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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
++++++++ Please see disclaimer & story notes in chapter one ++++++++

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

I fly beta-less. Please forgive the typos.

Once again, I know nothing about the stock market.

An extra-long chappie for you this time, because when I tried to break it in two, it just wouldn’t let me.

As always, thanks for reading, and pretty pretty pretty please, leave a review. Please?

 +

Gilded

Chapter 9

 

+

“We cannot experiment with love as freely as we wish.

It is really a much more complicated topic.”

-Tad Danielewski

+

On Gilda’s first day back to classes, the snow still hadn’t arrived.

I never cared for it anyway; it only made buttling that much harder. The winter in upstate New York was at least starting out mild, so I took heart that it might stay that way. My mistress told me that a mild winter not the norm in these parts; she said that at this same time last year, she was up to her hips in snow, walking through tunnels outside of the brownstone front of her seedy apartment.

That is, she told me this… when she actually cared to converse with me. I dreaded it, but I knew that things would change between us after her time in limbo and the incident with Faustus. She became cold towards me, which actually hurt.

She was angry, and I no longer held her trust.

This new situation was agitating me so much more than the previous week during the Thanksgiving break, when our house was filled with people for the recent feast. It had been difficult enough stealing time to be alone with her with all those lurking strangers and watchful eyes. That was an inconvenience. This was a genuine rift, and there was no one to blame but ourselves. Her new feelings towards me were preventing me from freely entering her room, waking her, feeding her, scrubbing her clean and dressing her.

My morning routine, damn it all.

Not to mention, the occasional display of subtle affection – the ones that I felt were even more important to fostering her love for me? Well, that had come to a screeching halt.

The morning after our chat, I had to knock on a closed bedroom door to say good morning, but I was not permitted to enter. She came downstairs some time later, cleaned up, hair fixed and dressed… all this, by herself. I was sullen, but when I noticed her collar was sticking up at an odd angle on one side, I reached out instinctively to correct it.

Gilda recoiled, and swatted my hand away, saying, “I’m not a child. I can do that sort of stuff myself.”

That hurt. I enjoyed looking after her, I really did. There is The Demon, you see, but then there is also The Butler.

The drive to the conservatory was silent. It was her first day back after the attack, and I had a lot to think about, so at least her silence gave me time to consider how I was going to handle our day-to-day routine. I pulled up to the drop-off point, parking behind the other limos. Before I could get out to open her door, I heard her quiet, cold voice.

“Alexander.”

I looked at her in the rear-view mirror. She wasn’t looking back. “Yes, Miss?” I hoped, against all odds, that she was going to ask me if I wanted to check her panties for cleanliness.

Seeing as how I was not permitted to put them on you this morning, yes, Mistress, I’d like that very much.

“When you kiss me…” She paused, and swallowed hard, looking out her window. Steeling herself, she continued. “Have you been placating me from the start?”

I sighed. I was not able to lie to her, although I wanted to, and very badly. Yes, I am one hell of a butler. But obviously I’d make a lousy human being.

“In a way. It is part of what I do. But not everything I did was to manip–”

“Fucking quit it, Demon. We’ve already got a contract, and as you’ve told me so often, that will never change. So don’t touch me unless you mean it. Either you want me… you actually like me, or you don’t.”

I felt my demon insides boiling with frustration, and I did my best to suppress it from surfacing. But no matter how angry I was, she was more so. And she had every right to be. She had figured out some of my strategy, but… not completely. The problem was I couldn’t actually tell her that. Not if I wanted to salvage this contract and get her back to trusting me. To falling for me.

I cannot form contract with humans without manipulating them. But over and above that… Well, I was apprehensive to tell her how much I wanted her. I was afraid to tell that I didn’t just ‘like’ her; indeed, I loved her.

This is what sets me apart from my colleagues. I am vicious, I am hungry. I want. I need. I will kill to protect, seduce to get what I want, and I enjoy myself when doing either…

But, try as I might not to, I also experience desire. I love. And that is not common amongst my kind.

+

I’d spent her first day back at school watching from the trees in my crow form.

The conservatory was a loosely organized campus of five buildings, consisting of instrument labs, orchestra rooms, lecture halls, traditional classrooms, administrative offices, a cafeteria, a nicely landscaped courtyard, and, of all things, a small ‘playground’ with rather expensive swing sets. There were some dorms as well, but they were set further away from the main campus at the base of a grassy hill.

After she’d returned to school back in October, I’d toured the campus with Gilda to meet Dean Daniel Manners, the head of the conservatory, and some of her teachers, with the intent to sniff out trouble. They had all checked out, but I also wanted to familiarize myself with the place.

Just in case.

The security, as I’ve said, was quite adequate, seeing as how most of the students attending were from rich families, and I doubt their parents would have put up with anything less. But I was not taking any chances with trusting her well-being to either alarm systems or other people; not anymore.

When we’d gotten to the swing sets, I questioned their presence.

“Aren’t all of the students here adults? Or at least in their late teens, like you were?”

“No. Some of them are real prodigies. The youngest one here is a little girl from China, Mae Ling, a violinist. She’s only eight. She has a tutor at home in Manhattan, she goes there on the weekends and studies even more so she can get her GED as well. Sweet kid.”

“So these swings are for them?”

She had laughed. “Not really, they are for anybody. Mr. Manners has been the Dean here for a while now, and he’s the one that had these swings put in. He’s pretty much an out-of-the-box thinker.” I was familiar with that expression. It kind of described me, as well.

“He says there is nothing like a good swing when you are troubled or feeling the dreaded artistic block. And you know, he’s right. We all make it out here for a swing, eventually.”

I had smiled at her. Her openness and deep feelings were liabilities where other demons were concerned, but that she wore her heart on her sleeve around me was adorable. I’d become addicted to that very quickly. Perhaps too quickly.

“Would you like me to push you for a bit, Miss?”

She’d grinned at me.

“Another time. I’m hungry, let’s go home.”

We never did get around to a swing, I’m sorry to say, but now there were more pressing matters to deal with.

I spotted David Taylor on campus once, but there was no time to deal with him just yet. As long as he did not attempt to talk to her or look at her strangely, he could wait a few days. For now my primary concern was getting used to following Gilda around on campus. Taylor, in fact, seemed to be completely disinterested in her, and that was probably because the fool didn’t know that Dismembered Thug of the First Instance had – how do you say? ‘Sold him out’.

I flew and hopped from building to building as Gilda went through her day, perching on nearby trees to watch from the windows of whatever room she was currently in. But when she entered her favorite piano lab, I knew I was in for some discomfort.

The labs consisted of a series of small rooms for individual practice with one’s chosen instrument, located centrally in the building’s structure. The walls of these labs were designed for the most ideal sound. This was a wonderfully conducive set-up for the students as they perfected their playing abilities, but unfortunately for me, there were no goddamn windows to spy in. I became agitated by this, pecking bugs to death in frustration and waiting it out until she finally appeared at the building’s front door. She was about to walk to her next class, which was a lecture-style instruction on orchestral composition in a different building. Her friend Fortunado was also in that class; he met her at the door, and they walked through the courtyard together.

I hadn’t been able to fully control my irritation at not being able to see her for those two hours. She stopped halfway through their walk, and scratched her tummy through her jacket.

“Gillie? You all right?” Fortune’s voice was laced with concern as he stopped and put a hand on her shoulder. He was privy to what we were doing with her father, and loyal to the secret nature of it. But what had happened to her in the pool yesterday had honestly rattled the decent young man.

The tip of my right wing was tingling, even in my crow form, and apparently so was the mark on her tummy. Usually only direct contact between the marks or her giving me an order would cause such a sensation, but my emotional state was obviously beginning to affect it as well. This was very unprofessional of me, I admit, but it seemed there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Gilda frowned, and she probably knew I was near, but to her credit she did not look around suspiciously. “It’s just dry skin. From the cold weather, that’s all.”

“I have some lotion in my bag. Let’s duck in the lady’s room and I’ll fix you up before OrchComp.”

She knew perfectly well that lotion wasn’t going to help. Plus, that would reveal the mark to Fortunado… not to mention some human would be putting his hands on my Mistress’ person.

Yes. I know. I have major jealously issues.

“Nah, it’s not that bad. Really. Lets just get to class,” she said, putting on her best smile, and taking his arm. Her friend smiled sympathetically and led her to the next class on their schedules.

He was a lovely young man, with great decency. A stalwart friend such as he was probably just what Gilda needed right then. But in that very moment, I still wanted to rip Fortunado Fernandez’s damn arm off.

+

The ‘OrchComp’ lecture was her last class of the day, and I made the mistake of hopping onto a window ledge to get a better look at her. I should have known that she was too sharp a human not to have paid attention to everything around her, especially with the previous day’s events still fresh in her mind.

Gilda looked up as my crow form struggled for purchase on a ledge, however brief it was. She stared at me for a little bit, then narrowed her eyes. She mouthed the words ‘Fuck you Demon’, then shook her head disgustedly and went back to listening to her instructor.

Bitch. How I longed to embrace her, right then.

When the class ended, she stood up and shouldered that awful canvas bag, and looked up at me expectantly. I flew off to where I’d left the limo in the conservatory’s parking lot. Transforming in a nearby tree, I dropped to the ground as a fully-dressed butler and entered the limo casually while no one was there to see.

I waited for her at the bottom of the stairs as usual. She kissed young Mr. Fernandez goodbye, and he nodded at me politely.

On the way home, she finally spoke.

“Yeah, I fucking get it. You're everywhere I am."

I had no response to that.

When we got home, I checked the perimeter of the entire property, all one hundred and sixty-seven acres of it, at something close to the speed of light. I examined and secured all the doors and windows in the manor, killing all the insects as I went – thanks to my daily diligence there weren’t many to be found, but a few new ones always made it in. I took great pleasure in killing them. Slowly.

Later that evening, while Gilda was composing and practicing in the salon, I finally got up to her room to clean it. I looked for the lipstick blot first thing, almost on instinct. There was nothing on top of the glass surface of the vanity, but sure enough, I found the blot. It was crumpled up in the waste bin. I removed it and put it in my pocket before emptying the bin. Later, while dusting and re-shelving in the library, I un-crumpled my trophy and added it to the collection, sighing sadly. The kiss-mark was horribly distorted.

Oh, shut up. I know. I’m pathetic.

+

The following week, Gilda managed to beat me to yet another punch and confronted Mr. David Taylor herself. She should have been diligently practicing away, safe in Piano Lab, but of course not, she just had to go and do my job for me.

She’d ditched her time in the lab, and followed Taylor onto the grassy slope some distance from the back of the cafeteria. He’d been walking back to his dorm room alone, and after she grabbed his arm and demanded an explanation, an argument ensued. By the time I flew to her side and transformed, Taylor had a meaty hand wrapped around her wrists and was about to throw her the ground.

I was there between them instantly, as though I’d materialized out of thin air. I removed Taylor’s hand from Gilda’s wrists, which was actually quite easy to accomplish since I’d removed it from his arm to begin with.

The next few things happened very quickly, but I have to tell you that I absolutely love the way a sudden shock can slow down a human’s emotional reactions. It’s very amusing.

Gilda gaped at David Taylor’s hand where it was now clutched in mine. Taylor, however, gaped at his brand new stump.

My Mistress caught on fast, though. “Alex…” she began, pointing at the severed limb as if in a dream, “The blood.”

I tore off my jacket, wrapping the hand in it, and shoved it at her roughly. “Hold that for me, just for a moment, if you would please, Mistress,” I said pleasantly, letting go of the jacket after pressing it against her chest. She winced, but not before her instincts told her to clutch before it dropped.

