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LET ME
Sugar met me at Burbank Airport, giddy with
gossip.
I forgot the black of Randall's hair then, looking at the brassy
blonde of hers. She looked like Marilyn Monroe, with a polka-dot
50's retro dress, and little black shoes.
"What did you bring to wear?" She sang as we chatted about
anything and everything.
"Not much... We need to go by Retail Slut so I can get some
fishnets."
"Ok, " she said, grinning. "I am doing an article
on the LA club scene--and you are going to help me. Its called 'Club
To Death: Five Days in LA.' We will be so messed up after this we
won't ever want to see people again!"
I was looking forward to it. I never went out anymore.
***
"Where are we going again?"
I was cutting my bangs with Sugar's utility scissors. I wanted
something different...something less domestic. I angled them like
Bette Page, and they kept getting shorter until I had a hard time
curling them.
"Tonight is my friend's band, Le Petit Morte. They're playing
at the Teaser."
I put my black slip on over my black wonderbra, black g-string.
Black fishnets... Sugar and I had bought matching black platform
boots that laced up to our knees, and we both wore those too. Two
barretts, fastening two ringlets of my hair, leaving the rest long
and straight, was the end of my ornamentation.
We got there quickly enough. Inside the Teaser it was the same
as any old dying Hollywood rock club. The main room had paintings
up high on the wall of all the bands who had played recently. One
of them was Le Petit Morte. I was studying their images when I smelled
something...dark and spicey. I felt someone dragging my arm and
pulling me. I couldn't hear what she said, but it was Sugar.
Then I saw her.
She was in black. All black. Lacey, from head to toe, in a tight
dress that moved with her curves. Tall and pale as ash. Her alabaster
skin glowed, even if her expression was preoccupied. She was frowning,
but she was beautiful...Sleek silky tresses coiling about her cheeks
like a classic black and white photograph.
Sugar's voice piped into my head, shattering the mystery of
her name.
"This is Elizabeth. I was telling you about her, remember?"
Sugar faded into the background as I took Elizabeth's hand for
only a moment, shook it firmly, and smiled. Her voice was sultry,
silky, low and husky. I wondered if she sang that way. She appologized
and made her excuses, having to get started. I watched her swish
away, going right under that painting of herself. My eyes left her
hips only when she'd gone into the crowd.
It was magic, I think. That was what I smelled, looking back
on things. I never danced to local bands. I did that night. I stood
right in front of her and danced for her--not wildly. Just willingly.
She caught my blue eyes with her green ones a few times as she sang,
the lights so hot she was sweating, black hair sticking to her pale
face. I knew she liked girls.
I wanted her. I wanted her while I watched her play her Fender,
fingering the frets like she probably fingered other things... I
can't say I didn't imagine it either, as she twisted and swayed,
her high pitched voice ringing out so warm, so rich, so loud in
my ears that it vibrated through my body.
I was scheming in my mind, how I could find her after the show.
I was disappointed, however. Elizabeth left, without saying goodbye.
***
I was disheartened that she'd left without giving me the chance
to get her phone number. Something. I shrugged it off, and tried
to look forward to the evening ahead of us. Tonight we were going
to Jack's, and Jack's would be full of vampires...
I wore my favorite black latex catsuit. It hugged my body like
a soft, warm, glove, and I could feel every touch, with excitement,
through the rubber. My primadonna fetish heels, and matching latex
gloves completed the look. Sugar polished me, and I relished the
feeling. Again I curled my hair, Bettie Page style, and again I
painted my eyes. I was glittering... Fangs and all.
***
Dancing and writhing bodies. Peter Murphy blaring warmly through
the hot little club, as people dressed in their best ruined finery,
sashayed and swayed past the heated bodies crowding the lower floor.
I needed space, so I grabbed my glass of merlot and headed up
to the VIP balcony. Jack caught me on the stairs, twirled me once
before I ascended.
I found the table where Sugar was busy chattering to a few of
our friends, and I sat down. When I looked over the brass railing
from my zebra print stool, I saw a familiar curve on a familar back.
It led down to a familiar buttocks, clad in tight PVC pants. Black,
shiny, sexy curves. It was Elizabeth.
I got up. I made my way down the stairs with a certain determination.
No one would get to her first, I thought. She is mine. When I reached
the bar, Elizabeth was there, and she was staring at me as I moved
forward to say hello. Her deep voice greeted me before I could say
anything, and she slipped her arm around my waist.
"Hi...I love your catsuit." She smiled, and her eyes
knew what I was after. They reflected the same thing.
"You were great last night." I smelled her then. That
spicy-sweet scent of inscence and magic. I could see part of a tattoo
peaking out of her shirt. I saw her cleavage too, milky white. I
wondered what it smelled like.
"Thanks. What are you drinking?" Her hand caressed
my hip then. I didn't blink; I just smiled.
"Merlot."
She released me only to get our drinks.
