"That's okay. I'm here to let you know my son's coming to visit me."
"How wonderful for you!"
"No it ain't. He's a pest. Wants to check up on how I'm doing."
"That is considerate."
"Wants to put me in some old-age home and sell the land."
"He said that?"
"I've known him all his twenty-seven years. I can read his mind."
"Your wife?"
"Dead. Died giving birth to the shit."
"I'm certainly glad you dropped by to tell me the latest news. If there's anything I can do--"
"There is."
Marie's gut knotted.
"See, he thinks I have friends."
"And you and I..."
He nodded.
"I'd be delighted to be your friend. However, since we are such old buddies, I must insist you come in for some hot chocolate, dear."
She saw Keith wince. I dare you to correct me. He didn't. She threw open the antique oak door and invited him in with a crook of her finger.
"If the éclairs are too rich for you, I have some angel food cake."
"Nothing wrong with my stomach."
"Good."
Chapter 5
Louis had stopped at a pet shop, where he had selected a beautiful white rabbit. The animal was plump and healthy.
"I'll take it," he had said.
"I have to warn you, sir, he has a nasty temper and has nipped several people."
No problem, Louis thought, Liliana can be far nastier when hungry.
His niece, Liliana, had sworn off human blood ever since she had fallen for the British espèce de crétin Stuart. Melodramatic, he thought. He couldn't understand her constant whining about lost youth, when forever she would look seventeen. And she would never have babies. She never would have brats that would keep her locked away in an insane asylum, as he had had.
Suddenly the Jaguar was filled with an offensive odor.
"Alors! You were too well-fed. You'll have to sit in it until we get home, Monsieur Lapin de Garenne."
In answer there was a steady beating against the walls of the animal carrier.
"Ah, Liliana, obviously I would do anything to see you happy again. However, mortality cannot be my gift to you. Instead I gave you eternal life and received tears from you in return.
"Lapin, is that fair? If I were to give you eternal life..."
A loud fart came from the carrier.
"Jamais! Never! If Liliana does not suck you dry, I shall make a stew of you."
* * *
The cup slipped from her fingers and crashed into pieces against the porcelain of the sink. Liliana's hands shook. She needed fresh blood. The blood extracted from cadavers kept her going only for a short while.
Three years before, she had gotten a job near the city at an embalming company that serviced several funeral homes. She would position a dead body on the embalming table so that the blood would flow into the gutters that ringed the table. From there the blood would drip into pails. Most times she worked alone, but when another worker was present she would have to take great care to save the blood before someone could dispose of it. The blood was not rich in the nutrients she needed but did afford some assistance in staving off starvation.
Slowly she picked up the jagged pieces of china. Lennox. Relatively new and simple. Too simple for her Uncle Donatien, who preferred the ornate and antique.
She dropped the pieces of china into the garbage.
"Ma petite!"
"In the kitchen, Uncle Donatien!"
"My precious pet," said Louis as he entered the room with arms outstretched.
Liliana tolerated the hug and the un-uncle-like kiss Louis persisted in giving.
He sniffed the air.
"Blood. Sour, bitter blood. Have you been drinking that horrid filth again?"
"I brought home some blood from work and just had a cup of it."
"Yech! Did you store that garbage in our cooler?"
"Yes, I put the left-overs in the refrigerator. I don't want to argue over it, Uncle."
"Dead blood in our home, among our vittles."
"Uncle, we're dead."
"Mais non. Dead is when you putrefy and disappear into dust. We, child, thrive in the arms of immortality."
"We can be destroyed."
"Ah, a sin."
"A reality check, Uncle."
"And here I have brought home a gift for you. Something at least better than that awful stuff you steal from work. Work!"
"I work to feed myself. I can't manage to get enough animal blood to satisfy my appetite."
"Of course not, animal blood is thin. It lacks the richness of warm fresh human blood."
"No, Uncle, I'm not returning to feed on others like ourselves."
"You compare us to these mortal wimps that cross our paths?"
Liliana started for the doorway.
"Wait! I've brought you something alive."
"And probably small and cuddly."
"You get pleasure drinking from those horrid rats?"
Liliana shrugged and faced her uncle. "What did you bring home?"
"It needs to be cleaned up a bit. I was going to bathe him before delivering him to you."
"You caught something in the wild?"
"No, it has the... la chiasse."
"Dysentery! It must be ill. Where is it?"
"Not malade, more like ill-tempered. He's in the animal carrier in my car."
Liliana hurried out to retrieve the animal and was delighted and left breathless when she opened the carrier.
While being washed in the bathtub, the rabbit managed to take more than a nibble from one of Liliana's fingers. Her cry brought the sound of her uncle's French curses to her ears. Eventually the rabbit was cleaned and bundled in a natural Egyptian cotton towel and taken to be reacquainted with Louis.
"He is adorable. There's no way I can take his life."
"If you don't, I'll throw him live into a stew pot."
"You wouldn't dare!"
Donatien Alphonse François de Sade rose nobly from the feather cushion of the couch and walked over to where his niece stood.
"Please, child, you refuse the charming men I have brought home for you. At least accept this small token of my love.
