I Want To Kiss You In Memphis

The backstory behind my SOTL/HANNIBAL trilogy The Tattoo, The Shirt, and The Scenario. Rated NC-17.

Disclaimer: As in The Tattoo, The Shirt, and The Scenario, the characters of Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Clarice Starling, et. al., are the exclusive property of Thomas Harris. I Want To Kiss You In Memphis takes place during the time of The Silence of the Lambs.

On the flight back to D.C., Clarice Starling let the conversation play back in her head.

What did you see, Clarice?

She now realized, fully, that Jack Crawford was no better than all the other condescending assholes she'd dealt with in her life. He had concocted the Plum Island scam to make Hannibal Lecter spill the beans about "Buffalo Bill," without telling her it was a scam...meaning that, in doublecrossing Hannibal, he had doublecrossed her, too.

That was a good one...

He kept up the facade, kept wearing the mask of the psychiatric sadist, pressing her to keep her end of their "quid pro quo" agreement. She kept her word, and he hadn't let up...it broke her heart to talk about her horse, Hannah, and about the lambs screaming in her sleep. As she spoke, he could see the difficulty she had in holding in her tears.

Still, talking to him had cleansed her soul...

People will say we're in love...

Frederick Chilton suspected that already. He had never gotten over her rejecting his advances that first day, and his grudge had festered worse than any pus-filled bedsore he'd had to clean during his medical internships. Chilton had always mistreated his patients, but had been particularly cruel and petty in his dealings with Hannibal. But the growing bond between Hannibal and Clarice---a bond that they had both feared and welcomed---was just too much.

He had shipped Hannibal to Memphis, TN in an attempt to keep them apart, had used his viciousness in an attempt to turn Hannibal against her.

It didn't work.

When Chilton found out Clarice had followed them, that she had found Hannibal, he'd had the guards, Pembry and Boyle, remove her bodily...

Clarice!...

Your case file...

Clarice closed her eyes and let the final images play...

Clarice broke from Pembry and Boyle's grip and ran back to the cage. The minute she reached for the case file, Hannibal grabbed her right arm with his left hand. Then, holding her in a firm, yet gentle grip, he pulled her past the guardrails and close to the cage.

"Let her go, Lecter!" Boyle shouted, reaching for his pistol, but Chilton stopped him.

"Hold your fire!" Chilton told the guards. Then, turning to Hannibal and Clarice, he called out, "You heard the man, let her go!"

Hannibal kept his hold on Clarice, pausing a moment to set the case file at her feet. Then, rising back up, he once again held her gaze...as well as her other arm.

He saw the fear in her eyes, and it hurt him to see it.

"Dr. Lecter..." she pleaded, not knowing whether to struggle free or not.

Hannibal's gaze softened. "I won't hurt you," he whispered, still holding her. What he did next surprised even himself.

He reached up with his right hand and smoothed her hair back from her face, softly stroking her left cheek. His touch, so loving and tender, belied the savagery of the crimes he had committed, and took Clarice by surprise. She flinched when his fingertips first touched her cheek, but only for a moment. "What the fuck's he doin'?!?" Pembry piped up, not believing what he was seeing.

Chilton was himself at a loss, thinking maybe Hannibal was going to turn her face into lunch...just as he had with the insufferable bitch of a nurse, eight years earlier.

Clarice's hands gripped the cage bars, and she didn't run when Hannibal release her arm to wrap his left arm around her waist, resting his hand on the small of her back. She let him continue this sweet torture, his fingertips featherlight and sensual as they stroked her cheek, then down her neck.

Slowly, achingly, the fear in her blue-grey eyes shifted to something she'd never felt with any guy she'd dated or slept with...hunger. The blissful heat now washed over her body, her heart pounding a mile a minute, her cunt burning with unbridled desire.

It was at this moment that, through the cage bars, he kissed her. "Oh, my God!" Chilton screamed, thinking Hannibal was biting off her tongue. He jumped the guardrail for a closer look.

No blood was jetting out of Clarice's mouth and onto Hannibal's face. Nor was she struggling when he kissed her.

She couldn't believe the softness of his lips, the sensual pleasure he ignited as they kissed. It felt so blissful, his delicious tongue entering and exploring her all-too-willing mouth, coaxing a response from hers...his tender hands sliding under her coat, his arms around her waist.

