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Gilded	By : tinkerheck Category: > Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji ???) Views: 3151 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, aka Black Butler. I make no money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
++++++++ Please see disclaimer & story notes in chapter one ++++++++

++++++++ chapter notes ++++++++

I fly beta-less. Please forgive the typos.

My apologies to those of you who may have been shocked and/or disturbed by certain events in the last chapter. Please remember that I said you could take this as an AU, yes? In my world, Sebastian is a creature that despises his true nature, but he is also unable to stop flirting on the edge of it. That’s what I got out of the anime, anyhow.

As always, thanks for reading.

 

+

 

Gilded

Chapter 13

 

+

I was thrilled. The senior party was finally underway!

Gilda, who was gracious enough to not only host the party but pay for it as well, got the ‘thumbs up’ from Dean Manners to invite a few of her friends. Namely, Michael, Evelyn and, yes, you guessed it, Grell Sutcliff.

To my surprise, he brought William T. Spears as his date.

“I am not your date,” Spears had said, practically spitting on his underling, who simply cooed and sighed at the Reaper’s tough demeanor towards him.

That didn’t last long. Fortunado Fernandez, along with his own date, was just one among several homosexual males at the party that night, and they were all young and beautiful. Sutcliff was beside himself, getting drunk and flirting with anything in pants.

I happened to be privy to the fact that Spears is neither homosexual nor bisexual, so at least there was the entertainment of watching him cringe every time he got introduced as Sutcliff’s date, even if the Red Madness left him alone most of the night in favor of more nubile chances at, as he put it, “Ah! Forbidden love, oh, Bassie! Such gorgeous men!”

At one point, there was a small scene in the main hall, where Gilda and I were talking alone for a few moments. Sutcliff came bursting out of the salon as if thrown, followed by an irritated Spears who was reprimanding him harshly.

“Reaper Sutcliff! We’re getting out of here before you do or say something that I’ll regret.”

Both Spears and Sutcliff stopped, staring at us strangely. Spears narrowed his eyes at me, then looked at Gilda for a long time. She grew uncomfortable, I as much as smelled it, and I got between her and Spears immediately. Sutcliff swallowed hard, not sure where this was all headed.

“Mr. Spears. Are you and your date leaving?” It wasn’t really a question. “I’ll get your coats,” I added, very cheerfully. I wanted them gone.

William adjusted his glasses, clearly discomfited that his scythe was not on his person. “You know perfectly well, Demon, that I did not come with a coat.” He looked at Gilda again, now behind me with my sleeves clutched in her hands. “Silly girl,” he muttered disgustedly.

Then he turned on his heel, Sutcliff’s collar in his fist, and they were gone.

We were alone in the hall again. I leaned back, putting a protective arm around Gilda and pulling her against my side.

“It’s all right. They really did leave. I can sense they are gone.”

“What was that all about?”

“William has never liked my kind. Why he was nasty with you, however, I have no idea.”

“He was making me nervous all night, Alex. Every time I turned around he was staring at me. Who the hell is he?”

“Grell’s supervisor. He doesn’t like Grell, and he severely dislikes me.”

“Well, why on earth would Grell bring him here, then?”

“I do not know, Miss. But I have a feeling it wasn’t his idea,” I said quietly.

The party was a great success, for the most part, with only one uncomfortable moment where the Dean almost recognized Uncle Rafael as our chef, ‘Guido’, and we had to press another glass of punch into Manners’ hand to get past it.

I’d made a veritable ton of delicious food, the punch was spiked, and there were impromptu performances by the seniors all evening. Everyone had a great time.

Except for Linda Derricott.

I caught her sneaking upstairs at one point, poking around in Gilda’s room and then my own. She had no idea I’d been following her, and I took great pleasure in scaring the hell out of her when she began rifling through the things on my desk.

“My goodness, Miss Derricott,” I said suddenly, and she shrieked before turning to see who’d caught her snooping. Dropping the papers in her hands, she looked at me and swallowed hard. “Why didn’t you just promise some random boy a ‘blow job’ and get him to steal whatever it is you are looking for? Or have you finally been outed as the cocktease you truly are?”

She sneered at me, shaking slightly. “I don’t answer to a servant.”

I chuckled. “I’m assuming you are searching for the alarm code again, as you recently… hired David Taylor to do? Or perhaps you hope to find some sort of legal documentation on my Mistress, Miss Franks?”

She rounded the far end of the desk and headed for the door, with the intention to simply leave. That certainly wasn’t going to happen.

Chivalry to the weaker sex be damned. This girl was partially responsible for harm having come to my Gilda. I grabbed Derricott by her throat and pushed her up against the ornate wood paneling of the wall in my room. I lifted her off of her feet by her throat, just a little, just enough to cause her further panic. Oh, and it also prevented her from screaming and the like. I was having a grand night so far; I didn’t need the headache of some harpy’s cries ruining it for me.

In no hurry, I reached out with my free hand and closed the door to my room quietly, never taking my eyes off of her red face. Linda’s eyes slid to the sides of her sockets, desperately trying to follow my movements. I tilted my head at her while I slid the deadbolt into place slowly, until it clicked. Derricott’s eyes darted back to my face, and she tried to whine, but it came out as a strangled, squeaky breath.

Her hands were scratching at my gloves, trying to get free. I noted that no serious piano player would ever have such long, tacky fingernails.

While Gilda adored the pedicures I gave her, allowing me to paint those charming little toenails all sorts of suggestive shades, her precious hands were given dry manicures only. I kept the nails short, and did not even use clear polish as per her wishes thank you very much. The cuticles were always trimmed. The tendons and muscles of her talented hands and wrists were massaged lovingly, and the skin was kept buttery-soft and supple with appropriately non-greasy moisturizers.

Every day, twice a day, the only exception being when we were fighting in December, and I hadn’t been allowed to touch her for a few weeks. It was one of the first things that had brought us closer together, all the way back in October. Even when she was being a tart, it had still happened… every day, twice a day.

Oh, my Mistress… how I adored taking care of Gilda.

Derricott continued to struggle. Irritating. I banged the back of her head against the wall to get her to stop clawing at me. When she finally realized she was not being choked to death, and I was not going to respond to her frantic scraping, either, she stopped fighting, and simply hung in my grip while trying to balance on the balls of her feet.

“Thank you, Miss Derricott, for your cooperation. Now then,” I smiled cheerfully down at her. “Let us get a few things straight. We know about your involvement in David Taylor’s actions here at the manor during Thanksgiving. We know about your father’s involvement with Mr, Bellows’ shady investments. And we all know,” I paused, lifting her body just a bit higher, then letting her back down, “What a horrid little bitch you are.”

She squeaked and her eyes bugged out. I found that rather satisfying. Still, to sweeten the experience, I managed a bit of an erection, and leaned into her slightly, rubbing my distended crotch against the billowy fabric of her over-priced designer dress.

I didn’t think it possible, but her eyes widened even further.

Yes, I knew it. A cocktease and a virgin. What a bore!

