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.'