The Portrait - PG-13
Posted: Wed Jan 21, 2009 3:09 am
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. But they’re welcome at my house anytime. Thanks to Trevor Munson and whoever else has a legal claim. No infringement intended.
Many thanks extended to Librarian_7 for her honest comments
Rating: PG -13
Words in italics are not spoken, rather heard in the mind.
Time: Fall 2007
Prior to Dr. Feelgood
Episode 3
The Portrait
It was just before dawn. Mick pulled the cuff of his jacket up enough too expose his wrist and the Gucci watch. The digital readout said 4:32. He had stalled to long and the night was slipping away. It had been raining for several days. Sheets of moisture were carried inland from the Pacific Ocean drenching the city and anyone foolish enough to venture outdoors. He was taking advantage of a break in the weather to complete an overdue errand. The driver’s door of the black SUV opened releasing him onto the gravel drive. He turned up his collar as protection against the wind and walked towards the mansion.
Mick entered through the ornate iron gates and ran down the stone walkway. The moss-covered lion on the crest looked down at him and seemed to sneer with a nasty grin. Mick resisted the temptation to snarl back, his fangs held in a grimace of distaste, the fog deadening his footsteps. He opened the front door and entered the house. This had been their home, a sanctuary purchased after they were married and after she had given him the ultimate gift of vampirism. It was a gift he neither wanted nor asked for.
The carved mahogany door closed with a soft thud. As he moved inward his feet scattered the dust in the long abandoned house. The house had a damp, closed feel. He turned to the right as he had hundreds of other times and stared up into her face. His eyes lingered over the details of her black hair, her dress clinging to the curve of the breasts and draping away from the long legs and red shoes. It was her eyes that shook him. They seemed to follow him as he moved toward her. Eyes that called to him in a primeval sense. He walked forward aware of a tingling in his groin that warned of an erection. Aw cut it out Mick, he thought. Good god this woman can’t still have the power to do this to me? He turned away and headed up the stairs to the bedroom they once shared. Moving to the closet, he opened the safe to retrieve the documents he needed. He wouldn’t have come at all, but Josef needed the stock certificates to finalize the sale. Mick wanted none of it. But it was his, or half his, depending on how you viewed the death of his wife. And the sale of the stocks would provide the community center with an income for a long time.
The room still smelled of her. How the hell could that be? But there it was. Her perfume, her soap, the odor of her body tantalized his nose. Decay hundreds of years old, not that humans could detect that, but he could. Blood too and probably semen. Well, lack of sex wasn’t the issue. God, I’ve got to stop thinking about sex when I’m in this house, he reminded himself. The safe opened on well-oiled hinges, and there on top was the leather pouch with the certificates. He tucked them into his jacket and closed the metal door. Out in the bedroom he hesitated, savoring the details of the room. Impenetrable, woven brocade drapes graced the windows blocking out the dreaded incoming light. Commanding attention in the center of the room was a massive bed. Tall carved corner posts of some exotic dark wood stretched to the ceiling. The surface was laden with chenille bedding and pillows, enough to provide the ultimate platform for whatever sexual fantasy Coraline fancied that night. No. No! But there were those thoughts again.
Mick shut his eyes, shaking with emotion and allowed his memory to slip back. He drifted, savoring recollections of a time long ago, of the two of them - long before she died. He was remembering when they couldn’t get enough of each other. So are you going to light this for me or am I going to have to wave it for effect? She had a marvelous voice, like spun silk drifting on an evening breeze. He pivoted on the ball of his foot, leaning towards her. Mick wasn’t sure if it was a low moan or a growl that escaped from his lips as his fangs extended. Flicking his lighter he lit the end of her cigarette with one smooth motion. Smoke curled upwards towards the ceiling. A smile pulled at the corners of her lips and his breath caught in his throat. Coraline never failed to make him stare. Light shimmered off her hair and played with her dress creating a fluid mix of skin and fabric. Her left hand found his shirt buttons and raked across his chest sending needles of pain and desire out in all directions.
Are you staying or going? Came the question he needed to hear.
Staying, he exhaled, oh God, staying. His hands found the tops of the garter belt holding her nylons in place. It was nighttime and a streetlight outside lit up the room with just enough illumination to create shadows. The scent of gardenias wafted through the room and he heard a new Billy Holiday tune playing from the huge radio sitting in the corner. The ice in her glass clinked as she finished off the whiskey. His mouth found hers and he enjoyed the mixture of smoke, liquor and blood. She must have fed recently. His body molding to hers, he was lost in her essence, scorched in his heat, his lips curling around hers. The room spun.
