Grave Indecencies

I wasn't fool enough to think it was over, not by a long shot. I had time to figure out what had gone on, and when I tried to piece it together, it dawned on me…it was the knife. He had stabbed me as we made love, and that was what had done it. Changed me. And I tried to test myself. I drank too much…I bounced back. I slit my wrists. I healed, sometimes before I even passed out. And then, scientific curiosity overtook me, and I spent a lot of time at the school in the lab, trying to make some sense out of what I now was.

I was always going to get out of science. I should have realized it didn't suit me when I only squeaked through my entrance exams. It cost me a fortune trying to pay for class and the books-and what I had to do for the cash didn't exactly thrill me. And I tested so miserably…but when I was in the lab! I gravitated to Microbiology because I am by nature curious about everything, and when I look through a microscope at the very foundation of life, well…it's a rush. The first time I crafted a batch of penicillin-resistant e. coli and realized how simple it was at times to manipulate the building blocks…And my Immortality only reinforced my interest, for a time. I dreamed of strands of DNA twining about each other like the snakes winding up a caduceus, and I had nothing but ideas…until I did a few bad things, and had to back off.

In my defense, I had good intentions. It's just, well, you know what good intentions will get you!

I also developed an interest in swords--and self-preservation.

For a year I had been left alone, to study and figure these things out for myself. I don't know if this is how others have done it-alone. I only know that it might have been just as well for me…I lived. I didn't dwell on what I was as being all that different. And I learned the things I needed to learn…well, maybe not all, but many. I realized I couldn't stay living with my parents, though…my behavior would've made them realize something strange was happening with me. I lived just off-campus. And I never did go back to the life-I was through on that. It was too dangerous.

I guess I had expected that Kronos would track me down, eventually, though. He had gone through my wallet, after all. He knew my name, where I lived, everything he'd have needed. I would drive myself crazy at times, wondering what it would be like to see him again and what I would say. After all, he did this to me. Did he realize how much of an effect this had on me? I wondered why he did it, and I knew I wanted to see him again. No-a correction: I needed to see him again.

But then the strange coincidences started happening. I would be standing, waiting for a bus, and I would see him, briefly, across the street. A car might pass, and he'd be gone.

I'd swear I saw his form rounding a corner, or disappearing down hallways at school, and scared, I would find myself dashing for the school chapel (holy ground, one of those little tricks I'd learned). His face haunted me awake and asleep, and I couldn't tell you even now if it was fear or lust that had me in anticipation. I had done what I did because I was frightened and he had pushed me too far-I am not the type who takes to that kind of treatment! But I knew he wouldn't have exactly taken to what I had done either.

I probably deserved to lose my head. It was a hell of a mistake, crossing someone like that, not even really knowing yet what I was.

But what I really wanted was to feel his body against me again. Strange, considering what took place, but true. But then, I'm strange about a lot of things. I felt like I had unfinished business with him.

Actually, I kind of didn't mind him stalking me. He was a lot less boring, after all, than the college boys, who pretty much enjoyed my company because I drank a lot and wasn't stuck up. I could almost say I enjoyed their company, but no one did to me what Kronos had done. His touch had practically set me on fire, and after him, other caresses seemed cold, and I was beginning to wonder just how much experience he had, now that I understood what we were. I found myself thinking about that part a lot.

Obviously he had found me, but why wasn't he approaching me? Did he just want to unnerve me-consider it partially done-or was there some other motive at work? I almost would have accepted a challenge, even if it was only to die and be done with the suspense.

Then, the surprising thing happened. I had gone over my mom's and she had a message for me. Apparently, a Mr. Mal Kronos had called wanting me to meet him. She gave me a really suspicious look at she stood there with the notepad to tell me about it. Mom always seemed to think I was on the verge of some kind of trouble. She may have had reasons.

"Genevieve, who is he?" mom demanded. "Why did he try to reach you here? He sounded like a foreigner. What's 'Kronos'? Sounds Greek or something. He's not-uh, you know?"

That's my mom. If it's a foreigner, it must be something criminal.

"I think he's someone from the university," I replied, lying because it sounded better than "Oh, he's the one-night-stand who brought about my first death and threw me into a world of Immortality and battles to the death." Moms can't stand hearing stuff like that.

"Not more trouble, is it?" she asked, warily. She never really did feel all that good about me since the FBI investigation. Even after I explained that it was really a simple lab-accident…not an act of terrorism. Parents. Let me tell you.

"Oh, no," I continued, still lying through my teeth. "He's a friend." One can only hope this meeting will be friendly.

