Number three or was it her fourth scotch by now? She wasn’t sure. She’d been sitting at the bar since she got there nursing one drink after another and doing the worst thing she could do…thinking. It was three weeks since her mother died, her funeral had long gone and Crista hadn’t been there. She refused to go despite her father’s pleas. Her sorrow had turned to hate several days after she found out her mother had drunk herself to a watery death. She was angry, she was furious with her for dying for taking away something else from her, the chance to be a family again, a real one.

She shoved the glass across the bar; the bartender had been staring at her for over a minute probably trying to decide whether or not to ask what was going on. “Another,” she said in a low monotone as she started playing with her nails. She was technically here with people, Lexie and some guys she brought along to cheer her up, but Crista had watched them head for the dance floor and now Lexie was sandwiched between them both. Yeah, Crista wasn’t much fun tonight even though she looked like she was all about having a good time. She was wearing a short white shirt and matching halter that showed off her back and some of her stomach with silver heels.

“Hey, make that a White Russian,” she said correcting her drink order to the bartender. Maybe if she drank enough she’d forget and be able to enjoy herself. Her mother was doing it again, spoiling something for her; even in death she was still doing it. The truth was Crista wasn’t as mad at her mother as she wanted to believe, she was a lot angrier at herself but wasn’t going to admit that.

“Hey cutie…” the bartender’s voice broke into her thoughts as he rested on his hands and stared at her. “You think you should slow it down a little?” he said looking from the glass to her. She smiled slightly, not a real smile but one that was forced and visibly fake. “No,” she replied and reached for the glass pulling it to her like a child protecting its favourite toy from another child. He nodded and then moved onto the next person at the bar. Crista put the glass to her head and took a big gulp before returning it to the counter.

She stuck her finger in the glass stirring the ice around casually. The music was great, the atmosphere in the club was electric and none of it was reaching her. She was beginning to think she would be better off heading home, it wouldn’t be much different, she’d be alone as she was now and she was sure she had at least one bottle of cooking sherry at home that would help her kill the time. Then why wasn’t she getting up and heading out the door? Why wasn’t she calling a cab at that very moment? Because she didn’t want to be alone, it was the last thing she wanted but it was all she seemed to doing.

She finished her drink and ordered another, the bartender didn’t ask her anything this time, he just fixed the drink and handed it to her.

He sat in a booth close to the bar allowing him a good view of not only the nearby bar but also the dance floor and the front door. It was a habit picked up from his former career and even now, it was still a good practice to know the environment and recognize the players and people in the area.

Tired of wandering the city, as he had been doing for the last year, he had decided to stop off in the White Mice every night this week keeping an eye out for Catherine. It had been a year next week since she had found him howling and confused on the streets after his the most unfortunate circumstances of his turning.

However, the duffel, jeans and worn leather jacket tucked away in the hotel room he was now living out of down the street and tonight he was wearing the fitted black suit with white shirt and open collar, and keeping company with a bottle of tequila for the night.

Xavier had noted the woman at the bar drinking herself into an early grave, making a note in his mind of her predicament. His primary focus however was not identifying vulnerable people, like her, for either company or a meal for the night, but decided to follow her adventure in the club along with a few others he had made note of earlier in the night.

Lost in thought he poured himself another glass. He was not drinking the bottle in shots but rather taking long draws from a glass savoring the taste even though the effects themselves had long since waned for him. Smiling, satisfied with the flavor as it passed over his tongue, he passed over the crowd again, scanning left to right, with his gaze finishing on the woman with the glass against her forehead, which she quickly finished in hand and ordered another one.

Catching the bartender’s eye, he gave the universal signal that her next drink was on him.

Like the many before it, Crista’s drink was gone moments later. Slow down…you won’t make it home if you keep this up. Her logic was trying to reason with her and failing. She was pretty sure that half the bar thought she was a drunk, but that wasn’t true. She drank casually; to have fun and this time because her heart hurt so badly that she just wanted to be numb. What was it that they taught in school? Alcohol gives you a sense of invulnerability a slight God-complex. Whatever it was she was hoping it would work on her tonight.

Damn she was pathetic. The only thing worse than watching a man get drunk was a women; and she was doing it alone to boot. Perfect. It reminded her even more of her mother, nursing a bottle all day long and slapping her father away whenever he tried to take it away. Was she going to turn in to her mother? That thought alone evoked the urge to drink. She pushed the glass away. “Hey…give me another,” she said as she pulled out some cash to pay for the last two and the next.” She tried to decipher the bills in the flashing lights as the bartender mixed her drink and then sent it back to her. She placed the money on the bar and to her surprise he pushed some back at her. She looked at him quizzically. “What? That’s for the last two and this one,” she said, wondering what was going on.

“Looks like you have a friend. It’s on him,” he said leaning his head in the direction of the man in the booth. A friend? Her friend was on the dance floor sucking face with one of the two guys they’d brought with them, it certainly wasn’t her. She followed the bartender’s gaze to the booth. She didn’t know this guy that was for sure, but he was buying her a drink. What did he want? Company? She was probably bad company anyways, but she could at least thank him for the drink.