As if they had a mind of their own, Clarice's hands released the bars of the cage. Then her hands and arms passed through the bars and slowly wrapped themselves around his neck, her fingers entwining into his gelled-back hair.

The world fell away during those wonderful, forbidden moments, and they tried to make this first kiss last as long as they could.

But all things must end sometime...

Finally, tapering off with gentle reluctance, Hannibal managed to breathe the words "I love you" as he placed the case file in her hands...before Pembry and Boyle finally pulled them apart.

That image would remain with her for the rest of her days...

"Lecter did what?" Ardelia Mapp asked when Clarice returned to Quantico.

"He forgave me for lying to him," Clarice admitted, "and forgivin' is something he's never done before."

Ardelia was perplexed. "And how do you know this?"

Clarice braced herself, drawing a slow breath. "I can't tell Mr. Crawford yet, and I don't want you to, either."

"What the Hell---!"

"He kissed me, Ardelia."

"He WHAT?!?"

"He kissed me, and I'm not talkin' a little bitty peck on the cheek, either."

At that moment, Ardelia felt like she had just been run over by an 18-wheeler. "Lecter slipped you the tongue...and you let him? Clarice Starling, what the fuck were you thinking?!?"

Clarice became defensive. "I swear to God, I didn't know what else to do---and I don't appreciate you bein' so fuckin' rude about me tellin' you this!!!"

The anger in Clarice's voice surprised Ardelia. "Whoa...take it easy, Clarice, I'm sorry...I had no idea."

Clarice calmed down. "Naw, Ardelia, I'm the one who should apologize. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

Over coffee in the dorm's TV lounge, Ardelia tried to shake the mental image of Hannibal Lecter liplocking her best friend. "Did anyone see him kiss you?" she now asked.

"Just the guard watchin' him," Clarice admitted, "and that fuckin' Chilton. It happened when Hannibal was giving me the 'Buffalo Bill' case file."

Clarice now reached for her attache bag and pulled out the file, then set it on the table.

"Hot damn, Clarice, now you're calling him Hannibal? Are you saying you actually enjoyed him kissing you?"

"I should be ashamed to admit it, but I'm not...yes, Ardelia, I enjoyed it."

A long pause. "I won't say anything to the 'Guru' just yet, but out of curiosity...what did it feel like?"

Clarice smiled. "Ohhh, God, you have no idea. His lips are so sensuous...I've never felt lips so soft an' gentle in my life, Ardelia, I really haven't."

"So he was a really good kisser?"

"Let me put it this way...for a man to kiss that Goddamn good, imagine what he can do in bed. Imagine how good he'd be at fuckin'..."

Ardelia couldn't believe the words coming out of Clarice's mouth. "Uh, I'd rather not...seriously, Clarice, can you hear yourself? You're talking about Hannibal Lecter---he's killed people, for Christ's sake, and you're all of a sudden wanting to go to bed with him?!?"

Finally, it dawned on Ardelia. "Is he in love with you?" she asked.

"He sure is," Clarice now admitted. "He 'fessed up before I left...after we kissed."

"So, knowing the type of person he is, how do you feel? Are you in love with him?"

"I don't know, Ardelia. I'm not gonna lie, kissin' him made me sooooo horny...but I don't really know how I feel yet, I've never felt this way about anyone."

They finished their coffee, then Clarice got up. "Listen, I'm gonna find a tub and get in it for awhile," she said. "Lord knows I need a good soak."

"Okay," Ardelia replied. "Maybe it'll take your mind off of things."

While Clarice was in the tub, Hannibal was already planning his escape...

Clarice had to use the tub two floors down from her room, since the others were taken. She had not wanted to take a shower tonight, wanting to continue reliving the memory of Hannibal's kiss.

To her great relief, there was nobody around. She closed the tub room door behind her, then shucked her white robe in record time. The expensive Italian soap she'd bought the week before rested in the dish beside the tub as she eased herself into the hot water. The Aussie Mega shampoo also rested nearby.

She went through the motions of washing her hair and body...right now, all she wanted to do was enjoy this rare, blissful chance to soak.

Her eyes closed, and her mind drifted...

"Hello, Clarice," the familiar voice purred, soft lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. She opened her eyes...