“In any case, Miss Derricott, should you, or any of your little friends, or your family, servants, or hired thugs, even so much as breathe incorrectly around my Mistress, I will hunt all of you down and dismember you, starting with the smaller bits, one at a time. When you are left with little more than a torso and head, I will watch as your body attempts to bleed to death, and then I will mercifully end your life by bashing your face in with my foot repeatedly.” I tilted my head at her, pouring on the charm. I was about to let her go, when I added one last truth. “Oh, and I will save you for last, and I will make you watch until then.”

She squeaked again, and her face was a nice match to her nails by that time.

“I’m sorry, Miss Derricott. Was that a ‘yes’?” I gave her a sweet, friendly smile.

She managed a sputtering affirmative, and I lowered her back to the floor. Releasing her throat, I reached out and straightened the bodice of her dress. She gagged trying to get breath back into her body. Stepping back from her, I watched as her color slowly returned to normal.

“Oh, my dear young lady… you look positively shaken! Why don’t you return to the party and have some Rum Punch to soothe your nerves?” I suggested, my eyes twinkling.

Dumbstruck, Derricott could do little more than stare back at me.

“On your way,” I said pleasantly. She gaped at me for another moment before turning and slamming into the door.

“No running in the house, Miss. Where are your manners?”

She fumbled desperately with the deadbolt.

“Do be careful.”

Her shaking hands finally got the door to open.

“You wouldn’t want to break a nail.”

Out the door, down the hall… I followed at a leisurely pace.

“Have a nice night, Miss Derricott,” I offered.

Top of the stairs, racing down in her tacky flats.

“Bye-bye, then.”

I was going to follow her all the way down to the foyer, when I smelled Gilda nearby, and I ducked out of the way to hide at the top of the stairs, smiling down as I watched. I wanted to see how Gilda was going to handle this.

As Derricott struggled to pull her coat from the packed closet, Gilda snuck up behind her.

“Leaving so soon, dairy cow?”

“Very funny.” Linda attempted to be bitchy, but her voice betrayed her fright.

“I thought it was,” Gilda laughed. “You seem upset. Is there anything I can do to make it worse?”

Oh, Miss! Well played.

“If anyone’s a cow here, bitch, it’s you.”

I remained hidden, listening. “You know, it’s funny, this cow gets felt up pretty often, and the person doing it really likes the size of my ass. How about you? Do your one-night-stands tell you how beautiful you are on a regular basis? Or do you even have those?”

Smiling wickedly in the dark, I reminded myself to reward her. Such as, by kissing every inch of her body before bedtime.

Derricott narrowed her eyes at Gilda, and threw in her last weapon: the entitlement card.

“You can pretend you’re as worshipped as you like, either for your talent, or for whatever idiot is stupid enough to fuck you,” she began.

Excuse me? Idiot?

“Everyone knows where you came from, Gilda, and that’s where you’ll end up, too. Unmarried Aunt, my ass. You stole it all from your daddy, and you are bound to lose it just as easily, putting you right back on the street like the penniless whore you really are.”

I could tell by the tone of Gilda’s voice that she was smirking at the wench.

“Ah, but, should anyone find out how I got Norman’s money, they’ll also find out that your daddy shared his money with my daddy in what your daddy knew to be massively illegal investments!” Her voice was downright bubbly. “You’d end up on the streets right next to me, you hack.”

My erection was suddenly back.

“And I for one know that I have what it takes to be a successful prostitute. You and your frigid ass, on the other hand, will end up behind a rest-stop cash register, selling anal lube and chicken salad sandwiches to greasy truck drivers. And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“You fucking cu–” Derricott started, taking two steps towards Gilda. She froze, however, when she looked up and saw me suddenly standing in the middle of the staircase, smirking, still as a statue… staring at her like the predator I am.

Gilda had tracked her eyes. She knew I was there. Never taking her eyes off of Derricott, she responded perfectly, saying, “Oh… Did he have a talk with you?”

Derricott stared at me, swallowing hard.

“I’m so sorry,” my Mistress said sweetly, “He can be brutally convincing. Still, you got the message, right?”

Derricott eyed me for a few more minutes, holding her breath, then she bolted for the front door, fumbling pathetically with that lock as well. She got in her car and took off down the drive heading straight for the gate.

I was in the foyer in a flash, locking the front door and then grabbing Gilda’s hand to pull her into the study off of the main hall. I shut the door to any wandering party-goers, and together we watched the closed-circuit screen to the camera at the front gate. When Derricott reached it, she got out of her car and grabbed at the gate’s heavy iron bars, trying to move the bloody great thing with her feeble human body. I let her flail and scream for a few moments, as I poked the screen with my fingertip as though jabbing the bitch’s head.

“Alex,” Gilda scolded, squeezing my hand. “Just get her off the property already.”

The gate opened, the bitch ran back to her car, the car squeaked through, probably getting scratched in the process, and the gate closed.

“That was fun,” Gilda sing-songed as I pulled her into my arms. “You didn’t hurt her too much, did you?”

“Mentally or physically?” She giggled, and the sound reverberated through my body like a refreshing, turbulent guest. “Your speech was quite inspiring, Miss. Although I disagree that you’d be successful as a woman of ill repute.”

“Holy crap. You even make hooking sound polite. But why would I be bad at it?” she asked, leaning into me as I pulled her closer. Gilda looked up at me, eyes shining with lust. Or perhaps love. Probably both.

I kissed her soundly, then said, “Because you are far too intimate when you are having sex. There isn’t a prostitute alive that could function with a personality such as yours.”

She shrugged. “Um… compliment, yes?”

“Of the highest sort, Miss. Now, you should get back to your guests before they become suspicious.”

“Of what? My absence, or the way I’ve been staring at you?”

“Both. That reminds me, you’ve had enough alcohol for tonight. Stay away from the punch, please.”

+

By the time the last guest left, Gilda was exhausted and still tipsy, and I didn’t care to take her like that. I cleaned her up and forced a glass of water on her, then sat next to her until the bed stopped spinning and she fell asleep.

A massive thunderstorm rolled over the State of New York that night, moving northwest to southeast. The electrical power went out temporarily at the manor about two hours after I put Gilda to bed. I was cleaning up after the party goers up until that time, storing any leftover food away in plastic containers and putting the perishables into the icebox, picking up all the trash and empty glasses, mopping up spills and running the electric sweeper. When the power went out, it did not affect my vision, but it did affect the appliances. I decided to start the dishes in the dark.

The storm became more violent, and there were several lightening strikes near the manor, so it was no surprise to me that Gilda made her way downstairs to find me in the kitchen.

“You’re doing the dishes in the dark,” she said, setting down Ink after carrying him downstairs with her. Another strike of lightening hit. I looked up and listened as a loud clap of thunder followed the flash of light. The poor cat shrieked and disappeared, no doubt running off to find mum and his siblings.

Gilda walked closer and stood next to me, leaning a hip on the edge of the counter.

“I’m doing the dishes. It just happens to be dark,” I teased.

