I ducked my head back in the door after scanning the crowd building outside for Kimmy. She was running late, but I'd promised we wouldn't start without her. Jean-Claude and Asher looked at me expectantly. I shook my head. "Still not here," I told them. "She's probably stuck in traffic. I wasn't expecting to have this large of a turn out." This was definitely going to be the strangest job fair I'd ever heard of or participated in. We'd put out a "casting call" for various jobs at Dark Miror Dinner Theatre. Kimmy had *volunteered* to help with the selection of applicants for the pommes de sang openings. Personally, I think it was just an excuse for her to be around Jean- Claude while he was still in town. She had it BAD. Asher had invited Jean-Claude and Anita down a couple of days ago to attend the grand opening, which was scheduled for the following weekend. Or at least that's the reason he gave me. I think he just missed them, but I doubted he would ever admit it.
Anita was supposed to be along later. She'd gone to pick up Richard at the airport. Apparently, Asher had seen something he didn't like when we'd been at Alpha Wolf's studios for the commercial shoot, and had passed the word on to Mr. Zeeman. I was staying out of *that* one. I took another peek out the door and spotted Kimmy trying to wade through the crowd. The crowd, mostly weres of one variety or another, wasn't being very cooperative. I was gonna have to help her get in here so we could get things set up and started, before the assorted weres got too antsy. I stepped on out the door.
"Kimmy! Over here!" I motioned her over. "Ladies and gentlemen, we'll be starting in about 15 minutes. If you'll please let my staff member through, so we can finish the set up. When we are ready, the two sets of double doors to you left will open. We ask that everyone proceed through in an orderly fashion. There'll be plenty of room for everyone. Thank you for your patience." The group parted and let Kimmy pass through. Then I saw what she was wearing. "I hope to God you brought a change of clothes in that gym bag," I told her as we went back to the room the vamps were waiting in. Jean-Claude heard me and came over to see what I was objecting to. Kimmy was wearing what I called her "Edward-goes-Hallmark" shirt, a red T-shirt with white lettering that read: "Future Edward Victim: When you care enough to hire the very best." *groan* I could just imagine how Anita would've reacted to that shirt.
"Yeah, I brought a change and some other stuff," she said, trying to look around me at Jean-Claude. No way I was letting *that* happen until she was presentable. She was too likely to get distracted. Jean-Claude *wasn't* helping in this instant. "I'm sure *we* could find something suitable for you to wear, madamoiselle," he purred. He *knew* what kind of effect he had on Kimmy, especially when he was using *that* voice. I interjected before she could agree, "You might not want to take *that* gamble, Kimmy. I've *seen* what he considers 'suitable.' There's a changing room over here." And I led her to it. I know, I was being a bit overprotective. But, Kimmy was my friend and, for me, part of a very *small* group. (What can I say; I'm a solitary creature by nature.) I already was feeling weird about letting her play pomme to Jean-Claude, but that was *her* choice. I was just hoping that he would show the courtesy, as a guest, to not take too much advantage of her generosity...not that *she'd* complain.
Once Kimmy was safely inside the changing room, I turned to Jean- Claude. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?" I quipped. Asher burst out laughing. Jean-Claude just gave me his patented wicked smile and replied, "If I did everything my mother told me, I wouldn't be where I am today, cherie." I narrowed my eyes at him and walked off shaking my head in mock disgust. Asher was still giggling. "In all my years, I have never met anyone who could make me laugh so easily, Tamara." "I live to entertain," my voice dripped with sarcasm. He either missed it, or ignored it. "I will remember that, cherie," he whispered warmly, sending shivers down my spine. I was gonna have to be more careful about what I let pop out around him or start gargling with Absorbine Jr. Just couldn't seem to keep that foot out of my mouth.
