He faded like a fireworks display. The brilliant explosion of light and joy dulled to smoke, which dissipated in the breeze.
My heart shriveled.
A cold numbness engulfed me.
Two words escaped my lips.
"Come back."
Chapter Five
I unrolled my yellow yoga mat, sat crossed legged on it and inhaled the serenity of my life. Three days of no disembodied voices speaking to me. Nothing floated across my room. Fire didn’t erupt in my womanly parts. Well, that part was kind of a bad thing. But, I did get to spend the whole weekend at my office cleaning up a million little details. The Asian quarterly forecast looked good. Sizeable Christmas bonus. I wiggled my butt against the mat.
"Hey you." Kat plopped her mat next to mine. "You wouldn't believe the day I had. The Garland quadruplets were in today for their annual checkup. May chaos reign supreme? Why out of all the dentists did…"
Blah. Blah blah blah. That's all I heard.
The touch of her hand on my arm snapped me out of my reverie. "You okay? You totally zoned out. Too tired from spending a weekend at the beach?"
"What?" You know the saying, 'your heart jumps up into your throat'. Well it really does.
She rubbed my arm. "You've got a bit of a tan. Tried to call—"
The entrance of Joi, our instructor, cut off Kat's sentence. "Coffee, after class. Your treat." Kat winked and turned her focus to the front.
Yoga is my meditation. I let my thoughts wander. Usually, they flow to my happy place, either a sun drenched beach with a hot handsome companion or a box filled with dark chocolates. But today, there was no focus. My warrior pose sucked; a baby kitten could have tipped me over. And down dog, let's just not go there. But no, I didn't hurt myself when my hands slipped out from under me and I face planted on the mat. Thanks for asking.
Hearing Joi say, "Namaste" was like being released for summer vacation. I barged out the door, changed my clothes, grabbed my purse and hurried out to catch a cab. Ten thousand taxis in this city and not one of them passed by the Flowering Joi Yoga Center. My yoga mat tapped my shoulder. Thall?
I turned my head. Kat stood next to me, holding my mat. "You forgot this in class."
"Thanks." I tucked it under my arm.
She stepped out on the road and shrilled out a tomboy whistle. A cab pulled next to her and stopped. Kat glanced back. "Coming? Or do I have to haul you in here?"
I trudged over and slipped onto the back seat.
Kat tapped the glass divider. "O'Malleys. Know it?"
The cabbie nodded and cut into traffic.
I resettled myself after being lurched to the side when the taxi moved. "O'Malley's? I thought we were going for coffee?"
Kat turned toward the other window. Her reflection showed her biting her bottom lip as she fought back a chuckle. She looked back at me. "Honey, anyone who face plants that bad during down dog pose needs a beer."
I scrunched up my nose and closed my eyes. "Oh, you noticed."
"Three quarters of the class noticed."
Bouncing off the door panel as we veered round a corner, I glanced out the window. The big shamrock in O'Malley's neon sign flashed invitingly. The cab slammed to a stop. I caught my purse from flying off my lap. After tossing a few bills through the divided, I scooted out of the taxi before he shot back into traffic.
O'Malley's is a step-back-in-time kind of Irish pub. Big polished wood bar on the right hand side, with a mirrored wall, numerous draft beer handles poking up and gleaming brass everywhere. Seating is mixed between tall bar stools and big padded chairs nestled around dark wood tables. The TV, up in the corner, is usually on a European football match. Patrick, the bartender, has a passable Irish lilt in his voice. But I suspect he's from Jersey.
We settled into a corner booth facing out into the bar. Kat ordered a half-pint of Kilkenny Irish Cream Ale, and I asked for the same in a Guinness Draught. No ordering a Bud Light or Coors here. This is an Irish pub. Legend has it, the last person who ordered a non-Irish beer volunteered to be the backstop for a dart tournament.
"Can I skip the pleasantries and go straight to what's wrong?" Kat clicked her cell phone shut and tossed it into her purse. That meant she was serious. It was girl talk time. "Oh, and don't bullshit me that it's nothing or that you're okay. I know you. Something's up. Where'd you go this weekend? I called and called."
