La Posada --Chapter 2 --PG-13

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librarian_7
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La Posada --Chapter 2 --PG-13

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Disclaimer: I don't own Josef. He thinks he owns freshie Lucky, but I do.

La Posada

Chapter 2

Lucky looked around at the room that was going to be her home for at least the next month, desperately wanting to be able to find fault with something. Anything. Unfortunately, the room—suite, really—was perfect. Charming. The flowing organic lines of the adobe architecture were complemented by the bold colors of the handwoven Navajo bedspread and wall hangings. The sitting area was furnished in rustic Santa Fe style, couch and easy chairs crafted from aspen logs facing the adobe fireplace and the bright blue-framed French doors leading to her private terrace.

The large bathroom was decorated with bright Mexican tile, fanciful patterns in blue and yellow and green, but if the decorations were old-fashioned, the fixtures were modern, obviously quite recently updated. The shower featured multiple heads, and the separate tub was a luxuriously large Jacuzzi.

Even the view from the windows and terrace was spectacular, the nearby ghostly aspen giving way to blue Spruce, Douglas fir, and Ponderosa pine on the mountain slopes sweeping up to a brilliant azure sky.

Lucky sighed a little, think she could hang up the few clothes she’d brought in the spacious closet later. For right now, she wanted to sit down in one of the easy chairs, stare off into space and be quietly miserable. Well, at least from what she’d been told, that was expected here. She couldn’t help going over the past few hours, the blur of her journey.

She’d followed Josef’s instructions, and packed only for a few days. His email had specified that she should use her credit cards to cover any deficiencies in her wardrobe or any other needs. “Though if I know you, doll,” he’d written, “the biggest part of the bill will be from Amazon.com.”

The private jet had left her and her scant luggage at a small airport outside, she later learned, Durango Colorado, where she’d been immediately, and deferentially, shown to a small lounge discreetly labeled “La Posada,” and invited to partake of refreshments while they waited for the arrival of one more guest.

The lounge already had one occupant, a very handsome young man with an altogether enviable mane of golden hair, and who threw her a sultry look before introducing himself as “Sam.” He had a very fresh set of dainty fang wounds on the wrist of the hand he extended to her, and Lucky found herself unconsciously turning her inner wrist so that her own marks were visible.

When the third guest arrived, a beautiful brunette who pointedly ignored the other two freshies, the lounge attendant ushered all of them to a waiting Land Rover. The brunette flounced ahead, claiming the front passenger seat, while Lucky and Sam followed.

“Diva,” Sam murmured to Lucky, with an eye roll at the brunette’s back. “She must think her vamp is really hot stuff.”

Lucky smiled, but made no reply as she climbed into the vehicle. Every second was taking her deeper into unknown territory, and she wasn’t sure how she would endure this for a month or more. Being in the middle of a pile of freshie politics and maneuvering for position, without the benefit of any vamps around to be amused by it, was depressing. As the Land Rover rolled over smooth roads through the small city and beyond, into the mountains, she tried to steady herself with deep breaths. Trust, she told herself. It was all about trust. She had to trust Josef to do what was best for her—for them. And that shouldn’t be so hard for her. After all, Josef had trusted her repeatedly, with his secrets, with his sustenance. He had said, he trusted her with keeping him in contact with humanity. And although she knew she was only one of many feeding him, he always made it seem like she was special. Probably he did that for them all. It seemed to be a talent he’d acquired over the centuries.

The mountains were increasingly imposing, and Lucky tried to concentrate on the scenery, but it was hard, as though every mile intensified the physical ache of separation from her vampire. She wondered if the other two freshies were feeling the same way. Both of them seemed pale, abstracted. Even Sam’s jaunty grin had faded, and his face looked strained. She caught him glancing down at his wrist, fingering the wounds there. Lost in thought, she barely noticed when the Land Rover slowed and turned into an unmarked gate almost hidden in the woods.

The road grew steeper, rougher, winding back on itself as it climbed until they emerged into a high, open valley flanked by forest. At one end, next to a stony-bedded stream that meandered through the valley, a complex of adobe buildings sprawled, looking so natural in the setting that it almost seemed as though they had sprung from the earth without human interference.

When they rolled to a stop before the main gate, Lucky saw three figures awaiting them, two women and a man, all middle-aged and dressed in casual Southwestern style, the man in jeans and a western shirt, the women in flowing skirts and tunics belted at the hip with showy conchos.

The driver and the other man handed out Lucky and the brunette, treating them like spun glass, Lucky thought.