"Sounds like the type of friends you attract," she then sniffed, and handed me the message. He wanted to meet me at St. Anselm's churchyard-a cemetery.

And holy ground, at that.

It was like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I was practically delighted. Holy ground. How bad could it be? Whatever was I going to wear? Sure, a smart person would think "long coat, sensible shoes," but heck…why go out there like I'm carrying? What earthly good would it do? And after all, there was no guarantee that this was a challenge. Besides, my head's not worth anything.

I was thinking lace slip-dress, garter-belt. Hmmm, it was a thought. I could barely sleep that night for anticipation.

That morning I made sure to dab myself with perfume after a long, sensuous bath-I was that eager! I shimmied into my lace ensemble, not caring a bit whether or not it was appropriate for a trip to the cemetery, and then I practically raced to get to St. Anselm's at the appointed time so I could-sit and wait in the car looking not at all concerned. I certainly wasn't going to be standing there looking like I was panting after another round! And believe you me, I had a little something in the trunk if this went south on me-a Claymore-let's face it, I saw what that bastard would be carrying!

(Just a word for the young Immortal-size does matter. When it comes to swords.)

And sit in the car was exactly what I did. I got there and I sat. I checked the message again, thinking Mom might have "pulled a mom" and got the time wrong, or the cemetery. Noon. But then, twelve-thirty passed, and then, one. I got out of my car to look around.

Walking through cemeteries can be pleasant, all things considered. Old ones are the best-the stones more elaborate, the dates, from birth to death, almost heartbreakingly close in time. Here a brother and sister were taken in the same year, and there, a newlywed couple lay in the ground when they should still be sharing a marriage-bed. Occasionally, a cold chill would run through me, as if my steps offended.

Then another sort of chill went through me-the buzz of a powerful Immortal, and there was only one person it could be. I had a world of questions to ask him, so many things I wanted to say. But when I turned to face him, all I could think was, don't freak damn it, don't freak damn it, don't freak!

Could I have forgotten those eyes? Even with the scar, they were the most beautiful feature of his face. I hadn't known exactly what I would think on seeing him, but my reaction was immediate-attraction. Desire. Not fear. But I couldn't let lust get the better of me, I knew I had to be smart. So I tried to talk my way around him.

"So," I began, employing a cool voice only slightly marred by a waver. "The ground's holy, I'm not. Haven't seen you around much, or should I say, I have?" I reached out as if to shake his hand, but he grabbed my wrist, hard.

"What you did hadn't been very nice, was it, Vixen?"

I gulped. That was the fake name I had given him, and I realized that this might not go down well, after all.

He noticed the impression the name had on me and was pleased. He continued.

"Fits, doesn't it?" He twisted my arm, but he didn't need to. He could consider it sufficiently twisted. I calmed, but I couldn't now tell you just why.

"I suppose it does."

"You're a whore and a scholar. And I suppose you thought I'd let it go."

"I suppose you know I'm not that stupid. Enough of this damn 'supposing', for Christ's sake. You know who I am, you know what I am, and how I can be. And you're the one who arranged this meeting by calling my mother. Nice touch. You can get to my family, if you had to. But you have me." I don't know where that chutzpah came from. I usually don't talk like that. I guess he brought it out in me.

"That I do."

"So what do you want from me, already? My head?"

"No. I don't think I'll kill you. If I killed you, I wouldn't want to fuck you."

He loosened his grip, and then looked at me, speculatively. I felt bright hot. He then pulled me closer. Helpless, I tilted my face upwards, my lips to meet his. His mouth was like fire! I moaned slightly. This was everything I had been waiting for. He was pushing me backwards-right there, in the middle of the cemetery. Well, even I have my limits!

"Here? Oh, god…here?"

We were not five yards from a family tomb, one of those stately old marble deals engraved with a name of one of the first families of Philadelphia. He grabbed my hand and pulled me in its direction. The lock must have been old; he cracked it with his sword, easily. The tomb was dark and smelled of death, in itself, altogether arousing, and the floor, cool, damp, mossy, marble, hard as I lay upon it. And he was warm, and smelled of lust, in himself, altogether arousing-and was hard, and urgent, and I was-there are no words for what I was-in the dark of the tomb, lit only by sunlight coming in through the battered door.

We needed no words, only actions, him embracing me, me clutching him, kissing him, and feeling as if I was falling. My senses were reeling and every question I had ever had was out of my mind-there was only this moment, and having him in my arms. We had sunk to the floor of the tomb without thought, even though it was a tight enough space to be completely claustrophobic, but my god! Did it bother me to be any closer to him?