She was lying on a beautiful oak bed, on top of champagne-colored silk sheets. She raised up to look out the window, and saw the spires of the Duomo cathedral clearly. She was in a luxurious suite in the Belvedere Hotel.

The soft brush of familiar fingertips averted her gaze from the window.

On the other pillow was Hannibal Lecter.

She lay back down and looked up at him, and was surprised to see him nude. Now she could see his sleekly muscled body, could see the six-pack abs, taut, lightly hair-dusted pecs, and nicely defined arms and legs. She could also see, in full view, his package...and that he was not only circumsized, but very well-endowed.

Hannibal was soon on top of her, renewing the first contact they had made in Memphis. His soft lips burned against hers, his tongue swimming desirously in her mouth...now the need was greater, now they were no longer separated by iron bars or glass partitions.

"Just lie back and enjoy it, my dear," he purred, his lips and tongue trailing over her jaw and neck, kissing down...further down.

Clarice could feel herself flying with delight as his mouth savored every inch of her willing body. "Mmmhh," she sighed, feeling the throb between her legs, feeling her cunt ignite with unquenchable fire...feeling his nipping, sucking mouth on her breasts. His insanely soft tongue flicked and darted over her nipples, his teeth further making them raw with passion. Then his kisses trailed further down, between her already spread legs. She reached down and opened herself for him, her fingertips parting her labia and exposing her clitoris, her opening.

"Ooohh, yes," he whispered, wetting his index and middle fingers before inching them inside her. Hannibal thrust his long fingers inside her for a few moments, massaging her Grafenberg spot to start before withdrawing them. Then he sucked the juice from his fingers. "Mmmmm, Clarice," he now said, dipping a finger back inside, "do you have any idea how sweet you taste?"

He brought his finger, now drenched with her nectar, to her lips. She happily licked every sweet drop, then sucked and licked all of his fingers, getting more aroused by the minute. "Please, Hannibal, eat me," she pleaded. He did not disappoint her.

He descended, burying his face into her cleanshaven cunt, his hot mouth sending shivers of lust coursing through her body. "Ohhh, Hannibal," she moaned, grinding her hips to his face, surrendering to the sweet cunnilingus he was all too happy to inflict. She exploded in no time at all, her juices drenching his face, flooding his mouth, as he continued darting his tongue over her hypersensitive clitoris and labia...causing her to come again and again...

He was about to ascend up her still-quivering body, to penetrate her with his beautiful cock, when they were woefully interrupted...

"Clarice? Clarice!"

Ardelia had found Clarice asleep in the tub, and was shaking her awake.

"Wha---what's happenin'?" Clarice asked, trying to hide her disappointment.

"It's your man, Clarice. He's escaped."

"What?"

The drive to Belvedere, Ohio was a long one. Clarice didn't want to go back to Memphis right now, especially because that Goddamn Chilton was still hanging around.

Knowing him, he'd still be P.O.'d because she'd refused to fuck him. After all, that was why he'd sent Hannibal to Memphis, wasn't it?

The fact that he, as well as the slain guards, Pembry and Boyle, had seen their first kiss was all the more reason to avoid Memphis.

Clarice could not get the memory of Hannibal's soft hands and tender mouth out of her mind. Crawford now knew about it, but he didn't tell her anything except to keep her mind on the task at hand---interviewing Fredrica Bimmel's friends and family. She had sensed the regret in his voice the last time they talked...he had deceived her, and without him saying it she knew he wanted her forgiveness.

"If Hannibal Lecter can forgive me," she thought as she crossed the bridge into Belvedere, "surely I can forgive the 'Guru'..."

Her schoolgirl crush on Crawford had finally died.

In Memphis, Frederick Chilton was taking steps to get out of the country, away, he believed, from not only Dr. Lecter, but from the Southern white-trash bitch he felt had caused his escape.

In all his dealings with Hannibal, Chilton had let his jealousy and pettiness cloud his thinking. In truth, he'd fancied himself on Hannibal's level in terms of psychiatry...above others, above the law.

As Barney Jackson and others came forward with knowledge of Chilton's sadistic practices, the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane would later become the focus of a top-level investigation. Eventually, it would close its' doors for good.