Next I ripped off my shirt, the cold not affecting me whatsoever, and wrapped it around Taylor’s stump. It had all happened quickly enough that there were only a few teaspoons of his blood on the grass, which would never be found after the next rainstorm.

Taylor finally processed what had happened, and he sucked in a breath with the intent to begin screaming his head off. I rendered him unconscious before that could happen. Taking his limp body under one arm, I picked Gilda up in the other.

“Put the bundled hand between us, Miss, and cling to my neck.”

Even though she still looked stunned, she did as I asked. I streaked across the campus and stopped at the back of the building that held the instrument labs. I set her to her feet, and took the hand wrapped in my jacket from her. Taylor remained unconscious.

“Do your wrists hurt?”

She rubbed them, but did not answer, staring at me with fear in her eyes.

“Mistress!”

She frowned. “I… I think they’re all right.”

Not good enough. Not for me.

“You will please head straight for the piano lab’s schedule board and sign yourself out. Tell the lab’s coordinator that you have taken ill with severe menstrual cramps and are leaving for the day. Leave a text message with Fortunado Fernandez’s cell phone telling him the exact same thing. Do not embellish this story. Then meet me at the bottom of the stairs where I will be waiting with the limousine. Miss?”

She hesitated, looking at Taylor’s limp form where it was slung under my left arm.

“Do not look at him. Mistress, please do as I have asked.”

“You can’t kill him,” she said quickly.

I glanced at Taylor. “I want to,” I managed through clenched teeth. “But there are questions to be answered. Only after that should you order me to do it.”

“You can’t kill him at all,” she hissed.

I gave her a very stern look. Let me reiterate that; a very stern look.

“We can discuss that later, Miss.”

She paled, then nodded, finally, and ran into the building’s back door like a frightened rabbit.

I flew to the limo with my cargo, and tossed the boy, his hand, and my unfortunate clothing, which would have to be destroyed I am sorry to say, into the trunk.

Dammit. I liked that jacket. I had a spare in the limo, not nearly as nice, but I put that on over my bare chest and buttoned it up tight.

Gilda appeared at the top of the stairs looking more than a bit shaken. But she didn’t even stop for a moment, taking the steps two at a time. I glared at her, and considered hopping up to grab her before she tripped and broke something, but those fabulously strong legs of hers brought her down to me in record time. She barreled on, getting in the back of the limo as I held her door open without so much as a peep or a glance sideways.

After getting into the driver’s seat, I slid like a snake through the sliding window that separated driver from Mistress, and had her hands in mine before she could even blink.

“Are you in any pain?” I asked, gently examining the delicate bones of her wrists and fingers through her flesh.

She frowned. She seemed to be doing that quite often around me lately. No blushing, no smirking, just… frowns.

“Nothing’s broken,” she said quietly. “I’ll be okay. Alex… what did you do with him?”

I was angry. Angry with David Taylor, angry all over again with the thug that had drowned her, angry with her useless, selfish, irresponsible father. But most of all, I was angry with her.

“Have you taken leave of your senses? He could have broken the bones in your wrist!”

Gilda looked at me and gasped. My demonic eyes were glittering, my ears had tightened to sharp points and my fangs had popped out. Black feathers were suddenly falling in the confines of the back seat. I was lucky the tail hadn’t shown up and ripped a hole in my trousers, because I didn’t have an extra pair of those in the limo.

Gilda could not escape; I had her trapped against the back of the seat.

She yanked her hands out of mine, and pressed them to her neck, hopelessly defending bare flesh that was, apparently, far too close to my sharp teeth. She looked like that rabbit again, only as backed into a corner and about to be devoured. Hot, hellish fires burned in my eyes and were reflected in hers, wide and terrified. I bowed my head, anything to avoid meeting that frightened gaze.

“You should not take such chances. Not when I am here to do that sort of thing for you,” I said very gently. By the time I looked back up at her, I’d returned to my human form, and she nodded.

I leaned over and opened the small icebox that was in the back seat, rummaging past the bottles of water and orange juice that she favored. I grabbed an icepack out of the tiny freezer that I’d put in there, thinking of emergencies.

Such as this one. I would take no chances with her hands. That was not negotiable.

“Miss, please give me your hands. Please.”

She complied, and I cupped them together very gently, setting them palms up on her lap. I placed the icepack over her wrists, feeling the cubes starting to break apart from where they had fused together in the tiny freezer. I grabbed a bottle of water from the icebox, as well as a container of anti-inflammatory pain medication I kept in there for her.

I opened the pills and the water, and got a dose ready for her. I held the pills in my fingertips, close to her mouth. But she refused to open up and say ‘ah’.

“Indulge me,” I said flatly.

Eyeing me suspiciously, she finally opened her mouth and I placed the tablets on her tongue. I tipped the bottle to her mouth, and she took a few gulps, swallowing.

“Thank you, Miss,” I said, replacing the bottle’s cap and setting it next to her. I slithered into the front seat again and turned the engine over.

“You didn’t answer my question, Demon.”

Her voice was small. I glanced at her in the rear-view mirror, saying, “He, and his hand, are in the trunk.”

She shut her eyes. “Is he alive?”

“Yes.”

She exhaled, and said nothing more.

During the ride home, the boy woke up, and began screaming in fear as well as agony. His cries were loud enough that he could be heard through the back seat, and Gilda looked like she was trying not to vomit.

Once we got home, I helped her out of the limo and carried her ugly canvas bag in for her. I set the bag at the foot of the stairs. The front door to the manor was closed, but I could still hear the boy screaming even if she could not. Turning to her, I said, “Miss Gilda, I must deal with our guest. Will you be all right by yourself for a little while?”

“Yes,” she said emotionlessly. She headed for the stairs.

“I will need to interrogate him. You understand this Mistress?”

She’d stopped at the foot of the stairs, but did not face me. “Yes.”

“I will try to find a way to deal with this without having to end his life, but I cannot promise you that.”

“I know.”

“If I end up needing to dispose of him, I will need your order for that. Just as you did for the thug that drowned you.”

I saw her teeter just slightly, and she grasped the railing’s ornate wooden finial for support.

I glowered behind her. This attitude was highly frustrating for me; it’s not as if I was going ask her to throw the switch personally or anything.

“I will be up to talk with you soon. Please wait for me in your room.”

“All right. Whatever you think is best.”

Steeling myself to her apathy, I cleared my throat and spoke to her sternly. “As you well know, Miss, as long as the contract remains, neither one of us will ever be free of the other. I’d prefer it if we worked these… conflicts out, for both our sakes.”

She nodded, and began to climb the staircase. When she’d barely gotten up a few steps, she stopped, and turned her head. Her gaze never met my eyes.

“You take very good care of me, Alex.”

I winced, and my eyebrows drew together sympathetically. All those words had needed to be spoken, but I could have done so less harshly. She did not wait for a reply, and ran up the stairs the rest of the way, entering her bedroom and closing the door behind her without slamming it.

+

David Taylor’s interrogation was disappointingly easy. I opened the trunk but kept him in it the entire time – why make another mess to clean? The pain he was experiencing probably helped the speed with which he cooperated, so at least I did not have to hurt him further. After I got him to stop crying, he told me that Linda Derricott asked him to steal the code to the manor’s alarm while he was a guest here. After that, he was to give it to a man that would meet him at the conservatory’s cafeteria on Saturday afternoon. Obviously, that had been the thug.

Taylor’s promised payment for this was free reign to sodomize Miss Linda using any position he pleased. Honestly. Quite expectedly, the really humorous part in all this is that she denied him his reward in the end.

Ah… so to speak.

I had severed Taylor’s right hand, and luckily he was a ‘lefty’. Not because of his choice in musical instrument, mind you, because that life was now over for him. What I needed, to please my Mistress, was for him to write.

Two letters total, one to Dean Manners and one to his parents, telling them of his decision to abandon his studies at the conservatory to become a missionary in a developing country. That he was sorry if they could not accept his decision, but he had been thinking about this for some time, and life here no longer held any meaning for him, and he wanted desperately to help the world’s unfortunates.

It took several drafts before the letters did not seem coerced, or appeared as though they were written whilst jammed into the trunk of a limousine. When he was finally done, I pat him on the head. I called one of Uncle Rafael’s trusted assistants to help with Taylor’s relocation process. A cleaning crew, consisting of four goons dressed in overhauls driving two separate vans arrived at our door in less than fifteen minutes. Two of the goons exited one van, and tossed Taylor, his hand and my stained clothing into the other van, and it drove off. The goons stayed to cleanse the limo of any blood or fingerprints that may have been left behind, then they left as well, and that was that.

Before her dinner, which was late it shames me to admit, I told Gilda what I had learned, and that I hadn’t needed to kill Taylor, that he was leaving the conservatory, and that she should steer clear of Derricott for the time being.

She was still despondent but she understood what I had told her. She thanked me for handling it, saying that she knew I only attacked him out of a duty to protect her. She said that she didn’t regret what had happened, given that Taylor had played a part in her drowning, but she was still happy that I hadn’t needed to kill him. Most importantly, she said she was touched by the fact that I was so concerned about the health of her hands that I appeared to be thinking of nothing else in that moment, even as there was a broken boy stuffed in the trunk of the limo that needed to be dealt with.

I offered, once again, as I had been doing each and every night since school had resumed, to get her ready for bed. She declined.

The next day was Saturday, and she didn’t speak to me at all.

She spent the morning in the library, finishing the term papers for her lecture classes that were due before the end of the semester, which was coming up soon on the following Friday. She ignored the lunch I brought her, and silently made her way into the salon to practice after finishing in the library.

She was having trouble concentrating and was getting more and more frustrated by the minute, until she finally screamed and said some of the filthiest things I have ever heard, from Gilda’s mouth or anyone else’s, I should add. This little tantrum ended with her banging her fists on the keys of her beloved piano about ten times, and then stomping up to her room, all the while shouting obscenities and incomplete sentences about demons and gods and deals and hell and the like, and then slamming her door shut.

After she made it clear that she was not coming back down for the day, I moved an angry Cat’s Queening Box from the kitchen into the salon and set it about five feet from the hearth, where it would still be kept warm but could easily be seen from Gilda’s bench seat at the piano. A bench seat, I must add, that I have never looked in, as per her orders.

I moved Cat and her soon-to-be-with-us kittens in there with the hope that the sweet feline’s presence would elicit some sort of calming affect on my Mistress. Banging on the keys and cursing, honestly; I never wanted to see Gilda do that again. I am a lover of music, both as a demon and as a butler. She may very well be angry with me, but I’d be rather dismayed if our argument began to take a toll on her brilliant musicianship.

Gilda, however, had another method of dealing with her mood this time. After barricading herself in her bedroom – not that a silly closed door would have stopped me if I really needed to get to her – she had apparently called out to Sutcliff.

The crazy Reaper at least had the decency to knock of the front door, which alerted me to his presence, as opposed to his popping right into Gilda’s bedroom without permission – which he has done before, and I gave him a severe warning when that’d happened. It seems to have done the trick.

I don’t know what sort of circumstance he had just arrived from, but his hair was in a ridiculous upsweep, and he was dressed in a floor length, clingy satin evening gown, blood red of course. It was quite obvious that, save a pair of fuck-me-up-the-arse sequined heels, he had nothing else on underneath.

Gods. It would be so much easier to live with the fact that I’d allowed him to suck me dry if he didn’t do things that were this outlandish.

“Hello, Sebas-chan! How’s your prick, darling? Does it miss me?”

Sutcliff was leaning on the doorframe with the elbow of one arm propped above his head. He clutched a string of pearls at his neck with his other hand, gaudy long fingernails painted to match his gown. He was trying to strike a desirable pose just for me, and it might not have been quite as nauseating as it was if he’d bothered to shave off the bright red tufts of hair that were currently poking out from his armpits.