She slid off the barstool and strolled across to the booth. Her walk was perfectly straight despite the slight buzz she was just beginning to feel. She had a high tolerance for alcohol, probably a gift from her father since her mother got plastered after three bourbon shots.

She stood there, her weight on her left leg and her drink in hand. “Thanks for the drink.”

Looking over the rim of his glass, he watched as the woman slid of the bar stool and worked her way over to his booth. She came to a stop at the edge of his table displacing her weight on one leg to insure stability and thanked him for the drink.

“It was no problem. Buy a drink for a pretty woman is something a man should do, my only regret is that I could only pay for three drinks as your beauty demands so much more.”

He returned his glass to the table and picked up the bottle draining it empty as he replenished his glass. Holding it in the air, the bartender understood that he expected another bottle at this table soon.

Picking the glass back up and taking a drink his gaze turned to the sandwich her friend had made of herself. After taking a swallow, that he clearly savored, he spoke, “It looks like your friend is having fun enough for both of you. Is that why you look so sad and alone, to ensure a cosmic balance.” He returned his gaze to her eyes and smiled warmly.

Xavier was a bit different from other vampires in the sense that he retained many of his mortal characteristics, including smell, flesh tone and his eyes still reflected the illusion of a soul. It was something he had learned to use with mortals and against vampires when the need was there.

He wondered what was going on in her head as she stood there balancing between states and was very aware that he had chosen neither to give her a name nor invite her to sit down.

She gave him a weak smile to his compliment, it wasn’t that she wasn’t flattered, on any other day yeah she would have felt the sudden burst euphoria from his words, today it just got a nice in her books. She wasn’t feeling particularly beautiful tonight. “Well, as I said thanks, but you shouldn’t make statements like that…I might take you up on it.” In her state she would be happy to be bought drinks. Keep ‘em coming.

She watched this guy, whoever he was, finish his drink and indicate to the bartender that more would be needed. He seemed to be doing well with the bottle he already had as it stood empty on the table freshly drained. She sipped her White Russian and placed a hand gently on the back of the seat.

She looked over at Lexie, she was having a ball and was completely oblivious that Crista wasn’t. Another weak smile formed on her lips as she watched the trio on the floor, more than likely it would continue later behind closed doors with more booze and less clothes. Good for Lexie, she thought sarcastically. Damn she was being a bore. “Yeah, it sure looks like she’s having fun,” Crista replied her eyes still on Lexie as her glass rose to her lips. She licked the remnants away before looking back at her benefactor. “No,” she replied, not willing to elaborate on her reason for being melancholy. “I just don’t do orgies on dance floors,” she said trying to be amusing, but not really thinking she was pulling it off. He had a nice smile.

“And you? Are you sitting alone trying to keep the balance between the singletons and the happy people over there?” she asked. She continued to stand, her drink in hand casually resting on her hip. What was eating him that he had just finished a bottle of whatever alcohol of his choice alone?

Putting the glass down, he slid out of the booth and stood besides her offering her a seat through his body language.

Standing close enough to her to feel her breath and smell the fragrance upon her body he replied quietly, as if there was not other noise in the club and the message was for her alone. “I wait for someone who does not know I wait. It is an anniversary of sorts for me, the marking of time, and an occasion born in pain and found resolution in rebirth.”

Assisting her into the booth, “My name is long and boring, you may call me Max.”

Returning to his position via the other booth entry he picked up his drink again, holding it in hand, as he watched the server arrive at the table with another bottle and glass. She placed the bottle before Max and set the empty glass beside it. Max dropped fifty dollars in front of her and told her to keep the change.

Returning his attention to his new booth companion, he looked at her. She was a little less than 10 years younger than he was, by his estimation, both chronologically and in appearance.

Max sat there sober as a church mouse, as they say. It was clear he was still very much control of his faculties and that he was not going to advise her or inhibit her actions. She was a big girl as he saw it and would be as contented to do nothing more than sit with her as to take her to bed or feed upon her. He had learned in his walkabout the city for the last year to take each new encounter, person or experience in turn.

Where would this young woman take him in the time to come?

He didn’t answer her at first, but slid out from his seat and stood beside her. Her eyes followed him but the rest of her body didn’t move. “Then you might be waiting for a while then,” she said casually. Waiting for someone who didn’t know he was waiting? That was…odd, maybe even a little sad. His words were rather cryptic…born in pain and found resolution in rebirth? Whatever.

She looked away and took the seat he offered, her free hand holding the back of her skirt as she moved over till she was comfortable, Max helping her. She rested her purse beside her and her drink on the table before giving her name. “Crista…you can call me Crista. Nice to meet you Max.” She took another sip of her drink as the server brought another bottle to the table.

