Feature Writer:
Feature Title: CARNIVAL
Published: 01.10.2006
Story Codes: Erotic Horror
Synopsis: A tale of virgins and vampires
Carnival
Present day
Phoenix stood, looking down from the balcony to the street below. The party would start in a few hours; people coming from miles away, filling the streets with costumed revelers in their masks and cloaks. She smirked at the theme of this year’s Carnival: Virgins and Vampires. Little did they know!
She turned and walked back into her studio, closing the stained glass doors behind her to shut out the noise. The heels of her boots clicked on the tile floors as she crossed the room to the large antique wardrobe. Opening the intricately carved doors she smiled as she pulled out the tabarro she would wear over her bautta. She held it up to her throat as she looked in the mirror. Her choice was a traditional look. The black cloak would give her an appearance of being larger and possibly manly. Once she had her bautta or hooded part of her costume on she would doff the plain white mask and three-cornered hat. Her dark hair would be hidden under her hood; she didn’t want to stand out in the crowd, except to one person.
*****
Jovanna bolted upright from her dream. She gasped for breath. Her hair was plastered against her skin with beads of sweat running from her forehead, and her heart felt as though it was trying to escape from her chest. She’d had the same dream for almost a week now. The only outstanding feature was that of two clear blues eyes. They seemed to bore into her very soul.
What did it mean? Who could it be? she thought as she looked around her darkened bedroom. No one was there. She picked up her watch from the nightstand and squinted at the glowing hands: 5:23 a. m. It felt as if she had just gone to bed. She flopped back on the pillows, her fingers entwining into her golden curls. She draped an arm over her forehead and stared at the ceiling.
“Oh, God…” she whispered into the empty room. “How can I have an orgasm in my dreams that is so powerful it wakes me? I must have a lot of sexual repression.” She paused for a moment, still feeling the effects of her dream. Her mind wandered:I have to find out who this is I’ve been dreaming of, and meet them. If they can do this in a dream what would they be like in person?
Her fingers began to trace the path that she had felt the cold hands in her dream, caress. She gasped as her fingers brushed her hardened nipples. She remembered them being held in between teeth, while a hungry mouth enveloped them. A tongue… she remembered a tongue rubbing and tasting. Closing her eyes, she moved a hand down between her thighs, and into her panties.
She dipped into wetness, as her fingers glided up and inside of her. She needed to feel that fullness again. Bringing herself to orgasm, she was reasonably sated, yet empty. She closed her eyes and tried to remember something more of the dream. The chirping of the birds waking up to start their day lulled her back into a dreamless sleep.
******
Phoenix closed her eyes as Jovanna fell asleep. Dream invasion was exhausting work, but it would soon pay off. Perhaps tonight she would be able to wrap her arms around her lover for real. She thought back to the dream. It had been as if Jovanna was waiting for her. She thought about the way her pale hands looked in contrast to Jovanna’s olive skin. She could feel the hardness of Jovanna’s nipples beneath the palms of her hands, warm and supple in her mouth, yielding to her teeth and greeting her tongue. Phoenix could still smell the light trace of perfume between Jovanna’s breasts. She licked her lips.
She adored the way Jovanna would writhe beneath her as her tongue trailed down the lithe body, pausing to nip her hip bone and circling her navel with her tongue. She would feel Jovanna’s hips beginning to rise and her gasps of air would become sharper.
She shivered as she remembered her first taste. Jovanna would be open wide to her as her tongue slipped its pointed tip onto her clit. She could feel Jovanna’s hands tugging at her hair, guiding her to where she felt the most pleasure. Jovanna would claw at the sheets after she turned her over on to her stomach and entered her from behind. Her knuckles would be as white as the sheets and her groans would heighten with each introduction of another finger. Yet, the real beauty was in bringing her lover back down with gentle words and kisses. She ached to fall asleep in Jovanna’s arms, the one place she knew she would always be safe.
Too much time had passed. She had searched all these years for her, and here she was – right under her nose. So many wrong leads she had followed, visions she had misinterpreted. She knew it wasn’t luck that she had crossed paths with Juno. It was destiny.
She had met Juno at an underground club in Venice three years ago. It was a haven for dark souls who had a taste for the decadent. He invited her to his palazzo for a party and there she met his sister, Jovanna. She knew instantly that she had found the one she had been searching for. Her blue eyes met Jovanna’s and when she took her hand in salutation a shock of familiarity and repressed memory flooded her brain. It was her Lucia, come back to her.
Bassano del Grappo, 1791
Lucia hurried along the Ponte degli Alpines. The bridge was the connection between her and Francesca – a sort of neutral zone. She had to tell her the news, even if the risk was great. In her heart she knew Francesca would be devastated, but the news had to come from her and not through gossip.
Thankfully the narrow streets that led to the apartments were deserted. She did not want to be seen. Her hooded cloak would serve as a disguise. She did not want to test fate. Slipping into a small courtyard, she climbed the stairs that led to Francesca’s apartment. She paused and took a small breath before tapping on the door.
“Who is there?” asked the woman inside.
“It’s Lucia.” She whispered.
Francesca quickly undid the lock and opened the door, surprised to see Lucia at such an odd hour.
“Love, what are you doing here? Are you alright?” asked Francesca as she pulled the other woman into the room. She hugged Lucia and kissed her cheek tenderly.
“I had to come and talk to you, Francesca.”
The worried look on Lucia’s face concerned Francesca. A chill ran up her spine. Something was wrong. “Come, sit down and tell me what the problem is.”
Lucia took off her cloak, and then took a seat on the chaise and waited for Francesca to join her. She watched as the tall brunette hung her cloak and then poured some wine. Francesca was wearing a loosely tied robe and the milky skin of her breasts showed from behind the black silk. Taking the glass, Lucia took a large gulp, letting the wine relax her. She set the glass on a small table beside her and took Francesca’s hands in hers.
“I fear what I have to say will bring you despair, but I must tell you. I just can’t find the words that will make it bearable for you to hear…” She put her hands to her face and started to weep.
Francesca took Lucia in her arms and held her, “My Love, there is nothing you can tell me that will upset me.” Lucia pushed her away and stood up.
“I’m getting married.”
Present day Venice
Phoenix thought back to that day so many years back. She was a different woman then. Francesca became Daniella, then Gabriella and finally Phoenix. Being a vampire meant she would not age and to hide her secret she changed her name and moved frequently. She eventually returned to her beloved Venice. She thought Italy would be less painful by now. And then she met Jovanna. Phoenix knew Jovanna was her lost love – Lucia. She could still remember the last time she held her in her arms – the night Lucia told Francesca she was to marry.
She remembered how frightened Lucia had been. The marriage was an arranged one between Lucia’s family and the family of a government official. She knew Lucia did not love the man and the thought of her beautiful lover being touched by that swine was unbearable. Phoenix would give Lucia the gift and they would be together always.
Lucia did not know about Francesca’s other life. She never questioned why they only met at night. She assumed it was for discretion. Not that it mattered, because Lucia loved Francesca and nothing was inconvenient when it came to being with her.
Francesca devised a plan to meet in a fortnight. By then Francesca would have secured passage out of the city, and they would flee to Venice where they could hide until they would be able to leave for Rome. Once in Venice Francesca would give her lover immortality and no one would be able to keep them apart.
Meeting time arrived and Francesca has secured transport. She paid the driver handsomely for his discretion. An hour passed and Lucia had not arrived, yet Francesca did not worry. Lucia was usually late; they had in fact missed the opera twice on account of her truancy. When three hours had passed, Francesca became quite upset, something had to be wrong; Even Lucia was never this late.
Francesca was forced to go home as daylight approached. She would have to wait to find out what had gone wrong. She paid the driver extra to find out what had happened to Lucia and then report back after sundown.
She would never see Lucia again.
Bassano del Grappo, 1791
Lucia was only halfway home when a hand clasped over her mouth and she was shoved into a waiting carriage. It was her father’s henchman Giovanni. She hated this man and knew he was up to no good.
When they arrived at the villa she was immediately ushered upstairs to her father’s sitting room. He was standing at the balcony in his robe and smoking a cigar.
“I found her Signor, right where I said she would be.”
“Leave us.” said Lucia’s father, not turning around, until he heard the click of the door behind him as Giovanni left him alone with his daughter.
“Father, I…”was all Lucia got out before she felt the sting of her father’s hand across her cheek.
