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“Clutter?”
“Yes. You know, pictures everywhere, books piled up…”
Irving interrupted her, “books are not clutter!” he argued.
Sage smiled, sweetly. “I agree,” she said.
It was then that Irving met her eyes for longer than he’d intended. Her eyes were a warm shade of brown and he found himself feeling as though he was drowning in honey as he stared into them. He broke contact, feeling a sense that he was ogling her. He didn’t want her to think he was a gawk. “Are you alright?” he asked. “I heard a racket over the phone. What happened?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Sage confessed. “Right before you called, it sounded as though someone was trying to break into the house. Whoever it was was banging on the door and rattling the lock. I hung up to look for something to defend myself with. By the time I came back, they were gone. When I went outside to check, I found you.” She chuckled, running her hand through her thick wavy hair. “You must think I sound crazy.”
“Not at all!” Irving proclaimed. “Nothing involving the integrity of a door could sound crazy to me.” He laughed uneasily, knowing all too well how little Sage knew regarding the nature of his obsessions.
He inspected the front door. Sure enough, the lock had been tampered with. The hinges were also coming loose. He scoffed upon noticing the half inch thickness of the screws that had been used to attach the hinges. “These fasteners are far too small,” he stated. “It wouldn’t take much to blow them out of place. Allow me to replace them.”
Grateful for the offer, Sage led him to the garage, where he could find the necessary tools. Irving intently sifted through all of the materials. Unable to find the correct screws, he resorted to inspecting an old set of lawn chairs. “A-ha!” he cried out in triumph. The chair possessed exactly what he needed. “May I disassemble your patio set?” he inquired.
Sage stood in the doorway that led into the garage. She’d been watching him curiously. “Sure. Take whatever you need. Those old chairs were garbage anyway.”
Not only did Irving replace the screws in the hinges of the door, he completely reinforced it with a new latch. As he worked, he could feel Sage watching him in awe. Within an impressively short span of time, Irving had managed to use the scrap wood from the unused furniture to manufacture a new latch to replace the one that had been compromised. “That should do it,” he remarked, turning to Sage. “It’s a temporary solution, of course. I’m no locksmith, but that wooden latch should hold reasonably well.”
Sage blinked at him in astonishment. “That was incredible. I had no idea you were so handy. Where did you learn to do that?”
Irving hesitated before responding. The truth was, he’d acquired the knowledge due to his fear of intruders breaking through his door and invading his home, as they had done centuries ago. There was a part of Irving that knew his obsession wasn’t entirely reasonable, but, even so, he couldn’t seem to resist the compulsion to ensure all entrances were secure. His lack of control regarding his obsessive nature was a source of shame. For this reason, he came up with an alternate response to Sage’s inquiry.
“Before the industrial manufacturing of caskets and coffins, I would make them myself,” he explained. “It was during this era that I became a competent carpenter.”
Sage examined him for a moment. She appeared both pleased and confused by this account. As she moved to test Irving’s mechanism, her hand brushed his. The unexpected contact sent sparks throughout Irving’s body. Her touch electrified him. Unable to contain his arousal, Irving shuddered.
“Oh, God, your hands are freezing!” Sage exclaimed. “Don’t you wear gloves when it’s this cold out?” Again, she graced him with her fine touch, and again Irving felt an incredible wave of ecstasy sweep through him. In that instant he felt the urge to sweep her off her feet and kiss her until she was pink. Suppressing his desire was not an easy feat, but he was a gentleman, and a gentleman possessed self restraint.
“My hands are perpetually cold, I’m afraid,” Irving replied as nonchalantly as he could manage. The skin of a vampire was cold to the touch, much like that of a corpse’s. It was an unnerving trait, especially for a human to discover, but it was not indicative of a problem.
Irving shivered in delight, the warmth of Sage’s touch still present in his hand. Sage mistook his pleasure-induced tremor for a chill. “Where are my manners!” she proclaimed. “You’re trembling like a leaf! This entire time you’ve been out in the cold garage without a jacket and I didn’t even bother to offer you a cup of tea.”
Vampires didn’t drink tea; they drank blood, and while Irving would have much preferred a mug of hot steaming blood, he also wanted an excuse to extend his visit with Sage. For this reason, he graciously accepted her offer and allowed her to guide him to the sofa in the parlor, where she insisted he sit.
While he awaited her return from the kitchen, Irving poked the plush exterior he was seated upon. He found the surface remained indented after he removed his finger. “How queer,” he uttered. The furniture was excessively lenient. The more he lowered himself into it, the more he seemed to be swallowed by its cushions.
His preoccupation with the couch was interrupted as Sage walked into the room, a mug of hot tea balanced carefully in her hands. Focused as she was on keeping the liquid from spilling, Sage failed to notice the pair of slippers occluding her path. Only a short distance from Irving, Sage stepped on the slipper. The slick sole of the footwear caused her leg to slip behind her. She let out a cry of alarm as she fell forward, spilling the piping hot beverage all over Irving’s shirt.
Although surprised by the sudden surge of wetness that coated his torso, Irving was unscathed. His vampirism made him resilient to injuries that would normally cause pain and suffering to a mortal. This fact seemed to be forgotten by Sage as she began cursing her clumsiness and apologizing profusely. “You must be in so much pain,” she said, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. The gusto with which she grabbed his shirt was indicative of a secret desire to see him shirtless. At least, that’s how it seemed to Irving. “Let me help you get out of this before you develop third degree burns.”
Irving gasped in delight as Sage struggled to remove his shirt. She was so warm… so soft, and her scent was beyond delectable. He’d never in his life experienced a frenzy as powerful as this.I want to be inside her,Irving thought, desperately.I NEED to be inside her.
Overwhelmed by his passion, Irving reached for the lightswitch located on the wall above the couch. The only way he could cope with intense feelings was by indulging his compulsions. He flicked the lights: off and on, off and on, off and on. Sage looked at him in bewilderment as he frantically continued to flip the switch. “What are you doing?” she demanded. Irving gave no answer. Instead, he continued his bizarre behavior at an increased speed until there was a distinct pop, followed by complete darkness. His hysteria had caused the bulb to burn out and he could see Sage was more than a little bothered.
What in God’s name have I done?Irving fretted.She must think I’m a total loon!He glanced over at Sage, who’d shifted next to him on the sofa. She was so close her thighs touched his own. He trembled at the thought of touching her unclothed body.
“I’m sorry,” Sage said. “Mark always said I was a klutz. I recall a time I spilled something on him. God, he was furious! I thought he…”
On impulse, Irving pulled Sage close to him and kissed her firmly on the mouth. Initially, her reaction was of shock. She pulled away on impulse, but, after gazing into his eyes for a minute, she proceeded to press her lips into his. The more they kissed, the more impassioned she became.
Irving was enamored with the taste of her tongue, and could scarcely breathe when she began to slip her hands beneath his shirt, tracing the shape of his chest muscles with her fingers. “What about your husband?” Irving asked between kisses. As much as he was enjoying the intimacy, he didn’t want to find himself in a scrap with a mortal man.
Breathless and flustered, Sage replied, “He’s long gone.”
