Marquis de Sade
Chapter 42
Marie's red-stained tongue licked the surface of his penis in slow, long movements.
"Seems I may have a problem, Wil."
"What is it?" He sighed, delighting in the pleasure she gave him.
"One of my clients has died. And... my name has somehow been mentioned in connection with him. Very embarrassing, as you can imagine. I try very hard to be circumspect about my business, not only for my client's sake, but also my own. This has forced me to think about going back to Paris sooner than I had expected."
"You're going to leave me."
"No. However, we will have to travel separately, since I'll need you to look after an important... piece of luggage." Marie had found that the most comfortable way for her to travel was in her coffin.
"I can't leave my father."
"Your father has already left you, Wil. He's not coming back. Matter of fact, it's probably better that he not return to us. I mean, given the condition of his brain, he will never be able to function as he once did."
"I can't leave him."
Marie noticed the change in the timbre of his voice. He wanted to pull back from the passion in order to find his own integrity. Swiftly she took him fully into her mouth. She took his groan as an indication that she had overcome his moment of guilt.
"Before I leave," she hesitated, licking the tip of his cock. "I have someone special that I want to see stopped."
"Stopped? We're not talking murder, are we?"
"Oh fi, he's already dead."
"Are you stopping the burial or cremation?"
"Cremation. I like that. Burial would be useless in his case, but a nice bonfire would work very well."
"I must admit I'm not following you."
"I want you to destroy a coffin, preferably with a body inside it."
"Me? Why me?"
"How unladylike it would be for me to do it. Besides, my granddaughter would never forgive me. I want to be able to look Liliana in the eyes and seem shocked when she tells me."
"Will she be returning to Paris also?"
Marie flicked the switch she held across his penis.
"My granddaughter's not for you. Actually she's dating some math whiz quite happily." She gazed up into Wil's face. His dark eyes had lost the glisten of sensuality. His face paled from the volume of blood she had syphoned off. "One would think I don't make you happy."
"You remind me of the life I can't escape."
"We're put here for pleasure, Wil. Not to wallow in guilt. There should be no such thing as guilt. We do what is best for ourselves."
"A man who takes a life should not feel guilt?"
"No, Wil." She stretched her body across his, fingering the ropes that bound him to the bed. "Death can be a treasure or a waste, depending on one's ability to control the grim reaper's sleep."
"You mean if I were to kill you--"
Marie laughed. "You couldn't. I'm long past the fear of death. Only my body can be destroyed. My soul is now bound to the earth."
"You mean you're not going to heaven? That's a surprise." He smirked.
"I gave up heaven for pleasure."
"You mean all those saints I learned about in Sunday school missed out big."
She shrugged her naked shoulders. "Everyone has their own idea of pleasure. Mine is to exist forever."
Blood had crusted on his neck. She would have to be careful not to take too much. She needed to make him drink her own blemished blood. He would make a very masculine, sensual vampire once he recognized the strength she could give him.
"Mine is to make up for all those years I ignored my father."
"Your father is beyond any pleasure. He needs to pass on and return to dust."
"You want him dead?"
"I want you. That is all I can think about."
"And what about me and my happiness?"
"I will make you more than happy. I will share a secret power that I have."
"Is this going to be in a potion made up of mashed frog legs, bats wings, and whatever other witchy brew you can come up with?"
Marie bit down hard on her wrist. Blood bubbled to the surface. She squeezed the break in her flesh to allow the blood to flow freely.
"Shit! What the hell are you doing?"
"Share my brew now." She brought her wrist up to his lips and he turned his head.
"Only a fool would turn from my gift."
"Hey, I let you nuzzle up and suck some of my blood, but I've never had the desire to lap up anyone else's."
"Never?" She pursed her lips. "Never in a fit of passion have you drawn your tongue across a wound you have inflicted? Never in a blur of desire have you bitten down to taste the metallic juice of a lover? Never have you lapped at the remnants of a woman's bloody life-giving tissue?" She stared at his profile, seeing the turmoil twitch his flesh while he remained silent. "You have. Sometimes we can't control the sweetest temptations." Slowly she moved her wrist around to his lips. He did not turn away this time, but he did not suck on her flesh. Instead he allowed the blood to flow across his full lips, rivulets moistening the parchness of his flesh.
Gingerly Marie used her other hand to guide the drops of blood between his lips.
"Swallow, my love. Let me seep into your body."
His tongue met her bloodied fingers, licking, savoring the salty sweet taste.
Chapter 43
Liliana found herself laughing more as her dates with David became more frequent. He startled her darker side into believing that life had not been wasted on her. He touched her gently, and she savored each embrace they shared. Again as she remembered him in a former life, he cautiously approached intimacy, and Liliana slowly recalled the thrill of a passionate embrace, the rhythm of united bodies, even though it had never been with him.
David had tanned since first she had met him. His skin had turned from a pale white to a warm earth shade.
"How come you named him Françoise?" asked David as he scratched the rabbit behind its ear.
"I named him after my uncle."
"I can't imagine your uncle being pleased about that."
"Causing pain pleases him."
"I don't understand." David placed the rabbit back into its cage.