“Aren’t you generous,” she said casually as he told the server to keep the change. Her eyes left him and wandered over to Lexie, things were obviously heating up and any minute now they’d be heading for the door. She finished her drink and looked at Max. “Do you mind?” she asked referring to the bottle of booze between them. Buying her a drink was one thing, but not everyone liked to share their bottle…her mother never did. Damn, couldn’t she go two seconds without that woman creeping into her head!

She was waiting for her answer when the vibration against her thigh let her know her cell was ringing. “Yeah?” she said as she pulled out the silver flip to answer Lexie. Where are you? “Near the bar.” We’re leaving. You coming? We can have some fun… Lexie tried to encourage but Crista wasn’t feeling it. “No. I’m good thanks. Have fun for the both of us,” she replied her eyes returning to Max. How are you going to get home? I brought you here remember? “Don’t worry about me, I’ll get home. Later.” She hung up. She was able to get a glimpse of Lexie as she disappeared out the door.

“So about that drink?” she said looking at Max.

Max sat there watching Crista talk to her friend on the phone when suddenly she started to look directly at him, as if something in the call had triggered the response. Smiling warmly at her while she spoke, he waited for her to conclude the discussion. She hung up the phone and re-asserted her need for the drink.

If she felt she could handle it, far be it from him to argue with her. He smiled and opened the bottle of tequila and poured it into the other glass that the bartender had sent with the bottle. The glass was your normal sized glass meant for 8 to 10 ounces of water. Max filled it up a little over half and slid it over to her using the base of the bottle still in his hand. He topped his glass off before putting it back down onto the table. The worse that could happen is she would black out, and be sick for a few days from alcohol poisoning.

“So it appears you are now on your own. I sure hope you don’t plan on taking advantage of me, I can be vulnerable when I have been drinking.” He tied the comment out with a smile and a little laugh. Keeping a cursory ear and eye on Crista, he again scanned the room for Catherine and the other points of interests he had been watching all night.

With his face turned away from hers, looking at the crowds, his eyes in constant motion searching for something he took another deep drink from his glass.

She smiled and watched Max pour her a glass of tequila. She took the glass and moved in a circle between her hands. “I don’t have a drinking problem if you were wondering,” she stated looking from the glass to him. Now that was out of the way and she took a sip of the tequila. She closed her eyes momentarily as the liquid rolled past her tongue and down her throat. Wow that hit a spot. “Thanks. I seem to be saying that a lot tonight.”

She could handle her liquor, she always could but it was probably best she stop after this one or at least dance and work some out of her system before continuing, or else she might need a hand to get to her cab later.

She gave a wry smile. “You noticed huh?” she replied and took another sip of tequila. “Yeah, they wanted to make a night of it. I told her to have fun.” She laughed slightly, the first in weeks. “I’ll remember that,” she commented. Vulnerable when he’s been drinking? She highly doubted that. She would probably have more to fear from him than he had of her. “I don’t bite, at least not usually, so you should be safe with me.”

She noticed his gaze leaving her and beginning to search the floor. Who was he waiting for? “Looking for your friend? Would you like me to leave? I wouldn’t want to intrude on your meeting,” she said taking another sip but making no actually attempt to go anywhere. She knew that look; that was the look of a many in search of a woman, a particular woman. “Wife? Ex-girlfriend?” she asked speculating. He didn’t have to tell her, it wouldn’t matter anyway, she was just making conversation and she was sure talking about him would be more interesting than talking about her.

She was speaking to him, he knew it, and he even heard the words she spoke. It was not until she framed Catherine in terms of a significant other that he snapped back to the here and now.

Returning his full attention to her, “I apologize. I am being rude. No, the one I wait for is just a good friend that I have not seen in a year. She,” he paused, “was kind to me and did more for me than was required by the obligation she had put upon herself.”

Sliding over next to her, “Now what was all of this I heard about biting? Biting can be one of life’s more sensual pleasures.” Stopping and putting on a straight face, “I bite.” He let it hang there for a second before breaking into a laugh.

Seriously though Crista, “why are you sitting here with a stranger when you could be having more age appropriate fun. Hell when I was your age pushing the fun barrier to the limits was as much a goal as it was a moral imperative.” He placed his finger under her chin to move it slightly so that the light would illuminate more for his viewing pleasure, “What is wrong? Alcoholic or not, your consumption rate tells me that you have something you need to work out. I will lend that ear if that is what you need.”

Sliding the finger slowly from her chin, letting every piece of connected flesh cross paths on the finger’s exit, he positioned his body to give her his full-undivided attention.

He was resolved that his mission had again failed and decided that Crista was the universe’s latest adventure and as such deserved his full energies.

She sipped her drink. Max was really interested in finding that women, he didn’t even appear to be hearing her. Perfect. She supposed her words finally filtered into his psyche and he apologized for being rude. “It’s okay. You did say you were looking for someone,” she added and sipped her drink.

A friend, that was good. “Sorry I didn’t mean to pry or anything. Just when are looking for someone as intently as you were, they usually are more than friends.” She was sure he meant ‘a friend’ in the we go out, eat, watch movies and have sex on the odd occasion type of friend, but she really could care less.