“She’s upstairs in her room, Sutcliff. And I don’t need to remind you that I will rip you to pieces if you–”

“If I cause her any harm, make her experience any undue stress, touch her inappropriately, tell her things about your past, yes, yes, yes, I get it Bassie.”

I glowered, and shut the front door.

In retrospect, I should have listened in on their conversation. But I was tired of fighting with her, and I really didn’t want to listen to Grell Sutcliff as he comforted my Mistress – comfort that I so desperately wanted to be the one supplying her with.

A couple hours later I heard her clacking her heels on the staircase. Yes, there she was. Patting her upsweep and waltzing down the curved staircase of the main hall like she was Norma fucking Desmond in Sunset Boulevard. Except, of course, significantly more demented.

“Oooh, Bassie! Is girlfriend ever mad at you!” Sutcliff said dramatically. He smiled that pointy Cheshire grin at me and giggled.

I lunged for his throat, but he was too quick, even in that damn gown.

“I’d try to be a little more interested in her feelings if I were you,” he said softly, utterly uncharacteristic of him, and then he popped out of existence when I lunged for him a second time.

I landed against a wall. Angry, I punched it, leaving an unsightly hole that I now had to fix.

Interested in her feelings? It made no sense. That’s all I was interested in.

+

On that following Friday, the last day of Gilda’s current semester, Cat had her kittens. I’d come down early in the day as usual to start breakfast preparations, checking on Cat in the salon before getting to work. And oh, there they were… Perfect little kittens, cuddled up to Cat’s belly as she rested comfortably in the Queening Box. Cat looked very tired, but content, and I cooed my congratulations and sympathies to her as I changed out the dirty bedding as gently as possible.

There were four of them, not five, as I had previously guessed. Two bore the same coat as their mum, both males, and the other two were a dark calico and an orange calico, the dark was male and the orange, a female. They were so adorable; tiny and blind and completely dependent on mummy’s care.

I was thrilled, because for one, it meant more cats, and for two, I was eager to see if the darling little balls of fur would help pull Gilda out of her despondency. No such luck.

She had been dragging herself through the last days of the Fall term since the temper tantrum, just managing to get her school work done. No doubt her grades hadn’t suffered, and her anger towards me had almost completely dissipated. But her vibrancy and zeal, it seemed, had faded along with it.

She still didn’t trust me.

As a crow, I followed her throughout the day. Gilda had turned in her term papers, taken a very long multiple choice exam on the History of Music, and then said her goodbyes to her instructors. She invited a handful of Alexander-Approved friends over for a holiday party, and then she was done for the semester. She’d return to school after the break, in early January, for her final term.

She knew I was watching her, as usual, but she did not seem to care. When the last of the students had left, she turned at the courtyard and headed in a direction that was opposite the main stairs.

She had walked to the swing sets. Gilda dropped her bag carelessly on the ground behind her and got on one of the swings, and just sat. She didn’t move, she just sat staring at a group of thick evergreen trees that lined the drive at the front of the conservatory’s property.

I leapt from the branch I was sitting on and transformed to my cat form in mid-air. Trotting up, I sat directly in front of her, about five feet away. I had no doubt that once she took in my pitch-black coat and red eyes, she’d know it was me.

I stepped tentatively closer to her, just like any cat that is wary of a human. Gilda didn’t move or say anything; she just kept eyeing me. When I was sure she wasn’t going to kick me, I sidled up to where her legs dangled below the swing’s seat, and began rubbing them, winding my lithe body in and out, looking up at her occasionally and mewing.

She smirked unpleasantly. "I know that's you, Alex. Why don't you quit humping my leg and go home? If you’re that frustrated you could work on getting Cat pregnant again.”

Oh… that was mean. But I was not to give up. I put a soft paw on her leg and mewed again, this time mournfully, long and pitiful, a noise that could cause a female cat to lactate. One that no human animal lover could ever ignore.

“Oh, all right… stop wailing already.” She reached down and picked me up carefully, setting my hindquarters on her lap and holding my upper body against her chest. “You’re gonna make me cry with that noise.”

She began stroking my fur from neck to tail, and oh gods it felt good. She scratched my ears with one hand and held me securely by my chest with the other, then she stroked down my back again several more times.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this, but you make a good cat, Alex. Very soft.”

Why am I doing this? You’re finally touching me again, you silly girl. Three straight weeks of nothing as a human and a crow… two lousy minutes as a cat and you’re all over me.

It is much more difficult for me to control instinctual behavior when I am in an animal form if it is not human. When she looked down at my cat face, staring deep into my red eyes, I bumped my pink nose against hers. When she gave me a tiny smile, I rubbed the side of my feline cheek somewhat hard against the underside of her chin. The friction activated the pheromones in the scent gland that resides there, and without actually meaning to, I deposited a chemical marker on my Mistress.

Whether I should have done this or not, it pleased me greatly to know it was there.

“Boy, you’re certainly thorough when you change shape.” She pulled away and smiled softly down at me, wiping her chin off with the back of her hand. “But you don’t have to mark me twice. Stop plying me. I already belong to you, dummy.”

It was the first time in three weeks that she’d allowed me to touch her in a way that was completely unnecessary and purely affectionate. And to my extreme gratification, she was touching me back. Soothingly. Perched on her lap, with my paws on her chest, I kneaded the exposed skin at her neck. Closing my eyes and leaning against her, I started to purr. She continued to support me by my thin feline rib cage, and used her free hand to gently press my head to her chest. She actually kissed me on the top of my head and I thought my black heart might explode from happiness. Within moments, I was purring louder and more contentedly than I’d ever had before as a cat.

“Oh, Alex,” she sighed, sounding defeated and tired. I mewed again in response, hoping to convey the fact that I, too, had missed being close.

“It’s getting cold,” she whispered. “Let’s go home.”

Excited at this change in her behavior, I leapt from her lap and ran like the wind to the limo.

+

Little else happened that night in the way of physical contact, but still, I felt as though a great weight had been lifted from my chest. We had a long ways to go, of course, as she was still not allowing me to bathe and dress her. But she came to my room to say goodnight to me before going to bed, and she left the door to her bedroom open as she slept. That continued, as well as allowing me to wake her and serve her breakfast in the mornings, which did me a world of good.

Little by little, small gestures and touches of affection came back into our relationship. Do not misconstrue me, it was not an astounding amount by any means. She took my hand as proffered when she sat down or got up during meals, or when assisting her in and out of the limo, and also when swimming – and by the way it took some encouragement for her to finally get back into the water, I’ll admit. She wouldn’t go in the first time unless I went in with her, but all she did was laps and all I did was watch.

One night I placed my hand at the small of her back, as we entered a grocery store of all places, and she did not flinch. It wasn’t the most normal behavior for a butler to do this; technically, I should have held the door open for her. Technically, I shouldn’t have even brought her to such a place; our regular foodstuffs were normally delivered to the manor. But she’d had a hankering for some specific brand of Hummus she’d tasted at Fortunado’s house weeks ago, and wanted a container of her own. I was trying to take advantage of every possibility for physical contact that I could, so… we went grocery shopping.

The progress was slow, and I admit, a bit galling.

We hosted a small, early holiday get-together for the staff, Fortunado, Grell – who, let me tell you, dressed for the occasion – and some of her friends from school. It was nice to cook for a large group again.

Uncle Rafael helped me in the kitchen, making some sort of traditional South American dish that he always whipped up for our homesick Fortunado at Christmas time. At least it was not an Italian plate, as I don’t think I could have stood for that, and I did not mind the help, either.

While we were alone in the kitchen, he took the opportunity to ask how Gilda was coping, as well as update me on the situation with her father’s firm.

“Miss is a very strong young woman. No one should have to go through what she did, but she is handling it bravely, I think.”

Rafael nodded, mincing some green chilies. “And you interrogated that Taylor kid.”

It wasn’t a question. “Indeed. And thank you, by the way, for your assistance in that matter. I hear Mr. Taylor has a brand-new career.”

David Taylor was graciously moved to a very Southern climate, where I’m sure the one hundred and eight degree Fahrenheit average daily temperature will be nothing but beneficial to the Canadian’s healing amputation, and that his new co-workers in the coffee bean harvesting industry will not begrudge his disability in the least.

Rafael’s people even provided Taylor’s parents with photographs of the boy smiling with some South American friends at his new address, which was a tent. The pictures showed off stacks of bibles and bottled water on rickety wooden tables, as well as posters of Jesus and rainbows and inspirational messages taped to the tent walls, all the while cleverly hiding Taylor’s lack of two hands.

Rafael’s people are very thorough.

“See,” he began, “That’s what I like about you, Michaelis. You got your head on straight when it comes to certain things. Like stayin’ the course and protecting your own.”

I was touched. He understood. “Why, Uncle Rafael. Thank you. What a lovely compliment.” I turned back to the steaming vat of Soupe aux Chataignes. Ten more minutes, and it’d be ready for puréeing with a modern stick blender. “There is some involvement with that horrid student, Linda Derricott, that I have yet to figure out. I believe that the girl’s father is somehow connected to Bellows’ firm. Perhaps simply as a client, but there may be more to it.”

“What’s her name, again?”

“Derricott. Linda Derricott.”

“You think she’s involved?”

“She does not possess that much intelligence, I’m afraid.”

“Okay. Derricott. I’ll look into that. Don’t like loose ends. Not where Fortune or Gillie are concerned.”

“You care for your nephew very much, and you care for Miss Gilda as well. I am grateful to you, Mr. Fernandez.”

He looked at me, shrugging, and blushing slightly. “Them kids is priceless to me. So they make it easy to be concerned.”

He went on to tell me that he was ready to throw Bellows’ firm into Chapter Seven proceedings. Her father’s control over the firm was null and void, the embezzled funds had all been moved and laundered, and all that remained was for the paperwork to be filed. This, then, was the Rolled Fondant Icing on Gilda’s Graduation cake; once Chapter Seven was filed, all his remaining assets and money – not simply what was left of his firm – could be liquidated and awarded to his clients. Bank accounts, houses, cars, toys; all of it. And no matter how much of those things there were, it would never be enough to pay back his clients. They’d be on his back forever. He had taken in and spent a lot of their money on his lifestyle, which is why he had to sell his shares to other investors in the first place.

“And that’ll happen on Christmas Eve. On a Saturday, no less. How fuckin’ poetic, huh?” Rafael blustered, laughing. “You bring Gillie down to Manhattan on the twenty-fourth. I’ve called a board meeting where we’ll hand him the paperwork. And as the new, primary shareholder of Bellows Investments, I really do think she outta be there.”

“I agree,” I said, fantasizing about how she would put the last nail in her father’s proverbial coffin. “Do not worry, I will see to it that she is there.”

The gathering went on until about midnight, and after the last guests left, a tipsy Gilda excused herself to go get cleaned up for bed, without waiting for me to offer to do that for her.

She came to my room some time later, and actually entered it, as opposed to simply hovering at the doorframe. She walked up to where I was sitting at my desk, and put a friendly hand on my shoulder.

“The party was fun, Alex. Everyone had a good time and your cooking was delicious.”

“Thank you Mistress. Did you want me to tuck you in?”

She smiled at me warmly. “No, just wanted to say thanks… and goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Miss. Pleasant dreams.” Gilda smiled at me again with those dark, glassy eyes, then turned and walked a crooked line back to her room to tuck herself in.

I don’t know if it was the alcohol in her system or not, and I didn’t care. She’d touched me and she hadn’t even needed to. She’d smiled at me. Warmly.