That fucking Clarice Starling ruined my life, Chilton thought to himself as he packed his bags. His attempt to get her into the nearest bed had been met with a polite, yet brusque refusal...in Chilton's eyes, the ultimate insult. Worse, Hannibal had done with her what he had never done with anyone else, save Barney, the nurse, and Sammie, a fellow inmate...he had treated her with the utmost respect, even befriending her during their conversations.

He killed Miggs for her, didn't he?

That Hannibal had also forgiven Clarice for going along with Jack Crawford's con was no small feat. In his mind, forgiveness for such weakness had never been an option. Chilton shared this philosophy, yet took it to new depths of depravity in his demeanor toward his patients, his colleagues, even the women he'd managed to lure into his bed. He had made the mistake of thinking Clarice was like all the other women he had known. After all, she was young, beautiful, looked good enough to throw down and fuck.

For but a moment, he still clung to the hope that she'd see things his way...but his anger toward her was too strong to ignore.

Satisfied, Chilton called a cab and headed to Memphis Airport...catching the first flight to Baltimore to get the rest of his things.

The Bahamian breezes, the sights and smells of the Caribbean, agreed with Hannibal Lecter in a way he couldn't quite grasp. But something was missing...

As he lay nude on the terrace adjoining his suite, sunning himself as the hair bleach turned his dark locks a yellowish blond, his thoughts drifted back to that night in Memphis, just a few days ago. The end of the "quid pro quo"...Clarice...

The kiss.

The feel of her lips against his had ignited desires he thought had died years ago, the sensual exchange leaving him feverish with need. He had taken an enormous risk when he'd grabbed her arm, had taken a scary chance when he'd pulled her to the cage. His intent was not harm...he'd just wanted to touch her, if only for a moment.

It had surprised him when she did not resist, letting him smooth his fingertips over her face and neck, caressing her while she held the bars of the cage. She'd flinched when he first touched her, but still she did not resist him, even when he released her arms to embrace her.

She'd seen the love in his eyes even before he told her he loved her...knew he meant every word when he finally confessed. In turn, he'd seen her barriers, her fear of intimacy, begin to crumble away as he'd continued stroking her cheek.

The walls finally fell down when they kissed, not caring that Chilton, Boyle and Pembry had borne witness to this blissful surrender. Giving her the same treatment he'd given Barney's predecessor had never entered his mind, even as his tongue had slid into her delicious mouth...even as she had returned his kiss, his embrace, with equal passion.

The feel of her arms around his neck, her hands clutching his hair, was wonderful. He hadn't expected her to be so desirous, so willing...hadn't expected her to want it so badly.

Of course, their kiss had infuriated Chilton no end. Knowing that it had so gotten under the bastard's skin gave Hannibal added satisfaction. He now read the paper, and read about Clarice discovering, and killing, "Buffalo Bill"---identified as Jame Gumb---in Belvedere, Ohio. He also discovered that Chilton was going into hiding. Where, it didn't say...

Until later, when he'd overheard a couple of local cops talking while ordering dinner at an open-air cafe...

Chilton was coming here.

Hannibal spent the rest of the week making plans for Chilton's arrival to the island. He carried a tiny tape recorder when he went out, catching snippets of information about Chilton's hideaway, the security system, the bodyguard Chilton had hired to keep him safe.

Ever meticulous, Hannibal made sure to keep the tape recorder tucked away in his shirt pocket.

He's also arranged his medical supplies, scalpel, tranquilizer syringes, painkillers, and the like, alongside a bottle of Batard-Montrachet and ingredients for a gourmet stew he was planning...shallots, potatoes, carrots, celery, and other culinary delights.

He often took a break from his preparations by sitting on the beach at night, looking at the stars...thinking about his beloved Clarice as he took sips from his beverage of choice.

Sometimes he drank his usual wine, say, Chianti, Batard-Montrachet, or Chateau d'Yquem...sometimes, he'd break down and buy a bottle of rum or a six-pack of Corona beer. Hannibal had rarely drunk beer in his life, but lately he had developed quite a fondness for it.

Tonight, he sat on a blanket in the sand, drinking beer and puffing Dunhill cigarettes as the waves rolled in...wishing Clarice was by his side.

As he watched the waves, his mind began to wander...

As if in a dream, he saw someone swimming, then walking toward him in the moonlight.