She just nodded as he explained how he met this mystery woman. What was she to say? She took another sip and noticed Max move over next to her. The glass was still to her lips when he began to speak and she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She placed the glass on the table and looked directly at him. “That was an interesting statement. True, but interesting,” she replied. Her face didn’t stir as he said that he bit, but then she started to smirk and a little laugh left her. “Funny,” she commented and sipped her drink again.

“Age appropriate fun? And what would that be? Making out on the dance floor or going home to a threesome?” she stared at him as he raised a finger under her chin but she didn’t attempt to move it. “I’ve pushed the envelope in the past…much further than it should go. It bores me now. How old do you think I am? A child?” she commented evenly. She wasn’t offended in the least.

His finger brushed her skin as it moved away and Crista’s eyes returned to her drink. When was the last time a man touched her like that? It seemed like forever. She raised the steadily emptying glass to her head and paused before putting it to her lips again, “Someone died.” She took swig. She reached in her purse for a cigarette and pulled one out moments later with a silver lighter. “Do you mind?” she asked before lighting up, brushing aside her comment like it was nothing when it was.

“No I don’t mind at all,” he said, being an avid cigar smoker himself, “the last thing in the world that will ever kill me is second hand smoke,” as he placed his own cigar holder onto the table.

Returning the focus back on the conversation he replied, “I think you are just shy of 30 and perhaps it was unfair to evaluate you within the context of my life. It just seems to me that your friend chose to go out with you, and lined up a scenario that you turned down, but a friend would know you well enough not to set her self up with a sex sandwich, planning to leave you out, no matter how it started out. It was most likely done, because you have shown you are a bit of an animal yourself.”

“Now you have pointed out someone has died. This is something you have let modify your normal behavior. You are turning down the mutual appreciation you have with your friend with those young men you came here with, you are drinking yourself to unconsciousness and you have placed yourself within the grasp of a total stranger over less than an implied enticement.”

Lowering his voice, “I know death and am proof that there is too much to lose in prolonging your grief over or connection with the deceased no matter who they were. Take it from me, your mortality is special.”

A little too aware of the soapbox he found himself on he shifted slightly and took another drink.

She smiled as he informed her that smoking wasn’t something that bothered him. She stuck the filter end of her cigarette between her lips, nestling it between her fingers, as she flicked the lighter aflame and sucked gently on the end to ignite the cigarette. She exhaled a smooth cloud of smoke before putting the lighter back in her purse. Max had put his cigar holder onto the table. She didn’t know many people who smoked cigars.

She laughed, a real laugh as Max commented on Lexie’s actions and how it reflected on her opinion of Crista. She moved the cigarette from her lips and casually rested her hand on the table and looked at Max. “You would be right; I am just shy of thirty. I’m twenty-eight. Lexie is a friend of sorts, but she doesn’t know much about me. I met her when I came here a few months ago from New York. We work together.” She took another drag and then balanced the cigarette between her fingers as she raised her glass to her lips. “She lined up a scenario that interested her, that’s all. I like to have fun, I admit it and she’s used to that. She thought this would cheer me up,” she said with a sad smile. “I wasn’t interested.” She took another sip of tequila.

She was no angel, more closely akin to a devil really if you looked at her past, but no one in Demaitre knew that nor was she eager to let them either. Lexie obviously had her dark side too and it was showing tonight, but that was a way of life that Crista was trying to leave behind her, far behind her. Threesomes were good when she was a teenager and doing anything to piss off her mother, which by the way never worked, but only proved to disappoint the only person who cared, her father.

She looked at Max, contemplating his words. “You’re right. Why should my mother’s death change my mood? Maybe I should remove myself from the grasp of such total strangers and go home like a good girl?” she said sarcastically before taking another swig of her drink, but his words were still echoing in her head. She placed her cigarette to her lips again. Why was this starting to be about her? Time to change the subject. “So if this woman did so much for you why haven’t you seen her in a year? Why doesn’t she know you’re here?” she asked turning the tables back to Max as her eyes fell on him again.

“Fair enough,” he said, “Catherine, that’s her name, and I had an instant chemistry that had the potential to become explosive if mixed too soon. I was in no position to begin any relationship beyond a plutonic one, and let’s just say she felt that for now she was way too old for me.”

Picking up the cigar holder, he pulled out a cigar, clipper and wooden match. While preparing his cigar he continued, “The truth of it is in order to make it work we had to go our separate ways. We agreed that at certain milestones, I would meet up with her and we would catch up, but I am not able to nor do I wish to go where I last knew she lived. It would pose, shall we say, complications.”

He lit the cigar with the wooden match and extinguishing it threw it in the ashtray. “Now my dear Clarisse,” mimicking Hannibal Lecture in the quid pro quo speech of the movie, “you must tell me why you are sitting here with me now in this moment instead of, as you said, getting up and going home, being a good girl.”

He smiled playfully, she was not a good girl, but she was not bad either. Bad he knew more bad than anyone should ever know existed.