The waitress placed our beers on the table. I paid for the two with a sizeable tip then wrapped my fingers around the glass and sighed. Guinness is a stout. That's a dark beer and kind of strong—exactly what I needed. The thick inch of froth on my drink was a little butterfly of joy. I swiped my finger through the foam and licked it clean.
"Suck anything else this weekend?"
I looked up from my beer into Kat's smiling face. I shrugged. "No. I spent all of Saturday and most of Sunday in my office."
Kat raised her beer and held it out for me to clink glasses. "To weekends you supposedly spent in your office, getting a tan and possibly sucking foam off of something, but you won't confess to any of it."
I shook my head as I clinked her glass and gulped several mouthfuls of the stout. Running my tongue around my lips, I cleaned off every drip of froth.
"Either I'm super horny or…well, there is no or. Everything you've done is sending out signals to every guy in this place to drag you to his place and fuck your brains out."
Someone already did. "Don't know what you're talking about. Drink your beer."
She swallowed the amber liquid, then leaned in close. "See the guy in the brown sweater?"
When I lifted my head to turn in his direction, she hit my arm. "Not now. Wait. Okay now, look."
Casually looking left at the "Restrooms this way sign" I turned and glanced at the five men seated at the bar. Number three in the lineup was staring at me or the photo of an Irish footballer over my head.
I picked up my glass and poured brewed malt with a hint of chocolate heaven into my mouth and swallowed. "I see him. What?"
Kat giggled. "When you licked your lips I think he got a hard on."
"Well, he can keep it to himself." I dipped my finger into the last of the froth and dragged it across my tongue. "Waitress."
The girl turned and stepped near the table. I pointed between Kat and I. "Another round."
"Kilkenny Irish for you right?"
Kat nodded.
"Back in a moment."
"Make you a deal." I picked up my drink. "We chat about the weather, new shoes, celebrity gossip. Anything that doesn’t have anything to do with me until we've finished our second drinks. If we're still standing, I'll tell you everything." Problem with a stout, you can't chug it. I swallowed another mouthful.
"Uh, just for clarification, we're sitting." Kat gulped the last of her ale and placed the glass near the edge of the table.
The drinks arrived. We chatted. Our second beers were replaced with our third.
Kat folded her hands around her glass and smiled. "Third beer and still sitting. Start talking."
"Let me preface this—"
Cheers from the patron's cut me off. We both glanced up at the TV screen. Sexy, sweaty, soccer studs were jumping into each other's arms and ripping their shirts off. Note to self – watch more soccer.
I banged my glass on the table. "Again. Let me preface this with guys suck."
Kat squirmed. "I knew this was about a guy."
Squelching the doubts rising up in me, I rubbed my forehead. "I'm not sure you're drunk enough to hear this or I'm drunk enough to tell it."
"Dare I ask Patrick for tequila?"
I held up my hand. "Hell, no. Do you want darts thrown at you by those guys?" I tilted my head toward the other patrons. "Okay, but you have to promise not to laugh. Or think I'm crazy."
Kat swiped her index finger across her chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die."
"I met a guy. But he's not real."
The bar patrons jumped up and cheered. Their excitemen
t had better be for the game and not for my love life.
Kat mouthed the words, "What? I didn't hear you?"
"I know, it's getting loud in here. I said, I met a guy. But he's not real."
Kat took a sip of her cream ale and swallowed. A what is she talking about? expression crossed her face. "You mean like you met someone online? One of those dating service sites."
Not exactly. "No. I met him at the sex toy convention thing we went to on Thursday."
Kat scratched her nose. That was a good sign. The end of her nose always itches when she gets drunk. "You were with me most of the time. And we left together, so when and how did you meet a guy?"
"Whole story. Don't interrupt. When we were walking through the displays, I heard a voice. He spoke to me, but I couldn't see who it was. He followed me home."
"A stalker!" She popped her hand over her lips.
"No. A Fate. Or actually, the son of a Fate." As I continued with my rambling and muddled explanation, our waitress deposited round number four. I was half finished with it when I got to the part – "And the sex was so hot, but he isn't real, so I told him to go away. Cause I need a man. A real man. I can't date the air. And now I miss him."