One of the women, an attractive ash blonde in her late forties, stepped forward slightly. “Welcome,” she said formally, “welcome to La Posada de la Sangre del Noche.” Smiling warmly at Lucky, even as the other woman approached the brunette, and the man held out a hand to Sam, she said, “Please come inside, Ms. Alexander. You must be exhausted from your journey.”

Lucky nodded, and as she began to walk up the steps, to her embarrassment, she stumbled slightly. Instantly, the woman was by her side, slipping an arm around her waist to steady the freshie. Lucky flinched away.

“I—I don’t like to be touched by strangers,” she stammered. “I’m all right.”

The woman nodded, but stayed in place. “Of course you are. It’s probably the altitude.” She paused. “Humor me, and let me assist you. Your patron would be very unhappy if I allowed you to injure yourself on the front steps of the posada.”

At that, Lucky drew herself up. She would not disgrace herself—or, more importantly, Josef—with this display of weakness. Still, she allowed herself to be led forward into the cool shadows of the lobby of the posada, then into a small sunny office and seated in an easy chair.

The woman paused to pick up a phone on her desk. “Yes,” she said, “I could use—“ and she glanced at Lucky, “—a pot of hot tea, and some of the beef broth.” Setting down the receiver, she turned her attention back to Lucky. “Now then,” she continued, “I’m afraid I’ve been remiss in not introducing myself, Ms. Alexander. My name is Marla, and I’ll be your personal hostess while you’’re here.”

“It’s Lucky,” she replied. “Please call me Lucky.”

Marla frowned slightly. “If that’s your preference, of course, although we find that a little more formality can be beneficial, especially at first.”

She shook her head. “Josef calls me Lucky. That’s good enough.” Her voice shook a little more than she’d thought it would, and she twisted her hands together in her lap.

Marla came around her desk and knelt fluidly in front of Lucky, laying her hand on the young woman’s arm. Her eyes were filled with warm sympathy, had Lucky noticed,. “Believe me,” she said, “I do understand what you’re feeling. I remember the first time I came here. I felt absolutely bereft. But my patron sent me here to rest and recover, just as yours has.”
Lucky shot her a sharp look as the words sank in. “You mean you—?”

Marla nodded. “Of course. Who better to staff a retreat for freshies than retired ones?”

That statement was enough to pull Lucky out of her self-absorbed misery at least for a little while. “I’d think it would be too painful,” she said. “The memories…”

“It’s hard, sometimes.” There was a hint of gentle melancholy in her tone, and Lucky did notice that.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not like this usually. I’m just so tired, and—and—“ she trailed off, unsure how to finish.

Marla patted her arm again. She seemed about to speak when there was a quiet knock at the door, and instead, she rose to admit a uniformed waitress bearing a tray. In short order Lucky found a large mug of savory, rich beef broth steaming in her hand, and a cup of strong, milky tea on the side table next to her.

“All right,” Marla smiled, “now that we’ve got you settled, I need to explain a few things about the Posada.”

“I think I have some questions already.”

“Mr. Kostan warned us that you were the inquisitive type.” She paused. “He was adamant that the arrangements for you were just so. You have to understand,” she continued, “that all our guests here are highly prized by their patrons. This place is a little too expensive to send casual freshies. So everyone here is valued.”

Lucky smiled to herself, knowing that whatever it cost was likely chump change to Josef. Not that she ever talked finance with him. She sipped at her broth.

“And you are a guest here,” Marla went on. “We try to keep the rules and routines to a minimum. For example, you may wish to have some meals delivered to your room, or you may join the others in the dining room. We do request that you make an effort to eat regularly, and if you can bring yourself to follow the dietician’s recommendations, that would be lovely.”

“Let me guess, you have my medical records already.”

“Of course.”

“Thought so. Look, I don’t intend to be difficult. Josef wants me to get well.”

“That’s the spirit, dear,” Marla said. “One thing, however. We much prefer for our guests to refer to their patrons either as, well, ‘my patron,’ or respectfully as, say, ‘Mr. Kostan.’ Now I realize that you and Mr. Kostan seem to be unusually close—“
“He’s like that with all of us,” Lucky interrupted. “Josef—Mr. Kostan—treats all his freshies very well. There are no favorites.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure that’s the case. I was only leading up to the fact that not all of the vampires are so casual about their names being used in public, and we strive to honor their wishes. You understand—it’s long been a tradition here.”

Lucky narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “How long has this place been in operation?”

Marla smiled. “1931. Mr. Kostan was one of the original investors, you know. He had the vision to understand that the establishments in the eastern part of country were not going to be convenient for the West-coast based vampires.”

“There are other places like this?”

“Oh, yes. The one near Saratoga Springs is well over 150 years old. Of course, some of the European retreats date back far longer.” She smiled knowingly. “As I understand it, not every convent and monastery on the Continent is necessarily a religious establishment.”