We drank them, then danced together. I remembered how I danced
for her the night before, and I closed my eyes, tried to be graceful,
sexy. It was so hot by the end of the song, that we gravitated to
the far-end wall, to find a place to sit down. There was one stool.
Elizabeth sat down upon it, then pulled me onto her lap.
She stroked my back, and I trailed my finger along the outer
lines of her tattoo. Sharp edges, soft skin. She pulled the material
away that was hiding it, and revealed a large black widow covering
her right breast at the top. I traced the lines of each leg, and
then the hourglass on its back.
Her breathing was heavier when she said, "I've never kissed
anyone with fangs before...what does it feel like?"
"It hurts..." I said, "sometimes," and kissed
her. I tasted her tounge, and she was hungry. I made sure I bit
her lip, just as sure as she smeared her black lipstick over mine.
We carressed eachother, touched, teased, while watching the
other girls move and slink across the dancefloor.
"I think she's hot. The one in the little hotpants. What
do you think?" Elizabeth pointed to a brunette with one long
ponytail that touched the small of her back. She had a perfect body,
and her hotpants were riding up into her crotch. It was provocative.
The smell of Elizabeth's perfume was heady, and I sunk my head down
to burry my nose in her neck, biting, teasing, licking gently.
I pointed out another girl, clad in full victorian dress, stepping
very carefully, very gracefully to the music. "What about her,
" I said and we went on like that for hours. Tasting eachother's
kisses on our own lips, when all the lipstick and wine had gone.
Sugar found me there, sweaty and draped over Elizabeth's lap
like a cat. Elizabeth's speech was slurring, and she was looking
at me with saddened eyes. They were still green, but had a hint
of grey that grew with each impending-goodbye-minute.
"You are going back to San Francisco, aren't you?"
"Yes, but I'll be back."
"When?"
"Next month, I think. As soon as I can get away."
"I'll wait for you. Or maybe I could come up there to visit.
Check out some clubs for the band..."
"You don't have to wait for everything, Elizabeth."
I took her hand and got off her lap. I whispered quickly to Sugar
that we'd be right back, and then disappeared with her into the
hallway that led to the ladies room.
I led her to the handicapped stall, her eyes dancing. Green
absynthe, there in her gaze, and as I shut and locked the door behind
us I drank her in, pushing her against the grimey tiled wall strongly,
kissing her softly. I brought her arms up over her head and held
her wrists with one hand, sliding my other one down the inside of
her arm, trailing my warm-to-touch, polished, latex glove gently
over her smooth white skin. I ran my palm over her breast as I kissed
her again, and she moaned slightly, then clutched me harder to her,
struggling a little, wanting her hands free. I let them go, so she
could touch me.
Elizabeth ran her hands down my waist, over my back, my buttocks.
She tried to unzip my catsuit, but I shook my head no. I whispered,
"Let me..." and looked at her again, touching the insides
of her bra straps with my fingers. She waited for more. I reached
my hands up under her shirt, kissing her neck, biting, licking,
in a rhythmic sort of way.
When I unhooked her bra, I pulled back to look at her...beautiful.
Pale white with rosey nipples at the center of it all. I brushed
my gloved fingers over her nipples then, and she inhaled sharply.
She didn't object when I kissed them, nor when I teased at them
with my tounge, tasting and suckling their hard little knots. She
coiled her hands in my hair, held on, and sighed.
I smiled. Pulled her bra back together for her, and her shirt
back down over her the beauty of her once naked breasts. She shivered
a little as I kissed her again, long, lingering. Like in the movies.
"I want to see you again, when I come back." I hoped
the wickedness in my thoughts came through in my eyes.
"Will you call me?"
"Say 'please.'"
"Please," she begged, breathless.
"I might," I said, mischeviously.
***
"Who is he? Who the fuck is he?" Randall was angry
with me.
He stormed about the room, pacing like a wild warrior, waiting
for the battle to break. I said nothing, just continued packing.
"You met a guy down there, didn't you. You bitch. I knew
you were screwing around!"
"I think you have that backwards, darling. I never was
the one to screw around. Besides, you were always so much better
at it than I. We are no longer together, remember?" I sneered.
"We still live together."
"In separate rooms," I reminded him.
"You are lying to me... I know you met someone down there.
Whore. Tell me who he is."
"You are right about one thing, and I don't mean the part
about being a whore. I did meet someone." He got misty-eyed
then, as if he'd never slept with all those women, and in some way
I'd done him a great wrong. As if he'd loved me deeply, all the
years we lived together, through all the lies. "I knew it,"
he said, and his lip almost quivered. He spoke softly, "What's
his name?"
"Her name....is Elizabeth." His eyes got bigger. His
mouth opened just enough to look slightly slack-jawed.
"I'm leaving you for a woman." I don't know who got
more satisfaction out of that statement; myself or Elizabeth, when
I told her.
Story Submitted By H. Bryan
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