Kat rubbed her nose. "If I wasn't drunk, I'd call the funny farm and book you a room. This isn't possible."
"But somehow it is. I've got a tan. It's mid-April, winter's barely over. I shouldn't have a tan."
Kat leaned over toward me. Her breath smelled like cream ale. "So, what was it like?"
"The sex?"
"No, the nipple clamps. I really wanted to buy a pair."
"Kat." I fell back against the chair and rubbed my face. "I just told you I met a Fate and had incredible beach sex and all you got out of it was I own nipple clamps."
A frigid chill ran down my back. I glanced up. Every male in the bar was staring at me. Most had that stupid, horny grin on their faces. Why? Because the second I said, I own nipple clamps, the room went dead silent and everyone heard me.
So I did what any self-respecting but totally humiliated woman would do, I ordered another beer.
Kelly-Anne brought it over and smiled. She was practically my bitch by now as I'd been over tipping the whole night. "Patrick said this one's on the house."
"Well you can tell Patrick, I'm not gonna show him my nipple clamps." I glanced up at the other patrons. "Or anybody else."
A case of the giggles hit Kat. She kept trying to tell me something, but would shake with laughter and could only spit out a garbled mess of words. "Yo zed plmps."
Four and a half Guinness Draughts in you and it doesn't take long for the infectious giggling to invade your body. I wiped the tears of laughter from my eyes and started singing, "When Irish eyes are smiling. De da de dum, I don't know the words. But when Irish eyes are smiling…de dum de de da dum dee." I held that last note for several seconds. And proudly I might add, I was only a little off key.
"Okay. Okay. I got it." Kat placed her hand on her chest and tried to control her breathing. "You said nipple clamps!" She burst into hysterics and knocked over her empty beer glass.
"Time to go." I stood and swayed. My knees buckled. The chair pad rose up and met my butt. No, reverse that, I sat down.
It took several attempts, but Kat and I made it up out of our chairs—hold the applause—picked up our purses and yoga mats and stumbled across the bar. Kat performed a majestic good night bow to the other patrons and hit her head on the edge of the table. When I picked her up off the floor, blood dribbled down her forehead.
I dug a tissue out of my pocket and dabbed at the blood. "One of us is so going to have a headache tomorrow."
Kat looked around. "Who?"
I grasped her elbow and marched her two steps forward when I realized I wasn't heading for the door so much as heading toward its reflection in the mirror. Marshalling all the sophistication I could, I turned us around and headed out the exit.
"Oh, look a cab." Kat stumbled forward and grabbed the door handle.
"No, Kat hon, that's one of our city's finest." I smiled at the officers and directed her over to where three cabs where lined up.
I opened the back door, gave her a little shove to get in and gave the driver her address.
Kat scooted back across the seat, rested her head on my shoulder and patted my hand. "Poor you."
"Why poor me?"
"My best friend is in love with a Fate." Then she broke into Robert Palmer's Addicted to Love.
I stared out the cab window watching the blur of the city lights race by. How do you love a voice? A voice that gives you soul-shattering orgasms. Ones that I am definitely addicted to. Why was I so stupid to push him away? How do I get him back?
Chapter Six - Thall
I stretched out on my recliner chair and sighed. "Why do we have to be in corporeal form?" Shifting in my seat, I rubbed my leg. "This chair thing is extremely uncomfortable and I'm itchy."
All seven hundred and fifteen of my brothers, sisters and cousins turned and glared at me. "We all agreed, Thall." My sister, Xyno, threw a cheese puff at me. "To watch the final game of the World Series the same as humans do."
Calay reached over Xyno’s shoulder and grabbed a handful of cheese puffs. "We gave up our jurisdictions over our humans on either team and agreed to a group vote every time one of them calls upon us."
"This is the way the humans watch baseball." Calay's older cousin, Botta, pointed around the room. "We have chairs, beer, munchy food and a plasma screen TV."
"It's not even plugged in." I snorted and tossed the puff back at my sister. "We're the children of the Fates. We don't need a TV to—"
"Don't be such a Grumpy Gus." Xyno caught the cheese snack, placed it on her hand and used her middle finger to flick it at me. "Just because you were dumb enough to fall in love with a human. Don't spoil everyone else's fun."
