Authors: Devin Morgan
Long necked giraffes leaned their throats over the fence to get a better look at her.
A baby elephant swayed back and forth in its pen as the huge mother hid in the shadows,
preparing to protect her young if need be. She passed the dimly lit lion house. The
great roar of the beasts told her of their distress being locked inside. She moved
in that floating space that happens only when you are dreaming.
She passed house after house, each one containing a different species of animal. The
last one on the path housed the snakes. Sarah wasn’t afraid of snakes. In fact, she
actually enjoyed watching them slither sensuously along the ground and wrap gracefully
around trees and branches. She dream walked forward toward the open door.
Everything appeared in shadow as she stepped inside. She was startled to see a familiar
figure on the other side of the huge, cavernous hall. As the man walked slowly toward
her, she recognized Carlos. He was wearing dark pants and a short sleeved white tee
shirt, his bronze forearms covered in new tattoos.
As he came closer she saw the tattoos were of snakes, King
Cobras. They appeared alive as he moved through the dim light of the room.
He stopped just in front of her, his black eyes piercing into her very soul. She was
drawn to him in a way she had been denying for months. She could no longer resist
his magnetic pull.
He kissed her then, his beautiful mouth tasting sweet. His full lips soft and smooth,
caressing hers with each tender touch. His kiss was long, deep. As she felt his warm
breath on her face, she melted into him, releasing any hidden doubts. Her dream heart
belonged to him.
He stroked her cheek, her throat. He moved a step away from her gazing lovingly, questioningly
into her eyes. Without a pause, she nodded yes. A smile of gratitude and pleasure
lit his face. He traced her form with his eyes mesmerized by the gentle curve of her
breast, the soft cleavage peeking out of her white cotton blouse.
He scooped her in his arms. The male scent of him stirred her senses, aroused her.
He carried her outside into the soft night air seeking a dark solitary place away
from all eyes. Soon he settled down on a round mound of grass under a huge maple tree.
Moonlight filtered through the branches, the leaves casting deep shadows on the ground
beneath them. Sitting with his back against the tree, he still held her in his arms.
He moaned in torment as he buried his face in the thick soft curls of her hair. His
gentle kisses sweetly showered her face, her throat. As he neared the tender rise
of her breast, his breathing changed. It became shorter. More rapid. His pulse raced.
Strong bronze hands reached for the buttons on her blouse. In a moment, delicate white
lace was all that separated his kiss from her bare skin. She closed her eyes twisting
her fingers into his thick black hair, a soft groan escaping her throat.
The cool night air caressed her fair skin as he slid her blouse down her arms and
laid it on the ground beside them. With one
hand, he unhooked her bra. She gasped as he kissed her warm pink flesh. As he slid
his tongue over the rise of her nipple, the soft sounds she made in her throat were
glorious to his ears. Heart racing in her chest, she shivered with desire. She lifted
her eyes to watch him. He looked up at her under his dense black lashes. He opened
his lips in a slow, languid smile. His fangs were longer and sharper than any of the
living snakes now coiled around his arms. As he moved toward her throat, she screamed.
The shrill sound of her own terror woke her. She swung her legs over the edge of the
bed, bolting upright. She reached to turn on the light. Fighting to catch her breath,
she looked out at the night sky. All the lights in all the windows in all the buildings
had gone out. Everyone was asleep. She faced the coming dawn alone.
#
“It was just a stupid dream.” Her thoughts were careening through her mind as she
brushed her teeth. “Just a stupid dream.” She rinsed her mouth with water, shut off
the bathroom light and walked to the kitchen.
She checked the kitchen clock. She had an hour before she was to meet Colleen at the
museum. True to her Sunday ritual, she wore jeans, a tee shirt and sandals, no makeup
and damp, curly hair. It was warm, but there were clouds and the weather person predicted
a steady drizzle. Her rainslicker hung on a hook on the inside of the hall closet
door. She reached in to grab it. She tied it around her waist, picked up her bag and
made her way to the elevator.