"My grandmother and uncle aren't speaking. Hell, they can't even tolerate the sight of each other." Liliana latched the cage door shut. "Grandmother refuses to say what happened between them, and Uncle implies that Grandmother is overreacting. To what? He won't tell me. Caught in the middle, what the hell am I supposed to do?"
"Not allow yourself to be pulled into their feud."
"I try, but I don't like the bitterness between them. They've never been on good terms with each other; however, they used to at least talk."
"Time will help."
"No, David. My gut tells me this is too serious."
"I've never met your grandmother. Is she as much of a terror as your uncle thinks she is?"
"He's spoken of her to you?"
"Yes. Her name was mingled in with some French words that I didn't understand, and I thought it best not to ask for a translation."
Liliana shook her head. Why must she give up a beautiful Saturday afternoon to her kin's feud? She took David's soft, firm hand in hers.
"Let's forget about the skeletons in the closet."
"Are there many, and do they bite?"
"Only a few... but they do bite."
David laughed. "Your family is probably no worse than the average."
Liliana stroked his hand with her thumb.
"Come over here and sit down with me, Liliana."
They crossed the yard to a white gazebo. The paint job had been shabby. Globs of bubbles marred the various planks of wood. A vine attempted to cut off their passage onto the elevated natural wood stage. Dressed in hot-pink bell-shaped flowers, the vine extended itself from one side of the doorway to the other. David reached out a hand and batted the vine out of their way. As they moved across
the wood floor, Liliana could measure the weakness of each board. The bell-shaped flowers surrounding them had a subtle sweet odor. A hint of honey and chlorophyll impinged upon their bodies.
"Why don't we sit on the bench for a while and talk." David swept a hand across the dust that had collected on the oddly-curved bench. "I think the builders were attempting to make a love seat. Obviously they failed."
David sat and drew Liliana down upon his lap.
"Too much the gentleman to have me sit on a dirty bench?"
"Naw, it's just an excuse to get closer to you."
She wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed her fingers through his hair. His hair seemed fine, baby fine, but there was no thinning. She touched his pale eyebrows and licked each eyelid shut. His nose twitched, causing her to giggle.
"You look just like Françoise when you do that."
"I hope you mean the rabbit, not the uncle."
She giggled and kissed the bridge of his nose.
"A little lower," he said.
She kissed the tip of his nose and then his lips.
Immediately he parted his lips, and Liliana's tongue ventured into his mouth. Gently he sucked and circled her tongue with his.
She felt his right hand slip under the sleeveless denim blouse that she wore--a move Stuart never would have attempted. But then, David's age easily approached thirty; perhaps with maturity Stuart would have become more aggressive. He undid her bra and brought his hand around to cup one of her breasts. He weighted her breast and fondled the nipple with one finger.
Foreplay, she thought. Dare she allow both their passions to be freed? Could she make love and not draw blood? Liliana knew that passion peaked the hunger. Whether it be the passion of love or hate, they both awakened the hunger that animal blood, dead blood, could not satisfy completely. She pulled away and heard him moan and whisper her name.
"Lil," she corrected.
David opened his eyes and smiled.
His lips formed the name Lil, but the name remained unheard.
Using his free hand, David cupped the back of her head and pulled her down into another kiss. This time the kiss staggered Liliana's senses. She wanted him. She deserved another chance at love. She wouldn't allow her uncle to continue to cheat her of her flowering youth that he had stolen many years before. With one hand she opened the buttons on her blouse. As the material slid down her back, David pulled away to see her blossomed breasts. She let the bra slip onto his lap. Immediately he suckled at her breasts, passionately moving between the two.
Liliana opened the snap on her jeans and permitted his fingers to pull down the zipper.
The combined smells of his baby-fine hair and his masculine sweat drove her beyond a point at which she could deny him.
"I love you," she muttered into his soft hair, bringing several strands closer in order to smell and taste him.
He stopped and rested his lips on her bare midriff.
"I can't promise you love, Lil."
"And I can't ask it of you. Allow me to at least share what I am feeling. What I have felt for so many years."
He chortled and kissed her skin.
"We've only known each other for a month."
"You've been in my heart for centuries," she whispered.
David looked up at her. "Funny, you don't look like such an old crone."
"I never will." Liliana scooped up his chin and rushed into a breathless kiss. "Make love to me," she cried out as he lowered her to the floor. "Make love to me like you always should have." The chaste love's name, "Stuart," almost passed her lips, but she caught herself and settled for a protracted hiss that fed the steam in David's hurried movements.
Clothes cast aside, the two lovers explored each other. The dampness of his flesh stirred the hunger within Liliana, and she lapped at the dewy salty flesh. When she reached a pulse point, she immediately withdrew her tongue in favor of biting down on her inner cheek. She thrust her hips up toward his tumescence, her hands gripping his buttocks to bring him closer. As he slid into her, a burst of blood dribbled onto her tongue. She had broken her own flesh in order to drink without stealing his life. The blood did not quench her thirst, but it controlled the hunger.
Wrapped in the scents of bell-shaped flowers, sex, and blood, she heard the panting and felt the slapping of flesh on flesh as she reached her orgasm.