Feeling the urge to defend my honor, I started to protest, but Xyno held up her index finger. "Sit there, drink beer and put a pretty smile on that face, or I'll tell Mom." She winked and turned her attention back to the baseball game.
I popped the cheese puff into my mouth and chewed. I'm six thousand years old and she threatens to tell our mother? Shifting around in the annoyingly uncomfortable chair, I scratched my cheek, left arm, and tried to reach the middle of my back. Damn arms aren't long enough. This is just stupid. I'd rather be anywhere but here. As long as Capri was there. Does she enjoy baseball? In the ten or so years she’s been under my domain, I don't ever remember her watching a game.
A cheer from the crowd startled me. "Game's tied. And they're going into the ninth inning." The cousin sitting on my left slapped me on the back. I inhaled two deep breaths and congratulated myself for not punching his bulbous and annoying nose.
"How many more innings before this torture is complete?" I glanced at Xyno and pasted a smile on my mouth. "See, I'm smiling. I'm happy Thall. Just sitting here. Scratching." I still couldn't reach that spot on my back.
"Nine. But with the game tied the Cardinals have to score in the bottom half," an older brother called out from somewhere behind me.
"The bottom half of—" No, don't ask. I don't really care the bottom half of what. I rubbed the bridge of my nose then held out my hand, waiting for the bottle of beer to float across to me. Lifting it to my lips, I let the icy liquid slip down my throat. Hmph, tastes just like the cheese puff. Only being able to eat Ambrosia makes for a boring selection of food. Capri had been sipping champagne when I whispered in her ear. I could sense it's sweetness on her breath. I would relish tasting champagne one day. With Capri.
I pulled another beer closer. I could pour the champagne down her breasts and lick them dry. That always looked like fun. Of course, I'd have to be in human form. Experimenting, I slid my tongue across the roof of my mouth. Wonder what it would feel like if Capri's tongue did that. Maybe having a sense of touch isn't so dreadful.
Using my thumbnail, I teased the edge of the beer label. My fingertips brushed the gla
ss. What a strange sensation. I slid my hand along the side of the bottle. The droplets of condensation made the glass slippery and coolness tickled my flesh. Her breasts would be warm. Instead of using my mind, how would it feel if I touched her like a human would?
I pictured Capri lying naked on her bed, her chestnut brown hair splashed against the pillow and her gaze on me as I reached out to caress her. I visualized placing the tips of my fingers on her chest and stroking downward across her white flesh and pink areola. Her nipples would respond and perk up, and she'd sigh as she arched her chest toward my touch. With one index finger, I'd trace the outline of her nipple experiencing its firmness. Around and around the nipple, letting my finger graze her skin as she softly sighed.
Wiggling in my jeans, I heaved an exasperated sigh. Damn. Even the clothes are uncomfortable.
Xyno leaned over and tapped my shoulder. "There’s something you should know about being corporeal."
Not really caring about what she had to say, I lifted my beer to my mouth and drank while waiting for her to finish interrupting my little fantasy.
"With your unique ability to become human, sensations will be more intense."
I lifted an eyebrow and tossed her a So what look.
She rolled her eyes.
Geesh, she's twenty-four thousand years old and she rolled her eyes at me.
"When male humans think intimate thoughts their bodies respond. And from the looks of the swelling in your jeans, you are endowed with quite a cock."
When I tugged at the front of my pants, my hand bumped a large, rock hard swelling. "How do you know such things?"
The tinkle of her laughter lightened my morose mood. "Brother, while you have the blood of the war god, Astabis, in you, I have the blood of Eros. Your matters are mostly of the battlefield. Courage. Fight. Victory. Mine are lusty in nature. Seduction." She grinned and waggled her eyebrows up and down. "And a bit of fight and victory. You help the warrior win his battle. I help him bed his wench."
"I suspect you had more fun helping your humans than I had with mine." I peeled a strip of label off my empty beer bottle.
Xyno giggled. "No naked women on the battlefield?"
Capri's Fate Page 4