Waving at the doorman, she pushed open the door, stepping into the quiet of a Sunday
morning. She left her car in the garage. Parking on Sunday downtown was impossible.
A bright yellow cab turned the corner. Lifting her arm, she waved the driver down.
Climbing into the back seat, she leaned forward and spoke. “The Art Institute.”
“Right,” was the reply made in a deep voice with an exotic
accent. “Art Institute.”
The rest of the ride was silent for which Sarah was grateful. She had just about convinced
herself that all of her terror of the previous night was connected to the anchovy
pizza she ate just before bed. Maybe Colleen was right. Maybe anchovies were something
to be eaten only before five o’clock. She smiled at herself just as the cab pulled
in front of the museum. The two huge stone lions on the front steps reminded her of
the dream once again. She held back a shiver.
She paid the driver and just as she stepped from the cab she heard her name called
in a bright, female voice. Turning, she saw Colleen come down the steps toward her.
Sarah couldn’t believe what she saw. Colleen had Carlos in tow.
“Just what I need,” she thought, “after the dream I just had.” She waved as they approached.
“I hope it’s okay Sarah. Carlos has never been to an art museum. When he called in
this morning and I told him our plans for the day, he asked if he could come along.”
Colleen smiled. She looked very excited to be giving Carlos a day of culture. “I told
him I was sure you’d be glad to have him.”
Sarah rolled her eyes at thin air, controlling her true feelings. After a moment’s
hesitation, she replied, “Sure great. Let’s go inside.”
They climbed the steps, walking inside the marble reception area. “Admission is on
me.” Colleen got in the line where tickets were sold as Carlos and Sarah waited near
a huge marble pillar.
He slid his hand across the smooth, cool surface, looking directly at her. “I hope
you really mean that. I honestly haven’t ever been to an art museum. I can’t think
of anyone better than you and Colleen to be my guides.” He tilted his head and his
little boy grin won her over, reminding her he really didn’t have fangs.
“Okay. But if you want to leave before we’re ready, you’re on your
own.”
“You can be a hard case, Sarah.” He shook his head in mock disbelief.
“I have the admission taken care of. Now, where do you two want to go first?” Colleen
stepped between them, taking each one by the arm.
The trio spent the better part of the day moving from gallery to gallery. Carlos marveled
at the paintings and sculptures, but even more at the structure of the building.
“I’ve never been inside anything like this before but even so, there’s something about
it that is so familiar.” They were standing at the top of the stairs looking out over
the open second floor gallery. “Why don’t you two go on. I want to hang out here for
a while.” The space was open and bright, works of art lining the inner walls.
“Sure, we’ll just look at the things on this balcony. Then we can all go into the
outer galleries before the museum closes.” Colleen grabbed Sarah by the arm, leading
her away from Carlos.
“I could see you were pissed at first. Thanks so much, Sarah, for not letting him
know.” They stopped in front of a statue of a Greek warrior. It had a perfect face,
very similar to their companion. “I want him to go to school.” She shrugged. “I think
he’s interested.”
“School?” Sarah’s voice was questioning. “He’s no kid. What kind of school?”
“That’s the thing. He doesn’t know. He hasn’t been exposed to very much outside his
own culture.”
“Colleen, why do you have such an interest in this guy? You’re married now.”
Colleen swatted Sarah on the arm. “It isn’t that. He reminds me of me. And right now,
being able to help him, I remind me of Bob. If he hadn’t pulled me out of the gutter,
who knows where I’d be right now.” She looked embarrassed. “I’m just paying it forward.”
They moved along the upper gallery. “What about you, Sarah? Why are you so interested?”
She smiled a sly grin, gently nudging her friend with her elbow. “You aren’t married.”
“Leave it. I’m interested because he’s an incredible subject for regression. Has he
told you anything about it?”
“No, and neither have you. I’d sure like to know what goes on in those sessions. I’ve
seen a big change in him.”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” She laughed. “You know its client/therapist
information. He’s the only one who can tell you anything.” Sarah sighed to herself,
glad the crazy tale hadn’t become a part of his permanent parole record.