She listened to Max speak between sips of tequila and drags from her cigarette. She watched, as much a scene from a movie she’d watched, he lit his cigar with a wooden match. In the movie they said that it added to the flavour if you used a match instead of a lighter, but to Crista as long as it was lit it was good.

She knew the type of relationship he was talking about, the explosive kind. She’d had her share of those. She momentarily remembered a former lover, who believed there was no greater sex than make up sex, so he would do all he could to get her blood boiling so he could heat her up and cool her down in other ways later. Then there was another who didn’t trust her, he was constantly on her case wanting to know where she was and who she was with. He cause friction of another kind in her life and needless to say she didn’t keep him around long.

“Too old? What were you doing, robbing wheelchairs?” she asked with a smirk as she licked her lips and then place the cigarette to them again. Talking to him was improving her mood, especially since the conversation was on him and not herself. She exhaled. “Does she have a husband or something that you don’t want to have to deal with? You don’t strike me as a person who’s afraid of confrontation unless it was something like that.” she took another drag. “I could be wrong of course,” she added with a smirk.

“Hmm…” she said under her breath as he mimicked one of her favourite novel characters, Hannibal Lecture. No matter how good the movies could be, the books were always a million times better in her opinion. “You know…I don’t know.” she shrugged, her bare shoulders rising and falling back into place. “Maybe I should leave and sleep off the alcohol,” she turned to her glass and then back to him, “but maybe I know I’ll go mad at home alone and a drink with you is a good enough distraction for the time being.” She smirked.

“I have a question for you. Why did you buy my drinks? You don't know me. So why?”

Taking a puff on the cigar, “No she is not married or anything and she is far from in a wheel chair. I said she felt she was too old for me and in truth at the time it was probably true.”

“No it is not that I am afraid of a confrontation, it is just not appropriate for me to go to where she lives. It would be too hard to explain. I do hear that she has taken a new lover as of late and I hope that she is happy. No, I am just looking to catch up with her. There will be plenty of time for us later. We have time.”

Taking another drink and putting the glass back down, “I bought you the drinks because it seemed like the thing to do. Maybe at some level I just wanted a good old cliché meeting where the guy buys the girl a drink, they sit and talk and then they go back to his hotel room and fuck all night.” Taking a deep drag on his cigar he held it in and released it while finishing the thought, “I have to admit that the longer I sit here looking at you my subconscious may have been right.”

There was no sign he was being coy with her, he was not playing. If she did not get up and go home this instant she would end up getting to make this stranger into a friend or possibly even a lover.

“My turn, what do you believe in besides unicorns, vampires and other such faerie tales?” She had done nothing to suggest she did, he was just looking to provoke a new line of questioning and insight into the young woman. He poured more into her glass, but left his alone.

Crista raised her eyebrows in surprise at Max’s response, but they soon returned to their normal position on her face as the moment passed. “So I take it you no longer feel like such a youth then?” she said with a smile. “That’s sad.” She took a sip of her drink, it was beginning to be more empty space than liquid now, signs that she should soon stop. The question still remained, was she going to?

A smile played at her lips as Max spoke with confidence that he and Catherine would have their time after she was done with her new lover. The male ego was such a special thing, so fragile and yet so strong all at the same time. “And what if there isn’t time?” she asked honestly. “What then? Will you pine for her forever?” she asked curiously. Crista wasn’t one to pine; she’d had her lovers and discarded some as easily as she had been discarded. Only Jacob had been different, but in the end they still went their separate ways. Moving on was part of life and she knew how to do that well, but with it wasn’t so easy depending on who or what she was trying to get over.

She laughed at his mention of a clichéd meeting. “Yeah, I suppose this was cliché wasn’t it,” she admitted. She didn’t react to his mention of sex; she just sucked on the end of her cigarette and looked at him. “Is that what you think will happen Max?” she said with another laugh and moving her cigarette from her face. “You think that this gesture of yours will end in a friendly fuck in your hotel?” she asked amused.

She leaned closer to him, resting her elbow on the table. “And what was it your subconscious was thinking about me?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. She smirked and then leaned back again. “Don’t get ahead of yourself Max…you don’t know me,” she half warned, half played. Would she really have gone back to his hotel later? Who knew, it had been a while since she’d gotten herself laid but that didn’t mean she was going to run off with the first guy to buy her a drink in months.

She laughed again. She was right, he was a good distraction. “I don’t believe them,” she replied. “Those are for children, though vampires have always been my favourite creature from horror. Come on, look at the movie industry vampires are a money making masterpiece, or must I remind you of Interview With the Vampire?” she said with a smirk. “People love the idea of the sad immortal wandering forever, but if you’re going to go there you might as well bring up werewolves too Max.” She finished her drink. “I’m sorry if I am a cynical woman who doesn’t hold onto childhood stories, but I prefer to live in reality, though fantasy does have its place. Don’t you? What do you believe in?”

He smiled letting the fact that he was taking her back to his room later fall to the side.

