“I used to do this for my sister, Sarah,” he murmured quietly, as if he knew how peaceful I’d gotten and was trying not to break my mood. “She had hair darker than yours, even longer. She’d never cut it. When we were children, and my mother was busy, she’d have me work on Sarah’s hair.”
“Was Sarah younger than you, or older?” I asked in a slow, drugged voice.
“She was younger. She was three years younger.”
“Did you have other brothers or sisters?”
“My mother lost two in childbirth,” he said slowly, as if he could barely remember. “I lost my brother, Robert, when he was twelve and I was eleven. He caught a fever, and it killed him. Now they would pump him full of penicillin, and he would be all right. But they couldn’t then. Sarah survived the war, she and my mother, though my father died while I was soldiering; he had what I’ve learned since was a stroke. My wife was living with my family then, and my children . . .”
“Oh, Bill,” I said sadly, almost in a whisper, for he had lost so much.
“Don’t, Sookie,” he said, and his voice had regained its cold clarity.
He worked on in silence for a while, until I could tell the comb was running free through my hair. He picked up the white towel I’d tossed on the arm of the couch and began to pat my hair dry, and as it dried he ran his fingers through it to give it body.
“Mmmm,” I said, and as I heard it, it was no longer the sound of someone being soothed.
I could feel his cool fingers lifting the hair away from my neck and then I felt his mouth just at the nape. I couldn’t speak or move. I exhaled slowly, trying not to make another sound. His lips moved to my ear, and he caught the lobe of it between his teeth. Then his tongue darted in. His arms came around me, crossing over my chest, pulling me back against him.
And for a miracle I only heard what his body was saying, not those niggling things from minds that only foul up moments like this. His body was saying something very simple.
He lifted me as easily as I’d rotate an infant. He turned me so I was facing him on his lap, my legs on either side of his. I put my arms around him and bent a little to kiss him. It went on and on, but after a while Bill settled into a rhythm with his tongue, a rhythm even someone as inexperienced as I could identify. The nightshirt slid up to the tops of my thighs. My hands began to rub his arms helplessly. Strangely, I thought of a pan of caramels my grandmother had put on the stove for a candy recipe, and I thought of the melted, warm sweet goldenness of them.
He stood up with me still wrapped around him. “Where?” he asked.
And I pointed to my grandmother’s former room. He carried me in as we were, my legs locked around him, my head on his shoulder, and he lay me on the clean bed. He stood by the bed and in the moonlight coming in the unshaded windows, I saw him undress, quickly and neatly. Though I was getting great pleasure from watching him, I knew I had to do the same; but still a little embarrassed, I just drew off the nightshirt and tossed it onto the floor.
I stared at him. I’d never seen anything so beautiful or so scary in my life.
“Oh, Bill,” I said anxiously, when he was beside me in the bed, “I don’t want to disappoint you.”
“That’s not possible,” he whispered. His eyes looked at my body as if it were a drink of water on a desert dune.
“I don’t know much,” I confessed, my voice barely audible.
“Don’t worry. I know a lot.” His hands began drifting over me, touching me in places I’d never been touched. I jerked with surprise, then opened myself to him.
“Will this be different from doing it with a regular guy?” I asked.
“Oh, yes.”
I looked up at him questioningly.
“It’ll be better,” he said in my ear, and I felt a twinge of pure excitement.
A little shyly, I reached down to touch him, and he made a very human sound. After a moment, the sound became deeper.
“Now?” I asked, my voice ragged and shaking.
“Oh, yes,” he said, and then he was on top of me.
A moment later he found out the true extent of my inexperience.
“You should have told me,” he said, but very gently. He held himself still with an almost palpable effort.
“Oh, please don’t stop!” I begged, thinking that the top would fly off my head, something drastic would happen, if he didn’t go on with it.
“I have no intention of stopping,” he promised a little grimly. “Sookie . . . this will hurt.”
In answer, I raised myself. He made an incoherent noise and pushed into me.
I held my breath. I bit my lip. Ow, ow, ow.
“Darling,” Bill said. No one had ever called me that. “How are you?” Vampire or not, he was trembling with the effort of holding back.
