Beasts II: Abandon
For the third time I have fixed my make-up, my nose only a few inches from the slick surface of the full-length mirror. I try to brush away errant flecks of eye shadow only to resolve they are simply freckles. Heavily I sigh: I normally don't feel so anxious. Then again, I don't go out very much. On a whim, my almost-human companion suggested a night out for dinner and music. Checking the calendar, I concluded there was no lunar reason not to accept. Twirling around, I watch the pleats of my dress fall effortlessly into place. The satiny material, in a riot of colors, catches the light. With another tug at the seams of my stockings my confidence returns.
I scurry down the hallway, hoping to be ready when I hear that familiar knock on the front door. My glossy black heels dig into the plush carpet. As I enter the living-room I hear the shuffle of feet on the sea-grass welcome mat. I take another full breath, my fingers grazing the brass door knob. Once again, I leap backwards at the rapping on the wooden entry to my home. I shake my head, considering he hesitated on purpose. As I pull the door open wide, the devilish grin on his face confirms my suspicion. Pursing my lips at his subtle mischief, I step gingerly out the door. He offers his arm, as I knew he would.
The short walk to the restaurant is quiet. I lean my head on his arm, content in knowing we look perfectly normal. He's wearing a well-pressed shirt and a tidy necktie, and I have selected a retro-styled sundress. There is nothing to suggest that we are not simply a pair of young lovers out for an early dinner. The late afternoon sun is very warm, but a temperate breeze ruffles our hair. The immense heat he emits is the only clue that betrays his otherwise idyllic human masculinity. I try to push away those dangerous thoughts as we enter the patio dining area. He ushers me to a quiet corner near the edge of the black wrought iron fence. The heavy queen palm fronds hang over the table, suggesting a hint of privacy.
Drinks are swiftly deposited on the table, delicate glasses brimming with deep scarlet wine. Dreamily I watch him bring the cool glass to his lips, drawing in the dark liquid. Just over his shoulder the vivid blue sky is streaked by the warm hues of early evening, bright ribbons of rose and vermillion race across the horizon. We sit quietly, as we always do. Words never seem as powerful as these shared silences. Deftly his hand snakes across the table, encasing my hand inside his. Above the crystalline din of dinnertime activity, our silence roars in my ears.
His hand is surprisingly hot, hotter than it should be, even for him. I take long sip from my glass, trying to ease away my concerns. But the deep earthy wine cannot erase the dark flush that blooms upon my companion's face. His flesh is ablaze now, and I feel as though I have wrongly touched a hot iron, but am unable to pull away. I watch the heavy rise and fall of his chest, knowing he is struggling to maintain restraint over his natural state. My nails bite down into his palm until I feel the warm wetness of blood spreads beneath my fingertips. In response, I am greeted by a barely audible rumbling growl from across the table. I am being warned.
I glance around and see that other patrons are going about their meals, unaware of the drama building in our corner. To a casual observer we must appear to be infatuated lovers. There is nothing loving or romantic about what is happening in this moment, though. With my free hand I quickly retrieve several bills from my purse, resolving we would not be dining here this evening after all. As the papery notes tumble onto the pristine white tablecloth I am yanked from my seat. Pushing through the patio's side gate, he pulls me into the mosaic lined alleyway. Over his shoulder I see the sky now bleeds with the impending sundown.
For the first time, something catches my eye. The ominous black shadow of the moon courses long the horizon in terrible pursuit of the sun. I swallow hard. The dark idea forms in my mind as I am forcefully shoved against the wall, my bare shoulders scraping against the rough mortar. Large hands, now finely tufted in downy fur, cradle my face as a hungry mouth descends upon mine.
Full moons were a dangerous, volatile time for dark creatures like us. But an eclipse? These are rare and truly lethal events. My mouth breaks away from his, my lips wet and swollen from his affections. I breath in the evening air, seeking something cool, but all I can find is heat. Sharp teeth and newly extended canines catch the shell of my ear; blood that had been boiling in the pit of my stomach rushes to the core of my ecstasy. My skin feels too tight, as my veins burn as though they are channeling molten lava. Involuntarily, my back arches and the gap between our hunger bodies disappears. I am rewarded with a needy growl.
Once gentle hands now wrap around my throat. Had I fear of death this would be the moment I should choose to panic. He turns my head to watch the black disc creep into light path of the setting sun. Shadows have begun grow long and impossibly black. In a single blink of my eyes his mouth is on me again as an arm wraps around my hips. Hoisting me up the wall my raw shoulders begin to bleed. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist, the hem of my dress slipping up my thighs to reveal my red garter belt and the tiniest of lace panties. He bucks, the unmistakable heat of his hardness presses against my barely clothed sex. Moaning into his mouth I feel the familiar ache racing parallel to my spine.