After she’d held and petted me as a cat, my Gilda Withdrawals had actually gotten worse, not better. And that sleepy, inebriated smile of hers had driven me over the edge. I was hard, instantly, and Sutcliff’s mouth was not going to cut it this time.

It was my turn to be – what do you call it? ‘Horny?’ Yes. I was a horny, horny little devil.

Gods, I wanted her. Our contract, the rules of buttling, and her wayward apprehension towards me be damned – I needed to touch the bitch.

After I was sure she was asleep, I crept into Gilda’s room and waited to see if she was going to remove her shirt, but she never did.

I crept closer. She still smelled of wine. Her breathing was deep and even, and I knew that she was well-and-truly out. Taking advantage of the situation, I removed her shirt carefully. Her bare back – Gods, that has got to be my favorite body part on her – was now before me, the subtle ridges of her spine glistening in the moonlight with a light sheen of alcohol-induced sweat covering her skin. How many times had I stood before her as she sleep-stripped, and imagined what it would be like to reach out and touch? And now, here I was, living out my fantasy.

It was wrong, I know… as her butler, I was supposed to be living only to serve her needs. I reasoned that since she was sound asleep, she didn’t need anything right then.

Do be kind. Normally, I have a great deal more control over my genitals as compared to the average human male. But in that moment, the largest concentration of blood in my body was not to be found in my brain.

I reached out with one hand, lightly sliding the pads of my fingers down her spine, feeling the glossy sweat under my fingertips. I kept my touch feather-light, and truly that was all I needed to send my privates into further turmoil. I moved closer to her, spreading both hands over her shoulder blades, up and across, down, tracing every inch of her back, coccyx and neck, stroking, sliding, the barest of contact between the pads of my fingers and her soft skin… I grew harder still, and I relished the pain I experienced as my erection fought against the suddenly-too-tight crotch of my pants.

Nothing like a little pain, at least on my end. Believe it or not, I don’t enjoy inflicting sexual pain on my human partners – unless the sex is part of some sort of a revenge play, that is. That is a different story altogether. But I do enjoy being the recipient of a little sexual pain, at least now and then.

‘Now’ was especially true, because right then, I was being a very naughty butler.

Gilda shifted slightly, and sighed in her sleep – an adorable noise – but she did not wake. I decided to take the risk and expand my area of exploration, and lowered the covers to expose her precious backside. I removed her panties, sliding them down her legs slowly and carefully.

Her round cheeks beckoned. I stroked her flesh, delicately tracing the edge of her hip, all the while keeping one eye on her face to make sure she was not about to wake up. I continued on to her thighs, smoothing my hands up and down her legs, gritting my teeth in an effort to keep from growling.

My cock was screaming for a release, and I could not restrain myself much longer. Returning to touch her back, I felt my testicles begin to tighten. Keeping one hand on her beautiful skin, I grabbed my throbbing genitals through my pants with the other, squeezing myself roughly until it stung.

I shuddered into my orgasm silently, coming in my pants, tight and hot and so uncomfortable. It felt so bloody good I nearly cried.

Except, as I have said, I do not do that.

After I calmed down a bit, I managed to find Gilda’s panties and slipped them back onto her body. I left the shirt on the floor near where she would have tossed it herself. I refused to steal a kiss because in that moment it suddenly seemed like a betrayal, and I’d already done enough of that for one night.

Covering her up, I left her room. I stripped, putting the stained boxers and pants to soak. Such a mess; I noticed that my ejaculate was over twice the normal amount.

Yes indeed, Sexual Frustration, everybody’s favorite aphrodisiac!

I took a shower in the private bath in my room. My intentions were simply to get clean and go back to work, but then there was all that creamy soap and warm water… Oh dear. It’s very difficult not to give in to that particular temptation, and seeing as how my behavior that night really couldn’t have gotten any worse, I didn’t even bother trying to deny myself a bit more pleasure.

When I entered her bedroom to wake her up the next day, Gilda mentioned around a jaw-cracking yawn that she’d slept like a rock and felt better than she had in days.

Well, now. I doubt that was just because of the wine. My actions had not been noble even in the least sense of the word, but I’m determined to believe that it’d helped my Mistress to a good night’s sleep, so there is that to consider.

+

“My heavens… He’s disgusting.”

“He’s a demon.”

“He’s disgusting!”

“He’s a demon, and he’s got some substantial junk between his legs, and that makes for needs, and he’s frustrated, and she is hot.”

The second one’s head shook in resignation.

“Oh, don’t try and tell me you haven’t noticed the size of his-”

“I most certainly have not.”

After a long pause, the second one’s resignation changed to disbelief.

“Excuse me, but did you just use the terms ‘junk’ and ‘hot’? I think I liked you better when you were a prude.”

+

“I know it’s still early, but I wanted to give this to you now, since we’re alone.”

Gilda was holding a large, wrapped present in her hands. She stood before me as I watered the Christmas tree and cleaned the needles from around its base.

“Are you expecting more visitors, Miss?”

“No,” she shrugged. “But with our crowd, you never know. So… here,” she offered, pushing the brightly decorated box in her hands against my chest. I smiled, and moved to sit on the sofa. Gilda sat next to me, keeping a little bit of space between us.

I opened it slowly. To be honest, I’d only ever received about six Christmas presents in my entire life as a demon, so I had learned to enjoy such moments.

Inside the box was a wealth of expensive, useful items for Cat and her babies. Grooming tools, medicated shampoo, salmon jerky, toys, treats, fluffy blankets, holiday-inspired collars with cute little jingle bells on them… many wonderful things.

“This is… Miss Gilda, you shouldn’t have,” was all I could think to say to her.

“Well… just because we’re not getting along doesn’t mean Cat should have to suffer.”

“But Miss… I didn’t get you anything.”

She smiled sarcastically. “Oh, you’ve gotten me plenty.”

“Thank you, Mistress. These are lovely things and I am sure she will appreciate the gesture.”

She smiled shyly, shrugging again. “I just figured it’d make you happy, since you love Cat so much.”

Cat wasn’t the only thing I loved…

Unable to resist, I leaned across the sofa and put a hand to her cheek. I kissed her softly on the lips, quick, and just once. When I pulled my face back, hers was flushed, but she wasn’t smiling. Gilda put her fingertips to her mouth, and I hoped it was because her lips were tingling.

Mine certainly were.

When she looked down, I feared I’d made another mistake. “Mistress?” I asked, hesitating. I suddenly felt a little guilty for having touched her without her knowledge the other night.

Ah… but just to be clear, only a little.

“Have I offended you?”

“No, that was… really nice, actually.”

“For me as well,” I smiled. “I do not enjoy squabbling with–”

I was about to say, ‘my prey’, but that would have been a big mistake.

“It’s okay, Alex. I’m just not sure about us. About where we stand, you know? But it’s nice that you thought to kiss me on your own.”

Hmm…

+

Gilda decided that she wanted to make a jaunt out of our impending trip to New York City, and brave the crowds there for a few days to do some shopping and sight-seeing before we confronted her father at his firm in Manhattan. It was going to be a long drive from where we lived in Essex County, but as I despised human air travel, I would not let her fly, and I wasn’t about to carry her through the trees and woodlands that many miles. It wouldn’t have affected me at all, but it would have been highly uncomfortable for her, and then there was the question of getting our packages home as well, of which I assumed there would be several. So, the limo it was, and I made sure we got an early start.

Evelyn Shapiro and Michael Jacobs agreed to come by the evening after we left and manor-sit for us the rest of the time we’d be gone. I did not want to know what they were going to get up to in their guest bedrooms while we were away, but I knew I’d deduce it all with one sniff of the used sheets when I did the laundry. I gave them Gilda’s cell phone number, and decided to leave them to it.

On the day of our departure, Gilda actually allowed me to resume our entire morning routine!

With the return of one of my greatest joys, I had half a mind to tie her up so that I could wash and feed and caress her all day long like an adored, pampered hostage, but… I managed to tamp down the glee. I woke her gently, as she preferred, and presented her with favorite breakfast: Chorizo Sausage and Scrambled Egg Enchilada, lightly covered in Sauce of Mole Verde, with Cayenne-spiced Home Fries on the side – and I am delighted to announce that with Mexican dishes such as that one, she actually prefers strong, sweetened black tea as her beverage, as opposed to coffee.

I picked out her clothing and had her bathed and dressed for traveling by five a.m. Laying out extra food and water for Cat, I examine my pretty pussy and her babies for any illness or injuries. Finding none, I gave her beautiful coat several long strokes and cooed many words of adieu to my precious Cat.

I pulled the limo up to the front door, put our bags in the trunk, handed Gilda into the back seat, and we were on our way. She slept most of the way during the drive down, and I kept glancing at her sleeping form in the rear-view mirror, smirking like an idiot.

Arriving in NYC, I surrendered the limo to the valet at the expensive hotel I’d made reservations at, and checked us in. Gilda behaved perfectly, not speaking to any of the hotel’s employees directly. She put on her best affluent face, and expected me to handle all the details, which I did cheerfully.

The staff was polite and professional. They escorted us up and placed our baggage in what turned out to be a beautiful penthouse suite. There was a full kitchen and a bar, a ‘living’ area with a telly, a nice master bedroom with a large, beautiful bed, and Gilda’s bath was exquisite. I had my own small quarters for propriety’s sake, of course, which featured a small bed, a dresser and a bathroom with a stand-up shower. Ugh. I made a mental note to ruffle the bed covers and dirty the shower and sink before each morning, to give the appearance that I’d actually used it.

We had the remainder of that day plus the following two for shopping and having some fun, then we were to meet Rafael, his inside men, and a few of his goons at Bellows’ firm for the ‘board meeting’ scheduled for the morning of Christmas Eve.

I manage to get our things settled before we hit the town for the evening. Gilda decided she just wanted to go to dinner that night, and then take a cab ride to Rockefeller Center to see the tree. I was determined to talk her into a little ice-skating while we were there.

Realizing the Butler shtick was not going to work – especially if I was seen eating, or at least pretending to eat, at a restaurant table with her, or if I wound up putting my arms around her while skating. Looking like her Butler was not an issue; I no longer wore the traditional Butler’s uniform, which would look ridiculous in this day and age I’m sorry to say, but my clothing could easily pass for that of the average impeccably-dressed human male.

It was my behavior that might be questioned. So Gilda told me to act like I was her escort for the night before we took in dinner.

I could have interpreted that in many ways, most of which would have flabbergasted her or been ‘too much too soon’ at that point in our recovery, so I suggested that we behave like brother and sister instead. She accepted this.

We ate at the hotel’s ritzy restaurant, or at least I pretended to, and during her meal she quietly informed me that their Coquilles Saint-Jacques was very good, but not as good as mine. I smiled smugly and she laughed. When we made our way to the street, I got her a cappuccino from a corner stand, and we took a filthy cab ride to the pretty tree, where I skated, she tried to, and we laughed together for two hours. Her pretty bum would have been on the ice all nightlong were it not for me; but I never let her fall, not even for fun, not even once.

Getting home that night, it was time for another bath. I stood there after helping her into the tub, looking quite forlorn as I held a bar of soap in one hand and a washcloth in the other, gazing down at her in that warm, sudsy, sunken pit of paradise.

“Oh brother, Alex.”

Yes. Brother. I was to behave like I was her brother. Incest, you know, is greatly misunderstood… and highly underrated. Heh.

“Just strip and get in already,” she muttered, smirking.

Sitting behind her, I washed her hair. I rubbed her scalp vigorously as she preferred, which gave rise to a few moans of pleasure. But when I leaned her back to rinse those lovely tresses, she looked away from me. I reminded myself to stop assuming that everything was back to normal between us, because it wasn’t – if we’d ever had a ‘normal’, that is… She wasn’t quite ready to be affectionate with me yet, but things were much better between us.

