Sylvie

Dropping back by their house to pick up an extra helmet in order to avoid police entanglements, Sylvie drove the couple to the bar so that it could be opened on time.  By the time they’d reached the strip mall parking lot, the rain had stopped long enough for Sylvie’s regular bikers to have arrived and start acting like a bunch of fraternity boys. 

Waiting for the soft thrum of Sylvie’s engine to stop, a guy named Ryan jokingly spoke up. “Guys, look.  Sylvie has another one.”  He lightly cackled as the other guys started hooting and jeering at the couple. “What’s that number twelve or thirteen for the year?”

Sighing from inside her unwanted helmet, Casey flipped up the visor and tapped Sylvie on the shoulder. “I should go over there and have dinner.”  She teased, “I am hungry enough.”

Pulling the key and using the kickstand, Sylvie unbuckled her own headgear and fluffed her blue-gray mane so it curved around her neck as usual. “They are harmless, Casey.”  She added, “Boys will be boys.”  Facing the heckler, Sylvie whistled to get his attention.  “Ryan, Darl’in?”  She faked her southern accent to the point where Casey started laughing, “Ryan, You're just upset that you weren’t number eleven, sweetpea.”

Mirroring her mistress’s action, Casey freed her head and flipped her strawberry-blonde hair to each side and then winked playfully at the man.  “Sylvie..”  Casey ran her hand over the leather jacket the older vampire was wearing. “..You have got to get me one of these.  I love it.”  Spotting the name of the bar, Casey pointed at the neon moons. “Clever.  I’m gonna love this place.”

Holding up one finger to Casey, Sylvie turned and waved down the leader of the frat-pack. “Jim?  Can you keep them busy until Amber gets out here, M’dear?”  Witnessing a quick nod, Sylvie held out her hand for Casey. “Sorry about that, It’s kind of their ritual to give me shit.”

Happily clasping Sylvie’s hand, Casey trailed Sylvie to the bar door. “Boys are dumb.”

“Totally agree.”  Sylvie ushered Casey inside and gave her progeny a quick overview of the business. “You can do whatever you want to, really.”  Sylvie followed her familiar pattern of turning on the lights and heading for her office. “I am a very low-key boss.  I like to make drinks, so I do that.”

Once they passed the kitchen that split the two sections, Casey saw the small dance floor. “So cool.”  She ran up and played with the switches until a bright spotlight hit the floor. “There…there, that was what I saw in my dead-state?  I don’t know what to call it.”

“That is as good as anything.”  Sylvie blew Casey a kiss, “You just named it.”

Dousing the bright yellow light, Casey cheerfully followed Sylvie into her office. “Hey, You have all this cool stuff to wear, and I am in this yellow top with red swirls on it.”  She grimaced, “I really have to change my wardrobe.”  She held up her gold and glittery purse, “Look at this thing.”

“Martin should be in the back stocking things.  He typically gets here with his crew a few hours before opening.”  She poked at the disco purse, “He can get you whatever you want.”  Sylvie walked to a small cabinet flipped through a few tees and finally stopped. “This should work for tonight.”

Catching the purple top as it was tossed across the room, Casey shook out the shirt and took a look at the imprinting. “Eight-ball vodka?”  She looked at the back and saw the huge black and white pool ball with the brand name under the image. “I like it.”  Checking out the size, Casey frowned. “I am pretty sure that this isn’t going to fit right.”

Closing the little closet, Sylvie faced Casey with one eyebrow raised with curiosity.  “Wait a damned minute.”  She paused, “I distinctly recall a very tight-fitting suit that Martin had made for you, along with a certain donning of armor that barely held those in.”  Sylvie playfully pointed at Casey’s large chest. “Now you are in a bar where sex appeal is almost expected, and you’ve gone prude.”

Quickly sticking her tongue out, “I am supposed to be a changed woman now.”  Walking to the office door, Casey secured the lock and tossed the tight tee over her frame and moved around a bit. “Feels good.  You sure this isn’t a breach of contract?  You are gonna have your girlfriend being ogled by all these sweaty guys.”

“I’m good with it.”  Sylvie walked up to Casey and hugged her tight. “You should be used to people gawking at you.”  Mulling over a thought, Sylvie added, “I do have concerns with you being around all these people.” Sylvie purred playfully, “We might be able to get away with a dozen screaming outside, but thirty to fifty in the restaurant or double that in the speakeasy would be a little more complicated.”

“I see your point.”  Casey gently pulled away and rubbed her chin in thought, “Can I ask a favor?”  Casey waited for Sylvie to nod, “Control me.”  A quick shiver went down Casey’s spine thinking about feeling Sylvie’s words dancing in her head all night. “As long as you feel it’s necessary.”  She panted with excitement.

Moving behind Casey without a sound, Sylvie rubbed her partner’s shoulders and slipped her hands down her sides until she held Casey’s hips firm.  Leaning a hair’s breadth from Casey’s ear, Sylvie called to her blood and their bond then whispered. “Let my words be liquid lyrics of love.  Hunger only exists for bottled blood or our faithful bunnies.  My sweet echoes are with you dancing, holding your resolve strong.  You won’t harm the living this evening, will you?”

“Mmm, no.  Love has my hand.”  Little locks seemed to click in Casey’s mind and she embraced the sweet command. “Oh, my.  That is..”  Casey felt her legs weaken and she leaned heavily into Sylvie. “..The best feeling.  I don’t even smell the guys outside anymore.”  Turning her head, Casey mewled and kissed Sylvie’s neck. “Thank you, Châtelain.”

Partly shocked by the response, Sylvie took a step back and scratched her head lightly. “What did you call me?”

Spinning on her toes, Casey faced her creator. “I called you, Châtelain.  It’s French.”  She winked and grabbed Sylvie’s hand. “It is the mistress of the castle.  I wanted something unique and special for us.”

“I love it.”  Sylvie beamed and hugged Casey again. “I am suddenly very happy that you spent time in France.” Leaning close enough so that their lips lightly brushed together, Sylvie further purred, “No one else but you.”  Deftly, Sylvie slipped from Casey’s arms and regained her senses. “Whew.”  She panted, “You are a bundle of desire aren’t you?”  Pretending to wipe sweat from her forehead, Sylvie acted flummoxed. “One good name deserves another.”  Sylvie crossed her arms and leaned on her heels and thought for a few seconds. “Humm..Let me match..Oh, I have it!”  Sylvie wiggled her finger towards Casey. “Paramour.”  Emulating Casey’s excitement, Sylvie took her partner’s line, “It’s French.”

“I think you were around Vivi, too long, Châtelain.”  Casey felt chills run the length of her spine using the name. “Paramour.  It’s great.”  She paused and smiled, “Maybe just in private between us?  That way we don’t sound crazy to the rest of the world?”

“Agreed.”  Sylvie winked.

“Agreed.”  Casey echoed and raised one of her eyebrows, “However..”  She blew Sylvie a kiss, “..no more stealing my lines.”