“Power’s gone out. It’s really coming down out there.”

“Yes,” I said, wiping my hands off with a towel. “You’ll get cold, just in that,” I said, nodding at her pajamas which tonight consisted of polka-dotted panties and a skimpy tank top.

“Actually I’m a little warm. So this is nice.”

“Can I get you something, Mistress?”

She shook her head. “Just woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“I can come join you in bed, if you’d like. Maybe that will help.”

“Help me to sleep or help me to stay awake, Alex?”

“Whatever Miss prefers,” I smirked.

She grinned. “I had something else in mind,” she said, pushing off from the counter and coming closer to me.

Gilda pressed into me as I leaned my back against the counter and wrapped my arms around her.

“You wish to be cuddled?”

“Stop talking, Alexander.”

I complied and didn’t respond. Perhaps she’d had a nightmare and was reluctant to speak of it. Maybe the storm had frightened her, although that was unlikely. Maybe she missed me.

As an explanation, I liked the last one the best so far. I didn’t stay with her every night, but if she wanted me to, I could change my routi–”

Oh.

Gilda began to sink lower, dragging her hands down my shirt until she was kneeling on the floor between my legs. She put one hand to my crotch and pressed, testing my readiness.

Well, I found housework rewarding, but not that much.

Biting her lower lip, Gilda looked up at me knowing full well I could see her smirking in the dark, and began to stroke me.

“Miss, this isn’t at all necessary–”

“This bothers you, doesn’t it?” she asked, removing her hand from my where my cock was beginning to harden under the fabric. She unzipped my trousers.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Is it because I’m being the dominant one?”

“Somewhat, but that’s not…” I couldn’t finish.

“Will you tell me why? Because I’m not going to stop.”

“Miss does not belong on her knees asking the help questions.”

She nodded. Removing my penis from the opening in my boxers, Gilda smiled up at me as she began to stroke in earnest.

“Okay then. I’ll go easy on you, Alex. I’m not going to order you to come in my mouth. But I’m ordering you to allow yourself to come in my mouth. Does that help?”

I was partially erect in her hands. She kissed the side of my hardened sex, from the base to the foreskin, then she pushed the foreskin up and down, very gently, over and over. The glans hardened further until the prepuce stayed put below the ridge. Kissing the head, she slid it into her mouth and circled her tongue around the tip. Not being able to stop, I hissed.

Her mouth was so hot and wet, and as she looked up at me with all that sweet determination on her face, all I could think about was how many times I had seen that ‘o’ and that ‘O’, and oh, how I had wanted to place myself in there from the very, very beginning…

Fuck.

I gave up. Smiling down at her, I said, “As you wish, Miss. But please, one more thing before you get too far,” I quipped, and she removed her mouth. The air felt cool after all that heat, and the opposing sensation was wonderful.

“What?” she asked, watching me as I reached across the counter. I grabbed a fresh, fluffy dishtowel and folded it over twice. Lightening struck, thunder following it. I waited until it was done before saying, “Put this under your knees before you hurt yourself, if you please.”

She took the offered towel and did as I asked. “So sweet,” she said.

“I try my best.”

Gilda smiled up at me. “You do more than just try, Alex.” She reached up with both hands to my belt buckle, and the side of her soft face brushed against my cock. She undid the buckle and the hooks on my pants, then pulled the trousers and the boxers down together, only as much as she needed. I gasped as the elastic band of the boxers slid over my shaft.

“Sorry,” she whispered, wincing. “Too fast?”

“Not a problem,” I replied.

Smiling, she cupped my testicles and pulled the fabric down further, gently freeing them and exposing me completely.

“There now, that’s better. Got all that fabric out of our way.”

I smiled down at her, and placed a hand on her head.

“Mistress is too kind.”

“Not really.” She paused, looking up at me. “Alex… I love it when you touch my hair, but don’t do that right now, okay?”

“Of course,” I said, immediately removing my hand from her head. “I was not trying to take over, Miss. I’d rather you did as you pleased.”

“I know. And I believe you. But I can’t…” she stopped, swallowing hard.

“Miss?”

“I can’t have you touching my head while I do this. Okay? I just… can’t.”

There was a story I hadn’t heard yet.

I nodded, placing my hands on either side of my hips on the counter’s edge. “I promise you, my hands will not move from where I have placed them until I have your permission to do so.”

“Thank you.”

Gilda returned to her task, gentle and sure. She was not the type to suckle greedily and it became obvious that swallowing me down to the hilt was not something she was comfortable with. But her soft hands, her lips and her tongue – it was an amazing feeling to know that my Young Miss – my precious meal, my Gilda – was on her knees, willingly pleasuring me, one who had no right to expect it.

I almost laughed at the irony – the last time this was done to me, it was in this very room and with a far different creature. Sutcliff had done a very good job, don’t misconstrue me, but what it came down to wasn’t just the act. Her soul made all the difference, and it just couldn’t compare.

I closed my eyes and growled low in my throat, feeling myself harden completely in her mouth. She sighed softly, lightly bobbing her head, taking me in and out. As I looked down to watch her work, lightening struck again, and it set her into sharp relief for a few moments. I had to concentrate not to go off too soon; I wanted this moment to last.

She pulled her mouth away and wrapped one hand around my shaft. It was almost painful, how hard I was.

All the more enjoyable.

Caressing my testicles, Gilda ducked her head and kissed me at the base on the underside, a very sensitive spot, and I groaned, unable to suppress my shiver.

“Mistress…”

She kissed her way up to the tip again, then rubbed her cheek against the length while looking up at me.

“Good?”

I opened my eyes and looked back down at her. Smiling, I said, “Magnificent,” and my voice shook.

Gilda pulled the fabric of my trousers and boxers down further, so that she could reach around and caress me from my hip to my rump. Her hands were slightly cold as compared to her hot mouth, and the disparity was just lovely.

“You’re close, Alex. You’ll tell me when?”

“Certainly, Mistress.” She smiled.

She took me into her mouth again, hot and wet. Gilda slid that fabulous tongue around my glans over and over, all the while caressing my scrotum, squeezing my behind, stroking the thin skin over my hipbone. It was amazing how her touch took an otherwise common act and made it so much more.

I felt myself beginning to tighten.

“Soon, Miss,” I managed, now shaking with the need to release.

She sighed again, sounding needful as well, and that threatened to put me over the edge. Gilda kept one hand wrapped around the base of my cock to hold me tight, and reached around with her other, fairly digging her short nails into a cheek. She looked up at me again, and there was love in her honest, dark eyes.

That did it. My testicles tightened, and my body shook–

“Now… now.”

Gilda stilled, sucking on me hard while squeezing and clutching with her cold little hands.

Lightening struck for a split second as my entire body tensed in that indescribable pre-climax moment. Then useless, wonderful fluid spurt forth from my human penis into her hot mouth. The counter creaked as I gripped it tight in my hands, and I growled out an expletive in a dead language, loud enough that Gilda had heard it over the thunder.