It was a woman, dark hair, blue-grey eyes, and sensually pale skin. She was nude, and the waves embraced every curve, every nuance of her taut body as she approached him.

Clarice.

Hannibal set down the beer bottle and put out his cigarette, standing up to meet his Appalachian goddess. "Hey, babe," she purred, her drawl turning sultry as she walked into his embrace. No more words needed to be said.

Hannibal didn't care that she was wet from her swim as their lips collided with furious passion, pulling her into him hard. She could feel his erection straining to break free from his slacks, could feel his soft chest hair rub against her breasts...

Hannibal was completely bare, save for his khaki slacks and the grey silk boxer-briefs underneath...which were quickly abandoned. They now collapsed into the sand, the large picnic blanket keeping the sand away from their genitals as they made love.

When the time came, he lay on his back and let her mount him, wanting to see her fully in the moonlight. She did so, knees up, and eased herself down on his penis...seeing himself entering her was incredible, feeling it even more so.

Her knees were soon back down, her body hovering lengthwise over his, their moans the only music needed as she bounced on his penis, receiving and riding him as if he were the only man in the world. He held her close, seeing the hunger in her eyes as they fucked, seeing her ecstasy as the beginnings of orgasm washed over her body.

In turn, her eyes never left his. The need, the desire in those beautiful blue-violet orbs caused them to sparkle in the moonlight. He was smiling as he moaned, the knowledge of her desire fueling his own, eventual release...the feel of her silken flesh against his, her deliciously juicy cunt wrapped around his cock, too much for him to stand.

He flipped her onto her back, still inside her, and began fucking her harder, more savagely, his fingers digging into the sand for support. They screamed their delight to the oceans and the heavens, the blissful savagery of their shared orgasms burning their souls and bodies before they blacked out...

Hannibal Lecter rose from the blanket, the shock of the dream leaving him in a massive sweat...and more than a little regretful.

He looked at his watch. Two in the morning. He looked around, seeing the six-pack of Corona, the silver Zippo lighter, and the pack of Dunhills. He had polished off four bottles of beer, and was still a bit drunk.

Only, not from the beer...

As he rose up, tossing the blanket over his shoulder and retrieving the beer and cigarettes, he noticed that he felt quite warm and sticky between his legs.

He returned to his suite, where he threw away the empty beer bottles and set the two remaining bottles aside. After lighting another cigarette, he shucked his slacks and boxer-briefs.

The briefs, and his crotch, were drenched with his come.

"Oh, Clarice, what you do to me, my love," he whispered as he placed his clothes into the hamper, then went into his bathroom to wash off at the sink.

Then, returning to his bedroom, he pulled on a pair of black silk boxer shorts before kicking back on the bed. He next opened another bottle of beer, savoring it, and some more cigarettes, before he went to sleep.

Chilton would be on the island tomorrow, late evening. No need to get up early.

Hannibal's phone call during her graduation party had surprised Clarice. She hadn't counted on hearing from him so soon.

Well, Clarice, have the lambs stopped screaming?

He wasn't on long, but she could still detect the love in his voice. He hadn't forgotten their kiss, either.

I have no plans to call on you, Clarice, the world's more interesting with you in it...so you take care now to extend me the same courtesy.

You know I can't make that promise, she had reluctantly told him. She felt he needed to know that...since her reasons were far different than the bureau's.

He knew she had no intention of sending him back to prison when she said those words...savoring the sweetly sultry cadence of her drawl as if her were once again savoring her delicious lips.

They both wanted to relive Memphis, but said nothing about it.

From his end, Hannibal now saw the hated Frederick Chilton descend from his plane. Now it was time to go to work.

I do wish we could chat longer, but...I'm having an old friend for dinner. 'Bye...

He hadn't wanted to cut her off, had wanted to talk to her long into the night...wanted to tell her his dreams, hoping she was having them, too. But seeing Chilton reminded him of what he had to do...

Avenge himself, and his Clarice, on the man who had dared try to keep them apart.

Frederick Chilton didn't know he was being followed as he made his way to his bungalow. The security system was in place, the bodyguard was waiting for him...and then there were the guns.