“Okay,” I said inadequately. I was over the sting, and I’d lose my courage if we didn’t proceed. “Now,” I said, and I bit him hard on the shoulder.
He gasped, and jerked, and he began moving in earnest. At first I was dazed, but I began to catch on and keep up. He found my response very exciting, and I began to feel that something was just around the corner, so to speak—something very big and good. I said, “Oh, please, Bill, please!” and dug my nails in his hips, almost there, almost there, and then a small shift in our alignment allowed him to press even more directly against me and almost before I could gather myself I was flying, flying, seeing white with gold streaks. I felt Bill’s teeth against my neck, and I said, “Yes!” I felt his fangs penetrate, but it was a small pain, an exciting pain, and as he came inside me I felt him draw on the little wound.
We lay there for a long time, from time to time trembling with little aftershocks. I would never forget his taste and smell as long as I lived, I would never forget the feel of him inside me this first time—my first time, ever—I would never forget the pleasure.
Finally Bill moved to lie beside me, propped on one elbow, and he put his hand over my stomach.
“I am the first.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Sookie.” He bent to kiss me, his lips tracing the line of my throat.
“You could tell I don’t know much,” I said shyly. “But was that all right for you? I mean, about on a par with other women at least? I’ll get better.”
“You can get more skilled, Sookie, but you can’t get any better.” He kissed me on the cheek. “You’re wonderful.”
“Will I be sore?”
“I know you’ll think this is odd, but I don’t remember. The only virgin I was ever with was my wife, and that was a century and a half ago . . . yes, I recall, you will be very sore. We won’t be able to make love again, for a day or two.”
“Your blood heals,” I observed after a little pause, feeling my cheeks redden.
In the moonlight, I could see him shift, to look at me more directly. “So it does,” he said. “Would you like that?”
“Sure. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” he breathed, and bit his own arm.
It was so sudden that I cried out, but he casually rubbed a finger in his own blood, and then before I could tense up he slid that finger up inside me. He began moving it very gently, and in a moment, sure enough, the pain was gone.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’m better now.”
But he didn’t remove his finger.
“Oh,” I said. “Would you like to do it again so soon? Can you do that?” And as his finger kept up its motion, I began to hope so.
“Look and see,” he offered, a hint of amusement in his sweet dark voice.
I whispered, hardly recognizing myself, “Tell me what you want me to do.”
And he did.
I
WENT BACK to work the next day. No matter what Bill’s healing powers were, I was a little uncomfortable, but boy, did I feel powerful. It was a totally new feeling for me. It was hard not to feel—well, cocky is surely the wrong word—maybe incredibly smug is closer.
Of course, there were the same old problems at the bar—the cacophony of voices, the buzzing of them, the persistence. But somehow I seemed better able to tone them down, to tamp them into a pocket. It was easier to keep my guard up, and I felt consequently more relaxed. Or maybe since I was more relaxed—boy, was I more relaxed—it was easier to guard? I don’t know. But I felt better, and I was able to accept the condolences of the patrons with calm instead of tears.
Jason came in at lunch and had a couple of beers with his hamburger, which wasn’t his normal regimen. He usually didn’t drink during the work day. I knew he’d get mad if I said anything directly, so I just asked him if everything was okay.
“The chief had me in again today,” he said in a low voice. He looked around to make sure no one else was listening, but the bar was sparsely filled that day since the Rotary Club was meeting at the Community Building.
“What is he asking you?” My voice was equally low.
“How often I’d seen Maudette, did I always get my gas at the place she worked. . . . Over and over and over, like I hadn’t answered those questions seventy-five times. My boss is at the end of his patience, Sookie, and I don’t blame him. I been gone from work at least two days, maybe three, with all the trips I been making down to the police station.”
“Maybe you better get a lawyer,” I said uneasily.
“That’s what Rene said.”
Then Rene Lenier and I saw eye to eye.
“What about Sid Matt Lancaster?” Sidney Matthew Lancaster, native son and a whiskey sour drinker, had the reputation of being the most aggressive trial lawyer in the parish. I liked him because he always treated me with respect when I served him in the bar.