She continued to suckle me until I was bereft of fluid. Then she licked and kissed, cleaning me of anything that had escaped from her wonderful little mouth. Standing up when she was finished, she kissed my mouth, thinking to share what was left… though I couldn’t taste anything but her.

“It’s sweet,” she whispered, in-between kisses.

“And you do not care for sweets. I am sorry it does not taste better for you. My scent changes to suit, but my fluid does not seem to.”

“No, it’s good, actually.” Gilda stopped kissing me and hugged me around the waist. “It’s not all sugary. It tastes like fruit. Kinda like blackberries. I like it.”

I wanted to hug her back, but she’d forgotten something.

“Um… You can let go of the counter now, Alex. And I think you broke it.”

“Oh dear,” I said, hearing shards of marble fall to the floor as I lifted my hands. I wrapped one arm around her back and stroked her hair with my free hand.

“Explaining that one to the handy man is going to be fun.”

“We could act it out for him–”

“Absolutely not.”

She giggled, snuggling into me, and I smiled at her in the dark. “You didn’t do that because you are inebriated, did you?”

“I was tipsy. I’m not now, and I did it ‘cause I wanted to.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know that.”

I lowered my head to whisper against her ear, “Thank you, my dear. That was unexpected. And most pleasurable.”

“Sure,” she said, turning her head to kiss me again. “There’s more where that came from.”

“Moderation, Miss.”

“If you say so,” she said. We stayed like that for a while, content just to be close.

After a while, she yawned, and I looked up to realize the weather was calming down. “The storm appears to be passing. Do you want me to carry you back to bed?”

She shook her head. “Nah.”

I smiled down at her. “May I zip up my trousers and finish washing the dishes now, or did you want to play some more?”

Gilda reached down and fixed my clothing herself, the sweet little minx. Gently, she put my now-flaccid, sensitive bits back where they belong, dressing me to the left as I prefer – she really does pay attention – never taking her eyes off of mine the entire time. My Mistress slipped out of my arms, caressing my hand. She took a step back and stood before me, smiling. Shaking her head back and forth, Gilda blushed and rolled her eyes at me, slightly embarrassed.

We were no longer touching, and I found I already missed the contact.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Alex.”

+

We decide to take a quick trip to New York City again, this time to purchase a nice gown for her recital. The performers were required to be in formal wear with no exceptions. After a few minor spats in the limo, she simply told me what she didn’t want to wear, and let me take it from there.

“The last thing I want to think about regarding that night is my outfit, Alex, so, just stay within the guidelines of what I’m comfortable wearing while I play the piano. No high heels. No hip-hugging fishtail-crap. No hem so long that I trip in the damn thing. No long sleeves, no plunging necklines, and no itchy fabric or annoying collars. Otherwise, knock yourself out,” she quipped.

We went to an exclusive shop. The snobby, thirty-something sales clerk kept trying to interfere, handing me several things that she insisted would look better on my Gilda than the ones I’d chosen, until I got testy with her and told her to stay out of it. Then she was further dismayed that I was in the private dressing room with my female employer, and she wasn’t allowed to join us.

“You really pissed her off,” Gilda whispered, standing still for me while I zipped up her first dress.

“I don’t give a damn,” I whispered back. She giggled. “Ah, now, don’t laugh too hard or you’ll pop the seams on this disaster that calls itself clothing,” I said, grimacing at how it looked now that it was on her body. She giggled harder. I removed it quickly, noting that she looked far better in just her lacy black panties.

“Maybe you should just go on like that,” I suggested.

“Well, the lace is fine, but I don’t think they’ll allow topless.”

“What a travesty,” I said, caressing her tummy and kissing her ear.

I got to see magenta in no less than four full-length mirrors.

We tried several more gowns. Some time later, I stood behind her while we gazed at her reflection in the mirrors, wearing the gown that made the final cut.

“Mistress, you look absolutely ravishing.”

She nodded, an expression of disbelief on her face. “I gotta hand it to you, Alex. You’ve got great taste.”

Gilda purchased the dress and the shoes that I preferred, along with an entire back-up ensemble, just in case. She didn’t object to my choices in the least, unlike the sales clerk.

“I guess I can’t tell you what to buy, but that particular dress is meant for a more mature woman,” the clerk said, sniffing haughtily. “With a fuller bust,” she added, under her breath.

“If we pay extra will you shut up?” Gilda blurted, while looking at some fancy crystal hairclips under the glass case of the register. I bit my tongue to keep from laughing. She scrawled her name across the credit slip when the woman handed it to her, and never even looked up.

“This place smells bad,” she declared, strolling away. “I’ll be waiting in the limo, Alexander.”

“Very good, Mistress.”

She just got better with each and every day that passed.

Gilda was so taken with the idea of shiny hair clips that we went to a high-end jeweler and found her the perfect pair, made of quality platinum. They were shaped like musical notes, and were encrusted with tiny little rubies.

When we got home, I surprised her with the small ruby necklace that went with her new hairclips. “When did you get this?!”

“While I was at the register. I told the salesman to add it to your purchase and pop it in the bag before you could see it.”

“You sneaky, adorable butler! Oh, Alex… It’s beautiful.”

“Don’t be too impressed, Miss. I bought it with your money.”

She shook her head, still smiling. “That doesn’t matter! You got me a present!”

Such joy. It was rare that she allowed me to put things like silk stockings on her, so I relished every chance I got and her recital would be no exception.

The necklace, however, she wore to bed that very night.

+

Our days went by as such, lovely and warm, cherishing our time together by not thinking about the end of things. We kept our usual bedtime activities; bath, drying off, hair brushing, but now it was frequently capped off with sex, which occasionally resulted in the little death for my Gilda.

It didn’t happen to her every time, and who can say what sort of whimsy actually leads to it… her mood or my attentions, perhaps? Maybe both. It took some time for us to get used to the aftermath – sometimes it was just dizziness and giggling, sometimes she’d grow incredibly drowsy and fall asleep. There were other times – very, very nice times – when she’d just want to keep touching and eventually we’d do it again.

Sometimes, like the one I am about to describe to you, she’d weep.

Once I divined the scent, which was very subtle, I could smell the oxytocin as much as see its results. It was strange, but completely unavoidable, as brain chemicals often are, and I found her behavior very intriguing. I simply stayed with her, saying soothing words or just letting her cling, until she either fell asleep or recovered. Then I kissed her goodnight and tucked her in.

Who was I to judge her in this? Such a thing – this frightening, remarkable, beautiful thing – would never be mine to experience. All I could do was observe, and frankly, be complimented. When I wasn’t monumentally jealous, that is.

Sometimes she’d apologize, as her thoughts would go off on a tangent and convince her that I found her tears silly or annoying. This was never true, but again, those damn chemicals can have an enormous affect on human behavior.

I wasn’t about to scold her for something she had no control over. The only way we could prevent it was to stop having sex.

To use the vernacular: Yeah, right.

It was seventeen days before her recital. She came, I came, she wept, I cuddled her, she relaxed, we talked, we kissed, we talked some more, I tucked her in and left. A fabulous night altogether.

