made the pause that has been hanging over us official.
I love you so much, my Enchantress.
Brett xxx
I had smiled wryly at the mention of ‘enchantress’. Brett and I had researched my family history after my Grandmother had died and left me with a well-worn dog eared spell book, and discovered that I had come from a line of witches, some of whom had been tragically burned at the stake in the Salem witch trials. The bodacious babes of this line of ladies had become known as ‘enchantresses’ because their energy suckered folk in to do their every bidding. I had a natural charisma, I admit. Folk were drawn to me, and described an energy and magnetism that captivated them. They couldn’t help but want to know me, and want me in their lives.
It had worked a treat for my book sales, with some jealous authors ranting from the sidelines accusing me of some kind of witchcraft and sorcery for how I had seemed to explode on the scene out of nowhere to become an overnight success.
Of course it appeared that way. But in truth, it had been a lot of hard fucking work and spectacular almost-falls off the cliff of giving up. No. Success had not been easy.
Men, however, always had been.
“Well, that is just a confusing mess,” Aaron groaned, pressing the note into my hand.
“I know,” I agreed, despairing and taking a long gulp of my red wine. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Nothing,” Aaron advised. “With the exception of writing your little heart out because that tends to keep me in a job.”
I sniggered and fished my phone out of my bag when it beeped. I had expected a message from Brett.
I froze.
It was from Thornton Darko.
Well ?
I blushed, feeling my eyes widen. Shit. I forgot I had agreed to tease him. Every single day of December.
Right.
I was turning up nothing.
“Who’s that?” Aaron asked, steel-grey eyes flashing their concern at the effect hearing from Mr. Cellrager himself appeared to have had on me. I was freaking the fuck out right now. I bit my lip.
“I met someone last night,” I confessed.
“How perfectly timed with Brett now out of the picture,” my agent enthused as he topped up my glass with more of the red elixir of bliss.
“Brett is still very much in the picture,” I disagreed.
“Sure… I believe you.” Aaron’s round face flushed red.
“What is it?” I asked in alarm.
“You won’t tell Daniel will you if I order us a cheese platter. He’s got me on a diet again.”
I rolled my eyes at Aaron’s lack of self control, and felt a twinge of sympathy for his partner, the long-suffering Daniel, a gorgeous model who prided himself on maintaining his perfect body while Aaron regularly insisted on trashing his. He had dieted, only to put all the weight back on again, and then some. I was so used to the constant inflation and deflation of my bestie, it had become a running joke. Still, I knew Aaron felt terrible about it, so I dared not laugh at his predicament. I was a bitch, sure, but not that much of a bitch.
Aaron’s chubby fingers moved over the buttons of his vest that was straining around his girth, and bit his lip as a storm cloud rushed in over his flushed face. “He said I’m too fat to fuck at the moment.”
“Wow!” My brows rose. “Got you on bread and water now? This sounds serious.” I plucked the menu from him. “Then you are definitely not going to order a cheese platter, my friend.”
He nodded.
“Hey,” I said gently. “You all right buddy?”
Aaron burst into tears, running a hand over his bald head. He had at the too young age of twenty five started losing his glorious hair, and had just decided to shave it all off than deal with its deterioration. His mantra the year he did this had been ‘impermanence’. Still, the look suited him; then again, he had a gorgeous face that made any hair style look good (and he’d had many tragic hair styles over the time I knew him).
He sobbed quietly against my shoulder. “I really am afraid he is going to leave me this time.”
“Then what are you going to do about it?”
“I haven’t committed carbocide yet.” he sighed. “But it is imminent.”
“No,” I said firmly. “Let’s go for a walk. Drink up. We’ll grab a traveller at the mini mart on the way, and we’ll walk down to the pier like old times.”
“Ugh,” Aaron complained, leaning back from me, and wiping his tears away on the back of his hand. “That sounds truly terrible. Too much effort. I hate your walks, you long-legged freak.”
I smirked. I was only slightly taller than average, but my killer heels just tended to give the illusion of epic, ass-kicking height.
“But thanks,” he went on more quietly. “Daniel is worth it, Elena. He is the most caring, attentive man. He puts up with a lot of shit from me. I can’t think of anyone else who has his patience.”
“Walk we shall, then,” I declared, and stole a glance back down at my phone.
“Who did you meet?” Aaron asked. “Sorry, before I lost my shit you were about to talk about that, yeah?”
“Thornton Darko,” I answered automatically. Fuck. I slapped my forehead with my hand. Really? Why did I say that? I was hopeless for confessing and divulging all in my best friend. I guess I wasn’t going to stop now.