I'd felt him open the marks earlier, so I knew he could tell what I was feeling at that moment. My mild chagrin. On the other hand, I could tell what he was feeling, too. I knew he was still determined to seduce me into his bed, one way or another, and was quite confident of his eventual success. 'Don't count on it, buster,' I shot at him mentally. I heard an answering chuckle in my head, 'Oh, I *will* have you, ma rose d'acier. Have no doubt of *that*. The time will come when you will come to my bed willingly...nay...*eagerly*.' Smug bastard. The scary part was that I was beginning to think he was right. In the four months since he'd marked me, he'd been working really hard at learning my personality. What I would respond to and what I wouldn't; what I liked and what I didn't. He was getting better at manipulating me, without openly seeming to do so. And, when I thought about it, I was beginning not to really mind so much. *Having* to be in control all the time was tiring. It was sort of nice to let someone else take the reins for a while. Just make sure ya give 'em back when I ask for 'em.
Kimmy came out of the changing room. She was now wearing a backless tank top and a pair of skorts. I'd always thought the combination of mini-skirt and shorts was a good idea, if a little strange. Beat the hell out of coulattes, though. Her entire outfit was black. She had her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail with a burgundy velvet scrunchie. Jean-Claude circled her, inspecting the ensemble. As he walked behind her, he trailed on finger lightly from the neck strap of the tank, right where it disappeared under her hair, down the line of her shoulder to the top of her arm, raising goose bumps on her skin. "Oui, I believe this will do *nicely*," he said in a voice like silk and fur. Kimmy's eyes widened noticably, and she turned a delicate shade of pink.
Hell, even I had been affected by his voice. I could sense he was using a small bit of his vampiric powers, though not quite enought to change his eyes yet. I would have glared at him, but that would only have *encouraged* him to crank it up a couple of notches. "Are we ready to begin now?" I asked, before things could go any further (read: before Asher tried to take advantage of the side effects of Jean-Claude's behavior). "Oui," both vampires said in unison. Kimmy just nodded, eyes still wide. I pushed the button to open the automatic doors for the auditorium we had rented for this. Once everyone was inside and seated, a few of the werebears that the Ursa had sent over to help out began passing out applications and information packets. When that was completed, our little entourage came out on stage.
Asher aproached the microphone with fluid grace, drawing all eyes to him. He wore his hair loose tonight, a curtain of it draping across his scars. His clothes consisted of a pale, pale blue long-sleeved dress shirt, grey dress slacks and matching vest, a grey silk tie with tiny gold fleur de lis worked through it, and black demi-boots. Definitely *worth* a stare or two. "Welcome, mon amis," he beamed at the assemblage. "Thank you so much for coming here this evening. I am Asher, your prospective employer." A few murmurs along the lines of "Wow! The Master of the City, himself!" went up from the crowd. 'Hmmm,' I thought, 'Asher's been a *busy* boy it seems. To get *that* kind of name recognition after only four months.' 'You have no idea, cherie,' came back from him along the marks.
He continued addressing the crowd. "Before we begin, I would like to make a few introductions. First, my associate, Mrs. Tamara Lowery." I stepped forward and gave a light head bow and a smile to the crowd. We had agreed earlier that the term "associate" would go over better than "human servant." I was wearing my forest green long-sleeved silk dress shirt, black moleskin slacks, the black granny boots with the rhinestone accents and 3 inch heels, and one of my garnet and gold jewelry sets. Like Asher, I wore my hair loose tonight. "My special guest, tonight, the Master of the City of St. Louis, Jean-Claude." Ooohs and ahs went up from the audience as he rose from his seat, glided sinuously forward, and gave a flourishing bow. His waist- ength, softly curling ebony hair was pulled back with a wide crimson ribbon, only a few wispy strands escaping to float around his face. His billowy, white linen lace-up shirt sported an abundance of lace at the cuffs. The tie strings hung loose, allowing the shirt to gape open, fully exposing his burn scar. His black leather pants were practically painted on. Rather than fastening his black leather boots all the way up his thighs, like they *could* be worn, he'd allowed the tops to hang below his knees in loose cuffs, like pirate boots. A crimson sash slung low on his hips and tied at the side completed the look. Sheesh, he looked like he'd just stepped off of some romance novel cover!