Later, from my private room, I heard her gasp around three in the morning.

I was surprised to say the least; she hadn’t woken up in the middle of the night in a very long time, not since I’d returned to her, in fact.

I continued to listen from my room, waiting to hear the familiar pattern of muttering, clothing being pulled off, and her body flopping back down against the bed. I’d go in a few minutes after that and cover my darling Miss back up, so she wouldn’t catch a chill.

But these sounds never came. In fact, after the gasp, I heard Ink’s sympathetic mewing, then nothing for several minutes. Then I heard her sniffling, but it was muffled, like she was trying to keep me from noticing.

Silly girl.

I chuckled to myself and lit my candelabrum, and went in her room to see what the fuss was about.

Setting the candelabrum down on her nightstand, I sat next to her on the bed, being very quiet. She was on her side, turned away from me, sniffling and not saying a word, but she knew I was there.

Placing a hand on her hip, I inquired, “What is it, Miss Gilda?” When she didn’t answer, I rubbed the curve of her hip in a friendly way, and asked, “Did you have your insect nightmare again?”

She had Ink cuddled against her chest, and despite the tears, he wasn’t budging. In fact he was looking at me like I should just leave.

Charming little bugger.

She sniffed, and wiped her nose with her fingers.

“Mistress,” I pleaded, pulling a tissue from the box on her nightstand and handing it to her over her shoulder. “I am not upset that you are crying, but I cannot help you unless you tell me why.”

She took the tissue, wiped her eyes and blew her nose, then gave it back to me, of course, for disposal.

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” she whispered softly. She cuddled Ink closer, sighing. “I’ll be all right, Alex. Just leave me be, okay?”

Suddenly, I realized what she was hiding. It was the only worry she could possibly have left.

“It wasn’t bugs, was it? You dreamed you were in oblivion again.”

I keep forgetting her perspective, you see. Not so much in that I am hungry and I am going to eat her soul, but that the date was sneaking up on us. I’ve lived for thousands of years; Gilda has only had twenty. Seventeen days means very little to me, but it wasn’t the same thing for her.

“Please, Alex, don’t make me talk about this! I’ll just get upset and then you’ll want to leave me again and I can’t bear the thought–”

“Hush,” I said, flipping her over and taking her in my arms. His hackles raising, Ink grew angry and hissed at me. I narrowed my eyes at him over Gilda’s shoulder, ruby fire flashing.

You’re very pretty, but she’s my human, cat.

Ink jumped off the bed and ran away. Gilda clung to my neck, and continued her rant.

“I can’t possibly know what it will really be like, it was just a stupid dream–”

“Miss. Please, hush.”

She hiccupped, and quieted. We stayed like that for some time. I stroked her back soothingly, and she stopped crying. When she finally relaxed, I pulled back so that we could look at one another.

Wiping off her wet face, I said, “All right… now that you are calm, let’s have this out.” She frowned, averting her eyes. “Do you wish to break the contract?”

“No.”

“Are you afraid of dying?”

“No. It’ll happen with or without you.”

“Are you afraid of the way I will take your soul?”

“A little, but… it makes me queasy more than it scares me.”

“Are you afraid of Hell?”

“I am now, yeah.”

“Good. You should be. Are you more afraid of oblivion?”

She glanced at me. Pausing, she finally said, “Only when I am dreaming about it.”

I nodded. “That makes sense. I cannot help you with that one, though.”

“It’s my problem, not yours.”

“That does not make me feel any better.”

She winced, and hugged me again. With my mouth next to her ear, I whispered, “Are you afraid of me?”

“Alex,” she cried, “Never, never, never, never.”

“All right, it’s all right.” I kissed the cheek that was close to me, over and over. “I promise you, Miss, I am not going to leave you.”

“What a mess,” she sobbed miserably. “I’m scared, but… I love you. And if I hadn’t said yes to the contract, I never would have known you.”

“If anyone has made a bad judgment call, Mistress, it is I.”

She cried on me a bit more, then I left the candles burning and climbed into bed with her. I talked to her until she fell asleep, whispering things like oblivion is a long way off, and no strong soul has ever gone stark raving mad inside me, and won’t the sky be lovely tomorrow.

Those last two were complete truths. And in some respects, so was the first one.

She slept peacefully the remainder of the night, cuddled against me. The next morning, she was fine, waking and stretching, kissing me sweetly. We went through our routine, and then she tackled the business of a new day.

She wasn’t faking this, either; she didn’t just look and act happy, she smelled it.

I hid it well, but I didn’t feel the same. My stomach hurt.

+

“Texas.”

“Very good. Yes, very good.” I pointed to another one. “A sheep.”

We were lying on our backs in the meadow where I’d first had ‘real’ sex with her – as she liked to call it – looking up at the passing clouds after a nice picnic lunch.

“I don’t see– Oh! There’s the horns. You mean sheep like a ram, not a lamb.”

“Yes Miss. Your turn.”

“Um… Okay. There’s a turtle.”

“If all you mean is the shell of one, then yes.”

“Jeez, picky. Your turn.”

I searched the sky. “That one could be a skull.”

She leaned into my shoulder, following the line of my arm.

“Hmm. Creepy.” We lay still for a bit, patient as the sky changed. “Over there,” she said aloud, “There’s one that looks like a chameleon!”

“It was a turtle five minutes ago.”

“Well, it morphed.”

Very faint, I heard thunder in the distance. I sat up and turned to look at the northwest horizon, with Gilda following my lead.

“Oh my. Those look serious.”

Thunderheads were indeed rolling in. “It’s going to rain,” I sighed. “I’d better take you home, Miss.”

She pouted. “Can’t we stay?”

“You’ll get wet. Maybe even sick, Mistress.”

“But I won’t. It’s hot today. I’ll be all right.”

“Why on earth do you want to be outside in a rainsto–”

She cut me off by kissing me quickly and putting a hand on my crotch. “I’ll give you one guess,” she said, then kissed me again. She gave my privates a gentle squeeze through my trousers, and I growled. I hadn’t intended on pleasuring her in the open air when I packed the picnic basket that morning, and the thought of having sex in a thunderstorm certainly never occurred to me… it was dangerous, but I was game if she was!

We stayed on the blanket, undressing each other under a darkening sky, waiting for the storm to drench us. The wind picked up, and began to whip her long hair around, making her look like a goddess as she sat on top of me, greedily taking me in and riding me hard. The rain began to pelt us, and she threw her head back, laughing at the storm and clenching me hard.

She reached out impetuously and grabbed my hand. Turning it, Gilda rubbed our contract marks together until our skin tingled and our heads were spinning. It was very exciting and it felt wonderful, and I would have let it go on, but then lightening struck and I could smell the hail in the air.

Gilda protested hotly when I yanked my hand back and forced her off of me, but she quieted down when more lightening struck, this time closer to the meadow. I stood and picked her up, crushing her slick body against my own. Carrying her in my arms, I made a mad dash for the thick line of trees, and the hail began falling within moments after we were safely under the branches.