“Do you think I don’t know what you’ve been doing? Or whom you were with? You embarrass me before you are to wed by cavorting with that rich whore?”
“It’s not like that father! I love Francesca.”
“You’re an abomination! If your mother were still alive this would kill her. You need to be cleansed. Get to your knees and beg God to forgive you.”
“I’ll do no such thing! There is nothing to ask forgiveness for, I love her and we are going to leave this horrid city and your prison once and for all.”
Lucia turned to leave, but her father grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. He then grabbed her hair in the back of her head and forced her down to her knees.
“You will not be insolent with me and you will beg forgiveness. I will not send you to your husband as a perversion of nature and God. You will be chaste and obedient.” he said.
“I would rather die, than marry that man to promote your position in society and be a brood mare for some rich ugly family.”
Her father raised his hand to slap, her but instead stared at her for a moment and then yelled for Giovanni. He ordered his henchman to take her and lock her in her room until the day of her wedding. She was to have no contact with anyone. This wedding was going to take place regardless of what his daughter wanted.
Lucia languished in her room, her thoughts only of Francesca and how she must feel. She did not love this man and hated his family. The women were treated as less than servants and were not allowed to speak freely. Lucia was used to speaking her mind. There would be no books to read, that privilege was only for the men. She would learn to sew and be trained in the social graces befitting such a family. She would address her husband as “Master” and bear as many children as possible.
The thought of this man touching her made her shudder. He was not handsome by any means. Carlos di Crenza was a stocky, balding, middle-aged man that no woman could desire, except for his money. She would rather be poor and eat garbage in the streets, than be with this man.
If only her brother were here he would help her. Michael was her protector. Their father had made sure that Michael was conveniently out of town on family business. She knew her brother did not approve of the marriage and had made several attempts to stop the marriage.
She lay on her bed fingering the necklace Francesca had given her as a token of their love. A solid gold chain supported a tear-shaped ruby surrounded by diamond chips. Hidden behind the stone itself was a miniature portrait of Francesca painted by a very clever artist friend. Lucia slipped her nail behind the stone, released the clasp and looked at her lover’s face. She began to cry thinking they would never see one another again. Life without Francesca was not worth living.
*****
Francesca picked up the piece of paper that had been slipped underneath her doorway. Her messenger must have left it earlier in the day. She went to her bedchamber and lit a candle. Even though her eyes naturally adjusted to the darkness she wanted to make sure she could read it clearly.
Signorina,
I fear the news I am to give you will cause you much distress. I cannot find the words to give you comfort, so you must forgive me for being forthright. Your mistress could not meet you at the appointed time, not because of a lack of desire but because of interference by her father. The night she left your residence she was accosted by her father’s servants and confined to her room. She was to be imprisoned there until the time of her nuptials and could not get word to you.
I am filled with distress to tell you what must be written next but there is no way to do so with the gentleness you so deserve. Your mistress has taken her own life. The night before her wedding she shattered a wine glass and cut into her fair wrists. Her handmaiden found her in the morning already cold and gone from this world.
I cannot express the regret I am consumed with in having to deliver such unpleasant news. I will always be at your service if the need arrives.
Your devoted servant,
Bastien
Francesca crumbled the note and tossed it into the fireplace. Pink tears fell from her cheeks. She was filled with sadness and anger. She would find her love again, one day.
Present day Vienna
Bastien slipped into his mistress’s room with a dinner tray. The huge four poster bed appeared unslept in but he knew better. Reaching for the latch concealed within the ornate carvings he released the panel that allowed the compartment to open.
“Rise and shine. I have your meal ready,” he said, as he placed the tray upon a small table before the chaise.
“I want to hear all about the party last night.”
Phoenix slid out the hidden drawer beneath the bed and sat up to stretch. She had always hated the idea of sleeping in a coffin and had the bed designed to make her feel more ‘normal’. It had served its purpose for many a year when those who tried to eliminate her kind tried to hunt her down. The bed would be made to appear slept in from above giving the illusion that she had just escaped her tormentors, while below she was safely hidden in the velvet lined drawer that covered the soil from her native land. Only Bastien knew her secrets and he would never tell. She had given him the gift and he remained her devoted immortal servant.
“You enjoy gossip more than any woman, Bastien,” she yawned. “What time is it?”
“It’s just after sundown, you still have time before your meeting.” He sat down on the couch waiting for her to join him. Phoenix slid her legs out to the floor and stood up to stretch again. She walked to the couch and sat next to Bastien and looked at him quizzically.
“You shaved your mustache.”
“Yes. It makes me look younger, doesn’t it?”
“Decades…” She rolled her eyes and then picked up a goblet filled with crimson liquid, sniffing it for a moment before tasting it. “What are we having tonight?
“That horrid little rat dog from the floor below.”
She took a sip and made a face. “Ugh, what was she feeding him? No wonder he was such a little bastard!”
“Okay enough already!” Bastien was getting excited with impatience. “Tell me… is it her?”
Phoenix sat back against the couch and looked at him smiling.
“It is! You don’t even have to tell me, I can see it in your eyes. You’ve found her!”
“I found her.”
The pallazo of Carlos Pontenella: evening – present day
Carlos Pontenella looked over the evening paper while his son Juno idly pressed buttons on his PDA. “Do you have to do that at the table Juno?”
“I have a new band coming into the club tonight and I want to make sure they have everything in order.”
Carlos stroked his mustache never taking his eyes off the paper. “You should be overseeing such matters in person.”
“Dad, I can do things from here. It’s a new age, new technology and I have a good staff. Profits are up and the club is a success. I’m not worried.”
Carlos gave a small grunt. “I always made a point of being visible in my business. I went to the docks, the airport, and the warehouses, everyone saw me. I gained respect. I had no time for the playboy life.”
Juno sighed. “Dad, in my business, going to parties and clubs generates business. It’s how I meet people, exchange ideas; I’m not a shipping magnate like you. I’m a club owner.”
Carlos casually turned the page of his paper and sipped his aperitif. “Your sister needs to find more to do with her life. She needs to start acting like the wife of a business man. Your mother knew her place. Do you remember the dinners and the parties she used to hostess? Such grace and charm, you sensed it when she walked into a room. Your mother knew how to make people feel at home – and look at all the charities and functions she was involved with… people knew she was the wife of Carlos Pontenella.”
Juno downed his drink and poured another. “Christ Dad, will you lay off it already? Jovanna is the envy of so many people out there. She took that pathetic magazine and brought it up from the gutter. You have no idea how successful she is, do you?”
Jovanna walked into the dining room with a bouquet of orchids in her arms. She set them down on the table and kissed her father on the cheek. “Are you two talking about me again?”
“Of course we are,” said Juno as he handed her a drink and kissed her cheek after she sat down. “Nice flowers. Anyone we know?”
“I don’t know yet myself. Maria handed them to me as I walked in the door.”
She sniffed at the full blooms, touched the delicate petals and reached for the card. It read: “I’ll find you.” There was no signature or name of a florist. She pressed the card to her lips to hide her smile. The card had a familiar smell to it; a smell she recognized from the ball the night before, when the stranger danced with her.
Closing her eyes she was transported back to the ball. So many people there all decked out in costume. Some she recognized but many were mere caricatures of fantasy, jokers and demons, flora and fauna, colors and designs.
She had worn one of her mother’s old formal dresses, working a simple brocade mask of burgundy and colored plumes that matched the deep jewel tones in her gown. The journalist in her kept her from being in a party mood until she felt the hand on her shoulder. The soft velvet glove slipped down her bare arm, and took her hand leading her to the dance floor. The figure was dressed in a very traditional carnival costume and nothing was revealed to give away the person’s identity. At first she resisted, not being in a mood to dance but the stranger held her hands firmly in her grip. It was then she noticed the scent, not masculine or feminine, but exotic and slightly musky. Almost like patchouli. She let the stranger lead her to the dance floor.
The figure gave a low bow, took her gently by the waist and began to lead them in a waltz.
“Do I know you?” she asked. The stranger gave a small nod.
“Are you going to remain silent?” Again the stranger nodded.
“Then I no longer wish to continue this dance,” said Jovanna as she pushed the stranger away. “If you are Pietro I’m not amused.”