"And finally, our volunteer, Kimmy," Asher finished the introductions. Kimmy stood and smiled and waved to the room. Jean- Claude moved to her side, placing a hand lightly on her back just below her hair. She was grinning like a kid turned loose in a candy shop. "Later this evening, Jean-Claude and Kimmy will be assisting us with a small demonstration of some of the requirements for the jobs you are applying for...specifically, the position of pomme de sang," Asher concluded. "I will now turn the podium over to Mrs. Lowery." I stepped to the microphone as everyone else returned to their seats. "Once again, we'd like to thank you for coming," I said. "While we are hiring for various positions for Dark Mirror Dinner Theatre, the primary focus for *this* part of the process is to address the requirements and duties of being a pomme de sang. After this portion, those interested may proceed to the banquet hall next door, where you will find job counselors to assist in completing any paperwork and to discuss our other openings. There will also be refreshments available for those who wish them. Now, before I proceed, does anyone have any questions?"
Somewhere near the middle of the group, a young man raised his hand. "Yes?" He stood and asked, "What exactly IS a pomme de sang?" This elicited a few groans and eye rolling from those around him. Sheepishly, he sat back down. "No, no," I calmed the group. "It's a good question, *and* something we want everyone here to be perfectly clear about." I smiled reassuringly at the young man. "The term 'pomme de sang' is French and translates 'apple of blood.' Basically, it's a fancy name for someone who is a *regular* blood donor to a particular vampire or group of vampires. Next question." An auburn haired woman in the third row stood. For some reason, her facial features reminded me af a fox. "Yes. What exactly do you mean by 'regular?' Exactly how often would one be donating?" "Okay. 'Regular' is a relative term depending on if the pomme is human or lycanthrope. Due to certain health risks, human pommes will be limited to no more than *two* donations in a 30 day period, *unless* they are a *willing* and suitable candidate to be brought over as a vampire. Lycanthropes, on the other hand,with their greater capacity for recovery, *can* donate on a daily basis, though we ask that they restrict themselves to 3-4 times or less a week. A lycanthrope's blood is more potent than that of a human, thus smaller amounts are needed, and lycanthropes, as a rule, are not susceptible to *becoming* vampires. Thus, lycanthropes are preferred for the pomme positions, although human applicants *will* be accepted but encouraged to apply for other positions in addition. This is not to be discriminatory, merely practical. *All* positions with us are at-will, meaning, jobs are voluntary and may be terminated at any time by the employer *or* employee with or without notice or reason. And a reminder that no one will be asked or forced to donate against their will. Federal law states that all vampires within the United States of America may only feed from *willing* donors."
"Are ther any more questions?" I scanned the crowd. "No? Then we will begin the demonstration portion of the program. Kimmy is our volunteer pomme de sang for the evening. To avoid putting her at risk, only minute portions of blood will be taken," I looked pointedly at Jean-Claude as I said that last bit. He just gave me a bland smile. "I will now turn the program back over to Asher and our guests." I went back to my seat. Asher returned to the microphone as Jean-Claude led Kimmy to a padded examination-type table. He placed a hand on either side of her waist and gently lifted her to sit on the table. It was eerily like watching a magician with his assistant. Made me wonder if he had something up his sleeve.
"Contrary to some beliefs, a vampire cannot feed off of cold blood. It must be fresh and flowing. To avoid any undue discomfort, it is best for the pomme de sang to be under hypnosis during the feeding process," Asher explained, as the demonstration proceeded. Jean- laude lifted Kimmy's hand to his lips in a lingering kiss, causing her to blush. Then he captured her eyes. I watched her almost silly grin fade to a look of blissed-out contentment. Her pupils had dilated. She looked stoned. Part of my brain registered something about my friend that I'd never noticed before. Kimmy's eyes were *almost* as dark a shade of blue as Jean-Claude's.
