by Cynthia Dane
Nala did. She brought the bag over and went through every piece. Sometimes Vincent nodded, and other times he put something back and declared that it wouldn’t do. When Nala thought he wouldn’t tell her what would do, he opened the notebook back up and jotted down a possible replacement and told her where she could get one and for how much.
“There’s only one thing,” Nala admitted toward the end of their discussion. “I don’t have my collar.”
Vincent sat back in his seat before getting up and going to his bag. When he pulled the small silver choker from a pocket, Nala gasped.
“Why did you have that this whole time?” she asked. “We were going to the lawyer’s…”
“I always carry it with me.” Vincent pushed her hair behind her ears, his touch lingering on her cheek. “Because it makes me think of you and what you mean to me.”
Nala clutched his wrist, holding him to her. “What do I mean to you, exactly?”
“You’re not just my girlfriend, Nala.” His lips begged to kiss hers, but he refrained, content to convey his words to her. “You’re the woman I love. Which means we share something much deeper than other people. You’re my foil. I hesitate to call you my sub. To me, you’re much more than that. You are the greatest complement I could ever ask for. You understand me in ways I didn’t think a woman could. Most of all…”
Nala’s eyes widened. “Yeah?”
“You’ve shown me that I can move on too.”
She nearly melted into his arms. “I love you, Vincent.”
“I love you too.”
Nala eyed the spiral spine of the notebook. “Will you do it with me?”
He squeezed her tighter. “Of course I will. Even if it’s the last thing we do together.”
“Don’t talk like that. Of course it won’t be.”
“That’s what I want to believe, yeah.”
Nala held him so closely that she was afraid he would break. Or she would break. It didn’t matter which one of them broke first. All that mattered was that they still had each other for at least a few days. After that? Nala couldn’t think about it yet. Her mind was already running through a list of terrible possibilities. However their role-play worked out would determine Nala’s next course of action.
I love this man. I would do anything for him. I know he would do anything for me. Sometimes that was the only power Nala needed. She couldn’t speak for all women in the world, but if asked, she would confidently say that being able to depend on a man like she could depend on Vincent was one of the most powerful feelings of all… and that was discounting her own inner power.
And she was about to let that loose.
Entry #24
Nightingale has come up with a plan that is just for the two of us. At first I was extremely put off by what she had written, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that it’s meant to help the both of us. It’s easy to see it as purely her fantasy… a fantasy that is so out there that, if I didn’t know her as well as I do now, I would think she’s fairly nuts.
Yet now I see how she has incorporated my needs into it as well. If we go through with this, I think that we will both be freed in ways we haven’t felt in a long time.
It’s amazing how quickly you forget what it feels like to breathe.
Chapter 13
They decided to implement Nala’s script two days before she was to set off to Indianapolis – something she did not readily agree to. I’ll be damned if he gets to ship me off… but I digress. Nala didn’t want to focus on that. She wanted to focus on what would be one of the most exhilarating nights of her life.
Although she had pre-planned most of it, Vincent brought some of his own ideas to their shared hotel room table. For one, he would get them a room at one of the nicest places in town – he was willing to take that risk for her. Second, the man had a few of his own kinky fantasies he wouldn’t mind incorporating whenever possible. Nala brought her script back out and went over these additions with him. They also finalized what props to use and other core locations. Because it can’t all take place in our hotel room. That’s where it would end… but it wasn’t where it would begin. Nala already had that arranged by the time Vincent brought it up.
There was also the matter of safety.
“We can’t get too carried away in public,” Vincent said what felt like a hundred times. “If someone actually thinks I’m… well, we could get in really big trouble.”
“That won’t happen,” Nala assured him an equally hundred times. “If anyone thinks I’m actually distressed, then they’re not plastered enough where we’re going.”
“If you say so. All I’m saying is that now is a really, really bad time to get taken into custody, even if it turns out to be baseless.”
“Yes, I get it.”
Nala sure hoped so. The last thing she wanted once they started their role-play was to have Vincent completely lose it because he was afraid of what others would think. As he said before, it may be one of the last things they did together for a very, very long time. I don’t want to think about that.
Once this was all decided, Nala established celibacy between them. She insisted that it was to make them appreciate each other more when the time came. In truth, she wanted to see Vincent squirm in desire for her. Which was readily noticeable whenever he smothered her in bed and she felt his hardness press against her. This always ended with her telling him to go take care of it in the shower – which he sometimes did.
Not that it didn’t bother Nala. The heavens knew she wanted him as much, but this anticipation made the upcoming night even better.
On the day of, Nala took out her script and read it over a final time. After lunch, she would depart their hotel room dressed as the wildest Nightingale Vincent had ever encountered. A bird flying free in the wind. A demonic entity without a slick of morality. She hoped her mighty hunter was prepared to catch his siren before she enchanted half the men in Seattle.
***
From the moment Nala walked into the underground club, she became someone she barely knew, yet someone she was intimately familiar with, as Nightingale had always existed deep inside of her.