Lucky actually smiled back at that. “Think what an historian could do with all that.” Noting the sudden shadow on Marla’s face, she added quickly, “I’m not an historian. Do you think I’d ever do anything to put Jo—Mr. Kostan—at risk of exposure?”

Marla stared at her intently for several seconds before replying. “No. No, I don’t suppose you would. Your patron is very fortunate in you, Lucky.” She shook her head, as though to remove fanciful thoughts. “Broth all gone? Good. Start on the chai, please. We have more mundane matters to discuss.”

Lucky obediently set aside her empty mug of broth, which she barely remembered drinking, and picked up the hot milky tea. She could taste an unfamiliar mix of spices in it, not unpleasant, but definitely exotic. It was very relaxing, somehow, and she wondered what the spices masked. Then again, they’d hardly drug her. The taste of chemicals showed up so plainly in the blood, Josef always maintained. He’d avoid a freshie for days, just for taking a couple of aspirin.

“Now then,” Marla was saying when Lucky forced her attention back to the present. “Please give me your cell phone.”

“But I need it,” Lucky protested. “Mr. Kostan promised to call me.”

“Yes, and I’m sure he will,” Marla replied. “On this.” She held out a phone with no keypad. “He already has the number.”

Lucky reluctantly traded her iphone for the odd-looking instrument, frowning. “So we’re not allowed to call our—patrons? That seems harsh.”
Marla shrugged. “It was their idea. Too many weepy calls from lovelorn freshies. This way, you have something to look forward to.”

“What about internet? E-mail? IM?”

“There is a terminal in your room. You can use it for typing, games, that sort of thing anytime. And it will connect to the web two hours every day. I believe most of our guests like to have their emails written and ready to send in advance.”

“I’m sure. But Josef told me I could email him anytime.”

“Possibly he doesn’t know the current policy. It’s been, oh, twenty-three years since we last had a guest under his patronage.”

Lucky smiled wanly, and sipped her tea. She wasn’t sure whether that would have been due to a lack of concern on his part, or a lack of necessity. “As I said, he takes very good care of us. And exercises great self-control.”

“So it would seem,” was the dry response.

“This all—it seems like some over-elaborate fantasy. Are you sure it isn’t all a dream?”

Marla laughed. “Quite sure, Lucky. But I think it is time to show you your room. You’ll want to rest and freshen up before dinner.” Then she smiled impishly, and Lucky began to find her quite likeable. “I believe you’ll be pleased,”

And of course she had been. Even the closet was huge, with enough room for her entire wardrobe, had she brought it. As it was, it would take all of two minutes to unpack. Hang a few clothes, put a little lingerie in the chest of drawers, arrange her toiletries artistically on the bathroom counter. Then she’d be right back to staring out the window, feeling alone.

She was just wondering about picking up the house phone—another instrument with no keypad, only 4 buttons (hostess, room service, housekeeping, and emergency)—and asking Marla if this oh-so-luxurious prison had a library, when it rang.

“Ms. Alexander?” Marla said. “Lucky? There are some deliveries for you, if it wouldn’t disturb you.”

“Not at all.”

“We’ll be right there, then.”

The deliveries turned out to be three packages, one quite small, and a large bouquet of irises. Marla herself carried the flowers, frowning judiciously as she decided where best to place them in the main part of the room. Finally, she set the vase down on the low hearth, stepping back to regard them.

“Your patron has excellent taste,” she said. “Nine out of ten would have sent blood-red roses. Nothing wrong with roses, but it is rather predictable.” She gave some small signal, and the staff member carrying the other packages set them down on the table and disappeated. Marla looked at Lucky, expectantly. “Are you going to open your packages?” she asked.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer privacy,” Lucky replied. “Since these are all rather obviously from my patron, I hardly think it likely they’d contain any dangerous contraband. Do you?”

Marla’s expression remained calm and friendly, no doubt, Lucky thought, the result of years of dealing with sulky, homesick freshies. “No, of course not,” she said. “But perhaps you’ll allow me to assist you with the packing tape?”

She pulled a small penknife from her skirt pocket, slicing expertly down the seams of the boxes. “Enjoy your surprises.” She turned to go, then swung back. “I almost forgot—there’s an envelope, too.” She produced a squarish cream envelope, again from a capacious pocket, and handed it to Lucky.

Once alone, the freshie was unsure where to start. She wanted to savor everything, holding close to any connection, however tenuous, to her vampire.

First she went to the flowers, looking for a card. When she located it, she held it for a moment before opening it. There was no signature, and the message was only two words. “Never forgotten.”