The stranger pulled her close, allowing her to see the eyes through the holes in the mask. Jovanna looked at the familiar blue eyes and relaxed. Pietro had dull brown eyes; these were a clear blue like the ones she had seen in her dreams. She felt a sudden heat begin to rise between her legs. Was this the person that gave her those exquisite dreams? How was that possible?
Again they danced; it felt as if they were the only two people in the room. The strangers hand against the small of her back sent shivers up her spine. She let out a small gasp.
“I will not let you go again,” said the voice in her mind, as if the stranger could read her thoughts. “I have waited too long.”
“You are the one that comes to me at night aren’t you?” she whispered.
“Yes.” She heard the reply in her mind.
Jovanna felt her cheeks start to burn with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. She wanted to tear the mask from the stranger’s face and see who her mystery lover was at last.
“This is not the time, nor the place, my Love. You must come to me freely.”
“I don’t understand… how can I come to you when I don’t even know where to find you?”
“I’ll find you.”
With that, the stranger released their embrace, holding her one hand out as they bent over slightly. Pulling up the edge of their mask the person pressed cool lips onto the top of her hand, sending a shiver through Jovanna’s body. Then the mysterious guest touched her lips with a gloved finger, turned away and soon vanished in the crowd of revelers.
“Hello! Anybody home?” Juno’s voice broke her reverie and she felt embarrassed.
“I was just trying to think, who could have sent these beautiful flowers.”
“I think you know but you don’t want to say.” he teased.
“They must be from Pietro.” said Carlos.
Jovanna rolled her eyes. “No. Pietro only sends the same red roses over and over again. “And I’ve told him roses are not my favorite flower.”
“Roses are a sign of love, which is why he sends them. He is a good man, Jovanna. He’ll make a good life for you.” Carlos motioned to the servants to serve dinner.
“I don’t love him, Father.”
“You will love him in time, Jovanna. You’re just stubborn.”
“Dad, she doesn’t love him! Why do you need to keep pushing her?” interrupted Juno.
“Stay out of affairs that don’t involve you, Juno. Your sister needs to stop wasting her life with that silly magazine.”
“Do we have to have this conversation again, Father? I thought we were going to be able to have a nice dinner and talk about the party – not how you think my life is going to Hell.”
Carlos sipped his soup as Juno downed another drink. Juno hated Pietro and would do anything to keep him from becoming part of the family. He knew him to be a devious character who intended to get his hands on not only Jovanna, but the money his father’s business would entitle him to when he married Juno’s sister.
“So who were dancing with last night, Vanna?”
Jovanna looked up from her soup plate that she was lazily stirring into with her spoon. “Oh, you were able to take your eyes off that virginal fairy woman long enough to spy on me?”
“She was a wood nymph and yes, I saw you. It was the only time you danced. So was it anyone I know?”
“Maybe…” she smiled, as she bit into a small piece of chicken.
“Maybe? You don’t know?” he laughed.
“Maybe I know and don’t want to tell you.”
Juno sat back smiling at her, and his eyes narrowed. She had met someone. He could tell by the way she was acting. “Are you back in high school? Now you’ll start signing your articles with a little smiley face.”
“Shut up! It was just a dance, that’s all; probably someone from your club that you set me up with, who wants free advertising space.”
“Speaking of which, I need to send you the new formats. I have some changes. I’m trying to promote local artists.”
“Get them to me by the end of the week please? I’m hoping my next interview will up sales. And…” she hesitated for a moment, “I’m interviewing your friend Phoenix tonight.”
“Phoenix? How did you manage to talk her into an interview? She doesn’t give interviews, in fact she rarely shows up for her own openings!”
Carlos stopped cutting into his steak for a moment. “She’s that debatable artist, isn’t she? The one who paints that blasphemous trash, if I remember rightly.”
“It’s not trash, Father. She paints from a contemporary viewpoint creating a mild shock value to raise awareness. Her story is the story everyone wants and I’m going to get it.”
“This is big Vanna, really big. Do you realize what this will do for you?” Juno knew that Phoenix would do anything for Jovanna. They had discussed her on many occasions. Juno was the only person aside from her servant Bastien whom she would confide in and could trust. They were best friends and both wanted nothing but the best for Jovanna.
“It’s immoral to promote such works. She’s an abomination. I don’t want my name tied in with hers. Why don’t you interview someone respectful like the mayor’s wife? She has done good work in helping to beautify the local parks and promote tourism.” Carlos huffed as he cut into a rare piece of beef.
Juno laughed. “The mayor’s wife is as interesting as reading a repair manual. The local papers can cover that for Christ’s sake. Do you know how many people stop in at the club because Phoenix might be there? She’s almost a cult figure.”
“So you sell a few more magazines. How does that give you any respect? I let your mother write a few articles for the paper just to let her get it out of her system. She knew that her priorities were at home and being here for her family…”
“Mother wrote? You never told me that?”
“You’re mother had her little hobby too. She kept little journals and things, nothing important.”
Jovanna was bewildered. Her love of writing came from her mother and she never knew until now. “My job is not a hobby! Why do I keep thinking you will understand? You didn’t understand her and you don’t understand me.” Jovanna rose from her chair and threw her napkin on the table.
“Dinner is not finished.” said Carlos flatly.
“I have business to take care of. Good night.”
Evening at an outdoor café: present day
Phoenix smiled as Jovanna dropped her bag in the chair beside her and bent to kiss Phoenix on each cheek. “Sorry I’m late. I hope I’m not keeping you from anything?”
“Not at all, the night air is refreshing and I needed to get out of the studio. Have you eaten?”
Jovanna brushed a few wisps of hair away from her face. Something that Lucia would have done. Phoenix felt a small stab at her heart. She thought back to the times her fingers twined through the cascade of Lucia’s golden curls.
“Yes, thank you. I had a late supper with my father and Juno,” she sighed.
Phoenix poured her a glass of wine. “I take it all is not well?”
“You know my father. He’s old fashioned and pig headed.” She took a sip of her wine. “He still thinks that my magazine is a hobby and that I should marry Pietro.”
“That’s a horror story in itself,” laughed Phoenix. She lit a cigarette, taking a long drag and letting the smoke out slowly.
“Madre di Dio, he’s far from being the “Italian Stallion” as the Americans would say.”
“Well he does have that mustache that looks as if it should be covering a horse’s ass.”
Jovanna almost spit out her mouthful of wine. “Bitch,” she coughed and then laughed. “You always do that to me!”
Phoenix smiled as she handed her a napkin. “You are your own person. Why do you need to please your father so much?”
Dabbing her mouth with the napkin, Jovanna thought for a moment. “I don’t know, I feel it’s my duty to be a good daughter, I guess.”
“And?”
“And to honor my mother’s memory.”
The dark haired woman reached over and placed her hand atop Jovanna’s. “You miss her.”
Jovanna was surprised at how cold the woman’s hand was against her own. She felt an energy flow from her and for a brief moment she felt as if they were somewhere else, in another time and she felt safe.
“Si. I miss her very much, especially during Carnival time. It was her favorite time of the year. I think she loved it more than Christmas. Even as we were hanging up our costumes she was planning ahead for the next season. The masks were handmade and she would go over them before they were packed away, checking to learn if they were in need of repair. I still check them for her not just to see how they are holding up but because she touched them. I feel her in them. It’s all I have of her.”
“I would love to see them sometime. I collect them, in fact. My collection goes back to the late 1600’s.”
“That’s extraordinary. How did you manage to get them?”
“Family heirlooms.” Phoenix took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling quickly, “My family is originally from Bassano del Grappa. They traveled to Venice as part of a pilgrimage of sorts, just for Carnival. Have you ever been there?”
“No I haven’t, but I’ve wanted to visit. It’s uncanny that you should bring that up. My family is from there as well. They left many, many years ago. There was some sort of scandal, so they came to settle in Venice.”
“What family doesn’t have scandal and a few skeletons in their closets?” Phoenix winked. “Look throughout past history, especially the early Egyptian dynasties. They were fraught with murder, conspiracy, incest and deception. Most family trees were mere saplings.”
The blonde laughed as she reached with her hands behind her head to lift her hair off her neck. The light breeze felt good across her skin. She couldn’t help but notice Phoenix watching her as if she was far away. The look was tinged with sadness and longing. “And you?” she asked. “What about your family? Are they here in Venice as well?”
“Hmm?” Jovanna’s words broke her reverie and she was suddenly aware that she had dropped her guard. “Are you asking me as a reporter?” she poured more wine.