Leaning forward with both arms on the table he stared at his glass and said, “I believe in love at first sight, I believe compound interest is one of the most powerful forces in the universe, I believe the universe is alive and trying to figure itself out and yes, I most definitely believe in vampires.”

Taking a drink, “Those lonely souls that wander an eternity imprisoned in their own immortality.” He shook his head as though shaking off the weight of the thought and smiled a weak smile to cover the solemn emotion he was feeling now that the full burden of his existence had come to rest upon his shoulders after his first year as one of the living dead. It was this understanding that he had to share with her and why he was looking for her.

Resting back into the cushioning of the booth he wiped his face with his free hand and rolled his head towards her. “Do you see those people on the dance floor? They are all looking for something to fill the emptiness in their hearts, or souls, or lives. Some will not live to see the morning while others will curse the rising of the sun.”

Putting the cigar to his lips he asked this question of her while inhaling, “Which are you?”

Her brown eyes wandered over his face as he told her what he believed in. Love at first sight? Was he kidding? What man on earth really believed in that? Women did, it was part of the fantasy they were raised with as children but a man...never. She could however agree on the compound interest statement and the universe, but she almost choked on her smoke at the mention of believing in vampires. “Are you serious?” she asked with a slightly amused tone to the question. He had to be kidding, or else he was strange and she needed to leave.

Her brow furrowed slightly as Max continued to speak. He seemed to find her statement about lonely souls amusing. Was it really, she didn’t know. They were creatures from fables made to scare you and interest you, like Lestat from Anne Rice’s books. They were not supposed to make you think they were real.

She picked up the tequila bottle and poured herself another glass. I guess I’m not stopping after the last one. She was going to need a drink to get through the rest of this conversation if they were going to debate the existence of vampires. She took a gulp before Max started talking again, causing her to momentarily let her attention leave him and their conversation for the writhing bodies on the dance floor a few feet away. “What about them?” she asked, before he elaborated.

She let her eyes return to his face. Which was she? “I’m…” she paused to ponder the question, her eyes flicking from the table to his face several times. “I’m the kind who doesn’t want to think about tomorrow. I’m the one not looking to fill my life with anything, just trying to have one that I can look back on and know I didn’t break the heart of someone I care about in the process. I look forward to tomorrow being better than yesterday, but I’m not in a rush to say goodbye to today, and I sure as hell would like to live to see tomorrow. Does that answer your question?”

She took a last drag on the stub of a cigarette before extinguishing it in the ashtray. “Which are you?” she asked exhaling the smoke. She smiled as she slid out from the booth and stood in front of Max, her legs evenly set. She smirked, “You ponder that…I’m going to get some of that alcohol out of my system.” She strutted to the dance floor each step in time with the beat of the music as she half danced her way there. Would he follow? Did it matter? She need to have fun…she was now in the mood for it.

The distance between the booth and the dance floor would take her less than a minute to navigate through the wall of people who encircled it. That was more than enough time for him to form his answer and decide he would have a bit of fun of his own.

Putting the cigar down onto the ash tray he raised the near empty bottle up into the air for the bartender to see as before and knew that she was someone who had decided to stay, whatever her reasons.

She wanted to play.

Only the few immortals that were in the club would see him move at the speed he did. While she walked with the rhythm of the music towards the dance floor Max had moved at a speed not recognized by the naked mortal eye into the heart of the floor and was awaiting her as she with his hand out when she made it to the dance floors edge.

Logically it was not possible that he should be standing there but a quick inspection of the booth now vacant behind her would verify it was most likely him.

“I am one who curses the rising of the sun, but clings to every precious moment of life that he encounters.” Stepping forward he took her hand and looked deep within her eyes pulling her onto the floor and into the sea of people to dance with her as long as she would be content to do so. Dancing after all was one of his favorite things to do; it was on this dance floor where Catherine and Max realized that…

Anyway, he was here with Crista now, and he respected that fact.

She didn’t look back to see if Max was coming, in fact her back was completely to the both. Her arms were raised above her head as her hips swayed to the beat of the music and causing other attributes of her figure to move in response as she walked.

When she reached the floor’s edge she was shocked to find Max waiting there. She looked at him quizzically as her arms fell to her sides. “How did you do that?” she asked curiously and taking a quick look at the both to make sure it was indeed him. Whatever his method of getting there, the fact that he was there meant he was on the same page as she was, at least about dancing.

She leaned her head to the right slightly as she puzzled over how he had gotten there so fast. He took her hand and pulled her into the sea of bodies behind him. She followed him willingly his words rolling over and over again in her mind. She smiled to herself. I guess going over there was a good idea. She followed him till her stopped, the music blaring from every directions and sweaty hot bodies surrounding them.

Her body swayed slightly before giving itself over to the music entirely. Her body brushed against Max from time to time, whether intentionally or not she really couldn’t decide. He was making things for interesting for her tonight and even making her forget the reason why Lexie had felt she needed to have a night out. She spun around to face Max, a smile on her face. “Why do you curse the rising of the sun? There’s as much fun to be had in the day as there is in the night.”