Mick, she whispered, coiling herself into the core of his body, My Mick.
His cell phone rang and the illusion vanished. The sound brought him back to the present with a rude jolt. It was Josef.
He coughed clearing his throat. “Yeaaaah?” He dragged his hand across his lips trying to wipe away any trace of Coraline. His fangs retracted, hidden now as his head cleared.
“Got ‘em?” Josef asked. He was Mick’s best friend and he was well aware of the perils that were encompassed in this task of retrieving the stocks.
“Yeah, I got ‘em.” Beads of sweat started to pool around his ears and on the back of his neck.
“Where are you?” The voice in the cell phone asked.
“I’m still in the house, just leaving.” he lied.
“Nooo…you’re drowning again. Get out of there and off memory lane before it sucks you back!” Josef snapped. He had an uncanny knack of pegging Mick’s emotions and he knew his friend’s inner thoughts better than anyone else. The cell phone clicked off. Josef didn’t need a reply.
Mick turned and fled the bedroom as quickly as he had entered. Thrusting his way into the corridor he turned and headed back towards the stairs heading to the main entry. He paused above the landing, blood hammering in his ears. Sweat trickled down between his shoulder blades and onto his back. His shirt was getting sticky in the heat. Down, down. His legs were pumping now as he reached the safety of the first floor, the pounding in his head still building. The roar ended with a release as he came into the light.
Streaks of early daylight filtered into the huge entry hall drifting through the dust covered second story windows. The tree limbs from outside cut a bizarre pattern on the walls and furniture. He stared upward at the painting. Coraline’s gaze caught his attention again. She was frozen in time by some gifted master, long since dead. Her malevolent violet colored eyes followed him. The heavy gold frame surrounding her portrait should have been darkened with age but somehow it hadn’t. It picked up the highlights in her eyes. Eyes that watched him. Laughed at him. Taunted his every movement since the day he killed her.
God this wasn’t my fault and yet it was. He could no more have controlled his actions then than he could now. He’d wanted her with every cell in his body. To possess her. Totally. And in the end it was she who possessed him. Coraline had found him, changed him into a monster, and set him on a course bouncing through history from which there was no going back.
Many thanks extended to Librarian_7 for her honest comments
Rating: PG -13
Words in italics are not spoken, rather heard in the mind.
Time: Fall 2007
Prior to Dr. Feelgood
Episode 3
The Portrait
It was just before dawn. Mick pulled the cuff of his jacket up enough too expose his wrist and the Gucci watch. The digital readout said 4:32. He had stalled to long and the night was slipping away. It had been raining for several days. Sheets of moisture were carried inland from the Pacific Ocean drenching the city and anyone foolish enough to venture outdoors. He was taking advantage of a break in the weather to complete an overdue errand. The driver’s door of the black SUV opened releasing him onto the gravel drive. He turned up his collar as protection against the wind and walked towards the mansion.
Mick entered through the ornate iron gates and ran down the stone walkway. The moss-covered lion on the crest looked down at him and seemed to sneer with a nasty grin. Mick resisted the temptation to snarl back, his fangs held in a grimace of distaste, the fog deadening his footsteps. He opened the front door and entered the house. This had been their home, a sanctuary purchased after they were married and after she had given him the ultimate gift of vampirism. It was a gift he neither wanted nor asked for.
The carved mahogany door closed with a soft thud. As he moved inward his feet scattered the dust in the long abandoned house. The house had a damp, closed feel. He turned to the right as he had hundreds of other times and stared up into her face. His eyes lingered over the details of her black hair, her dress clinging to the curve of the breasts and draping away from the long legs and red shoes. It was her eyes that shook him. They seemed to follow him as he moved toward her. Eyes that called to him in a primeval sense. He walked forward aware of a tingling in his groin that warned of an erection. Aw cut it out Mick, he thought. Good god this woman can’t still have the power to do this to me? He turned away and headed up the stairs to the bedroom they once shared. Moving to the closet, he opened the safe to retrieve the documents he needed. He wouldn’t have come at all, but Josef needed the stock certificates to finalize the sale. Mick wanted none of it. But it was his, or half his, depending on how you viewed the death of his wife. And the sale of the stocks would provide the community center with an income for a long time.