In a way, it seemed familiar. It reminded me of that night I still only half-remember with my memory clouded by scotch and my first death. There I was again, grabbing at clothing, lips moaning against his, and enjoying this rough foreplay. His hands wrapped themselves in my hair, and he whispered in my ear-

"So eager…I like that."

"Eager for you," I responded. "You do this to me…only you. It's been too long. You drive me crazy."

"Maybe it has been too long."

I paid no mind to the slight coolness of the tomb, or the tight space, or brushing up against a door that separated us from the bodies of the dead. For one, weird moment, I thought, we could both be dead-but here we are, and I wondered about this miracle that had us both there. But I didn't dwell on it. There was so many more important, pressing matters at hand, like his body, warm against mine, the feeling of his hardness against me, and my own desire consuming me.

I intentionally chose the garter-belt to avoid the obstruction of panties (yes, I had been anticipating this), but now I was beginning to see the drawback as the elastic straps gave way-like I cared! His hands roved over my thighs, between my legs, thrilling me. I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I was simply melting away, barely existing, just excited nerve-ends under his touch. Then, he did something strange-He stopped!

He was about to rise, and I could dimly see him reaching into his jacket. My heart pounded, and in a flash, I remembered what had happened the last time. I gasped-

"Please, don't, whatever it is…" I was kneeling. He seemed hesitant, uncertain.

"I don't know what I want from you."

I was almost speechless. I reached out and touched his face-it seemed the right thing to do. If there was one person in this world who I thought knew what he wanted, it was Kronos. And, being this close, I could tell his heart was racing the same as mine.

"Kill me. Fuck me. Leave me. Do whatever you want with me," I found myself saying. "I can't take this. Seeing you again, after what happened-I'm prepared for anything. I should lose my head for what I did. I know that."

"You should," he replied, but he reached for me and we kissed, and I slipped my arms behind his neck, and he stripped the jacket, and I felt crazy, simply crazy. I was literally aching.

"Make love to me. You can think about killing me later."

He smiled, and we kissed again.

His hands slid over my legs, and he pulled my slip-dress up. I was semi-naked in the semi-dark. I could have cared less. Outside, there could have been people visiting dead relatives. Dearly beloved grandparents, maybe. I felt extremely perverted-people get arrested for things like this! But there was nowhere on earth I would have preferred to be.

My hands felt his face and I drew him close into a breathless kiss, pressing my chest against him. His fly had been undone, and I proceeded to get him into position to strip him of those unnecessary trousers. Enough of this semi-naked outdoor groping! I wanted skin against skin-and when I had him stripped, it was better than I remembered.

His arms encircled me, and then, he grabbed my ass as my hands flew to his shoulders for support and raised me, and then lowered me, fixing the spike into the position the Hindus call yab-yum. I was beside myself-I wanted to rewrite the pages of the Kama Sutra on his skin with a very fine brush and dwell on every detail of his body-

But this was to be no tantric escapade exploring the possibilities of lust, Immortality, and endurance-not here on the floor of a tomb. He pulled me close, hands still gripped on my ass, and, with a motion, had me reeling. I was shaken to my soul. How did he do that to my body so quickly? It was unreal. My head swirling, I fell away from his embrace, suddenly a little weak, shuddering, but joyous.

"We should get dressed," he then commented. "We have business to attend to."

More important than this? I wondered, stunned and a little disappointed. But all the same, I gathered my clothes. I had no idea what was on that mind of his, but I was dying to find out!

I shielded my eyes against the cold, hard glare of day, and wondered where the hell my car got to. Kronos assured me it was being taken care of (how, I didn't venture a guess-I never had an afternoon screw with valet before), and then led me to his own car-a 70's model Caddy, something nice and big with bench seats. I don't know jack about cars, but this one was cherry-and I am a fan of bench seats, because sex in buckets is simply too uncomfortable.

I got in, still randy as all get out, if not more so. I watched him, the road, his fly, my hand unzipping his fly….

"I'm driving."

"And?"

"You can…do that…"

You just can't take me anywhere, I guess. But he was apparently pleased with the state of affairs, and it took his mind for the moment off of whatever this big deal was he wanted to discuss. For a moment or two, anyway, but then I felt his hand rest on my head, and he said something disturbing, or rather, something I should have thought of as disturbing.

"Maybe you would do this favor for me, after all."

Something should have told me he didn't mean dog-sitting.

On to "The Favor"

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