“I’m asking as a friend who wants to know you better. I only know of your artwork and that you frequent my brother’s nightclub. I noticed you watching me dance.”
“I like the way you dance. Does it bother you that I watch?”
Jovanna felt her face start to redden. “No, not at all.”
“You dance with an abandon. I don’t mean that in an outrageous sense but it’s very sensual and spiritual, intense and liberating.”
Vanna took a sip of her wine as she tipped her head to hide her embarrassment. She looked over the rim of her glass before speaking. “Is this your way of avoiding my questions?”
“Was I avoiding the questions? I hadn’t noticed,” Phoenix smiled. “Typical reporter practice of not letting the subject slip by. You are circular, a never ending cycle of bringing us back to the crux of the matter”
“And you are like a cube; a puzzle box of sorts. If my questions make you uncomfortable please tell me? I would not wish to offend you.”
Taking one last drag on her cigarette, Phoenix crushed out its remains while tipping her head somewhat to one side, purposely blowing the smoke away from Jovanna. The slight change in the breeze allowed her to smell the anxiousness the blonde was feeling and she could almost hear the blood flowing through her veins. She licked her lips, feeling the sharp points of her teeth scrape against her tongue. Quickly she reminded herself of where she was and that she must be patient. She had already waited so long, surely a few days would pass by like seconds.
“I’ve been out of contact with my family for what seems like… generations. I left home at an early age and traveled extensively. I was rebellious and somewhat bohemian.”
“That sounds exciting, but a little lonely as well. No one special in your life? Or do you have someone hidden away? I know! It’s a sordid affair, which is why we only see you at night!”
The darker woman let out a deep sigh. “Yes you have figured it out. I’m really a vampire and I’m having an affair with the night watchman at your father’s palazzo. Juno told on us, didn’t he? He is jealous of our love and my affinity for men in uniform, who are over 40 and still live with their mothers.”
They both laughed for a moment until there was a comfortable silence. The sounds of the city surrounded them: the laughter of friends, the clinking of glasses and a horn beeping off in the distant streets. But it was the sound of a horse and carriage passing by that stopped Phoenix. In her mind she could once again hear the sound of the horses galloping over the bridge, taking her away from Bassano del grappa for the last time. It was the night after she found out Lucia was dead.
Jovanna noticed the look of anguish in Phoenix’s expression, and she needed to touch her. She took Phoenix’s hand gently in her own and it wasn’t until the darker woman looked into her eyes that there was a kind of recognition. She had seen that look before, but where? Everything was familiar, but also confusing. What was her connection with Phoenix?
“I did have a love once. A long, long time ago. The kind that is timeless and ancient.” Phoenix shifted in her chair, “However, unforeseen circumstances kept that from being fulfilled. I moved away and started painting to fill the void. I became a creature of the night.”
She gave Jovanna’s hand a small squeeze and smiled at her. The life she felt flowing through the woman’s body was electrifying. The urge to pull her onto the table and take her right there was overwhelming and she needed to stay focused.
“The night has many stories of its own. Different sounds and smells; so many lives that go unnoticed in the daytime. It has an indescribable beauty. You should stay up late nights and feed your writer’s hunger.”
Jovanna downed the last of her wine and tipped her head back against her chair. She wished she could see the stars tonight, but they were obscured by the haze of the city lights.
“Writer’s hunger… an interesting choice of words, indicative of a passion.”
“Do you feel that passion, Jovanna?” asked Phoenix as she studied the blonde woman’s features. Her patterns and habits were unmistakably those of Lucia.
“I feel the passion at times, but not the motivation. Maybe I’m just fooling myself into thinking I can be a writer. I publish my scribbling in my slick looking gossip rag-mag where I make already larger than life people appear down to earth and almost humble. These beautiful people reveal their sins to me and I elevate them to a higher level of veneration. It’s purely entertainment that puts money in my pocket, but it does not feed my soul. My father is right, it’s just a hobby. How can this help me make it as a writer?”
The dark haired woman grabbed the arm of Jovanna’s chair and with surprising strength turned the chair to face her. Her eyes narrowed and she began to speak: “You’ve made it when you’re not only published, but when you are read, truly read. Anyone can be published. Anyone can write a book, but not everyone can ‘write’ a book. Yes, you want them to buy and read your words but when you lay your soul down on paper – that’s when you write.
“It’s not about making a bestseller list, even though that is a plausible goal. It’s writing something that reaches into people so deeply that it’s as if you pulled their very words right out of them. You write for you as if it’s the blood that flows through your veins and the air that fills your lungs.”
Phoenix settled back in her chair and stared hard at Jovanna for a moment. Her own mention of blood threw her slightly off balance.
“Why do people treasure certain books? They quote them, underline in them, share them sometimes. They covet them, devour them and metaphorically speaking, make love to them. How many people have numerous copies of that same cherished book? Dog-eared, beaten up, and barely bound sheets of script that they hold so dearly –they are extensions of their souls stuffed in purses or briefcases, lying on coffee tables or on nightstands. These tomes and their symbols give them unconditional love and comfort, asking for nothing more than to be picked up and read. If you can reach out to just one soul, just one, with your words… then you are a writer.”
Jovanna was taken aback for a moment. This woman knew what was deep inside of her. She understood what passion was and how it connected to a deeper part of the soul. “If only you could make my father understand that,” Jovanna sighed. “It is one of the reasons I chose to start a magazine. I could still write, but it was also a business, so we compromised. At least in his eyes we did.”
“He doesn’t understand you, and he never will.”
Jovanna traced her finger along the edge of her wine glass as she tried to read the darker woman’s expression. “How is it that you do?”
“Good evening Signorina Jovanna,” said a male voice.
“Pietro! What are you doing here?”
“Your father said you were here, visiting with a friend.”
“I’m conducting an interview. This is business.” She turned to Phoenix, “Mi dispiace, I’m sorry. We were discussing passion, yes?”
“I must apologize for my rudeness.” Pietro extended his hand to Phoenix. “I am Pietro Genova and this is my friend Angelo Furmante.” He nodded to a dodgy looking man in an ill-fitting suit.
“Ciao, Signor Genova.” Phoenix took the man’s hand and watched his expression over the power of her hand shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Pietro appeared bewildered as he tried to rub and flex his fingers without admitting to the pain. “Allow me to buy you ladies some wine?” He motioned to the waiter, “A bottle of your finest.”
“Really Signor, that’s not necessary,” Phoenix said sweetly. “Besides Signorina Jovanna and I were just on our way to my studio to finish the interview.”
“Maybe we should come with you and we can have a little get-together?” asked Pietro. “We’ll bring the wine, relax and get to know one another better.”
“Pietro, this is business, not pleasure.” Jovanna began to rise from her seat and gather up her bag. “If you’ll excuse us.”
Angelo reached around Phoenix’s waist, “I think you and I would get along just fine.”
Within seconds, Phoenix had taken the man’s wrist and twisted his arm behind his back and pinned his face against the table. “Don’t ever touch me, ever!”
Pietro stepped in between them, “Don’t be so upset bellisima. Angelo e’ arrapato… he’s just very excited to be near such a beautiful woman. Isn’t that right Angelo?”
“Stronza, cunt,” Angelo muttered under his breath. “Si, I was just overcome with such beauty, that is all,” he sneered.
“We really need to go now.” Jovanna moved away from the table only to have Pietro block her way.
“Jovanna please don’t go. I promised your father I would entertain you tonight. We can go to the club if you like?”
“Entertain me? I told him I was doing this interview tonight! Don’t you people understand this is my job and not some diversion of a bored little rich girl? My magazine is in circulation worldwide. People want to read what I am writing.”
“You are a strong-willed woman Jovanna. I admire that. If you want to keep your little venture going after we are married, I will allow it.”
“Che cazzo vuoi, what the fuck do you want? Do you expect me to settle down and have children while I play the role of the good wife? And who said I’m going to marry you anyway? I never agreed to marry you. That is an arrangement you and my father made, not me.”
“Your father is a wise man. He knows only a man like me can control a woman like you.” Pietro stroked his long curled mustache. “You are not going to get a better offer than what I can give you. Look at you, almost 30 years old with no man in your life. You are probably still untouched. Probably because you hang around women such as this lesbica.”