Electronic songs with low bass lines thumped through the walls, through the floor, and through her body. The bouncer looked at her fake ID and jerked his thumb inside – but not without checking out her ensemble from head to toe. Nala wore a tight, off the shoulder black dress that tapered above the knee and accentuated every curve she carried… and some curves that were complete illusions. She left her hair down. Dark. Tragic. Sweeping across her shoulders and caressing her bare skin. The fringe of her bangs barely touched her eyebrows that she meticulously groomed before leaving the hotel room. Otherwise, her makeup was left to a minimal amount of black eyeliner and dark red lipstick gracing her mouth. Considering how dark things would be that night, she didn’t need anything more.
She didn’t wear the classic heels or flats the Nightingale of The Aviary traipsed around in. She had bought a pair of heeled boots with intimidating laces that wound all the way up her calf. Wherever she walked, people turned their heads. They were entranced with her simple, yet effective look. She looked like the wild, sexual creature she intended to be.
The only thing missing from her ensemble was a pair of wings. Impractical. Instead, she made sure to pick a dress that dipped in the back, exposing her shoulder blades. Nala used the last of her eyeliner to paint lines on her back to indicate where her wings would sprout should she truly be a creature of fantasy.
This was the easy part. The hard part was entering the appropriate headspace the moment she entered the club.
Look at this den of sin. I came to the right place. Nala moved effortlessly through small throngs of people out having a good time. “Good time” meant a multitude of things. A ton of pot. A bigger ton of alcohol. Men making out with women, and women making out with women while men made out with men. Nala barely reacted when she saw a man sitting with a drink and a woman kneeling betwe
en his legs. This was the kind of action she came to see.
Plus a plethora of other immoral things. Drugs. Solicitation. This place was so seedy she might as well have been an agent of hell come to take notes. Maybe I am.
She bought one drink, not wanting to get too inebriated. It was a strong drink, though. The moment she put her lips to the fluid, it burned her lips, then her tongue, and then the back of her throat. It reminded her of the many times she drank from Vincent’s glass over the past several weeks. Thinking of him brought her back into reality. While imagining what Vincent would think of this scenario was certainly hot, the Nightingale on the prowl would not have thought of him at all.
Because they had yet to meet.
Nala ran her fingers through her hair as she kept her drink close to her chest. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for the perfect target. Her character had come to this club to let loose and take a sample from the bottoms of humanity. Surely there was a specimen worthy of her time.
She didn’t have to find anyone after all.
“Hey.” A young man with frat boy hair and clothes sidled up next to her as she clutched her shadowy wall. “You alone tonight?”
Nala pursed her lips and took another drink. “Sure am.” Her voice was black silk. “How about you?”
The young man didn’t answer that. “You’re a darkish woman, aren’t you? Yeah, I like the Goth thing you’ve got going on. Real subtle, as it should be. Nothing garish. Not like the other girls I know.”
“That so?”
Aftershave filled her nostrils as the man pushed up against her from behind. Nala hugged her drink to her chest and tried not to look startled. This wasn’t like being with Vincent at all. This guy had no finesse, no desire to be actually seductive. That’s my job tonight, anyway.
“Yeah. You’re really classy. You from around here? Go to the school a few blocks away?”
Nala smiled coquettishly. “No, afraid not. I’m new in town. Don’t know anybody. Just out for a good time and to, ah, meet some people.”
“Cool, cool.”
The guy couldn’t hide his true intentions if Vincent himself came through the door and offered the entirety of his fortune. The way Mr. Suave bounced between his feet, salivating over Nala, made her think he was about to burst in his pants at any time. How lovely. Well, Nightingale didn’t care about that. It would mean an easier job for her. She was here to ruin as many lives as possible. That’s what a succubus did.
She saw the guy make eyes with another woman across the room. He tilted his head up, and immediately she knew what was going on. “So you, uh, up for anything? Because my girlfriend has had her eye on you ever since you walked through that door.”
No shit. Some girl dressed in a plaid skirt, punk boots, and a shirt so baggy she practically swam in it smiled in their direction. Nala had to suppress an epic eye roll to keep her propriety. “I like girls.” Nightingale liked everyone. “What you got in mind?” Two birds with one stone. It was her favorite thing in the world.
“I think you know what I got in mind.”
Once again, this guy had absolutely no finesse. Nala pushed herself off the wall and sauntered across the room, approaching the oddly dressed co-ed who probably either had a fake ID at twenty or a freshly minted real ID at twenty-one. Either way, Nala felt ages older than her, and biologically they probably could have been in the same graduating class.
“Hey,” Nala said, smiling. “I hear you like me. Is that true?”
The guy came up behind her, but Nala paid him no mind. She only had eyes for the girl in front of her. “Yeah,” she admitted, sheepish but doing her best to put on a brave face. “You’ve got a nice style. Haven’t seen a girl like you around here before.”
“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”
In her usual life, Nala would let the conversation drop there. A little harmless flirtation with another woman. Except she was Nightingale now, and the real Nightingale was a woman who really, really loved toying with the hearts and loins of anyone and everyone around her – including women.