“And besides, I’m way too old for him.” The words slipped out before she could reel
them back.
Colleen stopped in her tracks. “What did you say?”
“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.” Sarah kept on walking.
Her friend reached for her arm, spinning her around to look her in the eye. “I’ve
seen the way he looks at you. I’m here to tell you it isn’t like you’re a woman who’s
too old for anything.”
“Yeah, well we’re client and therapist. Nothing more.” Sarah noticed they paused just
in front of a marble statue of Cupid. She looked the other way, quickly moving on.
#
“That museum was something else. I can see why people like to go there again and again.”
He slouched in the chair across from her desk. “Thanks for letting me tag along. I
could see you didn’t want me there, but I’m really grateful.”
The door to the office opened as Maggie poked her head into the room. “I’m out of
here. Tommy’s taking me to a play tonight. There’s a little theatre in Old Town doing
the original ‘Dracula” and I’ve never seen it.” She waved. “Later.” She closed the
door behind her.
“I guess we just can’t get away from it, can we?” His words formed
a question but his voice was a statement. “Do you want to knock me out now?”
She hesitated. “How about we just do talk therapy today?”
“No man, I want to do the regression. I want to know what the hell happens. This is
better than any movie I’ve ever seen and it’s all right here,” he pointed to his temple.
“In my head.”
He stood, “Come on, knock me out and here comes Aris.” Laughing, he moved to the recliner,
flopping down with a deep sigh. “Come on Sarah. Don’t stand in the way of my progress.”
#
CARLOS HAVARRO, transcript, session 11, May 7
The King honored my prowess and Lady Anne gave me her favor. I was invited that night
to a royal dinner. As I dressed for the occasion I wondered at the true miracle of
my being honored in two different royal courts. In spite of what I was, I enjoyed
being a royal favorite once again.
It was a feast that only King Henry could provide. Meats, more fish than Neptune himself
had in the sea, fowl dressed in every way. And puddings. And sauces. Again, beautiful
women with low gowns and long necks tempting me from every side.
I swallowed the disgusting human food that was as sawdust in my mouth, all the while
pretending to relish every bite. I drank the bitter wine, smiling in false gratitude
at the King. Before much time had passed, he leaned to speak to the Lady Anne. She
glanced at me before she nodded her approval.
I saw him raise his hand beckoning me. I rose and crossed the room to bow before him.
He motioned me to rise. He told me I was to join him for tennis the following morning.
I thanked his majesty and backed away from him wondering just what tennis might be.
A constant maid brought ale and lit my fire every morning. I waited in the chair by
the fireplace for her to shuffle noiselessly into my room at dawn. As she bent to
light the logs, I asked what she knew about the King
and the sport of tennis. My question was a game of chance and I was the winner. She
sat on the stool at the foot of my bed and told me all. She was a follower of sport
and loved to sneak into the rafters to watch the game. She and some of her fellow
servitors would meet there and wager on the outcome. She said she was often the winner.
She explained the rules and told of Henry’s weak and strong abilities. As I listened
with my vampire mind, I knew I could beat him at his own game. I had nothing to lose
by playing with him and everything to gain. I smiled at the chance to match the King.
I was first on the court in the morning, waiting for the rest of the players to arrive.
Soon the King came into sight surrounded by his gentlemen of the court. There were
no royal trumpets and no fanfare, simply a group of men delighted to share in active
sport came tumbling into the arena.
With my vampire eyes, I watched them play the early games. I knew I would be the finest
in the match and once again gain the recognition of the King. I had enjoyed the safety
of the favor of the Spanish emperor and I would relish the favor of this British King.
A man among men, he would only respect one who was equally as quick as he, yet no
quicker. He was proud and would not take to being beaten. With my supernatural skill,
I could match his every move until he would call our match a draw. As a man among
men, I knew this to be fact. Lady Anne waved her favor to me as I stepped onto the
court. My bow was low and flawless and I saw her smile at me as I rose.