I continued to hold her as we watched the storm’s violence increase. Gilda surprised me again, by demanding to be put down. She remained next to me though, her hand wrapped tight around one of my fingers.

“Wow,” she shouted, completely enthralled with the hail and the wind and the thunder, smiling and laughing and taking it all in. “This is awesome!”

Such a fascinating creature.

I needed to touch her right then, so I pulled her back into my arms, and thankfully she didn’t object. We watched as the storm did its worst, but these sorts of hot-weather tempests usually pass quickly. It let up after about five minutes, then it came to a sudden and complete stop.

Gilda and I took a few steps closer and stood at the edge of the trees, staring at the meadow. It was beautiful. There was an eerie calm to it. Everything was drenched and dripping. The meadow was bathed in that odd gray-green light that you only see after a midday storm, and the grass was littered with bits of melting hail. Steam was rising everywhere you looked.

I glanced up to see that the storm was quickly moving east. Gilda didn’t say a word; she just grabbed my hand and took me back out onto the meadow. She pulled me down with her, and we resumed our games, this time, directly on the grass.

I felt bits of hail underneath me as we tumbled and vied for the top. Eventually I won, pressing her down against the grass until she whined and submitted to my will. Cold, smooth balls of ice stung my knees and the bottoms of my feet while I thrust into her hard and fast, and Gilda hissed as she felt the same icy sensations beneath her back.

When she came for me, I could feel the walls of her sex throbbing so hard against my cock that her orgasm may as well have been my own.

“That was fantastic,” she breathed.

I lowered myself until I was lying against her, my body still trapped between her legs, kissing her neck and humming my agreement. “You really enjoy being wet, don’t you Miss Gilda?”

“Yes. Very much. Don’t you?”

“Indeed. I enjoy your wetness as much as you do.”

She laughed until she hiccupped.

I knew she liked thrills, but until that day I had no idea what a wild child my Mistress could be.

+

“Alex!” She called to me from the main hall, sounding excited and pleased. “Alex, where are y– oh!”

“Yes, Miss?” I said, teasing. I had snuck up behind her silently.

“Jeez! Sneaky.”

“Yes, Miss.” I grinned.

“Here! I just found this in the cabinet!”

She grinned from ear to ear, and handed me one of the scores she had purchased in New York City during our Christmas trip there. It was the meditation from Jules Massenet’s opera, Thais.

“Do you know this?”

“Very well, actually. Why, Mistress?”

“I forgot I bought it! It’s such a great piece for the violin. I got it ‘cause I wanted to play a duet with you.”

“Ah! That sounds lovely, Miss.” I knew this piece of music backwards and forwards. It had gotten me invited into many a bed over the years.

I retrieved my Stradivarius, and met her in the salon, where she was already practicing her part. Not a difficult accompaniment, but there’s my Gilda. She looked up at me as I stood ready next to her.

“Nice and slow, Demon. Slower than is written, okay?”

“Of course, Miss. As you wish.”

I did slow it down, per her request. She was right about that. It was a haunting, beautiful melody. She played her part perfectly, quiet and not flashy, supporting my part as needed. When we were done, she was sniffling.

“Sorry. Sorry!” She laughed at herself as I set down my violin and handed her a box of tissues, smiling sympathetically.

This is how it always starts. I make them cry with my fabulous playing, I console them, the kissing begins, I get invited up their dress or in their pants, whichever applies, and we copulate. I made sure I came, and enjoyed that part at least, even though they were run-of-the-mill musicians at best and tedious as humans go… stuffy bourgeois pigs-at-heart who had little actual respect for the arts, and too much love for their money.

I suppressed a chuckle. I didn’t really need to get in Gilda’s shorts right then. Lunch was not far off. I’d serve her something delicious and I’d be invited in there shortly after that.

She was speaking, though, and my sordid thoughts about slowly peeling off her clothing stopped, and I came back to the moment.

“–really played it with someone as good as you before, you know? It’s just that piece has always been special to me, and your technique, Alex – Wow! Totally brought me to tears.”

“My Young Miss is a passionate human, and she appreciates a certain aesthetic…” I said quietly. “It makes her soul all the more rich and inviting.”

“I can’t possibly be that cultured. Not me,” she sniffed, brushing at errant tears with the back of her hand. Sitting down next to her on the bench, I moved her impatient hands out of the way, and wiped at her tears gently.

“Then you have no idea who you really are,” I said, chuckling. “And it is no more a matter of culture than a tiger’s stripes. It was ingrained in you from the moment of your birth.”

She smiled at me, finished crying, and I caressed the side of her cheek.

I glanced at her piano. “Isn’t that your cadenza?” I asked, pointing at the top front panel. Next to the score for the piece by Massenet was her staff paper. The lines were filled with penciled-in musical score, scratched through, erased, re-written, all in her strong, quick hand.

She whispered, “Get behind me,” and I grinned. I sat behind her on the bench as she moved her staff paper to the front, my legs parting wide to accommodate her as she sat between my thighs. As I held her loosely by her waist, Gilda played the entire second movement of her – well, my concerto, the part entitled Linens, and I noted the changes she’d made to the cadenza, trying to follow the messy marks on the staff paper as she played.

“Okay,” she said. “That’s it. What do you think?”

“The alterations are entirely appropriate. You did very well,” I said, kissing her cheek. "Miss, may I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Your concerto… is it the very same composition that you were working on that day I approached you at the café?"

"Well... kind of. I started it then. After our chat that day, you gave me the idea for the butler thing. But I’d let it go until our contract. What can I say, you made an impression, Alexander."

"I cannot tell you how flattered I am to have been the inspiration for an actual concerto."

“Flattery aside, what do you think of it, really?”

“I think…” I started, hugging her, “…that your second movement will forever remind me of the way you clutch my hair in your fingers and whisper my name.”

“Then I guess I wrote it right,” she said quietly, clearing her throat. She put her hands on my arms, and I tightened my hold on her, squeezing for a moment. “Alex…” she whispered, pressing herself against my chest.

We sat quietly for a while, then I said what had been on my mind for a few days.

"I still feel that I am not worthy of such praise. I was simply doing my duty.”

“As one hell of a butler?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think artists dedicate their best work to those that are less than one hell-of-a-whatever? Can you imagine us thinking, today I’m gonna write a novel about that bank teller, ‘cause he was pretty much okay.”

“Point taken,” I said humbly.

“If nothing else, you’ll have something permanent to remember me by, right?” She grinned, leaning back to kiss my cheek.

I frowned. “You mean other than your soul?”

Gilda shook her head. "Oh, my. You're feeling regretful again, aren't you?"

"I would be remiss were I to say no. There is the fact that you are still terrified of the fate waiting for you inside me. Do not deny it–” I said quickly, feeling her about to supply a retort. “You are scared. And you know I care about you. As such, your fear disturbs me.”

“Oblivion is still better than Hell. And those are my only choices, right?”