Phoenix narrowed her eyes and spoke very slowly and distinctly, “You should think very long and hard before making any assumptions. You know nothing of me and who I really am.” She then took Jovanna by the arm and led her away from the café.
They walked in silence for a while as Jovanna tried to hold back angry tears. Phoenix sensed her emotions and put her arm around the blonde’s shoulders. She spoke gently and reassured her that things would be okay, but she was also aware that they were being followed. The sound of their heels echoed off the cobblestone of the alley way that lead to where Phoenix had her studio. She had found the space in an older section of town where warehouses lay empty. It wasn’t the safest part of town but Phoenix feared nothing.
The lights of a car swinging quickly into the alley startled them, blinding them for a moment. In the next moment, Phoenix heard the sound of a struggle and the muffled cries of Jovanna. Suddenly she was knocked to the ground. She knew right away it was Angelo, she could tell his scent.
“Fucking bitch. I’m going to hurt you real bad.”
Phoenix caught the man’s wrist in midair as he tried to bring his fist down on her. The sound of his anguished cries followed the snapping of his bones as they were twisted and torn from their sockets. The clink of a knife hitting the ground irked Phoenix. The bastard was trying to kill her. Her powers allowed her to grab the man by the throat, crushing his windpipe and toss him down the alley behind the dumpsters like a rag doll.
The other man in the car was unaware that his companion was now dead. He was too busy struggling with Jovanna. He pinned her against the back seat, pressing his face to hers as he tried to kiss her. His breath came hard as he began to squeeze her breasts. One hand covered her mouth to stifle her screams as he began to slide the other up her skirt to pull down her panties.
“You are going to be mine, whether you like it or not.”
Pietro didn’t hear the sound of Phoenix leaping onto the hood of the car. He felt a hand reach through the sunroof of the car and pull him out by his jacket collar. She threw him into a darkened stairwell of a nearby basement entrance. Picking him up by his collar she pinned him against the wall so she could look directly into his face.
“I will not lose her again. I’ve waited too long”
Pietro struggled to release himself from her formidable grip, his legs kicking in the air as he hung suspended, inches above the ground. He spat in her face. She released her grip, letting him fall against the wall as she wiped her face on her jacket sleeve.
“What the fuck are you? A man? Is that it? You think you’re a man?”
Phoenix glanced down, taking in his lowered pants and flaccid member, and she smirked, “Apparently I’m more man than you can ever be.”
He hurriedly tucked himself in and zipped his fly. “You fucking bitch. Stay out of my business and away from my woman.” He lunged forward to strike her.
“She belongs to ME!” Yelled Phoenix as she shoved him roughly back against the wall.
He rested with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.
“What the hell do you mean by that? You have nothing between your legs to claim her. I’ll fuck you too.”
Within seconds he was pinned back on the ground as Phoenix moved on top of him. Her knees pressed painfully into his thighs, one hand was squeezing his neck and the other squeezed at his genitals. “I have waited centuries to find her again. I was reduced to no more than an animal having to feed off of parasites like you to survive, existing as a shadow while you were allowed to live in the light – just so I could have my Lucia back, and now that I have found her again I will not lose her. Not to you or to anyone else. Do you want to know how I will claim her?”
Pietro was frozen in fear and pain. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his long mustache stuck leechlike to his cheeks. He wet himself in terror as he saw her fangs. She lunged forward, ripping his neck open in one powerful bite. She wiped her mouth and chin carefully on his shirt and stood up. “You’ll bleed slowly. Pray that death finds you before the rats do.”
Jovanna pushed herself into the corner of the seat as the car door swung open. Her fright turned to relief as she saw Phoenix bending down and offering her a hand. “It’s okay now, it’s just me. No one can hurt you now.”
Jovanna took the other woman’s hand and exited the car quickly. She wrapped her arms around Phoenix’s neck. Phoenix held the trembling woman in her arms and stroked her hair to soothe her. “We are at my studio; it’s just up the steps. Let us go inside and I’ll get you some wine.”
She guided the woman up the stairway to an obscure doorway. Before they entered, she looked down to a figure standing near the car. She nodded in his direction and he nodded back, affirming the silent message sent to him. Her faithful servant Bastien would take care of the mess below.
Jovanna shivered as she waited for Phoenix to unlock the grey, steel door. Inside, they stood in a sterile looking vestibule. Phoenix guided her to another set of doors which opened into a larger room. This room was divided into smaller areas, which broke up the large open space. From all appearances the old warehouse floor was converted into an almost palatial living space. The blonde tried to get her bearings as she was steered toward a larger but more private room – the studio.
Inside, the room was warm with rich woodwork and candlelight. A fire burned in the fireplace making her feel more relaxed. Phoenix sat her down on a large black, leather sofa and then walked across the room to get Jovanna a glass of wine. Unable to speak, Jovanna, took in her surroundings. She studied the way the light filled the room and gave a feeling of warmth. It shimmered off the deep jewel tone colors of the silks and velvets that were draped over the windows and furniture. It had a romantic quality that made Jovanna smile.
She was curious as to why there were so many windows which were obscured by heavy draping. There were candles everywhere, hundreds of them. She hadn’t noticed that when she first walked in but now she could see the entire room was illuminated by candlelight. Some were placed in wall sconces, some were in torchieres that filled the corners of the room and others were clustered in groups on tables or shelves. Jovanna bit her lower lip as she frowned at the candles.
“I only paint at night. I find the daytime distracting,” Phoenix said as she looked past Jovanna at the darkness which was now approaching.
“It’s a different world at night,” Jovanna echoed as she studied the walls. They were covered with paintings of various sizes, along with decorations that looked as if they had come from around the globe. There were very few photographs, none which were of Phoenix. That was one thing she remembered – Phoenix was adamant about not having her picture taken.
The dark-haired woman came over and sat beside her, and handed the shivering blonde a glass of wine before putting her arm around her shoulders. She then brushed a few strands of hair away from the woman’s face and kissed her forehead.
“You are safe now. I promise. Drink some wine, you’ll feel better.”
“Thank you. Everything seems like such a blur. I don’t want to think about it.”
“Then don’t think. What happened is in the past. Sit with me in the present.”
Jovanna leaned back into Phoenix and sipped her wine. She felt it warm her and diminish her fears. This room enchanted her. A huge, wooden easel stood across from her, but she was unable to see what was on it. Alongside that was a tiered table loaded with paints and brushes and pencils. Leaning against the walls were canvases and paintings in different stages of progression. She found it odd that there were many pictures and symbols relating to various religious beliefs, she didn’t see Phoenix as a very religious person.
“You find my studio interesting, don’t you? I rarely have guests in this room. It’s my sanctuary.”
“It very eclectic; I like it.” Jovanna sipped her wine. “Aren’t you going to join me?”
“My choice of beverage is very limited. I have a ‘condition’ of sorts, but please drink as much as you like. I’ll have something a little later.”
“I have to admit, I am a little thrown by some of the spiritual decoratives you have. They seem out of place with the traditional and more contemporary pieces.”
“Ah, but that is where you are mistaken. Everything has its place. This is what I choose to surround myself with; it represents Beauty, Life and Death. My choice of ornamentation is no different from the person whom hangs a picture of Jesus Christ alongside a black velvet painting of Elvis.”
“I don’t understand, Jesus and velvet Elvis?”
“Jesus is the King of Kings and Elvis is the king of Rock and Roll. Both represent a belief in something bigger than what the worshippers perceive in themselves. They represent mortal men who have gone on to serve a bigger purpose. One need not step inside a church to find their spirituality, because when you believe in something, there is always a chance for redemption and immortality.”
Phoenix rose from the couch and walked over to a few artifacts on the wall. She took down two statues and brought them to Jovanna. “Anubis, jackal-headed god and gate keeper of the underworld and Bast, the lioness, goddess of ointments; together they help the dead into the afterlife. Redemption, immortality and beauty joined with life and death. I adore the Egyptians. You’ll see the Eye of Horus frequents my artworks in subtle ways.”
She then put them back and walked over to the fireplace where an intricately carved crucifix hung. Lighting a few more candles to add to the many already burning, she turned and smiled at Jovanna. “Here we have the Christ after his death; I found this one in a little town near Budapest. The hair is the artist’s actual hair and the crown of thorns is real – hand woven; the nails are real as well. What caught my attention the most was the expression on his face. This Christ is looking up to heaven, his eyes imploring, yet, the knowledge that this is his fate, is apparent.”