As I washed her delicate skin clean, I asked her what she wanted to do the next two days. She frowned, and said, ”Other than shopping, and I have no idea where to go for that either, I really don’t know much about any of the sights except for The Met, the Center for the Performing Arts, and of course the Brooklyn Bridge and the Statue of Liberty.”

“Well, there has been no access to the torch since Black Tom in 1916, and in my opinion the statue’s tour simply isn’t what it used to be. That bridge should simply be avoided at all costs.”

“You’ve been in the torch? How cool.”

“Yes. Ages ago. The performing halls you mentioned are quite nice. But there is so much more to be seen. Miss, if I may be so bold, would you permit me to make a schedule for your time here?”

“Permit you? Jeez, I was hoping you would.”

After I dried her skin and hair, and tucked her in – stealing a kiss on her forehead in the process – I sat on the couch and listened to her breathing while I created an exciting and full itinerary for my Mistress.

For the next two days, we were able to stick to our morning routine in the suite, although I ordered room-service breakfast for her begrudgingly, as it was simply not up to my standards. To my delight, Gilda noticed as well and commented on it – “Their hollandaise sauce doesn’t taste a thing like yours, and it doesn’t even taste good…” – Then we went out for the day; shopped, ate, walked, shopped some more, saw some sights, went back to our suite to get dressed for dinner, went to a fancy restaurant, then walked around a bit more.

On our last night of fun, I surprised her by taking her on the Staten Island ferry, and she finally got to see the statue. What I mean is, when the coast was clear, I picked her up in my arms and I ran up the side of Lady Liberty. We sat on the edge of the torch for a long time in companionable silence, just gazing at the nighttime Manhattan skyline. She clung to me when she got cold, and I bundled her up in a blanket that I had stuffed in my overcoat (see? all it takes is a little planning). She insisted we stay for a bit longer, leaving only when we had just enough time to catch the last ferry back.

It always amazes me how different you humans can be from each other… I never would have pegged Gilda as an ‘adrenaline junkie’ as you say, but I daresay she enjoyed the ride down even more than the ride up, with her eyes wide open and an elated expression all over her face. I’d have to remember that about her.

Later that night back at the suite, there came a quiet knock at the door. A notification, an advertisement to be precise, was slipped in the door’s mail slot and it fell to the carpet as I watched. Gilda looked up from where she was lazing on the couch after her bath, watching an old movie on the TV. I doubt she was even paying attention to it as she seemed to dislike television in general, but I told her to stay put while I saw to the paper.

“What is it?” she asked, sitting up as I examined the paper. “Is it from Uncle Rafael?”

“No, Miss. Do not be concerned, it is simply an ad for an extraneous service the hotel offers.”

“What kind of extraneous service?” she asked curiously, smiling and getting up from the couch in her clingy, light green silk pajamas.

I’d picked those out for her today. Three sets. All soft as a dream, thin and clingy, in muted tones. They left nothing to my imagination as to what was underneath, which was, incidentally, pure Gilda Franks. Ah… I so wanted to touch…

“Nothing you’d be interested in, Mistress,” I said matter-of-factly, crumpling the paper and heading for the trash bin in the kitchen.

“What are you hiding?” she said playfully, then tried to grab the paper from my hands. I lifted it high above my head, and smirked down at her as she tried to jump and grab it.

“Alex!” she laughed. “Let me see it!”

It was adorable, watching her jiggle and struggle like that, and feeling the silk of her pajamas as it slid against my body while she clamored for the advert.

“Is that an order, Miss?” I asked, trying not to laugh. She hated that, she’d never do it for something so trivial, so I was safe in assuming that I’d keep her from seeing the paper.

I didn’t want her to see it. If she needed a full-body deep tissue massage, I was the one that would give it to her.

But then–

“Yes.” She stopped jumping and leveled her eyes at me. “It’s an order. Give me the fucking paper, Alex.”

I sighed, and handed it to her.

“Ooh,” she said saucily. “I think I’d like one.”

“Absolutely not,” I retorted tartly. “No stranger will touch you thusly. Not while I am your butler.”

“Oh, come on! Look, it says right here I can request the gender of the masseur!”

“I do not care what genders they offer. It could be a bisexual hermaphrodite for all I care.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Met many of those, have you?”

“Miss, I will not sit idly by and pretend it is acceptable for me to allow such a thing.” She pouted. “If you want one that badly, I am more than qualified–”

“Forget it,” she said curtly, cutting me off. She pushed the crumpled paper back against my chest and walked back to the couch, forcing me to catch the advert before it fell to the carpet.

No, no no no no no! I would not lose my footing with her. Not again.

“I’ve upset you,” I stated, but it was more of a question.

She paused, then picked up the remote and silenced the TV. “No,” she said, tentatively, tossing the remote onto the couch. “I’m just not… You’d probably end up giving me more than just a massage, Alex, and I’m not sure I want to go there with you anymore.”

“I’ll behave myself if you will,” I offered, with just the slightest touch of teasing to my voice. Although I wanted to go there, and badly.

She sniffed once, then said, “I should just go to sleep anyhow. Tomorrow is going to be difficult enough. I don’t need to be worrying about you as well.”

“You have nothing to be worried about, Miss, I assure you. I have had extensive conversations with Rafael Fernandez about what will happen, and the required documents have been secured to back it all up.”

She nodded. “That’s good to know.”

“And, I will be right next to you. I will not let anything happen to you. In fact, I want you to feel free as a bird to say or do anything you want to Norman Bellows. I will keep you safe from harm.”

She nodded again, smiling slightly. “That’s even better to know.”

I smiled back at her, warmly. “It pleases me that you feel that way, Mistress.”

She exhaled, and she really did look like she should have been in bed already. “Will you tuck me in?” she asked, sounding hopeful.

Without asking, I dropped the damn paper and strode right up to her, picking her up in my arms. She squeaked as I carried her to the master suite.

I placed her under the covers of her lavish bed, noting how luxuriously the silk slid against the cotton sheets. The pajamas must have felt wonderful against her skin. Covering her up, I switched off the bedside lamp, and kissed her forehead, once again pilfering what I had no right to. Not just yet.

“Good night, Miss. I had a lovely time in New York City with you. Sleep well.”

As I turned away, she grabbed my wrist. I smiled at this, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Reaching out to grab at my wrists was a charming idiosyncrasy that Gilda displayed specifically with me. To not be able to say something meaningful, something that was clearly on her mind, until I made to leave her for the night… then she’d grab me, stopping me, before I could. It was certainly not the first time she’d done this, but it hadn’t happened since that horrid thing with Faustus.

“Miss?” I asked.

She let go my hand and sat up. She didn’t utter a sound. Gilda reached up with her hands and held my face close to hers. She kissed me, then, tentatively, on the lips. I hesitated before kissing her back, but when I did, I did not change the tack of the kiss. That was for her to do. My hands never even touched her.

She deepened our kiss, but only slightly, and it was over in less than a minute. She released my lips, and leaned back to look at me in the dark, still holding my face. She was not smiling.

“You are still not completely comfortable around me, are you?” I whispered gently.

She paused. “I’m confused. You’re dangerous,” she whispered in return, lowering her hands. “You’re going to kill me, eventually.”

“Yes. I am also protective of what’s mine. I cherish it.”

“You don’t lie. But you hide things from me.”

“There is a distinction. Most of which is done to keep you from harm.”

She looked down, swallowing hard. “You… You want me. And you want me to want you back.”

“Yes, certainly–” I started, and placed one of my own hands on her cheek. “But it is not without affection. Do you believe me?”

“Yes. It’s not without affection… or motive.” She looked down again while I cupped her face. “Alex, that voice… Claude Faustus told me some things about how your kind works. How you manipulate your prey to steer the outcome of the contract. So it isn’t… what you feel, it didn’t happen naturally, is what I mean.”

Fucking Faustus.

I composed a letter in my head: ‘Dear God, It’s me, The Demon. If you let me kill that smug bastard twice, I promise I’ll repent. Seriously. All the best, signed, The Demon.’

“That isn’t entirely correct, Miss Gilda. Much of what I feel for you did happen naturally.”

Not. A damn. Lie.

She fell silent.

“I feel a natural reaction to the fact that I find you highly desirable.”

“But… there’s the other, too, and how am I supposed to tell the difference? How am I–” she inhaled sharply.

I took one of her hands in my free one. “Your scent… Your soul blossoms every time we kiss. Yes, it reminds me of my objective in this contract. But if you think that is what is foremost in my mind when we kiss each other, you are very mistaken.”

She sniffed. “What is foremost in your mind, Demon?”

I smiled. “Making you feel spectacular, Miss. On a level that only a soul such as yours can reach.” She looked up at me with watery eyes, and I caressed her cheek again, feeling the heat rising there. “Whether that happiness comes by way of making you a pot roast, easing your daily fears and concerns, supplying you with all the free time you want to play your piano… or a full body massage that may or may not result in an orgasm,” and here she laughed, thank the heavens, “It beings me great joy, seeing you reach such heights.”

Gilda leaned her cheek into my hand. For the most part, she appeared satisfied with my answer. I hoped.

“May I kiss you again, Miss?”

She eyed me. “Do you want to?”

“Very much so, yes.”

She paused, and I pretended to hold my breath.

“Okay,” she said, sounding a little sad.

I kissed her for much longer than one minute, but it never got overly erotic or needy. My hands did not wander and she did not clutch at my hair. Just sweet kisses, slow and steady, something we clearly shared a fondness for. She was receptive to me, even sighing a few times. She felt so good. I ignored my hardening penis and made sure that at least her anxiety had dissipated before leaving her for the night. She wasn’t exactly happy, but it was one step closer.

I listened to her breathing from the couch again, just as I had the previous two nights, only this time there was an icepack on my damn crotch. Well, it wasn’t ice. It was one of those horrid frozen blue gelatin pack things, and they simply won’t conform to a body part the way an old-fashioned ice pack will. Technology! Bother.

In any case, it wasn’t working. My erection, annoying thing that it was, simply would not die. After Gilda fell asleep, I found I had to go into the bathroom in my servant’s quarters, shutting the door behind me so as not to wake her, and masturbate yet again.

When I ejaculated, I whispered her name, and I did not include the honorific.

+

Bellows’ firm was located in a low-priced office building on the very edge of Manhattan, only just barely being able to claim residence there. We were sitting on a sofa outside of the boardroom, unbeknownst to Norman Bellows, and we were waiting for Rafael Fernandez to welcome us in to the room. Gilda could not make out the conversation behind the closed door as I could, but she certainly knew there was a lot of yelling going on.

He had clearly been trying to lay low from his clients after all the embezzlement. There were open, hastily filled boxes all over, and the place was a general pigsty. His intentions were obviously to abandon both the firm and the office, leaving the aftermath – a thing he was very, very talented at – to the new shareholders.

But that wasn’t in Rafael’s plan. Especially since Bellows had sent a hired thug to rough up the new primary shareholder, one Miss Gilda Louise Franks. Unfortunately for the thug, he did not count on Gilda fighting back, bless her heart, and that had given me the opportunity to have a nice chat with him before rearranging the order of his limbs.

Before we’d checked out of the penthouse suite, I had gone over a few things with her that morning while getting her ready. She knew the basics of what this meeting was about. She knew what the ‘Chapter Seven’ papers were. She and I only had a rudimentary understanding of things, but that was good enough.