Next she turned to the box from Amazon.com. As she suspected, it held a dozen books from her wishlist, and she smiled at Josef’s thoughtfulness. He knew all too well that she’d be craving reading material second only to his presence.

The biggest box contained half a dozen satin nighties, in the jewel tones she loved. Emerald, sapphire, topaz, amethyst, garnet, and aquamarine. She longed to slip one on immediately, but decided to wait until later in the evening.

The last box, the small one, held a flat red velvet jewel case, and before she opened it, she decided she’d better look at his letter.

The heavy paper crinkled in her hands as she pulled it out of the envelope. She felt comforted at the sight of his strong, sloppy handwriting. He rarely wrote by hand, preferring to type, and she had to take this as a sign of special consideration. Besides, just deciphering one of his notes, she thought, could profitably pass a good amount of time.

Lucky—

Hope this finds you settling in, doll. I hear it’s a nice place, and if anything doesn’t suit you, let me know.

I thought you’d need a few books to tide you over until you could get more in.

And about the nighties, babe, just because you’re in the mountains doesn’t mean you get to sleep in flannel. If you get cold, throw another blanket on the bed. When I think about you at three o’clock in the morning, I want to know that you’re in satin. The way you should be.

That other item—if you haven’t opened it yet, open it now, Lucky.

She set aside the letter, and opened the flat jewel case, stroking the red velvet as she did so. And caught her breath at the sight. It was a long gold chain she suspected was less delicate than it first appeared, interrupted every three inches or so by a small, heart-shaped ruby, and she unconsciously touched the similar one that hung at her throat. But this seemed far too long for a necklace. She looked again at the note, turning over the page.

This one is between you and me, Luck. I wish I could be there to hang it around your sleek hips myself, but as I’m not, you’ll have to take the thought for the deed. I expect no one else to see this. If you decide to wear something that won’t hide it, either take it off or change your outfit. Understand? And when you feel it against your skin, know that it means you belong to me, and we both know it.

The Casa seems a little emptier without you.

Josef

Lucky took the jewel box into the bathroom, and shed her clothing, tossing it into an untidy heap in the corner. Then, standing before the full length mirror, she fastened the slender chain around her hips, and stood looking at her reflection, rubies at her throat and hips twinkling in the artificial light.

They were almost as bright as the diamond sparkle of the tears running down her pale cheeks.
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maggatha3
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Re: La Posada --Chapter 2 --PG-13

Post by maggatha3 »

:clapping: That was lovely! Lucky is a very interesting woman, not the ''usual'' freshie, I suppose...And she gets treated specially, I don't really know that Josef treats all his girls the same , as she says..

A real letter from Josef in his handwriting :thud: and a meaningful gift :happysigh: ! And oh, he does know her so well!
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Re: La Posada --Chapter 2 --PG-13

Post by darkstarrising »

The pain of Lucky's separation from Josef is palpable and Marla understands that pain, having once felt it herself. But, as Lucky so aptly points out, who better to understand the feelings of a freshie than a retired freshie?

Marla's 'rules', at first seem odd, but once she explains the logic behind them, Lucky understands. Lucky would never do anything to embarrass or disappoint Josef. Lucky hates the separation, but realizes that the sooner she recovers, the sooner she'll return to Josef.

The gifts...irises instead of roses...Josef never does anything predictable. The books he knows will help his favorite freshie through the separation, a clear sign of just how much Josef understands Lucky. The nighties, well, I just had to chuckle at this, but it's Josef's way of telling Lucky she'll never be far from his thoughts:
And about the nighties, babe, just because you’re in the mountains doesn’t mean you get to sleep in flannel. If you get cold, throw another blanket on the bed. When I think about you at three o’clock in the morning, I want to know that you’re in satin. The way you should be.
As for the jewelry, a unique gift, one not to be shared with anyone, and one that lets Lucky know just how special she is:
And when you feel it against your skin, know that it means you belong to me, and we both know it.
The tears running down Lucky's cheeks are bittersweet; she knows now just how much Josef cares for her, making their separation all the more painful.

Lovely, just lovely :hug:
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Re: La Posada --Chapter 2 --PG-13

Post by Lilly »

Well, Marla seems nice. :blinksmile: :whistle:

But I get ahead of myself… :batseyes: Again, Lucky, I find myself commenting on the structure of your story. A lesser storyteller would have just continued chronologically, starting at the beginning of Freshie Lucky’s journey. Instead, you chose to begin the chapter with her already in her room at La Posada, immersing us in the rich décor and the beautiful, almost surreal, natural environment outside her window. We immediately feel her isolation and are anchored there with her, both physically and emotionally. Then, you take us back to the start of her journey and to her introduction to this unusual “resort.” Very effective. :notworthy:
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