Jovanna stood up and joined her in touching the delicately carved pieced. The wood seemed smooth as skin as her fingers traced the nail embedded in the figure’s feet.
“The eyes…are they glass?”
“Yes. Kind of creepy aren’t they? That’s what sold me on it.” She took Jovanna by the hand and showed her more of the room, “Here are some carved pieces from Bali and Africa; they help keep the evil spirits away. I have many Asian carvings as well but most are in my bedroom. Over here is the Americas, both North and South, from American Indian to Inca, Maya, Aztec… well, all the natives really.”
“And this?” Jovanna held up a pointed piece of wood carved with an image of a crucifix and foreign words she could not make out. “It looks very interesting.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she held the dowel in her hand. Phoenix found herself embarrassed by her own sentiment.
“This, believe it or not, was a stake used to kill vampires. Anyone who lived in Bassano del Grappa decades ago and acted a little different was believed to be one of the undead.”
“In fact…” Phoenix reached down the front of her shirt and pulled the chain of her necklace to show Jovanna. “… this picture is said to be of a woman named Francesca, who was known for being a vampire.”
Jovanna watched as Phoenix showed her the hidden picture behind the tear shaped ruby.
Jovanna held the gem in her hand and felt a surge go through her body. “Oh my God!” Jovanna snapped her hand back immediately. Touching the necklace gave her a vision of that very necklace being placed around her neck. How could that be? She had never seen it before.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It just seemed very familiar all of a sudden.”
Phoenix placed her hand on Jovanna’s cheek and looked into her eyes. “You’ve had a difficult night; perhaps we should do this another time?” Something in the woman’s eyes made Jovanna want to stay. It was as if she needed to be with her.
“I’m okay, really. I would love to stay, if that’s okay. I’d like to see how you work.”
“I normally don’t let people watch me while I work, but I did agree to give you an interview, so this is only fair,” Phoenix smiled.
“Thank you,” Jovanna smiled back. “You go about your routine and I’ll ask a few questions and observe. Will that be okay?”
“Absolutely.”
Jovanna wandered around the room, looking and touching. She was amazed to see so many books, either on shelves or opened up on tables or on the floor near the easel.
“You have quite the collection of books. Have you read them all?”
Phoenix placed a CD in the stereo. The gentle, piano melody filled the studio as Jewel started singing: Inside my skin… there is this space… it twists and turns… it bleeds and aches…
“Most of them. Books are another one of my great loves. Music, Art and Literature are as important to me as blood is to most. It’s my lifeline and my passion. Passion is life.”
The music continued: I am wanting…I am needing you here… inside the absence of fear… Phoenix brushed her fingertips down Jovanna’s arm as she passed, pausing as her fingertips reached the woman’s wrist. Looking up at her, she blinked her eyes, staring seductively. “You understand all about passion, don’t you?” She pressed a finger to the blonde’s lips. “Wait. Don’t answer that right now.”
There is this hunger…. This restlessness inside of me… And it knows that you’re no stranger… You’re my gravity… Phoenix’s touch brought back memories of the night before, when the stranger touched her arm the same way. She felt a small shiver of excitement run through her. The interview – she would focus on that and not on her desire.
“Phoenix… Is that your real name?”
“More of a description really.”
“That means you’re going to be abstruse. Just so you know, I’m not into mysteries, but I do like a challenge.”
“I think you’ll find you know more about me than you realize,” Phoenix said with a smile as she walked over to the easel and began to sketch. She watched as Jovanna walked around the studio, her hand gliding along the spines of books or picking up small objects. Lucia did the same thing in Francesca’s apartment. She needed to concentrate on the sketch so she could capture the emotion of the moment and not give in to the urge to sweep Jovanna up into her arms. Her desire was too strong now, and if she gave in she might lose her Love again. She would know when the time was right. It was just a matter of patience and discipline.
She muttered a curse under her breath and looked over the top of her glasses while she sketched. Jovanna watched from the shadows, as she moved around Phoenix’s studio, unaware that the naked figure taking shape on the sketching pad was her. Phoenix sketched from memory. She was intimately familiar with every detail of Jovanna’s body, and recalled it as if it were sacrosanct, deftly shaping the curve of her hips and the contour of her collarbone.
Jovanna explored Phoenix’s paints in a desultory manner, rubbing the blue substance between her fingertips. The distinctively antiquated smell of linseed made her shiver from deep inside. She frowned as she attempted to recall the complete memory of dipping her fingers into warmth… wetness? It was in absolute contrast with the coolness of the cobalt blue paint. She looked up at Phoenix.
Phoenix lit a cigarette and stood back, eyes squinted and brow furrowed, studying the sketch pad in front of her. She tore the page from the pad and let it fall to the floor. She seized a new pencil. Any range would do for now. On the paper, Jovanna’s face took shape, like a developing photograph absorbing light for the first time.
Jovanna’s need for physical touch became overwhelming as she watched Phoenix caress the pencil loosely between her thumb and forefinger. I’m going to seduce her… It came as a revelation, more than a decision. It was a conscious choice; yet, her need was so overwhelming, that it felt almost obsessive.
“Finish your cigarette,” Jovanna breathed, somewhere in the darkness.
“I just lit it. Could you change that music or turn it off please?” Phoenix said, oblivious to Jovanna’s desires. Phoenix stared at the sketch in front of her and recognized the soft curves of Jovanna’s mouth as she heard her voice again:
“Finish your cigarette, please,” the voice was gentle, yet urgent.
“I will,” Phoenix managed to say as she kept drawing outlines.
Jovanna walked over to the stereo and put the music off. The silence only emphasized her need. She was nervous and excited, and she was sure Phoenix could sense her slow, deliberate breathing from the other side of the room.
I’m going to seduce her, Jovanna thought again as she moved her hands to the back of her black skirt and determinedly pulled down the zipper. It slid off her body and fell to the floor. I have to feel those hands on my skin. I have to have those blue eyes possess me… Own me. I want her to own me, she thought as she stepped out of the skirt.
She started unbuttoning her shirt from the top down as she walked towards Phoenix, her heart beating out the matching symbolism of every adjective with every surge of lust: Want… Need… Desire… Fear…
She walked over to Phoenix, her heels resonating on the marble floor. Her golden curls trailed down her back, and she bit her bottom lip as her thumbs hooked into her panties. She removed them, astounded by the evidence of her arousal.
Out of the corner of her eye, Phoenix saw the silhouette moving towards her. She could hear footsteps walking towards her as she became increasingly aware of Jovanna’s presence. Phoenix tried to shrug it off, as it was a distraction to her art. Yet, the thought of Jovanna’s presence moved her back into that world of longing. She closed her eyes for a few moments, and when she opened them, Jovanna stood in front of her, naked.
“Paint me,” Jovanna whispered.
Phoenix was spellbound. She could not move. She could not breathe. Jovanna reached out, took her hands and brought them to her naked breasts. The sound of the sketching pencil, dropping to the floor went unnoticed. With Phoenix’s hands in her own, Jovanna trailed over her own skin.
“Paint me,” Jovanna said again, more self assured this time.
Phoenix swallowed hard as she took in Jovanna’s beauty. The contrast between the warm womanly breasts, and hard nipples against the palms of her hands, was intoxicating. Jovanna moved her own hands away, as Phoenix increased her hold on Jovanna’s breasts.
Jovanna was aware of Phoenix’s intense eyes on her body, as she cupped her breasts in her hands. Her stare was passionate and wanting, yet gentle. If she had doubted the sexual energy between them was mutual, that doubt was erased by the primal way Phoenix caressed her breasts.
They held eye contact, as they both wondered who would make the next move. Phoenix moved both her hands slowly from Jovanna’s breasts to her arms, trailing her thumbs over her hardened nipples, which made Jovanna shiver and her knees buckle.
Phoenix gripped her arms, and stared from Jovanna’s face to the sketch on the easel behind her. It was unmistakably her. She turned the naked beauty in front of her around, and let her face the sketch. She wished she could see her eyes in that moment. She wondered if there was any recognition… any recollection at all of their past together.
Phoenix stood so close behind her, but not touching. If either one of them moved an inch, they would have been molded into each other. Jovanna found it difficult to breathe normally. She could feel Phoenix’s breath on her neck. She yearned for arms to move to her sides, around her and to caress her. Phoenix felt that need too, but she did not move. Not yet.
They stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, with Phoenix breathing her in. Eventually, Phoenix put her arms over Jovanna’s shoulders, hands out in front of her and formed a triangle with her fingers to frame a particular part of the sketch she had been working on.
“See right here? There is a subliminal sexuality linked to her femininity. She wants someone to own her; to take her – to possess her.”
As she moved her head to next to Phoenix’s, a soft gasp escaped Jovanna’ s mouth, a result of the reality of the sketch in front of her combined with Phoenix’s words.
Through the tousle of golden hair, Phoenix could see a sensual, smooth column of throat. She moved the silky blonde strands aside, and had to mentally restrain herself from claiming her lover. She could smell her blood, and it was maddening. The fire in her limbs leapt to full height as she pressed her lips to the pulse. Ecstasy… She kissed Jovanna’s throat, and then her shoulders again and again.
After what seemed an eternity, she whispered into Jovanna’s ear, “Look at her lips, at the way her throat is exposed. Can you see it?”
Phoenix’s lips brushed Jovanna’s ear. Jovanna moved her head back slowly and sensually as her cheek caressed Phoenix’s. She wanted to whisper that yes, she saw it. But instead she groaned as their skin touched, and their lips hovered moments away from one another. Suspended in ecstasy and want, they paused in that moment, their breathing becoming labored, emphasizing their need.
“It’s a sketch symbolizing possession…” Phoenix said, although it was hard for her to speak. “She wants to be bound to her lover forever.”
Jovanna closed her eyes as Phoenix spoke into her mouth. Their lips were not touching, but barely so. Phoenix trailed a finger down Jovanna’s cheekbone, down her chin, cupped it gently in her hand and then kissed her.
There was a familiarity for both of them in that kiss – recognition of taste, of essence, and of being. Jovanna returned the kiss urgently. It was hungry, yet gentle. When they finally broke away, Phoenix’s mouth hovered over hers again, her hot breath stimulating and causing her to moan and become wet without touch. Jovanna’s head tilted back as the caress of lips and tongue created a rush of pleasure again and again as they kissed.
The air was thick with the smell of intense desire, each of them anticipating the others next action. Their arousal increased with every touch and every movement. They were exactly aware of what they were doing to each other and how they aroused each other with the slightest touch and caress.
Jovanna whispered, “Please, let me touch you?”
Phoenix woke, as if from a dream. She smiled sweetly as she whispered back, “No, you asked me to paint you… Let’s make art.”
Phoenix smiled as she trailed her fingertips over Jovanna’s soft ribs. She pushed Jovanna away, then smoothed her own hands over Jovanna’s bare arms, pulled her hands behind her and joined them in a reverse prayer position.
“I want you to stay like this … waiting for me.”
Jovanna’s nipples hardened in response. Her heart was pounding as she heard Phoenix moving elsewhere in the studio. Phoenix walked to the corner of her studio and pulled out a large canvas and rolled it out onto the floor next to Jovanna. She took four black candles, lit them, and placed them on the four corners of the canvas. She found her acrylic paints, some brushes, and glanced over to where her naked Goddess was standing, waiting for her. Her desire to own Jovanna became urgent again, and she licked her lips… “Soon,” she whispered to herself, as she lit some myrrh incense. The smoky fragrance immediately filled the air, carried on the light breeze that blew through the studio.
The fragrance filled Jovanna’s senses and she was carried away to another time and place… another apartment… another woman? Vaguely, as if looking through cobwebs, she remembered dark hair and a deft hand sweeping over a canvas.
The sound of footsteps brought her back to the moment and she opened her eyes. As Phoenix walked over to the canvas, she heard Jovanna say seductively, “How do you want me?”
“I want you the way you are right now.”
“Would you like me to take my shoes off?” Jovanna swallowed hard as their eyes met.
Phoenix looked down at her high, feminine heels and felt that familiar wetness between her thighs as she struggled to say, “I’ll take them off.” She reached down to take off her shoes, and parted her legs, as if to brace herself.
“Pick a color.”
“Black,” Jovanna whispered, and Phoenix dipped a brush into the black paint, and drew lines along the contours of Jovanna’s body, circles around her breasts, bands around her arms and stripes down her legs.
“Pick a symbol.”
Jovanna smiled as the sensation of the cold paint touched her “I’m thinking a circle and a cube?”
“Nice. Now pick another color”
“Purple.”
Phoenix picked up another brush, dipped it into the purple paint and drew a circle on her right thigh and a cube on your left thigh.
“Pick a word.”
“Desire,” she said as she felt the erotic sensation of the gentle brush strokes against her skin.
Phoenix smiled “Good choice, Love” She took the red paint and a new brush and started writing “desire” backwards just below her navel in big letters.
“Pick another color.”
“I think blue?” Johanna said as she remembered intense blue eyes staring into hers. The blue paint went on her nipples. Jovanna arched her back, and smiled.
“Spread your legs,” Phoenix kneeled in front of her and painted carefully between Jovanna’s legs, using slow, deliberate strokes, as Jovanna groaned softly.
“Give me your hands and pick another color.”
“White,” Jovanna ignored the request, and cupped Phoenix’s face with both her hands as she coaxed her into a standing position. She brushed her lips against Phoenix’s forehead, still cupping her face. Phoenix kissed her lips this time and once again, time became irrelevant, as desire manifested.
Phoenix broke away, smiling, the sweet taste of her Goddess on her lips. She picked up the white paint and a new brush, turned Jovanna’s hands, palms towards her and painted her hands, her hips and her shoulders and then a band across the top of her chest.
“Pick another color.”
“A lighter blue? But put down the brush first and take off your clothes…”
“Hush… this is my creation. Something darker? Green?”
“No green.”
“Orange then.” Phoenix took the orange paint and a thinner brush as she felt the back of Jovanna’s hands brushing consciously over her breasts, making her stall for a moment. She had waited decades for this moment. Jovanna’s body was begging to be taken. Her soul yearned to be owned. She could feel her need and her desire in every part of her own being. “Not yet,” she whispered to herself.
Jovanna heard her words, and looked her straight in the eyes. Intense lust met the same, as their souls mirrored each other. Phoenix took her wrists, “Models should keep their poses.” She bent in enough to kiss her without smearing the paint. “You’re going to like this. I want you to close your eyes.”
“Only if I get another kiss…”
“Thank you, you get another kiss.” Their lips met. Phoenix was about to abandon all creative expression and give in to her need to satisfy her Goddess. Yet, she took the orange paint and painted words over all the white spaces.
“What are you writing?”
“You’ll see… keep your eyes closed, Love.” She turned Jovanna around to face the canvas. Standing behind her, she ran her hands down Vanna’s shoulders, over her back and down her sides, kissing along her spine and licking along her lower back. She started removing her own clothes as her tongue moved over the top of Jovanna’s thighs and she trailed long lingering kisses down her legs.
Naked, Phoenix stood behind her Goddess and pressed her body into Jovanna’s, taking her hair into her hands, and pulling it onto of her head as she licked the nape of her neck.
“Oh God…” Jovanna whispered as she felt blood rush through her veins.
Phoenix ground her hips against Jovanna’s. “We’re making… art,” she whispered underneath Jovanna’s ear as she kissed and licked and sucked the soft skin. She put her hands under Jovanna’s arms, and guided her a few steps forward toward the canvas.
“I want you to kneel. The way I lay you is the way you have to stay.”
“Yes Phoenix.”
“Good girl.” Phoenix watched intently as Jovanna kneeled with her back turned. She helped her lean onto the canvas and spread her arms out above her head, and then molded her own body to Jovanna’s, as they moved as one. Jovanna lay flat on the canvas, with Phoenix on top of her, kissing her left cheek.
“Move only with me, Love, I don’t want to smear this,” Phoenix rocked against her, so the paint adhered to the canvas. She pushed her lips against Jovanna’s neck, as their bodies moved together.
“Oh, God this is… I feel…” Jovanna’s breath was labored and forced as Phoenix moved with her. Their harmony was passionate, yet gentle, as sighs and moans followed.
Erotic pleasure turned into urgent need and Phoenix moved her body enough to slide her hand between Jovanna’s legs.
Jovanna gasped as she felt fingers opening her up and dipping into wetness, gently rubbing her sex. She lifted her hips instinctively.