“He might be my best bet.” Jason looked as petulant and grim as a lovely person can. We exchanged a glance. We both knew Gran’s lawyer was too old to handle the case if Jason was ever, God forbid, arrested.
Jason was far too self-absorbed to notice anything different about me, but I’d worn a white golf shirt (instead of my usual round-necked T-shirt) for the protection of its collar. Arlene was not as unaware as my brother. She’d been eyeing me all morning, and by the time the three o’clock lull hit, she was pretty sure she’d got me figured out.
“Girl,” she said, “you been having fun?”
I turned red as a beet. “Having fun” made my relationship with Bill lighter than it was, but it was accurate as far as it went. I didn’t know whether to take the high road and say, “No, making love,” or keep my mouth shut, or tell Arlene it was none of her business, or just shout, “Yes!”
“Oh, Sookie, who is the man?”
Uh-oh. “Um, well, he’s not . . .”
“Not local? You dating one of those servicemen from Bossier City?”
“No,” I said hesitantly.
“Sam? I’ve seen him looking at you.”
“No.”
“Who, then?”
I was acting like I was ashamed. Straighten your spine, Sookie Stackhouse, I told myself sternly. Pay the piper.
“Bill,” I said, hoping against hope that she’d just say, “Oh, yeah.”
“Bill,” Arlene said blankly. I noticed Sam had drifted up and was listening. So was Charlsie Tooten. Even Lafayette stuck his head through the hatch.
“Bill,” I said, trying to sound firm. “You know. Bill.”
“Bill Auberjunois?”
“No.”
“Bill . . . ?”
“Bill Compton,” Sam said flatly, just as I opened my mouth to say the same thing. “Vampire Bill.”
Arlene was flabbergasted, Charlsie Tooten immediately gave a little shriek, and Lafayette about dropped his bottom jaw.
“Honey, couldn’t you just date a regular human fella?” Arlene asked when she got her voice back.
“A regular human fella didn’t ask me out.” I could feel the color fix in my cheeks. I stood there with my back straight, feeling defiant and looking it, I’m sure.
“But, sweetie,” Charlsie Tooten fluted in her babyish voice, “honey . . . Bill’s, ah, got that virus.”
“I know that,” I said, hearing the distinct edge in my voice.
“I thought you were going to say you were dating a black, but you’ve gone one better, ain’t you, girl?” Lafayette said, picking at his fingernail polish.
Sam didn’t say anything. He just stood leaning against the bar, and there was a white line around his mouth as if he were biting his cheek inside.
I stared at them all in turn, forcing them to either swallow this or spit it out.
Arlene got through it first. “All right, then. He better treat you good, or we’ll get our stakes out!”
They were all able to laugh at that, albeit weakly.
“And you’ll save a lot on groceries!” Lafayette pointed out.
But then in one step Sam ruined it all, that tentative acceptance, by suddenly moving to stand beside me and pull the collar of my shirt down.
You could have cut the silence of my friends with a knife.
“Oh, shit,” Lafayette said, very softly.
I looked right into Sam’s eyes, thinking I’d never forgive him for doing this to me.
“Don’t you touch my clothes,” I told him, stepping away from him and pulling the collar back straight. “Don’t tend to my personal life.”
“I’m scared for you, I’m worried about you,” he said, as Arlene and Charlsie hastily found other things to do.
“No you’re not, or not entirely. You’re mad as hell. Well listen, buddy. You
never got in line
.”
And I stalked away to wipe down the formica on one of the tables. Then I collected all the salt shakers and refilled them. Then I checked the pepper shakers and the bottles of hot peppers on each table and booth, the Tabasco sauce, too. I just kept working and kept my eyes in front of me, and gradually, the atmosphere cooled down.
Sam was back in his office doing paperwork or something, I didn’t care what, as long as he kept his opinions to himself. I still felt like he’d ripped the curtain off a private area of my life when he’d exposed my neck, and I hadn’t forgiven him. But Arlene and Charlsie had found make-work, as I’d done, and by the time the after-work crowd began trickling in, we were once again fairly comfortable with one another.