Asher continued as the "visual aids" progressed, "There are several points from which blood my be taken. The least intrusive is the wrist, although this point is most likely to be uncomfortable during the healing process." With barely a glimpse of fang, Jean-Claude swiftly bit into Kimmy's wrist. Immediately, his eyes were swallowed in a wash of pure midnight blue. I gasped at the backlash of power from his feeding rush. In that moment, I realized that Kimmy was more than mere human. The rush of power had come to swiftly for it to be otherwise. Just as quickly, Jean-Claude pulled back from her wrist, already beginning to lose his usual pallor. "The next point is the bend of the elbow," Asher went on, his voice thick from the backlash of power. He was getting off on this!
I moved back up by him, but cautiously. I was ready to dodge if he lost control and made a grab for me. I didn't think he would, but better to be careful. I could tell the audience was already entranced by the action on the stage and wouldn't be any help if things got out of control. Licking away the thin trickle of blood at the wrist wound, Jean-Claude ran his tongue (these Frenchmen and their tongues) in a line up Kimmy's arm to the soft flesh at the bend of her elbow. Then he bit again. Kimmy sat there, completely passive, her eyes half- lidded in pleasure. Barely lingering over the new wound, Jean-Claude pulled back. He had his eyes closed and his head back. I watched as he licked the blood off his lips as if it were a fine wine, and he didn't want to waste a single drop. It was...mesmerizing.
I was vaguely aware that Asher was keeping the marks open. Somehow he was preventing me from closing them off. As a result, I was experiencing an echo of the effect this performance was having on him. "And of course," Asher continued, "the most popular point is the neck." Jean-Claude reached out one lace-draped hand and cupped Kimmy's cheek. Gazing in her eyes, he whispered, "No pain, madamoiselle. Trust me." Then he leaned forward and brushed her lips in a light kiss. He continued along her jaw to her throat, searching for the pulse with the tip of his tongue. His hand was now entwined in the hair at the nape of her neck, gently pulling her head back to better expose her throat. In a flash, he reared back and struck...hard. Kimmy's eyes flew open as she gasped, then closed, and she moaned softly. Her arms wrapped around his torso, hands digging into his shoulders.
It seemed as if Jean-Claude fed a little longer than was necessary for a mere demonstration. Bracing with one arm, he slowly lowered Kimmy to a reclining position on the table. Finally, he withdrew from her neck. She remained in exactly the position he'd left her in. I could tell she was still concious, but in a deep state of languor. He brushed a strand of hair from her face and gave her a tender kiss. She sighed as he slowly ran his hands down either side of her body, finally stopping at her knees. As he began to open her legs, draping one off the edge of the table, Asher spoke again. In his richest voice, he said. "And finally, perhaps the most intimate point from which we may feed, the femoral artery along the inner thigh." He was looking right at me as he said this, trying to capture my gaze. To stop me from doing what I was about to do. I managed to avoid his eyes and saw that Jean-Claude was now kneeling by Kimmy's dangling leg. His mouth was already on her knee, and he began to run his tongue along the inside of her thigh, heading higher and higher. I stepped to the microphone. Screw it, they could get mad at me if they wanted to. This had gone far enough.
"This concludes our little demonstration, ladies and gentlemen. If you would please proceed to the adjoining banquet hall for the conclusion of this job fair. Thank you," I said to the crowd. Then to Jean-Claude, "Thank you for your help tonight, Jean-Claude. I think that will be enough for the demonstration." "It most certainly will be," a voice cold enough to freeze fire said from the side entrance to the stage. Jean-Claude was standing and had moved away from Kimmy with lightning speed. I watched as Anita atrode onto the stage, a look of pure venom directed at Jean-Claude. Behind her stood a tall, very well built man in a sweater, jeans and running shoes. I could feel Asher using a little mass mind control to keep the crowd moving out of the room. Good. I walked over to the table and helped Kimmy sit up.