“That heavy metal dude right from Cellrager?” Aaron asked. “Wow! Daniel crushed on him for ages. He met him once, by the way. The man is…” Aaron’s voice fell away. “Wait? He’s in LA in that stupid castle he built that looks like something Dracula would live in? Didn’t realize Mr. Death tears was in our neck of the woods, little old seaside shanty Ashby.”
/>
“He isn’t,” I groaned. “I got drunk last night and left a message on his Facebook page, and then, well…” I hedged.
“Well?” Aaron pressed, I could see his hand twitching, the little shit was so about to go for my phone.
I held onto it even more tightly. “We just got to talking. He is rather charming. He called me a tease.”
“Well,” Aaron sniggered. “He ain’t wrong there.”
I punched my friend’s shoulder playfully. “I proposed to tease him every day this month and he could let me know how I did at the end?”
“What if you do well?” Aaron asked, looking concerned.
“I get his demon seed,” I smirked.
“And bad?”
“I get sacrificed to the devil. Isn’t that what they thought happened to his wife?”
Aaron laughed raucously. “So... whatever possessed you to suggest something so utterly ridiculous? Teasing a rock star on a daily basis?”
I pointed to the gleaming row of bottles behind the bar. “Tequila.”
“Well… you are the most functional drunk I know,” he breathed. “Is that why Brett left? Because you started teasing Thornton Darko?”
I shook my head, ignoring the tears that were starting to threaten always lurking there beyond my all my bull shit bravado. “So… I need to tease a highly intelligent, insanely creative, talented man, and I’m fucking stumped,” I groaned. “What should I say?”
Aaron sighed, chin in hand, appearing to consider. “Just be you, Elena. Your attention is a tease enough. You could just send something like this… I was thinking… and leave it at that, and the man’s stupid imagination will fill in the blanks.”
“I like it!’ I laughed, and suddenly inspired, I took my wine glass in hand with its dark red embracing nectar, and placed my tongue against it, holding the camera up and slightly narrowing my eyes this time.
“What the actual fuck now?” Aaron bounded to my side of the little lounge as I uploaded the picture. It was perfect. Amazing. I rarely got these things right the first time. Still, I felt I should get my agent’s approval. “What do you think?”
“It’s fucking hot! But what does it mean?”
“Watch and learn,” I smirked, and fired up Messenger on my phone. I am about to enjoy a bottle of Thornton Darko. It is the best red wine on this side of Ashby. But I can’t drink it too fast. This glorious vintage needs to be… indulged. So I stared at this glass of you for an hour. I caressed it with kisses, and now I am reduced to pure animal and am licking it – see picture below. I want to enjoy every drop of you, Thorn. Every single drop ought to be savoured. I would bathe in your blood. Like the Countess herself, Bathory. I would emerge a hotter and more bad ass version of me for it. You are… life. You are… the reason…
“Holy shit!” Aaron squeaked after I had sent the message. “He will fucking love that!”
I shrugged. “Thornton Darko isn’t easily impressed, my friend. And now after sending that piece of shit, I need a tequila.”
“No, you don’t,” Aaron said quietly. “I want to talk to you when we’re walking. If you drink that tequila, I may as well talk to myself. You sort of turn into an asshole when you’re too drunk.”
I swallowed my heart that had leapt into my throat.
Fuck me, he was right.
I nodded, hurt but not hurt. “You’re right.” Inside my mind was screaming, I don’t want to walk around town and hear about what has happened, I just want to know what you will do. Otherwise, what is the point. Past is past.
“Bathroom,” I said quietly. “And then, we’ll go for that walk.”
Aaron caught my hand as I was rising to leave. “I hurt your feelings, honey, I can see that. I am so sorry. Please. YOU can talk as much shit as you like. You can drink all the tequila for all I care. I am making this about me, when it is really about you. Brett left you today, sweetie. I know you don’t think he did from that stupid painted message. But that fucker was trying to spare your feelings.”
“Yep, he really did,” I snarled. “When he left me bent over bare-assed against the kitchen table. He really did a great job of sparing my feelings Aaron.”
Laughter tumbled around us. I gaped in shock. When had it got so damn busy in this shit hole? Fuck me. I pushed my credit card into Aaron’s hand, but he shook his head. “No, no way, you are one of my most prolific writers, the other shitheads keep me waiting many months for a book, you churn one out in two weeks. I love you, lady. This piss up is on me.”
I smiled, walked past the laughing yipping idiot man folk, and made my way to the bathroom. And of course, as I was contemplating my reflection in the mirror, Thorn responded to my message.
I don’t think you could handle even a taste of me, Elena. But assuming you could, how would you taste me?
