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"Weird," I reflected, recalling sleeping in late, Doug's behavior, and the frenetic pace of early holiday shopping. "Yours?"
It was clear from his expression he'd been dying to tell me this from the moment he'd cleared my door.
"Fantastic. I moved into the house today. You should see the neighborhood. It's the American Dream and then some. Big appliances. Manicured lawns. Three-car garages."
"Three cars? Do you even have a car?"
"Sure do. Company car."
"Hmphf. No one ever gave me a company car."
"That's because you aren't on the verge of the Seduction of the Century. I even met her already."
"Dana?"
"First day, and she comes to me! Can you believe it? It's like I don't even have to do anything. This operation just runs itself. I am its tool. Its plaything even - or rather, Dana's plaything."
"I don't know about that," I noted dryly, "unless you're going to add that she jumped on you and ripped your clothes off today too."
"Well, no. She actually just came by to welcome me to the neighborhood. But, she did also invite me to a party she's hosting. 'A Barbecue in November.' Charming, huh?"
"Adorable. Nothing I love better than eating hot dogs in the cold."
He elbowed me. "It's a theme, Fleur . It's fun. And it's all indoors. You know, you're turning into a regular cynic lately."
"Not cynical. Just still skeptical of this whole thing. It seems overly elaborate for what it is. A lot of work for one lay."
"One lay?" He tsked me and shook his head. "Let me see your laptop."
I retrieved it from my bedroom and returned to find Aubrey licking the edges of my plate. I shooed her away and handed Bastien the computer. A few quick clicks, and he soon had the Committee for the Preservation of Family Values' website open. Dana's organization. Most of her radio broadcasts were archived and available for download. He picked one, and we finished the rest of our meal to the sound of her rich, melodic voice.
The first broadcast concerned homosexuality. The CPFV maintained an appearance of sugarcoated goodness, a desire to help people and improve American life. Consequently, because being openly racist or sexist was not good for one's image anymore, the organization only espoused views slanted in those directions in subtle ways. Blatantly condemning homosexuality, however, was not entirely taboo yet - unfortunately - and the bulk of this broadcast involved Dana oozing on about the importance of "helping" those people to understand the true way both nature and God intended love to be. Toleration of such misguided lifestyles, she claimed, would lead to a breakdown in our families. The children. For God's sake, think of the children.
Her next broadcast damned the abominable state of today's clothing. School uniforms and fashion censoring were the only ways to go. How could we expect young girls to grow up with any self-respect when they walked around dressed like sluts? It led to sexual acts they weren't ready for, not to mention instilling in them the idea that their value came from appearance, not character.
I thought of the lacy purple thong I wore under my jeans just then. What was wrong with character and sex appeal?
The third one we listened to concerned the futility of teaching teenagers about safe sex and contraception. Abstinence training was the way to go. Keep them in pure ignorance. End of story.
"Enough," I said at that point. Her shallow, prejudiced values cloaked in so-called love and kindness unsettled the food in my stomach.
Bastien grinned. "Still think it's just one lay?"
I stretched back on my carpet, resting my feet on his lap. He massaged them for me. "I hate hypocrites, good or evil. Doesn't matter what they're touting."
"You should hear some of her background, some of the past issues she's advocated for with her group. Lovely stuff there - I researched her all day. I can pull it up for you. "
I held up a hand. "No, please. I believe you. The bitch must fall, okay? If I had a sword, I'd tap your shoulders and send you off with my blessings."
He lay down beside me. "Well, why don't you take a front-row seat then? Come to the party with me. I'm sure no one would mind if Mitch brought his sister."
"Party on the Eastside? My blessing only goes so far."
"Oh, come on. Admit it. You have a perverse desire to meet her in the flesh. Besides, it's been a while since you've seen me in action. You might pick up on a few things. Get some pointers."
Laughing, I rolled over on my side to better study him. "Like I need pointers from you."
He rolled to his side as well, smirking. "Yeah? Then prove it. Let's go out tonight. Let's go hunting."
My smile diminished. "What?"
"Just like the old days. We'll find some club, work up a sweat, then tag respective fixes for the night."
Bittersweet memories flashed into my brain, recalling the French cabarets of the nineteenth century. Bastien and I would go out in fine form, separate, and meet back in the morning to laugh and brag about our conquests. The game no longer held much appeal.
"I don't do that anymore. I told you that."
"Yeah, but you've still got to survive."
"I am surviving. I got a fix just a couple days ago. I'm set for a while. "
Bastien scowled. "A few days ago? Bleh. This writer guy's making you boring. "
"Hey, it has nothing to do with him. It's my choice."
"Sure."
"What's with the tone?"
"Not sure. I mean, I thought the whole writer-dating thing was amusing at first - even if he seems kind of dull and will probably only end up causing you pain. But now I'm starting to think it's indicative of a larger issue with you. I mean, there's the whole nice guy hang-up to begin with. Then you're, what? An assistant manager at a bookstore? Not to mention the fact that you have a cat."
Aubrey glared, and so did I. "There's nothing wrong with having a cat. And Seth isn't dull."
"I suppose you'd know better. He just didn't really strike me as much, that's all. If you wanted to obsess about a mortal, I could find you a better one."
"I don't want a better one. I mean, there is no better one. I want him."
"Suit yourself. You're just becoming ordinary, that's all. You used to be extraordinary."
"Ouch. All this because I won't go out with you tonight?"
Bastien shrugged.
"Okay then. We'll go. But no victim for me."
"Fair enough."
We went down to a club in Pioneer Square, both of us groomed to the kind of sexy, beautiful perfection that only an incubus and a succubus could achieve. I had pulled my hair up in messy, sex-kitten glory and wore a baby blue tank top with a V-neck that almost went to my belly button. The opening was covered in very sheer lace and made wearing a bra utterly pointless. So I didn't.
The tension between us evaporated as we hit the dance floor. The rhythm pulsed through me, the movement and sweat intoxicating. Bastien and I danced together for a while, both of us aware of the admirers we drew, even in a packed room like this. Physical attraction was about so much more than just superficial appearance. It was about eye contact, outgoingness, and movement too. Incubi and succubi learn this early on, and the good ones move with a grace few mortals can match. I, who had danced well before becoming a succubus, knew I was among the best when it came to body language. Watching us was irresistible. A turn-on in itself.
After a while, we split up. The results of the succubus game distressed me sometimes, but the game itself was fun. Very fun. I moved from partner to partner, thriving on the effect I created, on the desire I could see mounting in those whose bodies mine toyed with. It was why, despite my frequent bitching, I had given up my mortal soul for this vocation.
I confess, that the thought of going home with someone grew tantalizing, my body warming to the idea of someone's hands upon me, but then I thought about Seth and his determined adherence to the arrangement we'd entered into. No. No superfluous victims for me tonight. I could be good. I wanted to be good. I'd wait until I actually needed a recharge.
From across the room, Bastien inclined his head to me when he left the club, his arm around a small, entranced blonde. When he turned, I noticed a brunette in his other arm.
Overachiever.
It was two in the morning when I finally made it home. I woke aching and tired the next day, the weather making me feel worse. Rain formed a steady gray curtain as I walked to work. Everything seemed colder. I had been raised in a warm Mediterranean climate; I could never quite accept these kinds of temperatures.