"Can you walk?" I asked her. The only response I got was a glazed, blissed-out look. I had a feeling she wasn't even aware I was there. A quick glance showed me that things had stopped before Jean-Claude could deliver the thigh bite. Good. But, it looked like I was going to have to carry her out of the room. "May I help?" I looked up to see Richard standing nearby. Anita and Jean-Claude had moved over to a corner and were arguing quietly, but intensly. "Could you carry her into the ante room? I want to get these bites washed off and bandaged, then see if I can get some soup or something in her," I smiled up at him. "No problem," he smiled back. He scooped her up as if she were a small child. Kimmy nuzzled into his chest with a contented sigh. Okay, now I *knew* she was still out of it. Richard Zeeman was definitely *not* one of her favorite people.
I couldn't help but admire the view as I followed them into the next room. For some reason, the song "Hot for Teacher" by Van Halen came to mind. Asher "heard" that thought. "Oui, he *is* quite a tempting distraction," he laughed out loud. I whirled on him. "You hush! I'm *upset* with you right now!" I snarled. 'Liar,' came the response along the marks. 'You enjoyed our little show, and you *know* it.' I gave Asher a raspberry, gearing up for a serious pout. "Do that again, and I will BITE that tongue," he warned. He *would*, too. Best to just let it drop for now.
I walked over to the chair that Richard had deposited Kimmy in, grabbing the first aid kit on the way. Squatting by her, I began using one of the alcohol wipes to clean the excess blood from the wounds. Had to admit, Jean-Claude was nothing if not *neat* when he ate. The cleaned punctures looked incredibly small. I finished up cleaning and applied the bandaids. "Thanks for helping," I told Richard. "Sorry, I didn't mean to skip the introductions. I'm Tamara Lowery." I extended my hand. "Richard Zeeman," he said as we shook hands. "It's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Lowery." "Actually, it's *Mrs.*, but please, you can just call me Tamara. *This* is Kimmy, by the way," I hooked a thumb in her direction. "Nice sweater," I commented. I had just noticed that there were varioius Loony Tunes characters scattered about on it. "Thanks," Richard grinned. "I always was fond of Warner Brothers cartoons." "You ought to check out Universal while you're down here," I told him. "They've got 'em wandering around the park most of the time."
I glanced over at Jean-Claude and Anita. Their argument seemed to have about wound down. "And to think, that one of *my* favorites used to be Pepe Le Pew." Richard had an astonished I-never-thought- of-that look on his face. "Oh come *on*. The color scheme, the accent, the attitude...how could you *not* make the connection?" I asked. He started to grin. Kimmy giggled. "It LIVES!" I teased, relieved that she was recovering so quickly. "Think you could eat something?" I asked her. She nodded, still looking a little stoned. "Brought a thermos of lentil soup from Mykonos," she mumbled. "'S'in my gym bag."
I retrieved the bag from the changing room and proceeded to rummage around for the thermos. I found it, but that wasn't *all* I found. I poured Kimmy a cup of soup, then held up the odd contraption I'd discovered. "Care to explain *this*?" She took a quick swallow of the soup, some awareness creeping back into her eyes. She looked at the offending article and grinned sheepishly. Anita had glanced over and seen the thing. "What the hell is THAT?" "It appears to be a converted beer-hat," I said. (You know, the kind with a can holder mounted on each side and a straw system so you can drink and keep your hands free.) I knew *exactly* what it was, but I was't taking credit for *this* one. This...thing...was entirely Kimmy's dreamchild. Now, especially after some of the earlier events, I was really starting to wonder if Kimmy *did* have some Kender or Sprite blood in her ancestry.
Kimmy was recovered enough to explain the contraption. "Yep!" she beamed. "I added the heating pads and a battery pack. Instead of beer, you could put in containers of blood. That way, the vampire wouldn't have to *stop* to feed, when visiting any of the attractions." Oh yeah, I could just see sticking mouse ears on THAT...not. Anita and Jean-Claude had identical looks of disbelief on their faces. Richard was fighting to not guffaw. As a result, he *sounded* like he was choking. Asher merely stood there with an expression of amused distaste. (He'd been around Kimmy more than the others had.) Mentally, I laughed, 'And this is the woman you were thinking about offering a management position at the dinner theater to.' 'I take it back,' came the reply. 'I take it back.'