Phoenix could feel heat, and the coolness of the paint mixed with wetness. She slid two fingers up, and then inside Jovanna’s sex. It did not seem like a part of her body that was entering this woman. It felt like an extension of her soul, merging their essence of being woman. “I want you to think about your nipples pressing into the canvas and your sex painting with my fingers inside of you.” Using her other hand, she pressed down against the small of Jovanna’s back, so she could not move. She ran her tongue over Vanna’s thighs and kissed her skin.
Jovanna had four fingers fully inside of her within moments. They paused together, and breathed each other in. Jovanna’s physical need was overwhelming. She clenched tightly around Phoenix’s fingers, and tried to raise her hips. Phoenix wanted much more than the ecstasy of the moment. She wanted Jovanna to give herself completely, not only her body, but also her mind, and soul and spirit.
Jovanna tried so hard to move with Phoenix’s fingers – she needed to. But Phoenix was not letting her.
“Relax, Love… relax. I know what you want, and I will give it to you. But right now, just relax,” Phoenix breathed into Jovanna’s ear as she moved her fingers out, and then in again. Jovanna tensed again, needing release.
“No, Baby, let it go. Let me do this with you and it will be heavenly. Be open, and let me fuck you.”
“God, yes,” Jovanna moaned, as they found a sensual rhythm. She was wet and accepting, eager and pleading for more. And all the while their bodies moved together towards release.
“I want you… to fully feel me,” Phoenix moaned, as her other hand found Jovanna’s clit, and she stroked it with her thumb, while still moving inside with her fingers. Jovanna felt herself going impossibly wetter.
“You are so wet … you’re going to come for me, aren’t you?” Jovanna nodded, feeling sensations of fingers deep inside of her, stroking her slowly, yet hard and intense.
“Come for me Baby,” Phoenix slid another finger inside. Jovanna was right there, begging for release, and as Phoenix moved five fingers inside of her, she felt Jovanna clasping her tightly, and heard her name moaned over and over again. Her slippery hand kept stroking, bringing her lover down from the cusp of pleasure and lust. She slowed her touch, her fingers remaining deep inside of her lover.
“I… please… Phoenix…” Jovanna was incoherent with need.
Phoenix twisted her fingers inside her, as she began to push deeper with each thrust. . “You need more… You want my hand, don’t you? Phoenix entered her with the next thrust, until her hand was completely inside Jovanna, filling her. She explored every inch of Jovanna, and it felt wonderful. Her hand was soaked to the wrist.
Jovanna felt fuller than ever. Phoenix’s hand on her back, held her in place, making her muscles tighten even more around the hand, unable to move more than her hips. She was clinging to the edge of the canvas and groaning, “Yes,” to every stroke. The sensations were a complete mix of opposites; she felt wonderfully full, yet empty and wanting; open, yet tight and almost sealed. She wanted to laugh with abandonment and cry out in fear, plead for Phoenix to stop, and beg for her to take more. Between gasps and heavy breathing she muttered, “Oh God, please don’t stop.”
“I’m not going to stop. I will take care of you.”
Jovanna needed to be taken care of more than she had been letting herself feel and accept. Absolute power radiated from her new Lover, and she was grateful for the level of intense control that Phoenix had over her. But she also realized that she would not have been able to submit to anyone but this strong, sexy woman. She could take it and she wanted it, because it was Her. Pleasure succeeded pleasure as Phoenix’s hand moved inside of her. She let herself be open, acceptant, and owned, and stayed in that moment, with her lover, holding off release for a long, long time.
As the moment heated their skin, she felt sharp teeth biting the nape of her neck. Tears ran down her face as she whispered, “Phoenix…” and lightning surged through their veins as hard contractions rippled through them, as they reached orgasm, together, as one.
Jovanna became aware of a profound sense of loss. She recalled the sharp teeth in the nape of her neck, and she vaguely recalled a time long ago, years ago, dimensions away, where she had felt that same sensation, and then, this same sense of absolute loss. She had fled, then, acutely aware of her fear and need and not being able to give of herself fully. I’m scared, she thought, I’m scared to death. And I don’t understand any of this, but I want it. I want her to own me. I want to be bound to her forever.
Phoenix was ready. She moved slowly, to keep the spell of intense togetherness. It had been so long since she felt this alive. She ran her fingers over Jovanna’s neck, and moved her chin back gently. Lost in her own instinctive desires, she murmured small noises of pleasure as she explored Jovanna’s soft, inviting throat with her lips, tongue and mouth, wanting more, wanting to take more. Her teeth trailed over skin, ready for that one profound moment of immaculacy. She tasted need, desire and fear, and reveled in it, thirsting for more, as she felt Jovanna shiver. Phoenix needed her consent. She gazed at her face, trying to read her expression. Jovanna’s lips trembled. Phoenix froze.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“I’m so confused! Who are you?”
“No, no,” Phoenix pleaded, “Don’t! It’s just me. Just let us be… together. I won’t hurt you.”
Jovanna wanted so much to believe her. “Every breath I take makes me more aware of who you are and who I am, and that you were meant to find me. If this is so, then why do I fear you?”
The silence was shattering. Jovanna broke their embrace and started to move away from Phoenix. Realizing how naked she was, she searched for clothes. This is crazy, she thought.
Phoenix could not breathe. Then she realized Jovanna was leaving. Leaving her. She had found her after lifetimes of searching. And now the other part of her soul was leaving.
“You’re going away,” she whispered helplessly. What am I going to do? she thought desperately, I cannot ask her to stay. But I cannot let her leave. She can’t leave. She can’t!
As if reading her mind, she heard Jovanna’s whisper through the darkness, “I don’t want to go”
One Year Later
Jovanna peered through the bedroom drapes to the street below. A gentle rain beat against the large window. She let her fingertips trail down, chasing a little drop as it ran down the pane.
She sensed her lover’s presence before she felt the arms circling her waist. She turned around and placing arms around her neck, kissed Phoenix deeply.
“Thank you for finding me.”
“Always…”
“Has it truly been a year?”
“You say that as if it was so long ago. It’s like a millisecond, compared to the time that had passed before I found you again.”
As Phoenix held her in an embrace, she looked over to the painting that hung above their bed. The art they had created that night one year ago, filling the space between the bed posts. She saw the imprint of her body pressed onto the canvas by Phoenix as she lay atop her making love. She read the words that were carefully lettered by her artist lover: Desire, Eternal, Want, Need, Goddess and Love, along with their names, Phoenix and Jovanna.
The blood droplets at the edge of the canvas sent a slight shiver through her body as she remembered intense emotions. Being taken, being owned, being safe, and being in the absence of fear. Phoenix held her tighter as they reminisced:
“Will it be painful?”
“It will be a harmony of extreme pain and pleasure. But I need you to come to me, Love, willingly. It has to be your wish.”
Jovanna answered by pulling Phoenix to her and kissed her deeply. Every bit of fear she felt, melted away and she felt only a longing and desire. Phoenix lowered herself onto Jovanna, molding their bodies together. She began to kiss the corners of her mouth, and then trailed down her chin to her throat.
“It is my wish… forever.”
Phoenix licked her way up to Jovanna’s ear and whispered, “Forever, my Love.”
Jovanna wrapped her legs around her lover’s waist as they moved together in rhythm. Sharp teeth cut into Jovanna’s lip and the warm taste of her own blood fueled her desires. The small epiphany was enough to give Phoenix reason to expose her fangs. She licked and kissed the spot on Jovanna’s neck before her teeth broke the surface of her skin. She drank deeply.
Jovanna’s cries of pain came in gasps, the mix of agony and pleasure taking over as her lover’s thrusts brought her to orgasm. The raw, primal smell of blood and sex filled the room as her mortal life drained away, the elixir of immortality flowing through her veins and finding its way to her soul.
As they stood in an embrace, then as new lovers, and now in that moment, Phoenix whispered to her, once again, her vows:
“In Andaluvian carvings that grace the walls of hidden temples, I swore my oath to you. I have lain prostrate in supplication before your altar, denying all other deities. I have echoed your name in the mountains and sought your glance in forbidden cities. I have sent messages across ancient oceans on the backs of birds to find you and bargained my soul to be in your presence. I have walked through the fires of Hell and endured the bitter cold of barren desert nights. I have prayed, bled, wept, and touched upon madness to find the love that is you. I am bound to you forever.”
THE END