"Your skin was once so soft. Now it is papery thin, and blotched from the many years of famine." He touched her cheek and slid the back of his fingers across her lips. "My favorite little girl."
During these awkward moments Liliana was glad that she looked wasted to her uncle. She believed it was the only thing that saved her from his incestuous desire.
"Did you see Grandmother today?"
Her uncle shook is head and stepped closer. She was sure he would have taken her in his arms, except that the rabbit let out a loud and smelly fart.
"Mais non!" Louis quickly backed away. "I have not seen her in a couple of days, but she is fine. She always gets her way, why shouldn't she be fine?"
"Grandmother deals in a very dangerous business."
"Dangerous only for her customers. She is Maîtresse la Présidente. The finest dominatrix on the East Coast of the United States. Now on the West Coast--"
"Please, I worry about her. After all, she is my grandmother and your mother-in-law. What if someone realizes what she is? Don't you feel any responsibility? You're the one who made her a vampire."
"She demanded to be made what she is. As for me, I had no choice. If I had refused, she would have left me in the Bastille for the rabble to tear apart.
"Ah, but you, my child, I made out of love."
Lust, Liliana silently corrected.
"I'm putting François in the hutch in the backyard with some food, and then I'm going to rest for a while."
"But it is night."
"I didn't have a chance to rest during the day. There was a lot of work to do. I had several autopsied bodies to work on and had to use the six-point injection. It's always more time- consuming for me when I have to dra
in the blood into the body cavity and then use a trocar to drain the chest of blood, making sure I don't lose any for my personal use."
"If you were not speaking of cadavers, you would be making me hungry."
"No kind of sensation is keener and more active than that of pain; its impressions are unmistakable."
The 120 Days of Sodom
by the
Marquis de Sade
Chapter 6
Garrett swooned in the ecstasy of the blood letting. That La Maîtresse deigned to feed from him elevated the thrill. His own orgasms did not have the power of her blood-sucking kisses.
Softly he felt her delicate breaths on his neck, felt the sting of the punctures and the moist exquisite movement of her lips.
He raised his body up into La Maîtresse's kiss, and she responded by tightening the clamp on his right nipple. The dark pink gag muffled his cry. Her long black fingernails traced a path down to his loin, and he found himself spreading his legs wider, praying for her touch to caress his manhood. Her fingernails danced circles around his cock, causing a pleasurable ache.
Garrett moaned and rubbed his tongue against the muslin material of the gag. His parched mouth, his neck wet with blood and spit, and his cock damp from the dribble of urgency combined to persuade him that the ecstasy must never end. Never cease to satisfy Maîtresse la Présidente, he told himself, for her pleasure increased his own four-fold.
He was fighting the end, resisting the inevitable release that he yearned for.
The nylon rope tying his hands behind his back limited his freedom, reminded him that he must hold back, allow the pleasure to go on and on. He fought himself and the rope.
Suddenly the knot on the rope gave way and his arms swung out from behind his back, laying out La Maîtresse in a bloody, disheveled heap.
Chapter 7
Liliana hurried up the stone steps into her grandmother's arms.
"You are so pretty today, my little one."
"Grandmother, why are you tying and untying that rope around the rail?" As Liliana spoke she picked up the book her grandmother had been reading. The Ashley Book of Knots. She looked down on the stone porch floor and saw The Klutz Book of Knots and The Boy Scout Fieldbook. "Homework?"
"Thank Heavens we vampires heal quickly."
"Grandmother, are you all right? What happened?"
"An accident caught me in the jaw, but my slave paid dearly for the mishap."
"I wish you would give up this brutal way of obtaining blood."
"There is no way to avoid brutality when we feed. You, my child, have chosen to limit your hunger to small animals, but is it any less brutal than what I do? My victims simply have slightly higher intelligence quotients." She paused. "Sometimes. However, what about the dead that you feed upon? It is disgusting and unhealthy, child. Do I proselytize to you about that?"
"You try, Grandmother."
"Yes, but damn it, it hasn't taken hold. My business is blooming. You could assist me. No sex. Simply tie up, beat, and drain a few of my customers. It would allow me more time for my favorites."
Attempting to change the topic, Liliana asked about the T-shaped bench at the far end of the porch.
"It's an Eton Bench that your uncle brought over. He wants to store it in my dungeon. I left it here out on the porch because I have no idea where it's been nor who has been enjoying their pleasures on it. Knowing your Uncle Donatien, probably some cheap strumpets."
Liliana turned away from her grandmother to smile. Her grandmother was intolerant of most things Uncle Donatien did. Perhaps with good reason, she thought, remembering her childhood and the stories she had heard about her uncle, the Marquis de Sade.
A dusty gold Cadillac of 60's vintage pulled into the driveway. Liliana did not recognize the man behind the wheel and feared that she had interrupted her grandmother's workday. A sloppy man in his seventies got out of the car.
"My dear, I didn't expect a visit from you today," her grandmother called.
"He's here." The man gruffly pronounced.
"Ah, your son. Liliana, this is Keith Bridgewater, a close friend."
The man grunted.