Chapter 44
"God, you've become so lazy. I can't get you to do a thing for me, and if you do something for me, I can't get you to do it right."
Matilda emptied the grocery bag, noting that half the items she had requested were not there.
"What did you do with the list I gave you?"
Cecelia shrugged.
"You go out with your friends and forget the rest of the world exists. What did you and Linda do, spend the afternoon mooning over boys at the mall?"
"I don't moon over boys, Mom."
"Listen, young lady, remember you're not as old as you'd like people to think. And what's this?"
"A new shirt."
"Did you need a new shirt?" Matilda asked, holding up a long-sleeved denim shirt.
"Mom, you've never liked my halter tops. Think you'd be happy that I'm covering up."
"You have started to look more like a respectable young lady, I have to give you that much credit. Where are all those flimsy tops and shorts anyway?"
"Here and there."
"Does that mean they're all in the hamper and you're too lazy to wash them?"
"No. They're in closets and drawers. I was thinking about taking them down to the church."
"The church? What are they going to do with your clothes?"
"Give them to people who need them."
"My God, do you think the church is going to pass out your old snatches of material? They'd be more apt to burn them, I'm sure."
Thirsty. Cecelia couldn't drink enough to quench her thirst, and it seemed to be getting worse each time she visited with Sade. She wondered whether he could have passed some disease to her. She didn't know of any venereal disease that caused constant thirst, but then, she hadn't really read up on the diseases. She had been too busy memorizing the how-to books.
"I have to be honest with you, Cecelia, I'm of two minds about you not being willing to help me out at the Sade residence. I used to think that you spent too much time bothering Mr. Sade, but you were also a big help to me."
"I told you, Mom. I don't feel comfortable there anymore."
Besides, Sade had recommended she stop the visits to his house in favor of the trysts they frequently had either in the middle of the afternoon or evening.
"Did Mr. Sade ever do anything or say anything to make you feel uncomfortable?"
"Mom! I told you it was nothing he did. I just don't like being around his niece and that strange menagerie of animals she keeps. And what a sicko job she has. I'm surprised you continue to work for them. I know you could fill that space of time with another client. Why don't you?"
"Because no one pays as well as Mr. Sade, and I actually find Liliana to be quite nice."
"Ms. Plissay to you."
"You're right, one of these times I'm going to slip while I'm talking to her, although she has invited me to call her by her first name."
"Big deal. The princess has deigned to acknowledge you." A bottle of room-temperature soda water sat on the kitchen table. Quickly Cecelia grabbed the bottle, twisted off the cap, and drank a third of the bottle in one swallow.
"You couldn't put that soda water in a glass? Are we supposed to drink out of that bottle after you've had you mouth on it?" Matilda put her hands on her aproned hips and waited for an answer.
Cecelia's only reply was to drink another third of the bottle.
"Drink like that, and you'll be complaining of tummy pains. All that carbonation."
A nap would be nice now, thought Cecelia. She checked her watch and noted it was half past noon. Seemed like everyday at this time she was ready for a nap. Made her feel like a kinde
rgartner again. Her eyelids felt weighty, as if each slender lash had the heft of a ten-pound dumbbell.
"Has your brain stopped working completely?" Her mother's voice came from a distance, from another planet, for all Cecelia could tell.
"Are you listening to me?"
No. Why should Cecelia listen? Her mother had nothing good to say. Always complaining. Always criticizing. Always pulling Cecelia back to a dull little house on an innocuous street, surrounded by drones that followed orders to the letter.
"What is wrong with you, Cecelia?"
"Nothing. I'm going to take a nap."
"In the middle of the day? Let me feel your forehead."
Matilda reached out, and Cecelia swatted her hand away.
"I only want to see whether you are running a fever." Again she stretched out her arm and finally touched her daughter's forehead. "My, you're exceptionally cool."
"Cool. That's me, Mom."
"On a hot day like today, I would have expected at least a little sweat." Matilda removed her hand from Cecelia's forehead.
"Too hot. Too cold. I'll never be just right. Mom, you're never happy."
"Don't get smart. I worry about you."
"Mom, I'm fine. I didn't get enough sleep last night, so I want to lie down."
"Well, tonight there'll be no running around for you. You can cancel your date with Joe and get to bed at a decent hour."
Cecelia's arms and back ached. Perhaps she should cancel tonight. But no, she wouldn't. He would be waiting at the cabin. Her dry mouth needed one more sip. One more drop of his blood.
"You know what? I'm really not so tired. Why don't I go back to the store and pick up the things I forgot?"
"And who will drive you?"
"Joe. He's probably home now."
Matilda sighed.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, take a nap and see him tonight. No sense running yourself into the ground." Matilda pulled her daughter close for a hug.
While slipping her arms around her mother, Cecelia noticed a heightened awareness of her mother's body odor. A mix of sweat and stale cologne. A touch of cleanser and...
Suddenly she became aware of her mother's pulse, the steady throb expanding and contracting her mother's fleshy neck, the bubble and gurgle of surging blood. Cecelia nuzzled into her mother's neck, savoring the scent and vibration. She licked the pulsing flesh, and her mother pulled away.
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