She looked damned nice, if I do say so myself, and we had picked out her clothing together in order to bolster her confidence. Her hair was up in a wavy, loosely styled bun, which showed off that pretty neck of hers. She had on a soft, forest green V-neck cabled sweater with thin silver fibers running randomly through the stitches here and there. The matching silver watch, earrings and bracelet she wore screamed of money. A fitted, navy blue faille skirt which rose three inches above her knees was complimented nicely by sheer dark green silk thigh-high stockings, held in place with a finely crafted garter belt assembly, all of which showed off those strong, beautiful legs. Midnight blue pumps with two-inch heels and silver piping completed her festive holiday look.

“They sound really pissed,” she whispered, referring to the conversation between Rafael and Bellows.

“Your father certainly is, Uncle Rafael is not exactly mad so much as he is trying to make an impression. Bellows is resisting.”

Her leg bounced up and down nervously.

“This is gonna work, right Alex?”

I looked over at her, then placed a palm on her bobbing knee. She stopped bouncing her leg and looked up at me. I rubbed her knee gently through the silk stocking, and smiled down at her.

“Please do not be nervous.”

“I can’t help it,” she said, exhibiting a full-body blush for the first time in how long, I couldn’t remember.

All right… That’s not precisely true. It had been twenty-six days, eighteen hours and forty-one minutes since I’d last witnessed her skin flush with magenta from head-to-toe, back when she’d sat on the counter of the sink while I did the dishes, and we’d flirted. I was so happy that I’d managed to talk her out of that hotel massage last night; can you imagine my disappointment if she had given her magenta skin up to a stranger after such a long time?

Loving the feel of her skin through the dark green silk, I rubbed her knee slowly, and the heat began to build under my hand. When I started in with a few gentle squeezes, she tilted her head at me, looking positively fretful.

“Alex…” she said, and it was almost a whine.

“Miss Gilda… No matter what happens, I promise that you will be well taken care of,” I whispered.

I continued stroking her knee, and she bit her lip. My hand – I swear to you, it wasn’t me – skated up her leg a bit to grasp the top of her thigh under the hem of her skirt. The decorative clips of her garter belt bumped up against the heel of my hand, and I did my level best not to disturb the fastening.

Gilda closed her eyes and her brows knit together, which only encouraged me to go further.

My hand turned sideways and slipped down, fingers caressing the inside of her thigh less than three inches from the crotch of her panties. She jumped slightly and clenched her thighs together. My hand stilled, relishing the thought that she had involuntarily trapped it there.

Her eyes opened wide, and I could see she was trembling by the way her earrings glittered. My protective instincts began to clamor. I leaned down closer to her face and she immediately obliged, turning her head towards mine. Gilda looked up at me expectantly, and she raised one hand slightly, perhaps intending to touch my cheek.

I licked my lips as I clutched the flesh of her thigh indulgently, and I was rewarded with a soft, very feminine gasp. I was just about to claim her mouth for my own, when–

The door opened. She jerked away from me. I removed my hand from between her legs immediately, clearing my throat. Then Uncle Rafael leaned out, looking at us with a grin plastered all over his affable face. Gilda turned a darker shade of magenta than normal, and we both stood up.

“C’mon in kids, and say hi to Normie,” Rafael blustered. A simple fellow in many ways, he hadn’t even noticed our behavior.

He held the door open for Gilda, and she walked in, trying not to shake. I was right behind her, and I placed my hands on her shoulders.

There were four people in the room besides us; Bellows, Rafael, our tax lawyer Evelyn Shapiro, and one of Rafael’s largest goons, although for this, he was dressed like a banker.

“Who the fuck are you two?” Bellows spat.

How delightful. It was the first time in Gilda’s life that she had ever been face-to-face with her father, and that’s the first thing he says to her? What a lovely, lovely man.

It had turned out to be a fortuitous thing, however. A soon as Gilda heard the disdain in his voice, as soon as those rude words had been tossed at her, she became angry. I could feel the rage coming off her in waves from where I stood behind her.

I was so very proud.

“Don’t be so rude, Bellows,” Rafael said. “This is our primary shareholder, Miss Gilda Franks.”

“What – you’re G. Franks? I thought you were dead.”

“It didn’t take,” she quipped, sitting down and tossing her purse on the table rudely. “I’ll make this short. Have you signed the Chapter Seven papers?” she asked. Gilda crossed her legs, unconcerned about the edges of her garters peeping out, and looked around the boardroom critically, sniffing her disapproval.

“Fuck you.”

She cocked an eyebrow.

“They’re all signed, sweetie. I can file them on my way back home,” Evelyn said very pleasantly.

“Miss Shapiro, is Jacobs…?” I inquired pitifully.

“Still at the manor, still with Cat, and yes they are all doing fine.”

I smiled at her and nodded.

“Are you kidding me? Who the fuck is Cat? And who the fuck are you? Her boy-toy?” her asked, gesturing rudely towards Gilda.

Coming around the table, I moved to Bellows’ side, and sat in the chair next to him.

“No sir, I am simply one Hell of a butler. Her butler.”

My demonic eyes flashed, and he went pale.

Once Gilda saw Bellows’ face fall, she relaxed and smiled. “Franks. You remember this name, yes?” She imitated me slightly, making good use of my friendly affectations when dealing with an enemy. She was utterly cheerful towards him.

My back was to her, but I radiated satisfaction towards my Young Miss. She understood. I was there for her. Bellows was not going to touch her, ever again. And because of me, she was free to cut the only rope he had left to cling to without fear of retribution.

I will always be there for you, my dear. Fulfilling your every need, until the very end.

Bellows, who had a rather dim expression to begin with, stared at Gilda and narrowed his eyes slowly when realization dawned.

“That bitch, Veronica… You look just like–”

“Oh, she’s dead and gone. And good riddance, too.” Gilda interrupted him, and I could hear the wicked smile in her voice “Anyway, don’t give her the credit. I did this to you.”

He paused for a long time, looking at Gilda with disbelief.

“Merry fucking Christmas… Daddy.”

The room stilled until Rafael laughed. “Pick your damn jaw up offa the floor, Bellows. Ya look like a numbskull.”

Norman glowered for a moment longer, then lunged at my Mistress over the table. I intervened, of course, and Rafael’s giant banker goon gasped at the fact that he hadn’t even seen me move. I smiled at him as well, seeing the brass knuckles on his hand for the first time.

“That is all right, young man, thank you, but I have him.” He nodded at me and backed away slightly.

Gilda took it all in stride. She huffed a bitter laugh, and looked away from where I had Norman Bellows’ neck in my iron grip. She was completely unconcerned.

She’s better at this than I thought she’d be. How glorious.

“Miss? Your instructions?”

“Hog tie the fucker and shove a stapler up his ass,” Rafael blurted, and I cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at Bellows as I envisioned myself doing just that. His face drained of all color and he gaped at me.

Evelyn Shapiro giggled quietly. “Uncle Rafael!” Gilda scolded, but really, she was laughing. “Just put him back in his chair, Alex. And make sure he’s in it securely.”

I smirked at the man, who was beginning to blubber in my grip. Lifting him off the table and dragging him back to his seat, I dropped him down in it hard.

“Oh, dear. Please forgive me. I’ve wrinkled the collar of your expensive shirt. It’s too bad I do not have my portable steamer with me. I could straighten that out for you, toot sweet! And while you are still wearing it.”

+

On our back to the parking garage of Bellows’ building, I walked behind Gilda like the good servant I am, fairly brimming with pride.

“I am very proud of you, Miss. Very proud, indeed.”

“Why? I hardly did anything. You made all that happen.”

“I am talking about the fact that you just handed him his hat. Very nicely done.” She hadn’t flinched once in her father’s presence, and she made damn sure he knew exactly who it was that’d ruined him. Good girl.

She smirked at my compliment, but did not look at me. Minx.

I was still early in the day but we were finally going home. We’d be back to the manor before nightfall, and I was grateful for it. I’d enjoyed watching Gilda have a bit of fun, and I’d really enjoyed the way she’d handled her revenge. But modern cities always smelled chemically foul to me, and frankly, with her trust in me only tentatively renewed, I wanted to get back to our routine… and our solitude.

The attendant returned the limo. I gave him generous tip, and helped my Mistress into the back, relishing the feel of her hand in mine. I shut her door and then took my seat, turning the engine over. I still thought that killing Bellows was the better idea, and I expressed it again as we drove out of the garage.

“Things just aren’t that easy anymore, Alex. If we got caught, and we probably would… we’ve had it. Or, at least, I’ve had it.”

“I would never allow the authorities to imprison you, Miss. I’d find a way.”

She tilted her head and smiled at me sweetly. “I know you would. But this way… Well, let Norman try being poor. We’ll just see how well he does with nothing.”

Clearly this was the pivotal element to the revenge part of her contract. During the last three days, she’d dropped close to six thousand dollars on presents for everyone she cared about, including me – Lovely! I now had an extremely expensive set of German carving knives and holiday-inspired pie plates made of fine English Porcelain! She hadn’t bought one thing for herself except a nutmeg cappuccino and some sheet music. In fact, I liked her money more than she did; it gave me the freedom to buttle in comfort.

She didn’t give a damn about having Bellows’ money. She just wanted him to end up where she’d started.

Balanced. Even. That was my Gilda.

+

“Well, that takes care of the first part of their contract, then. Will you approach the father for what you need?”

“For what we need, I think you meant, and, yes, I will, but only when he is at his lowest point.”

There was a pause while the first one examined the second one – and perhaps too critically, given that neither one’s past could be considered untarnished. “You really are a cruel bastard, you know?”

The second one scoffed, “And yet, I do not see you backing out of our deal.”

+

A few hours into the drive home, I noticed my Miss was overly-quiet.

She had begged in a sluggish voice that morning to let her sleep in, and I was shocked, because in all our time together, she’d never done that before. Once Gilda was awakened, she was done sleeping.

Although we were on a tight schedule, I’d given the poor thing another hour. At the time, I wrote it off to two days of sightseeing and excitement, or perhaps apprehension about confronting her father. But now, something was off with her.

Gilda suddenly sneezed, cleared her throat, then coughed several times. When the misty fluid of her coughing fit reached my nose, I inhaled, and froze.

Lightening-quick, I pulled over to the side of the state route we were on, screeched to a halt, and scrambled through the sliding window. Pinning her to the soft leather of the back seat with my hands on her upper arms, I saw her eyes bug out.

“Alex… What are you–?”

“Hush.”

She quieted. I unbuttoned her wool coat, and leaned in closer to that pretty green V-neck sweater, putting my ear on her chest just above her heart. Turning my face into the valley between her sweet breasts, I took a deep breath, held it, and then exhaled.

“Oh my god, are you gonna eat my soul right now? In the back of a goddamn limo?”

I leaned back, frowning heavily. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Me? You’re the one with your face buried in my tits!”

I sighed. “Miss, do you have a certificate of completion from the conservatory yet?”

“…No.”

“As I said, don’t be ridiculous.” Exhaling, I removed a glove and felt her forehead. “Dammit. I should have been more careful. You tired yourself out with all the shopping and sight-seeing. Your resistance was already down, and that little scene with Mr. Bellows was too much for you, I fear.”

“Why?” she winced. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Oh, my dear Mistress,” I said, stroking her cheek. “I’m afraid you will be suffering miserably from influenza in less than eighteen hours.”

“Aw, shit.”

+

Nothing comes without a price, as you say.

Gilda became quite ill that very night, first with vomiting, and then with fever and chills. At one point she became slightly delirious, and looked up at me as I swabbed her forehead with a cool, wet cloth.

“You look worried.”

“I am,” I admitted. “I do not enjoy seeing you like this.”

She swallowed hard, wincing. Her throat was quite sore and she was still shaking with chills.