“Hell yeah!” the fratty guy cheered as Nala went for the kill right away. The girl didn’t stand a chance. She folded like a sweet thing in Nala’s arms, immediately sinking to her knees as the demonic succubus took her life force through her lips.
“Wow,” the girl muttered. She stumbled against the wall as Nala took a large step away, content with what she had accomplished. “Hey, where are you going?”
Nala glanced over her shoulder but did not commit to anything more than that. “You’re not the first person I’m going to kiss tonight.”
No one stood a chance against Nala. She was a rogue on the prowl, out to break some hearts and jot down the names of every victim breathing her kisses. When she was done with this city, there wouldn’t be a person left alive who could think of anyone but her for the next ten years. From the way that girl clasped her hand over her mouth and looked longingly in Nala’s direction? She had accomplished the first part of her mission.
Nala finished her drink and slammed the glass back on the bar. The bartender gave her a wary eye before snatching the glass and nodding in understanding. Good. He was one of her people. A man who ran a house of ill-repute so she could have a grand hunting ground. She had been doing this for a thousand years. The more the humans of the mortal world sinned, the easier it would be for her to get her sustenance and continue on her merry way.
Nobody could stop her.
Well, except for perhaps one of them.
Nala – no, Nightingale – hadn’t encountered a hunter in a long time. Such men had systematically fallen to the wayside over the years. Used to be she couldn’t go into civilization without a hunter tracking her down and trying to do away with her. Now she was “lucky” to see one every hundred years. They were getting dumber, too. People didn’t raise sons to be good hunters anymore. Humanity had given itself over to sin and other delights. Nala reveled in it as she leaned against a dark wall and watched a man light something that was definitely not a cigarette. All she could do was laugh and try to avoid the smoke wafting in her direction.
She sauntered into the next room and nearly had her heart ripped from her chest.
A devilishly handsome man stood on the other side of the room. Tall, toned, and with the right amount of carefully groomed facial hair. Of course, any man could do that and try to pull it off. Except this wasn’t any man. This was a man who instantly looked up and made eye contact with Nala.
It wasn’t often a man made her feel like this. Not just interested… but aroused. Let alone with only one look! What kind of magic was he using to rope Nala in so quickly?
That’s when she knew. In those precious few seconds in which she spotted this man for the first time, she realized that he was more like her than she could have ever anticipated.
Legend said that a creature like her could change sex and gender at will. Whenever she heard this, Nala laughed. How was that possible? The people who started that rumor wanted an excuse for their homoerotic activities. As far as she knew, she had been a woman her entire existence, as long as it had been. She loved indiscriminately – if it could be called love – but she had always been her. The idea that she could change her sex with a snap of her fingers was ludicrous.
Nevertheless, she rarely met the foil to her womanhood. She heard about them all the time – more often in the past than in the present – but encountering a male of her kind was about as likely as her being caught by a hunter. I’ve often wondered if they had gone extinct. As far as Nala was concerned, she may be one of the last of a dying species. She had no intention to be like her mother and take the seed of a worthy man and use it to beget a child. In this day and age? Nala loved her existence as a seductive succubus, but it was pointless to bring another of her kind into a world where they didn’t matter anymore.
While she had both these pleasant and unpleasant thoughts, Nala maintained eye contact with this desirable man. Look at him. In his nice
clothes. With his nice grooming. I bet he smells good too. She might have to go up and find out for herself. The man smirked, flashing a smile he probably flashed at a thousand women before Nala.
She walked the perimeter of the room. While music played and people drank and made merry around her, she intermittently glanced at the man near her. Likewise, he continued to glance at her. Was he marking her as a target, like she was him? This is pointless. Why would I waste my energies on someone of my own kind? Then again, Nala had never been with a male of her kind before. Perhaps it was time to have some new experiences while she had the chance.
Mating with an incubus didn’t further her innate goal of bringing the moral downfall of mankind. They couldn’t even have children, although Nala often thought they should be able to. Some powerful children right there… She blushed. Nala never blushed around a man.
Then again, this was no ordinary man.
How did she know that he was one of her own? Perhaps the same way he could tell that she was too. A powerful aura extended from him. Sexual. Dominant. Masculine. Mortal men could exude that sort of aura too, but not like this. This male creature was masculinity incarnate, like Nala was born to broadcast her feminine, sexual wiles. No wonder the people in the room were looking curiously between them. They could sense their power. They could sense what would happen if these two came together and created a cosmic harmony to end the world.
Her mother never warned her about this. Some flippant words about their existence and their role in lore was all Nala heard. She didn’t tell me what would happen if… If they made love.
Nala wanted to find out. The other men – the mortal men – could wait for her to have her strength again. She had a feeling this creature staring her down with nary a foul bone would tear her up and leave her to nurse her wounds when this was said and done. Good. That’s how a demon like her liked it.
She wasn’t going to wait for him to meet her halfway. Nala approached, closing the enigmatic distance between them. If there was one thing she could say about her seduction style, it was that she never waited for a man to make the first move. Not even an incubus. She wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction.