The room still smelled of her. How the hell could that be? But there it was. Her perfume, her soap, the odor of her body tantalized his nose. Decay hundreds of years old, not that humans could detect that, but he could. Blood too and probably semen. Well, lack of sex wasn’t the issue. God, I’ve got to stop thinking about sex when I’m in this house, he reminded himself. The safe opened on well-oiled hinges, and there on top was the leather pouch with the certificates. He tucked them into his jacket and closed the metal door. Out in the bedroom he hesitated, savoring the details of the room. Impenetrable, woven brocade drapes graced the windows blocking out the dreaded incoming light. Commanding attention in the center of the room was a massive bed. Tall carved corner posts of some exotic dark wood stretched to the ceiling. The surface was laden with chenille bedding and pillows, enough to provide the ultimate platform for whatever sexual fantasy Coraline fancied that night. No. No! But there were those thoughts again.
Mick shut his eyes, shaking with emotion and allowed his memory to slip back. He drifted, savoring recollections of a time long ago, of the two of them - long before she died. He was remembering when they couldn’t get enough of each other. So are you going to light this for me or am I going to have to wave it for effect? She had a marvelous voice, like spun silk drifting on an evening breeze. He pivoted on the ball of his foot, leaning towards her. Mick wasn’t sure if it was a low moan or a growl that escaped from his lips as his fangs extended. Flicking his lighter he lit the end of her cigarette with one smooth motion. Smoke curled upwards towards the ceiling. A smile pulled at the corners of her lips and his breath caught in his throat. Coraline never failed to make him stare. Light shimmered off her hair and played with her dress creating a fluid mix of skin and fabric. Her left hand found his shirt buttons and raked across his chest sending needles of pain and desire out in all directions.
Are you staying or going? Came the question he needed to hear.
Staying, he exhaled, oh God, staying. His hands found the tops of the garter belt holding her nylons in place. It was nighttime and a streetlight outside lit up the room with just enough illumination to create shadows. The scent of gardenias wafted through the room and he heard a new Billy Holiday tune playing from the huge radio sitting in the corner. The ice in her glass clinked as she finished off the whiskey. His mouth found hers and he enjoyed the mixture of smoke, liquor and blood. She must have fed recently. His body molding to hers, he was lost in her essence, scorched in his heat, his lips curling around hers. The room spun.
Mick, she whispered, coiling herself into the core of his body, My Mick.
His cell phone rang and the illusion vanished. The sound brought him back to the present with a rude jolt. It was Josef.
He coughed clearing his throat. “Yeaaaah?” He dragged his hand across his lips trying to wipe away any trace of Coraline. His fangs retracted, hidden now as his head cleared.
“Got ‘em?” Josef asked. He was Mick’s best friend and he was well aware of the perils that were encompassed in this task of retrieving the stocks.
“Yeah, I got ‘em.” Beads of sweat started to pool around his ears and on the back of his neck.
“Where are you?” The voice in the cell phone asked.
“I’m still in the house, just leaving.” he lied.
“Nooo…you’re drowning again. Get out of there and off memory lane before it sucks you back!” Josef snapped. He had an uncanny knack of pegging Mick’s emotions and he knew his friend’s inner thoughts better than anyone else. The cell phone clicked off. Josef didn’t need a reply.
Mick turned and fled the bedroom as quickly as he had entered. Thrusting his way into the corridor he turned and headed back towards the stairs heading to the main entry. He paused above the landing, blood hammering in his ears. Sweat trickled down between his shoulder blades and onto his back. His shirt was getting sticky in the heat. Down, down. His legs were pumping now as he reached the safety of the first floor, the pounding in his head still building. The roar ended with a release as he came into the light.
Streaks of early daylight filtered into the huge entry hall drifting through the dust covered second story windows. The tree limbs from outside cut a bizarre pattern on the walls and furniture. He stared upward at the painting. Coraline’s gaze caught his attention again. She was frozen in time by some gifted master, long since dead. Her malevolent violet colored eyes followed him. The heavy gold frame surrounding her portrait should have been darkened with age but somehow it hadn’t. It picked up the highlights in her eyes. Eyes that watched him. Laughed at him. Taunted his every movement since the day he killed her.
God this wasn’t my fault and yet it was. He could no more have controlled his actions then than he could now. He’d wanted her with every cell in his body. To possess her. Totally. And in the end it was she who possessed him. Coraline had found him, changed him into a monster, and set him on a course bouncing through history from which there was no going back.