“It’s just the flu, Alex.” She sounded so weak, and I wanted to eradicate the virus for messing with my treasure. Unfortunately, this couldn’t happen because I’d have to eradicate her in the process. “It won’t kill me,” she added, as her eyelids drifted shut.

I decided not to tell her that over the years I’d personally seen thousands of her kind die from ‘just the flu’.

She finally fell asleep around three a.m. The fever was short-lived, lasting just that night, and it’d broken by the next morning. I was so grateful for that I had trouble hiding it from her. But then she felt very uncomfortable, complaining of that prickly-skin feeling that almost always accompanies the muscular aches. She also had a pounding headache. Gilda had a great deal of trouble staying put and trying to sleep, so I sat on her bed by her side throughout the next day and well into the night, reading classic horror novels aloud to her.

“Your speaking voice is perfect for inducing terror, Alexander,” she’d say, and I’d answer with, “Why thank you, Miss Gilda.”

Sometimes we just chatted between her naps. There wasn’t much I could do to help her. Of course I was very sympathetic to her discomfort; despite all our recent quarrelling she was still my Young Miss. But after the fever came down I was not terribly concerned, either. My nose would be able to tell if she needed further care than I could provide, but with the flu, your bodies simply have to wait it out. I made her drink what seemed like gallons of water and orange juice, and gave her ‘over-the-counter’ pain medicine that was approved for use with influenza, and it helped some – but what she really needed was sleep. An entire week’s worth, if I had anything to say about it. Luckily she was still between semesters and had the luxury of just that.

Her friends and the staff were barred from the house. I had no fear of getting sick, and I didn’t care if they did, either. But more people in the manor meant additional germs, and Gilda was already fighting off a nasty one.

+

Three days into the illness, she requested to get out of bed so that she could sit by the fire in the salon and look outside. I’d carried her downstairs and was bundling her up in a soft chair, happy that she wanted to move about some, but wary that she might make herself too tired and pass out.

Cat had decided to remain in the salon with her kittens since I’d put the Queening Box in the light-filled room. She and her tiny babies were on the floor next to the hearth. She had inspected and cleaned her new offspring’s perfect coats, then she lay down on her side afterwards, content enough to doze as her tiny babies suckled and mewed.

I was wrapping a blanket around Gilda’s feet when I looked up to see her watching Cat with a rapt expression. It was obvious she was admiring the feline’s instinctual behavior as a good and decent mother, and I felt instantly bad for my Mistress. Frowning, I went back to her feet.

“How will you do it, Alex?”

Her voice cut through my concentration and I stopped to look up at her again.

“Pardon, Miss?”

“When you take my soul. How will you do that?”

I shook my head, not wanting to ruin things with such morbid talk. “Really, Miss, let’s not discuss that now.”

“No, I want to know. Will you break my neck?”

“No! That’s… no.” The thought of cracking her pretty neck, so delicate… It gave me a shiver. “Aside from the fact that such a thing would kill you too quickly for my purposes, I would never do anything so brutal.”

“But you do have to kill me, right?”

“Mistress…” I sighed.

“Alex, I think I have a right to know. At least I’m brave enough to ask.”

I finished bundling her feet, and placed a hand on her lap from where I knelt before her. The fire crackled behind me as she sat, patiently, waiting for my answer.

“I need to mortally wound you, so that your soul might seek an exit. When it does, I set my lips to where it exits, which is always the mouth, and… suckle. Gently. I take in all of your fleeting soul, swallowing until there is nothing left of it in your body, and it is safely in mine. I feed on it until it withers, and is no more.”

She nodded, looking down at me. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was having trouble focusing. She wasn’t sick with fever anymore, but her temperature was still a bit elevated, and the virus had weakened her.

“I just don’t like surprises, you know? That’s all, that’s why I asked.” I nodded back up at her. She wasn’t crying or nervous; really, nothing about her had changed. “So how will you wound me?”

I frowned. “I have found that biting the neck open at the jugular is the fastest, least painful way to go about it. The wound is sudden and detrimental enough that the soul immediately seeks an exit. I press a hand to the gash I make, which does not stop the bleeding so much as it helps to soothe my prey’s pain as the body bleeds out, slowly. I never break my connection with their bodies until it is a fully done thing. Some, I think, have even felt a certain pleasure in the process – once their consciousness begins to waver, that is. After it is over, I take the corpse to an inconspicuous place, covering it with leaves or dirt, allowing the flora and fauna to do with it as it pleases.”

“So… no dancing around naked in the blood, singing black hymns and howling at the moon?”

I frowned harder, a bit disgusted. I knew she was feeling weak, and teasing. Perhaps making light of it, so as to process this aspect of her unfortunate future… but really.

“No. No, that’s not your style at all, Alex, is it? Sorry. Bad joke. It’s one long, sweet kiss goodbye,” she whispered, smiling briefly, and I found I could not smile back. Gilda bit her lower lip and looked down. “I suppose there is no way around the pain, but you really do try to be tender about it, don’t you?”

“But of course. I may be a demon, but there is no need for me to be sadistic. It isn’t required, and it’s a needlessly vulgar method.” I stood up and bowed at the waist, putting my hand to my black heart, and she looked back up at me again. “In any case, why would I want to cause one such as yourself that kind of horror or pain, Miss Gilda? You aren’t the type that would ask for it, and even at the end of our contract, I would never desire such a thing,” I said, smiling down at her earnestly.

+

A week later she was remarkably improved, and actually took some solid food for dinner. I put her hair up and bathed her body in warm, soft water, being very careful not to cause her any undue stress. But when I wrapped her in a fluffy towel and carried her to her bed with the intention to dry her skin, I noticed she was sniffing quietly.

“Miss?” I asked, immediately concerned. “Are you crying?”

She was weakened from her ordeal with the virus, I knew that, so whatever it was that came out of her mouth next I reminded myself not to take it too personally.

“I’m just tired, Alex.”

Instead of laying her body out on the bed, I sat down on the edge and held her in my lap, sensing a good cry might be on its way. I’d seen this before in the past; humans often cried after a long illness. I don’t understand it, but it isn’t something I judge you for, either. Demons do not suffer from such things as colds and flu, so I cannot say. Perhaps it was just from relief knowing that your body was finally recovering.

I was mistaken, however. There were a few tears but Gilda never did start crying. She was just… sullen.

“There, there,” I soothed her anyhow, hoping a comforting voice and gentle hands might break through this apathy – I hated it when she felt nothing, as she seemed to have for the last month. Even sobbing would be preferable to her just giving up. “Of course you are tired, Miss, you have been through an ordeal with the flu bug. Now, don’t you worry. I’ll have you right as rain in no–”

“That’s not what I meant,” she cut me off easily, despite how quiet and weak her voice was. “I’m tired of feeling off around you. We were at each other’s throats last month and I couldn’t stand it.”

I hummed my agreement, and she gave in, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her towel fell down to her waist but she didn’t even seem to notice. It felt nice, being so close to her bare skin again, and not like when bathing her. I felt the bumps of her spine under my fingertips, the pretty points of her nipples brushing against my shirt, I’d missed this–

“It’s too much. I can’t do this anymore if you’re…”

“I’m what? If I’m what, Miss? You need to tell me. I cannot help you if you don’t tell me exactly what it is that is troubling you.”

She hesitated, and I knew before she even said another peep that she wasn’t going to finish whatever it was that she had started to say.

Oh, terrific. A brand new piece of armor.

“I just want to go back to the touching. And the kissing. Even if you don’t mean it. Even if it’s just the soup that you’re cooking me in, I want it back.”

Appalled at her assessment of my feelings as that superficial, I gently pulled her away from my neck to force her to face me.

“This, still? You still believe that I have absolutely no affectionate feelings for you?”

“I don’t know what you feel, Alex. All I know is that we are in this thing, this contract, together, and it will come to an end and then so will I. The only alternative for me is Hell, and… been there, done that, don’t wanna do that again.” She sniffed, and I tugged at the towel to get a corner of it up to her nose and eyes so that I could wipe the moisture away. “I’m stuck, and I asked for this, and I get all that. I just want to make the best of it. I want your affection… even if it’s just some thing you do to get a better cut of meat. I’m giving in, okay?”

Her heart wasn’t broken just yet. This was a new problem; it was her, accepting my emotional limits. She’d wanted me to fall in love with her, to return her budding human feelings. The problem was, I already did love her, but it wasn’t the kind of love she wanted, maybe even needed, from me. How was I going to explain that to her without breaking her heart? And how was I going to express how much I desired her without making myself appear shallow?

Well. I certainly fucked this one up.

All that unbridled exuberance at the discovery of her. A pianist. A composer, for Christ’s sake. Damn the artistic crowd and their wretched human feelings that run ten times deeper than the average mortal. What was I thinking? Where was my brain? I knew, right then and there, that I never should have contracted with her in the first place.

But here we were, just as she said, stuck. At this rate, either I was going to destroy her, or vice versa… or perhaps both.

I took her face in my hands. She would listen.

“I care about you. I desire you. I have told you this.”

And I’ll break that silly little heart of yours if you expect me to act like your gooey-eyed lover so please don’t ask me anymore questions about that, please, please, please…

I frowned, continuing. “I cannot change the circumstances of our relationship, not without breaking the contract–” she shook her head and her face betrayed the terror she felt at the idea. “I am not going anywhere, Miss Gilda.”

Not yet, anyway.

“But you must understand that what I have to give you is limited by who I am. That can either be the world, or it will never be enough. Only one of those can apply to our situation, and which one depends entirely on you.”

She nodded, taking in what I said. After a long pause, she spoke. “Wanting me is good,” she said, taking a shaky breath. “I can work with that.”

Ah, but I don’t just want you. There is more to it than that. I love you, and I want your love, all of it, and like the greedy alpha – the one that you don’t want to need – I don’t want you to give your love to anyone else, either, ever again, I want you to fall for me, terribly, wretchedly, magnificently in love with me, head over heels, even if I can’t do that in return–

“All right,” she said quietly. “I can pretend it’s mostly about sex. Even though you’re different, and I feel different with you… That’s all it’s ever been with every guy before you, so… I’ll just go there with you, too.”

Dammit. NO. Not simply a physical relationship. I should explain my actions her. Tell her about my Stupid, Failed, Useless Grand Plan…

But I didn’t. And I won’t.

Why couldn’t she just cooperate, for heaven’s sake?

She was still slightly sick, and certainly not thinking clearly. But her germs would have no affect on me, and she was already on her way to being aroused. If I turned her down now, things would get even more difficult than they had been.

Right at that moment all I had to do was appease her physically, and I was more than happy to do that. The rest… the rest I’d deal with later, when it reared its demanding little head again.

I lifted her up her backside, removing the towel from the rest of her body and letting it fall to the floor. While she still held onto my neck, I rolled up my sleeves to my elbows. Gilda watched me do this, and had probably figured out for herself where I was going, but she never said a word. Securing my hands on her bare hips, I looked her in the eyes.

“Do you want the lamp left on, Miss, or shall I turn it off?”

Everything grew still around us. Gilda paused while it sank in that things were about to change between us yet again.

“Can you see in the dark?” she finally asked, quietly.

“Just as well as I can in the light, yes,” I smiled softly. I expected her to ask me to turn the lamp off after revealing such a thing.

“Then just leave it on.”

Telling, that.

I released her hair from the upsweep, removing the pins and letting them fall to the floor next to the damp towel. I ran my hands through her wavy locks, silky soft and fragrant. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, relishing the feel of my fingers combing through her hair.

Laying Gilda’s body down in the center of the bed, I had plenty of room to lie next to her on my side. I slipped my left arm under her back, cradling her neck in the palm of my hand and resting my right hand on her hip.