I bit my lip, feeling my brows draw together in a frown of concentration. Relax, I coached myself. Shit. Maybe I had gone a bit too far with that last message. He thought I was the most talentless half-witted writer ever, I was convinced. I cringed now seeing it. I shouldn’t have said the ‘bathe in him’ thing. That was more than a little fucked, and I was sure every other fuck tard of a fan had said that to him.
This had to be good.
Everything depended upon it.
I loved and respected this man, and he had given me my writing mojo back when I needed it the most. My thumb shook as it hovered over my phone. Then I went in.
Just a taste? I don’t think even with my powers of imagination that I can describe that, Thorn. I couldn’t just taste you. Impossible. I would end up devouring you.
The little notification flashed, SEEN.
That was bad, I decided. But it would have to do. I stuffed my phone back into my bag, and then inspired, I fired another message.
A little greedy, aren’t we? I said one tease per day? You already received your tease. xx
SEEN
Then:
Devour me. Hmmm, that is entirely to my liking - thank you for that image.
Also, did you tease me? When? I haven’t been teased tonight. Was it that cute picture of you licking a wine glass? Or that strange befuddled message about bathing in my blood like a certain damned countess?
Where was the tease, Elena?
I laughed out loud. I couldn’t help myself.
Go fuck yourself. I messaged before I could stop myself.
Much better, was the response.
Then:
I like you. You are a lot of fun. I think Cellrager needs to come to Ashby. What do you think? I nodded. I think Ashby would never be the same, but it would be an improvement. Come raise hell. Wake everyone the fuck up.
He was responding rather quickly.
I cannot raise hell. We are already in it, Elena. I can only try to make it more bearable. That is what Cellrager is all about, after all. Our tiny prisons of hell we create for ourselves whenever we step into the comfort zone. Seriously, though. Keep teasing me. I like it.
He then sent me a picture – he had turned away from his laptop and had flashed me a wry smile, his dark green eyes shining bright. It was the friendliest smile I had ever seen on him. Ever. This was rare. He looked… happy.
Fuck me, he was gorgeous; my breath was stolen for a moment looking at him.
Next time, don’t hold back. I want you to rape me with your words. Good night, Elena.
Contradictory piece of shit. I sighed and even though I was being a smart ass, I couldn’t help myself as I messaged back:
Then you don’t understand the concept of the Tease, my friend. Raping you with my words would be too overtly obvious, your TEASE needs to be finely balanced and nuanced.
All I got back was:
I am not your friend.
No, I agreed. You are most definitely not. You are my fucking fantasy, and you are speaking to me now, and it is quietly blowing my mind.
When I finally re-emerged from the bathroom, I walked smack into a very anxious-looking Aaron who was gripping his bald h
ead in agitation.
“Did you not get all my calls and messages?!” he hissed, grey flint eyes shooting sparks of outrage.
I shook my head. “What the fuck is going on?”
“I found us an exit out the back of this dump, we’re going to need it. One of those fuckers out there clearly hates you, and just tipped off the media that you are here and … that the famous artist Brett Argosy has left you. The vultures are here and waiting for you, Elena.”
“Oh.” I felt my body freeze all the way down to the tips of my toes.
Aaron pulled me after him. “Let’s go.”
“Sure,” I heard myself say dully.
“I am going to call your media people, as no doubt Brett will be calling his. Hon, if you want your stories aligned, you might want to call Brett and find out what’s going on,” he suggested gently as he steered me toward the exit.
I nodded numbly and held up my phone, now flashing Brett’s name. “Too late. He’s already on it.”
Four
Brett was very insistent that I get out of Ashby, away from those small minded fuckers. I told him that I loved it when he talked dirty to me, but he reprimanded me for teasing him, and then later that night, after walking down to the pier to sit on the edge of it with Aaron and talk shit, or as he put it more kindly ‘philosophise,’ I had tried to call him, drunk. He did not answer. I guess I should be grateful he didn’t respond. I would not have made a lick of sense anyway. Besides, if possible, I would have made things worse. My Brett. That night my hand kept trailing across to the cold unrelenting side of his bed reaching for him. Gone. But not forever. We were still engaged. For now.
I had to reluctantly admit the break was doing both of us good, at least in terms of our art. We were both smashing out our awesome at a prolific rate - Brett for the gallery owner, and me for my publisher who had FINALLY backed off my ass when I got part one of the final book in the vampire biker erotic romance series to them for their viewing pleasure. It was the best book I had written for awhile; this thing actually had some of my old intensity in it, since my creativity was… overwhelming me. It took everything out of me. Well, there was another reason why creativity was pouring out of me. I was horny. I felt like I was a warm puddle barely holding any kind of form. I was so … wet all the time. My pussy stirred when my imagination did, and she yearned to be filled.