Her hands moved behind his head and down his neck but never touched him before returning to their positions beside her head.

He smiled and answered her question, “that is a question whose answer requires a more intimate knowledge of who I am.”

Max could smell the alcohol in her sweat and knew that she would eventually hit a more even equilibrium physiologically. The dance floor was a playground of sorts and at this moment it was boys versus girls and a little flirting was in order.

By design Max stepped into Crista’s space, trailing his fingers down the curve of her back and back up her sides brushing their escape as they neared her chest. Using a small portion of the vampiric charm he had discovered he had he again looked into her eyes putting the very basic suggestion of inhibition into her mind.

Stepping back to his spot on the floor he flattered her with a variety of poetic sweet nothings that a boy tells a girl, using a melodic tone he had learned to master over the last year.

After that, he let the message work in her mind as they danced.

“I understand,” she replied with a smile. That was a nice way of saying halt because this isn’t your business, but as subtle as it was she got the point. She knew all about not wanting people prying, she lived by that rule, she could respect that.

She continued to move, the music the conductor of her body’s symphony. Dancing was the best way to work off an encroaching inebriation and prevent the hangover that would come the next morning. The sweat was beginning to trickle down her body, a good sign, alcohol made her hot but it eventually subsided, this way she was getting hot again and getting it out.

Max stepped towards, crossing into her space but she didn’t mind. His fingers trailed down her back and her eyes closed as she lost herself to the music and the touch of a man. He stepped away whispering little flatteries to her. She leaned her head back, her hair cascading down her back as she continued to dance and her hands found their way to her stomach caressing the skin it found there. It was a good feeling. She suddenly felt very free, she couldn’t’ explain it but put it off to being the alcohol.

She opened her eyes again as her body moved, her eyes returning to Max. She smirked before crossing into his space and turning around in front of him and pressing back against his body. She reached back for his hands and placed them on her hips, one remained there while the other wound around his neck.

“I think you said your subconscious had ideas about me. What were they?” she said not turning to face him, a mischievous grin on her face.

Crista had made a move leaving her body pressed against his with her back against his front and moved his hands onto her hips and placed one of hers onto his neck.

Max pulled her closer into his body moving the hand with her hand on top onto her lower abdomen and sliding the other one up the naked skin of her belly, over her breasts until it lay pressed against her chest just below her neck.

He began to sway and gyrate with her to the music lowering his mouth to kiss and nibble at her ears and neck. Whispering into her ear, “something like this but a little more horizontal.”

Max had been voluntarily celibate for nearly 8 months since he had dedicated him self on his journey to self-discovery. There was a lot of pent up sexual energy now rising to the surface.

There was no mistake for Christa in this close of proximity about where this pent up energy was indeed rising, and it felt like a lot of it.

The wry smile on her face broadened as Max used his own initiative and pulled her closer, his hands moved to her stomach sending a tingling sensation through her. Was it the alcohol or him? his hand ran up her body over her breasts until it lay below her neck, usually she would have pushed him away for this action but she didn’t, instead she leaned her head back against his chest.

His body moved with hers, the music commanding them. Her fingers curled in his hair and her eyes closed as he kissed her ears and neck. The feel of his lips against her skin was so enticing, so intoxicating much like the tequila they had been sharing minutes before but of a different kind.

She took a deep breath as he whispered into her ear, a murmur leaving her lips as she began to smile again. “Really?” she asked, her mouth suddenly becoming dry. He had thought of this but horizontally, that was flattering to some extent, even if she hadn’t seen this particular juncture to the evening when she’d left the house. She wasn’t usually like this, even when she’d had more to drink, but she didn’t know why she was just going with the flow.

She smirked again as she felt something, a something she knew the feeling of all too well. She pressed her body against him on purpose to see what his reaction would be. Why wasn’t she walking away now? Was she that drunk? No, she didn’t think so, but she was enjoying herself. She felt like she had when she was younger, carefree uninhibited and all about some fun. What was happening? She didn’t know Max from Adam or Joe-Blow on the street, so why was she purposefully trying to turn him on?

She turned around to face him, her eyes meeting his. Her eyes trailed down his body and then back his face as her hands met behind his neck and she continued to dance against him.

What was he doing? He came here to look for Catherine not pick up on some mortal, but there he was face to face with her talking, drinking, smoking, dancing and having a type of vertical foreplay with her. When the universe hands you a gift you try to unwrap it and see what it is.

He danced with her some more allowing his body to mesh with hers, exploring her eyes with his eyes, her mind with his words and her body with his hands until finally he said, “I think it is time to go, I am staying at the 4-star down the road.” With those words he pressed his lips gently onto hers forming an assertive kiss that was the foundation of one more passionate should she choose. He was leaving the true power of this situation in her hands at this point.

Whatever her decision, Max could feel the sun would be up in a couple hours and he wanted to be safely off the streets before it began to break over the horizon.