The guns he had stockpiled in case Lecter dared show up. There were two police-issue pump-action rifles, three revolvers, even an AK-47. Chilton, being a Vietnam vet, was well-versed in the art of combat, both the physical and the psychological. More so, he naively believed, than Hannibal Lecter.

Chilton knew Hannibal Lecter was a war orphan who had never served in the military. He knew he had been adopted out of Russia, after World War II ended, by the well-to-do Henderson and Elizabeth Lecter from Baltimore, and that Tyson Hannibal Lecter wasn't his real name. He had driven that point home during the sessions, keeping Hannibal in restraints as he constantly reminded him of who he really was, insulting him about how his real family, the Zorukovs, had been slain. He took particular delight in describing how Hannibal's birth mother, Natalya, had been so savagely gang-raped...and he completely enjoyed reminding Hannibal that Mischa Zorukov, his beloved baby sister, had also been raped before she was killed. He called Hannibal by his birth name, Vanya, during the sessions, hoping to break him, hoping to destroy him.

Hannibal never gave him that satisfaction. Not then, not now...even when he had confessed his love for Clarice Starling in Memphis.

The guard left Chilton for but a moment, going to the fridge to get them each a cold beer. He never came back.

Hannibal had wiped out the security system in less than 9 seconds, and had slipped into the kitchen unnoticed. Before the guard knew what was happening, Hannibal had grabbed him from behind and slit his throat with the scalpel. As the man fell dead, Hannibal sidestepped the pool of blood that was forming and turned on the faucet. He washed the blood from the scalpel, then slipped it back into his coat pocket. In its' place...a syringe filled with a liquid tranquilizer.

He slipped upstairs quietly, noticing that Chilton was going to the bathroom to take a quick leak. "Hey, hurry up with the beer, all right?" Chilton called out toward the kitchen before going to pee. Hannibal slipped behind the door and waited, his breath coming out slowly despite the rush he felt.

The first thing Chilton felt when he left the bathroom was a needle jabbing into his neck. "Hello, Frederick," Hannibal whispered, the venom dripping from his voice as he emptied the syringe into his tormentor before taking it away.

Chilton turned around, seeing Hannibal Lecter standing before him. It was the last thing he saw before he collapsed.

When Chilton regained consciousness, he was seated at the dinner table. He felt no pain...in fact, didn't know what was happening. On his plate was a tangy, fragrant stew, rich with meat and vegetables...beside it, a glass of Batard-Montrachet.

Lecter was long gone, but had left a note. It read:

Dearest Dr. Chilton,

I believe every dying man deserves a last meal, don't you? Being one who believes in fair play, I've decided to just let you be.

In your next life, however, I would advise you to be a little more delicate in your treatment of others, specifically those of the fairer species. You didn't think I'd forget how you treated Clarice Starling, did you? Merely because she wouldn't let you have your way with her, because she wouldn't let you fuck her...a pity. Clarice is a wonderful woman once you get to know her...the right way, of course.

Do take care to enjoy your meal. I shan't ever contact you again.

Warmest regards,

Tyson Hannibal Lecter, M.D.

Chancing it, Chilton tried the stew. It was delicious, and he ate every last bite.

"Lecter's such a pussy," he chuckled to himself. "He won't kill me...God, I feel so fuckin' good!"

When Chilton rose up to take the plate to the sink, he felt sharp pains in his crotch. He looked down...the front of his pants were stained crimson...he was bleeding. Dropping the plate, Chilton frantically shucked his pants. What he found...actually, what he didn't find...finally dawned on him that Hannibal had visited him, after all.

Hannibal had castrated him. The meat in the stew had come from his own penis and scrotum.

Chilton collapsed from the searing pain, bleeding to death and screaming...but nobody was there to help, nobody was there to comfort him.

That night, on the beach, Hannibal Lecter raised a glass of Chateau d'Yquem to the stars in Heaven. He had chosen not to sample the Chilton package stew he had made, had decided it was best that Chilton eat it for his final meal. That alone was satisfactory.

Instead, Hannibal partook of a spicy picnic for one...Jamaican jerk chicken, fried plantains, and a Bahamian salsa with tortilla chips. He'd chopped some seared foie gras into the salsa, making the already heavenly meal even more so.

He'd finally gotten his revenge...all he needed now was Clarice. He would miss her terribly...

THE END

People Will Say We're In Love...