"And this is my granddaughter, Liliana. Keith's son has come to spend some time with his father. And we're both very excited about it." Marie flashed a smile at the man, who grudgingly nodded.
"How long is your son going to be staying, Mr. Bridgewater?" asked Liliana.
"Too long, probably."
"Keith has a wonderful sense of humor. Come up on the porch and sit for a while."
Slowly he climbed the steps. Reluctant to look at the women, he studied the ground instead. Once he was on the porch, his interest seemed piqued.
"What are you doing, studying about knots?"
"Oh, I wish I could share my interest with you, Keith." Marie reached out a hand to touch his face and he backed away.
"I need to take a leak. Mind if I use your bathroom?" he asked.
"You know where it is, dear."
He sighed and twisted around, almost knocking Liliana over, but she quickly got out of the way.
Once he was inside the house, Liliana turned to her grandmother.
"You must know him well to let him go into your house alone."
"If I hadn't let him use the bathroom immediately, I'm sure he would have pulled it out and pissed from the porch."
"Grandmother, is he a beau?"
"Him! Child, he is in his mid-seventies, and not terribly well-kept at that."
"A client, then."
"No. Although I do have fun working my wiles on him. It's so different to be able to torture a man with kindness. Come in, let's have a little fun."
Liliana opened her mouth to say she couldn't stay, but her grandmother pulled her into the house.
The entry hall did not reflect her grandmother's taste. Black-and-white earthenware tiles covered the floor. Marie believed only in marble. The walls were covered with tiresome still-lifes, some done by famous artists, but her grandmother favored portraits of nobility, especially those she had personally known. To the right side was an American Revolutionary-era side table. Antique to most, considered contemporary by her grandmother, and not very well made at that.
Liliana wondered why her grandmother had never bothered to redecorate the entry; after all, she had lived there for the past five years. She knew that for her grandmother the house was temporary, to be lived in only briefly while Paris had time to forget the Madame with the penchant for blood.
The salon had been altered. A portrait of Marie-Antoinette stood above the fireplace mantel. Grandmother had met the queen only once, but she spoke of her as an old friend. The furnishings were Louis XVI, from the jewel casket that had been designed for the Dauphine to the writing desk covered with Sèvres porcelain. When she was fleeing Paris, she could not leave these objects behind, even though the French police had begun to take an interest in her activities. Grandmother had delayed her departure several weeks while she supervised the packing and removal of her favorite furnishings.
"Sit down, child, while I go fetch Keith a beer."
"A beer?"
"His favorite: a Schlitz."
"Oh." Liliana sat down on the green velvet sofa and waited for the show.
Bridgewater came into the room while still zipping up. When he saw Liliana, he immediately dropped his hands to his sides and rubbed his thighs.
"Fancy home your grandma has here."
"Yes, she's collected the furniture over many years."
"I bet. They real or reproductions?"
"Real."
Marie swept into the room holding a can of Schlitz in one hand and a beer mug in the other. She handed both to Keith.
"Don't need the mug." He snatched the beer from her hand.
"I should have known."
"I hope I'm not intruding on your visit, Mr. Bridgewater," said Liliana.
"Hell, no. Makes no difference to me." He plopped down in a chair once owned by Charles VI. Liliana noted how
inappropriate he looked.
Marie seated herself next to her granddaughter.
"Aren't you two going to have beers?"
"Our tastes are a bit more refined, Keith."
"Nothing like a good beer. My dad loved the stuff so much, he used to joke about wanting to be fed beer up until the last, even if it was intravenously."
Marie screwed up her face. "Glad I never ran into your father."
He charged into the reason for his visit. "I'd like to bring my son over for a visit. Prove I've got a friend. He's a little peculiar. Lives in Greenwich Village in the city." He lowered his voice. "Into leather and piercings, that kind of thing."
"Really." Liliana noted how her grandmother's voice had brightened up.
"But don't mention the earring. He's also got rings stuck in his nipples. God, I don't want to know where else he may have them."
"I would."
"Uh?"
"Grandmother said that she would never bring it up in conversation." Liliana noticed that her grandmother had kicked off her shoes and was rubbing the sole of her right foot against the base of the table separating them from Bridgewater.
"So when can he come over?" Marie eagerly asked.
Chapter 8
Matilda had a daughter. A very pretty--no, beautiful-- daughter, with blonde ringlets floating down upon her shoulders and blue almond-shaped eyes. Long lashes naturally darker than her hair. A nose slender and pert. Full lips tinged a tomato red and teeth even, straight, and bright. Skin fair, clear, and he'd be willing to bet her flesh was soft and smooth. A body curved with luscious baby fat invited his touch. A student of dancing, she stood tall, although she was only five-six.
"Has Mom invited you to the recital?"
"Not yet. When will it be?"
"In two weeks. I'll be sure to get an invitation out to you."
"And I'll be sure I'm there, ma petite."
De Sade's housekeeper, Matilda, did not live on the premises, and she was limited to the public areas of the house. She kept the ground floor clean and ran errands during the day. The sun did not prevent Louis from leaving the house, but sometimes the languor that set in during the daylight hours slowed him down. Certainly he didn't want to waste energy on the mundane when the lower classes were eager for work.
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