I sighed. The argument was moot. “Leaving all that aside, you are a striking talent, Miss. I have stolen a brilliant future. And for that, yes, I have some regret."

"That's not precisely true, Alex."

"How so?"

"My future's been stolen from me since before I was born."

"Explain."

"Norm stole it before I even popped out of Veronica, and her miserable existence took even more of it. The conservatory’s bills took their fare share away from me, too. Then that guy in the alley? He was the cherry on the cake of doom, stealing whatever was left, because let's face it... I was gonna die that day.

"No future. Stolen. From the very start, and without any help from you, Demon. The way I see it, you gave me a future, even if it wasn't the one that nature had intended. Nature wasn’t so kind, either – knowing I had talent, but being driven nuts 'cause I knew I'd never be able to get anywhere with it? Ugh. That was awful."

See? I was right. Louis DeBrena. Linda Smith. Souls with no chance of living up to their potential because of the circumstances that life put them in. It's tragic, and it isn't fair by any means, but that's the human condition. It makes things easier to understand... but it doesn't make me feel any better about ending Gilda’s life.

"Then you came along. Somebody finally helped me live up to my potential. That's all I ever wanted... for myself, anyway. Oh, and let's not forget the excellent perks… falling in love, nice things, delicious food, and earth-shattering sex. Not bad, Alex, not bad at all."

"Such a sweet girl. But what did you mean by ‘for myself’, Miss?" I leaned in, burying my nose in her hair and inhaling. "Did you want things for other people?"

She shifted in my arms, and adjusted her legs on the bench as though she were suddenly uncomfortable.

"Um... This was nice, Alex, you holding me while I played." She turned her face towards my cheek and kissed me softly. "But can we go sit on the couch now?"

"Are you finally finished?"

"Yep! No more practicing today," she said, waving an errant hand at her composition notes. "I want to do something else now. Something fun."

"Something like a perk?" I asked, smirking. I got to my feet and gave her a hand up.

"I’m thinking… Skinny dipping!"

+

“Miss is content?”

She nodded.

“And I have satisfied you?”

“Alex… you don’t have to convince me to sleep alone tonight. I’m tired. I know I need the rest.”

I was sitting on the side of her bed, absentmindedly rubbing her stomach, watching her grow drowsy.

“Yes… Tomorrow is a big day.”

“The last day of your life often is.”

“Providing you pass. If you fail, you won’t be allowed to hold another recital until next Fall.”

Gilda tilted her head against her pillow and gave me a sarcastic grin. “You almost sound like you’d enjoy that outcome,” she said, yawning. I suppressed a response to that, thinking better of it. “Put it from your mind, Demon. I want my certificate, and I’m not gonna throw this.” She placed a hand over my own, stroking my skin and sighing. “You’ve given me everything I asked for, plus a whole lot more.”

“I must admit, there were several moments when I did not think this contract was going to succeed.”

“You mean, like when you left me?”

I paused, searching her face. “Miss is still angry with me.”

“No,” she said. “I’m not. You came back. That’s all that matters.”

“May I ask another question?”

“Of course.”

“Do you remember that day Dean Manners came to visit?”

She blushed, biting the inside of her cheek. “You mean when we were upstairs in your room and I was practically forcing myself on you?”

“You were only trying to talk me into it. And I capitulated fairly quickly, remember? But, yes. That time.”

“What about it?”

“After the Dean left, we did not resume our little game. In fact, I had to trap you during that picnic, days later.”

She closed her eyes, sighing. “My first little death. Oh, Alex, that was so good. You were smart to have done that.”

“Perhaps. But my jealousy certainly played a part in that plan. It was as though… As though you had forgotten about it. About me.”

“Well, the board expected me to improve my concerto. I wanted to get to work on it as soon as possible because there was only so much time left.”

“Work on it? I’d say you were obsessed.”

“Oh my. Are you still jealous, Alexander?” she teased.

“I have always been envious of the time you devote to your music, even though I knew you would not be as good at it if you weren’t so devoted to it. But I am not jealous anymore.”

“All thanks to my clever routine.”

“What routine, Mistress?”

“You may have noticed,” she said, yawning, “that I try to divide my time as equally as possible between sleeping, music… and you. That’s pretty much all I need.”

“And you do all three so very well, Miss.”

“Charmer,” she whispered, teasing, and stroked my cheek.

“Artist,” I teased in return. I leaned closer to her, and her hands snaked through my hair before my lips even touched hers. We kissed each other for a long time.

When we kiss in this way, it’s passionate, yes; but truthfully, it isn’t just connected to the act of sex. And it makes me realize just how vulnerable Gilda actually is, at least where I am concerned. There are no barriers left between us. It is too bad things are coming to a close, because now that we are near the end, there is this unhurried attraction between us. Such a relationship usually takes years to foster, and even then, it is quite rare.

I will not soon forget Gilda Franks.

“Your lips are so soft,” I whispered against her mouth.

“Alex…” She hummed an agreement. “Every time you kiss me, I feel like I’m walking on a cloud.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Miss.”

She paused. “I… I think I liked it the best.”

“Kissing, you mean?” I asked. She nodded at me. “More than the sex?”

She paused, frowning. “Yes, I think so. Oh – that’s not meant to be an insult.”

“No offense taken,” I assured her.

“The sex is spectacular, but there is something special about the way we kiss.”

“Yes. Orgasms are an endgame. So often it’s what leads up to it that makes them memorable. But kissing… well, that’s just in a category by itself. Especially with you.”

I kissed her mouth, then her forehead, and she yawned. “Ask your question,” she managed around her yawn.

“Pardon?”

She shook her head, smiling. “Too much kissing. It’s made you forget.”

“There can never be too much kissing where you are concerned, Mistress. And my question was, why were you so obsessed? Your composition was already done, you were just applying a few tempo changes, and yet you practiced day and night until I finally…”

“Fucked some sense into me?” she offered, smirking.

“Language, Young Miss. I was so desperate to get you to calm down I almost drugged your food.”

“Hah, really? Looking back, I bet you’re glad you went with the picnic plan instead.” Wicked, wicked little girl. And I didn’t even have to teach her that. After a long pause, she finally said, “I’m okay now. I’m not so obsessed. I’m comfortable with the piece as is, but… To answer your question, it’s going to be the last time.”

“Miss?”

Her jaw practically split with a deep, sleepy yawn. Closing her eyes and giving my arm a tiny squeeze, she whispered, “Tomorrow night is the last time I will play the piano. Ever. So… I want it to be perfect.”

+

‘the last time…’

My heart had clenched when she’d said that.

I told her that the best thing she could do for herself now was to get a good night’s sleep. I wished her pleasant dreams and exited her bedroom before she could say another word, while I still had the resolve to stop myself from climbing back into her bed.

I’d buttled for her, as agreed.

I had destroyed her father’s wealth and dissolved his company. She had her revenge.

After her recital, the conservatory would award her a certificate of completion, with honors no doubt. She’d have her hard-won prize. She’d earned it. She deserves it.