It began with kisses, of course, gentle and sure, using something familiar that I knew she enjoyed, hoping to ease her into this new territory between us.

My lips found their way to her neck, and her pulse was strong under my open mouth. I touched her, tracing my right hand up and down her thigh, squeezing her hip, caressing her belly and feeling the marks tingle slightly, then up to a breast. Holding her breast, I took the nipple into my mouth. I teased and licked until it hardened against my tongue, then I trailed kisses across her décolletage as I moved to the other breast, and did the same for that pink bud.

Her hands found their way into my hair, and I brushed my fingertips, ever-so-lightly, across the surface of her soft mons. Just as my hand had made contact, she elicited a tiny squeak, and I stopped kissing her breasts to look up at her, questioning my actions.

“Tickles,” she said, almost a whisper.

Well then.

I smirked up at her, but only a little, because I didn’t want her to think I was making fun. My Mistress has a very sensitive mound, and such a thing can be delightfully useful in a woman. I proceeded to do just that – use it.

I kept my eyes on her face, and she looked straight at me while I put my hand back to her mons. Pushing the tips of my fingers against the cushy flesh, I rubbed in small circles, but did not enter the cleft of her vulva.

Not just yet.

As I rubbed her, a high, keening sound got trapped in her throat. Her eyes clenched shut, and I realized that if I wanted her to come quickly, all I really had to do was continue rubbing circles against her mound. That might make her seem like she’s an easy woman to bring to a climax, and that may yet prove to be true. But more importantly, it was also a sure sign that she enjoyed having the feel of something heavy pushing down against her, right there.

Such as, say, me.

Another time, perhaps… if I could ever turn this bitch of a contract around in my favor.

“You like that, Mistress… Don’t you?” I teased, hoping she might yet take off her new armor, but she did not answer me.

I licked my lips in anticipation of Gilda’s pleasure, and kissed her mouth again, causing her to pull me tighter against her. I allowed her to plunder my mouth for a bit, staying my hand on her mound, which was now slightly enlarged. When she released my lips, I pulled back and lifted my head up slightly, eager to watch how she’d react to what happened next.

Gently, I reached down with my right hand to the inside of her left thigh. I brushed downwards until I hooked my fingers into the back of her knee – Ah! I adore that particular piece of anatomy! – and then pulled her leg up and out, exposing her core for exploration. She offered me no resistance and kept her eyes trained on mine.

Stroking lightly up and down her sex, I could feel that her outer labia were already swollen with blood, slightly parted from all the attention, and coated with her fluid on the edges of the cleft. I dipped my long middle finger in, just an inch, testing the water so to speak, and she hummed with pleasure as she closed her eyes and sank back into her pillow.

My index finger joined the first, and very slowly, so as not to cause her any discomfort, I sank them in deeper together, until my knuckles were pushing upwards against her outer folds. I stilled, letting her get used to this exquisite invasion.

Gilda’s body was trembling, and her inner walls were wrapped deliciously tight around my fingers. Eyes still closed, she removed one hand from where she was still clutching at my hair, and snaked it down between us to grip my wrist.

“All right, Miss?” I asked, my fingers still quiet inside her. She opened her eyes and stared up at me for a moment before nodding just once. Her pupils were dilated, and she looked – how do you say it? Stoned? How ravishing.

I moved my fingers then, slowly but not overly-so… pulling them almost completely out of her body, then back in to the hilt, and paused before doing this again. I slid into her several more times, curling my ring and pinky fingers into a tight ball and pushing those against her perineum each time my fingers slid back into her sex. She gasped with each thrust, until those gasps became cries of pleasure.

Her hand was still wrapped around my wrist, and I could see her fighting with herself not to take over the direction of my movements. I stopped, saying, “May I suggest that you remove your hand from my wrist, Mistress? Your release will be that much better if you cannot anticipate my moves.”

She nodded, and complied. Gilda appeared chastened, almost as though she had been caught doing something inappropriate. She slipped her hand out from between our bodies and placed it on my back, keeping it there like a child who had been disciplined to not touch.

Oh, no.

“Not that I didn’t enjoy it,” I said warmly, kissing the tip of her nose. “Your eagerness is incredibly attractive.”

Her guilty look was replaced with a slightly heartened expression, but only just.

By that time, her core was soaking wet and tight. Fluid was seeping out of her now, pooling on her perineum and dribbling down to coat her anus. I resumed my stroking, enjoying the little smacking noises her sex made as my fingers mingled with her juices.

And… there it was, in all its glory… Her vibrant soul, come up just to tease me, clamoring for attention and buzzing away just below the surface of her skin, thick with energy and so redolent… Desire shot through me like an arrow, and I had to concentrate like hell to reign myself in.

Ah, but she was making my head spin. Smiling wickedly, I began, “Mistress, you are so–”

My words were cut short when she suddenly pressed a talented finger to my lips, and shook her head sadly.

“Alex…” she said, and I could hear the frustration in her voice. “Don’t, please.” She shook her head again and I frowned, confused. “Whatever you were going to say, it doesn’t matter,” Gilda whispered. “Just touch me, all right?”

It made me a bit sad, having her reject my words that way. All of the humans I’d bedded over the centuries, prey or otherwise, seemed to adore the words I spoke to them in the heat of the moment. I always wanted Gilda to know how very unique she was, and right then it was very important to me that she understood that. But I knew how she felt, even if she was mistaken about certain things.

However… straightening out her point of view would simply have to wait.

I nodded, complying as best I could with her wishes. Leaning over her, I kissed her stomach, where I was satisfied to see the muscles of her abdomen trembling with want. Her belly button, an ‘innie’ as you say, was thoroughly inspected, then I licked the contract mark clean as though it were my lifeline to her, and in fact, it was.

I moved further up her body and suckled her taught nipples, and she gasped. I continued, grazing my teeth against her neck. Each part I touched earned me another sweet moan.

Several more times I pushed into her with my fingers, then finally, I added my thumb to the repertoire. I pressed its pad against her clitoral hood, rubbing back and forth against the wet, fleshy covering until my thumb slid under the engorged flap to touch her hardened clitoris. Gilda sat up slightly, breathing fast and arching her back, until she got used to me pressing on that wonderful cluster of nerves.

She lay back down, looking up at me with such longing in her eyes. I continued to hold her there, resting my thumb on that sensitive nub and twirling my fingers inside of her. She was drenched, and I suppressed the urge to put my mouth to all that wetness and taste it for myself. I leaned over her further, cradling her torso tighter, while trailing little kisses along her jaw line until I got to her earlobe. I scooped it into my mouth and suckled for just a moment. Hearing her gasp yet again, I smiled despite our confusing circumstances, and whispered just three words against her ear:

“Come for me.”

My voice sounded odd; Gilda’s butler Alexander Michaelis was now mute, and there was nothing but seductive, hungry demon in his place. She must have noticed the change as well, because she shivered in an almost violent way, and her back arched again. She clung to my neck tighter and whined – such a soft, urgent sound, tugging at my black heart, and I knew she was close.

I squeezed her clitoris lightly, cupping it from the inside out, then let it go and began stroking again, still at a steady pace.

Taking her lips I kissed her again, slow and erotic, and between my fingers and my mouth, I maintained a pattern. Gilda matched my pace with her hips and her mouth. She took the sides of my face in her hands, keeping me close, and intensified our kiss.

Oh, how I longed to go further. It would have been the perfect moment to pull my fingers out and put something else inside her – deep inside her.

She moaned into my mouth, and her hips bucked against my hand. Gilda tore her mouth from mine and lolled her head to the side of her pillow. I grinned shamelessly as I watched her – she was positively beautiful, gasping, her eyes shut so very tight, blocking out everything around her save my trespassing fingers and her scrumptious body.

“Faster – Alex–”

I complied, of course, gripping the back of her neck tighter with my hand, holding her there, plunging my fingers in and out of her wet core. She said my name one more time, and then achingly soft cries escaped her mouth. She fell into that dark, wonderful bliss, all the while fisting my collar in her hands at the back of my neck. Turning her hips slightly, she lifted the same knee I’d pushed aside earlier and pressed her thighs together, trapping my fingers inside of her while she rode out her climax.

She’d come quite strong, despite the flu having weakened her. Not wanting to waste the moment, I continued to pleasure her, and I felt the contractions as her walls tried to tug my fingers in deeper still. She came over and over until there was nothing more to be had.

Her body finally slackened. Gilda lay before me on the bed spent and panting. My hand was released when her leg relaxed and her knee fell back against the comforter, sticking out from her side at a vulgar and enticing angle. Unable to stop touching her just yet, I gave her swollen folds a several more strokes, reveling in how very wet she was – I did that to her – and she looked up at me just before she closed her eyes again, submitting to my continued touch.

This had been much more intense than our little adventure in the bathtub. I anticipated that any further sexual experiences with Gilda would be just as good, and even better when – if – I decided to join her in the fun.

Then again, that could be exactly what I shouldn’t do. Such a conundrum.

I slipped my arm out from under her back, and removed my wet, sticky fingers from her sex slowly. Not being able to stop myself, I dipped them into my mouth and sucked the moisture from my skin, tasting her fluid for the first time. The virus was present, but I did my best to ignore this and just taste Gilda. Potent. Sweet. When I saw her watching me doing this, I smiled down at her with lust and affection in my eyes, revealing all that I felt, right at that moment.

She didn’t smile back.

I was still unsure about what I was going to do with her, but right then, I was at least happy that she didn’t look frustrated anymore. I leaned over to kiss her again, and she obliged me, sighing long and sweet under my mouth.

I stood up and went to get a warm, wet washcloth from her bath. When I returned, her face was turned away from me and she was gazing out of the window with an indecipherable expression. I did not ask her for permission, I simply did my duty and gently wiped her still-sensitive privates with the soft cloth. She hissed with the first contact of the terry cloth, and I apologized, but she shook her head indicating that my actions had not been taken as cruel. Gilda closed her eyes and lay still, quietly enjoying the attention while I cleansed her as gently as possible until no more sticky fluids remained.

When I was done, I supported her torso with one arm and pulled the covers down underneath her back. Gilda’s body seemed boneless as I tucked her in. I finally turned off her lamp, and she gazed up at me, satisfied and sleepy, but still not smiling. I brushed my fingers across her forehead, feeling for a temperature. I could still smell the influenza inside her, I’d tasted it on my fingers, which had thoroughly irritated me, how dare it get it the way of me sampling her pure taste… but the virus had either expired or was on its way to death.

“Go to sleep, Miss. You still need more rest. Tomorrow is another day.”

+

Later, as I sat in my room at my desk, I realized that it was no longer a question as to whether or not I was in over my head, because I was now wearing cement shoes while walking on the bottom of a lake.

At least the demon buried deep inside me had quieted for the night, feeling some sense of accomplishment at bringing Gilda to a satisfying release after such a long and unfortunate breach between us. That same demon had, of course, wanted me to go much further and plunge into her warmth with my human cock, getting a satisfying release of his own. If he got too far out of control, I was going to have to transform and pay Cat a visit. Felines being the way felines are, I had no doubt she’d be receptive.

The erection went away all by itself. I am not sure what that meant.

There was this new, much more pressing issue, however… at the front of my brain, where Logic Was All, a completely different atmosphere existed. It was screaming at me, and not all that quietly, either:

Get out now get out, get out, get out…

+

tbc

+

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

If you read it, please review it. Thanks!

To Cannibal-and-Jamie: ‘Alexanderphobia’, huh? Hee hee. I like that. But for pete’s sake girl, go take a pee already.

To OhJazzy: Thanks for the encouragement.
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