This was teenaged Crista not the woman she had become, the woman didn’t just allow herself to become so lost in a moment that she disobeyed her own logic and did what she felt like with abandon. Her mind was telling her to stop, but simultaneously asking her why. Why should she stop, she wasn’t hurting anyone, why did she need to stop? So he was there to meet a former lover, a woman he obviously wanted to see badly enough to campout in a club all night in the hopes of seeing her. A woman he hoped to have a future with, he had said so himself hadn't he? Why was he with her then? Was his story just some line to get sympathy sex? The better question was, was Crista a sympathy sex type of woman? The answer was no, but then again she didn’t feel sympathy for him at the moment; it was an entirely different feeling.

Their bodies moved together as one as their eyes explored each other, his words played at her mind and melted her reluctance and her questions into oblivion as his hands wandered over her. She wished she could have seen herself now and walk over and stop herself, but she couldn’t. She was pretty sure she didn’t look anything like Lexie had earlier but if they stayed there she might. No… she told herself. She was not going to make herself a spectacle on the dance floor; after all she came in there every other night she had to keep her respectability.

She was watching her hips against his body when Max spoke and she slowly raised her eyes to his. She lowered her arms from around his neck at his words, he had to leave and she would let him. She nodded her understanding but the movement of her head ceased as his lips met hers. She felt something in the pit of her stomach, a feeling she hadn’t felt in ages, desire, lust, pleasure, genuine attraction or the need to wipe away the events of the weeks form her mind, whatever it was, it felt good.

At first she didn’t react except for the closing of her eyes, but then she responded as if her mind had to ponder what she was doing before she did it. Her right hand slid up his chest and around his neck holding his head in place and his lips to hers. She lingered there for a second, minutes, she didn’t know, before she stepped back from him. She licked her lips the taste of his mouth still on them. “Well…it was nice meeting you Max,” she said with a serene face that camouflaged the thoughts in her mind. “I should probably leave too,” she added afterwards but still remained planted to the spot staring at him.

Max smiled at Crista as they stood there amongst the sea of bodies both stating they must leave and both not leaving.

He did not come here to make a new friend, find a piece of ass or even have a pleasant conversation. Yet, somehow, he found himself meeting a new person and even getting out on a dance floor and fooling around like a college kid to some extent. This was not outside of his personality, but it was not on the agenda either.

Did he push the issue about coming back to the hotel with him? Did he give her or attempt to get a number from her for later? Is this even a person worth getting to know or was she someone he was only destined to meet for the evening? It was not clear and he was not sure he wanted to figure it our or make anything happen.

As had become his custom, he decided to let the universe make the decision for them.

Finally, he nodded his head and broke away from her returning to the booth. As he gathered his unopened bottle, left cash and picked up his cigars he slipped a key card with the room number sleeve into her purse, on top so she would see it when she opened it.

Turning to look at her, he took in the fullness of her figure before he smiled and gave her a wink on his way out the door.

There they were, standing in front of each other, questions more than likely dancing through their mind as to what precisely they were doing; at least they certainly were in her mind. He wasn’t leaving, despite saying to the contrary and neither was she. Was this a sign that neither of them wanted to, or that neither wanted to leave alone? What ever the case it seemed answered in Max’s mind as he broke their staring match and returned to the booth, flashing her a wink before heading out of the door. He hadn’t asked for her last name, a number or given any indication that he wanted to see her again. More than likely he didn’t. He’d had his fun and now he was gone…typical.

She watched him go, part of her knowing that it was probably the best thing and part of her not wanting to be alone again. He had taken her mind away from her troubles, allowed her to enjoy herself and now she was on her own again amongst the sea of nameless faces. She remained there for a moment before walking back to the booth and reclaiming her seat.

The server came to pick up her tip and Crista ordered a vodka straight up before going into her purse for a cigarette. She suddenly felt very alone again, maybe she should have gone with Max…maybe he could have kept her mind on other thoughts than her mother. There was no need for speculation, he was gone, she was still there and that was that. Why was she bothering about this? She sighed deeply before sticking her hand in her purse and pulling out…a key card? What was that doing there? She looked at the card curiously, and then her head flicked back to the door as if expecting to see Max standing there but he wasn’t.

She put the card on the table and stuck another cigarette in her mouth and lit it as she waited for her drink, her eyes fixed on the card and the wheels of her mind rolling. Her drink arrived soon after but she simply played with the brim of the glass as she continued to stare at the key card and then finally grabbed it and her purse and headed out the door.

Some time later she was standing outside the room that matched the key card wondering what she was doing there. She stared at the door and then at the card and back again before turning around and leaning against it. She closed her eyes… “This is insane,” she told herself while looking around to see if anyone was around to see her standing there. There wasn’t. Good.

She turned back to the door and then took the card out of her pocket and knelt down to shove it under the door. She bit her lip and then knocked; just to be sure he saw the card and then turned to leave. Part of her still wanted to wait and see, find out why he had given her the card in the first place. Keep walking Crista…keep walking. She would be fine if she kept walking…wouldn’t she?