The contract would then be finished. She was my hard-won prize and I was going to eat her perfect, talented soul, depriving the world of a virtuoso in the process.

I won’t feel any guilt whatsoever when I do this.

…in a week or so.

Perhaps a month. We’ll see.

+

On the day of Gilda’s recital final, she woke up earlier than her usual nine-ish, at seven twenty-six a.m.

With a sleepy yawn, she questioned why I was laying behind her since I had tucked her in and left the night before.

I had no answer, save to sidle up behind her, wrapping my arms around her torso.

“You’re not dressed,” she teased. She paused a moment, then said, “I’m not dressed.” Giggling softly she asked, “When did that happen?”

I chuckled, still not giving her an answer. It was already clear that I gave in to my impulses and returned to her bed last night, divesting her of her clothing while she slept; I didn’t need to incriminate myself further with a spoken confession. Resting my lips on the back of her neck, I kissed her.

“Closer,” she whispered.

I pulled her back against my front. Crooking one long leg over her hip, I pushed with my calf until her bottom was resting on my stomach. I had effectively trapped her to me, pressing us together from head to toe, yet she was utterly pliable… soft and warm. Yielding.

Trusting.

When I kissed her ear, she stiffened as if to stretch, though I knew better. Trapped though she was in my grip, her back still arched, and the adrenaline began to rise, right alongside her delicious soul.

Ah… so lovely. However, there were other considerations today. She had a schedule to keep, and I had the responsibility to remind her of that.

“Mistress, do you not want to sleep a little more? The recital is not until eight p.m. If you get up this early, you may need coffee to get through it later. A caffeinated beverage that late in the day will make you jittery, and that will not be good.”

“I was planning on taking a nap this afternoon. You know… with you?” I smiled wickedly against her neck, and I didn’t even care if she’d noticed.

Gilda scratched her nose. “Besides… It’s my last day on earth, Alex. I want to make the most of it.”

“Ah… well that explains it all, then,” I teased.

Gilda stilled, then shifted, her intentions to turn in my arms and face me. I released my tight hold on her immediately. When she settled, I pulled her in again, wanting as to keep as much skin contact between us as I could.

“What? What explains what?” she asked, frowning.

I brushed the stray hairs away from her eyes, tucking them behind her ear. Smiling at her beautiful, confused face, I teased, “Is that why you fell in love with me? Are you making the best of a bad situation?”

I felt Gilda stiffen against me, defensively. I held her tightly, all over; my arms around her, my leg still draped over her hip. “It’s all right,” I whispered, “My apologies. I was teasing… and it was inappropriate to do so. You do not have to answer that.”

She whispered in return, “No… no, I think I should.”

When I felt her body relax again, I pulled back from her just a bit, just enough to kiss her. “Take your time,” I whispered, in-between kisses.

Gilda sighed, and we lay quietly together, listening to the clocks ticking and the fledglings outside her window, chirping and begging food from their parents. Finally, she spoke.

“I used to worry it was because of that. Then I kind of thought it might be because you spoil me senseless. But, now… well, the truth is I don’t know why I fell in love with you.”

She raised a hand to my cheek, cold hand caressing me softly.

“Go on, Miss.”

“A good friend of mine… Not Fortune, but a woman in her thirties that I know… she once told me that the heart does what it wants, and you simply can’t stop it. So the way I see it, I could hardly have prevented it, even if you hadn’t been so good to me.”

“Ah… Chemistry?”

“I dunno. Maybe.”

“Well, however it works, that is another major difference between my kind and yours. We don’t fall, but our hearts also do as they please. But… we can make it stop.”

“Is that what you’re doing, then?” She looked at me, searching for something. “Are you stopping yourself?”

I smiled.

“Not at the present time, Miss.”

She kissed me then, and I knew that breakfast and bath time were going to be put off even further. I marveled at the realization that up until her classes were finished, this would have irked the hell out of me. But now, I didn’t give a damn.

Afterwards, spent and boneless, she placed a delicate kiss on my cheek, sighing, and I could hear the happiness in her voice. All too conscious of my human body pressing down on hers, I loosened my arms from around her torso and slowly, gently, pulled my sex from hers. Her cervix had a strong grip on me, more so than usual, and she gasped at the succulent sounds of our bodies separating.

Gilda closed her eyes for a moment, then looked up at me and smiled. I smiled back, and tried not to think about how the sheets were going to be soiled, or that someday soon I would not have sheets to launder. Or anyone to launder them for.

Adjusting my position so that the mattress bore most of my weight, I looked down to see Gilda gazing up at me with a very content expression on her face. “I’m going to miss you, Alexander,” she whispered.

There’s my sweet, delicious prey, bravely readying herself for death and oblivion.

Won’t she be surprised.

+

“He loves her.”

“He uses her to relieve the demands of his overzealous sexual proclivities.”

“Yes… And he loves her, too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s demonic. He cannot love,” the second one said with distaste, revealing an obvious aversion to the idea.

“Yes, he can. Just not like she does. Or the way I would, for that matter, but whether you, or he, can admit it or not, he definitely feels love for her.”

“Nonsense. And in any case,” the second one barreled on, obviously needing to change the subject, “this latest behavior is just more proof that he’s going to try and draw out the contract. That means the time to intervene is at hand. Our comrades are ready. I have given Norman Bellows sufficient motivation, and that human will be more than ready to do my bidding when I approach him tonight after the recital.”

“Her recital.”

“Pardon me?”

“It’s her recital. Gilda’s recital, not ‘the’ recital. And we are using her friendship with Grell, and her father, not some random individual named Norman Bellows, to get what we want. Changing the way you refer to the specifics of our plan isn’t going to magically make it an impersonal act.”

“I am aware of that,” the second one said testily.

“But your use of neutral language suggests you are not taking the responsibility.”

“I will use language any way I please. And stop trying to sound like you have been educated beyond primary school.” The second one glanced in the first one’s direction, and added, “If that demon does love his prey, which I doubt,” the words were laced with disgust, “then that makes our plan all the more justified.

The first one watched the second one ruefully, thinking long on something before responding.

“Tell yourself whatever you’d like. Things might work out to everyone’s advantage… and they might not. Either way, we’ll have to hurt her in the process. And no matter what you say, nothing will ever justify that.”

+

almost done

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++++++++ notes ++++++++

If you read it, **please** review it. Thanks!

Regarding the number that Sebastian and Gilda have their last duet with: it is exactly the type of melody that would bring Gilda Franks to tears, and playing it the way he did is exactly the type of thing that Sebastian would do to manipulate her to that point, the little devil. :) Obviously, he has become addicted to her emotions.

Very often it is played in that fashion, with just a piano backing it, making it appropriate for the scene I wrote. However, this example features a full orchestra backing a soloist. Go to YouTube and type in the search field:

Vengerov Jules Massenet / Thais / Meditation

Vengerov is simply brilliant, and he made the wise choice (or perhaps the conductor or arranger did, I can’t really know) to slow this piece down. Wow. So so so good!
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