She received the text at eleven-thirty; it gave an address and a cost and that was it. She never knew who sent them or where it was she was jumping off the couch to get ready to go to. The point was there was going to be another party, another wild night for her to drown herself in and she was looking forward to it. She stripped her clothes off in record time and ran into the shower. Minutes later she was back in the bedroom and going through her wardrobe for something to wear.

Half an hour later she was dressed in skin tight black capris, a small black t-shirt with some large white graphic on the front that read “Warning Contents Under Pressure” and showed off just a little of her stomach, and black stiletto heels that clasped around her ankles in a large band. She put on her thick black leather bracelet and took off anything that looked remotely expensive. She finished off her look with a thick black belt and then did her face. Smokey eye shadow, glittering lips and golden blush gave her the perfect look she was going for. She ruffled her hair into a slightly wild look, yet still holding some semblance of being done on purpose. She put in large silver hoop earring. She smelled of sweet from the body spray she’d spritzed on before getting dressed, it was fruity but not overwhelming.

She grabbed her keys, tucking some money into the waist of her pants before heading out the door. It was well after midnight when she parked her car behind a small restaurant a few miles away from her home and walked the alley towards the address in her phone. It was a desolate place with one large bald man standing by the door. She walked up to him, flashed the text message in his face and gave him the entrance fee before ducking in the door.

Whoever it was that planned this was a pro. They had transformed this abandoned building into a den of flashing lights, fast music and drinks. Tomorrow it would once again be abandoned and no one would know the wiser about what had gone on there that night, and they would find some place just like it to hold the next event. Each party had a theme and it was always kept a mystery to the last minute, she wondered what this one was going to be.

She found her way to the bar. “A Screwdriver!” she yelled over the throng to the bartender when he looked in her direction. The place was packed already, and she was sure there was going to be a lot more people before the night was out.

Suddenly the lights rose over the DJ booth and the banner “Wet and Wild” appeared overhead. “Welcome!” his voice boomed through the music. “Lets party!!” He shouted just as the sprinklers burst into action and rained down on the dance floor. Lor laughed. Thank goodness she’d been to enough of these to know to dress in something she didn’t mind getting dirty.

She took her drink and downed it in one go before ordering another. She’d find her way to the dance floor soon enough, but for the moment she wanted to remain dry.

There were some major advantages to being a vampire. One was that unless you went traipsing through the mud, it was very hard to get dirty. Sweat and oil meant nothing. Go home, change, go out. It took an hour if you were careful, and that’s it. You were ready for whatever this fast, loud, angry world had to throw at you. The vampiric body was made for finishing one thing and beginning the next. Probably part of the nomadic nature of the species.

That was what Isidore had done. He’d gone home, and had changed. His hair remained in the tight ponytail of earlier, but his pants were now leather, and his shirt was silk. Probably not the best for being on the dance floor, but he was above such trivial things. If it got ruined, he’d buy another. Little things didn’t bother him. That’s probably why he’d pieced his ear before coming, despite the fact that the second he took it out, the hole would close again.

There were times when being a vampire was quite annoying.

He was near the wall, his eyes closed, his head thrown backward. The music started and flowed in one ear and out the other, infusing his brain with the rhythm. His long fingers tapped along to them. It wasn’t so much that he loved the location, the music, the people (well, maybe the people), so much as he wanted to break every barrier there was. This was what he was now – something dark, something sinful. And he liked it. It took him as far away from who he had been once upon a time as he could get.

Seven hundred years, and he still felt like he had to prove that he wasn’t a monk anymore. Pathetic.

Without opening his eyes, he pushed off from the wall, moving like water through the crowd. He opened them just in time to stop in front of someone, move to the side, and walk past them. When he neared the bar, he caught sight of someone he had seen only once, but whom he remembered vividly. A smirk stole across her face. He wanted to see if she was being polite now. It sure as hell didn’t look like it.

Slinking up behind her, he put his hands over her eyes and whispered in her ear, so softly it almost couldn’t be heard over the din:

“Guess who.”

She tapped her foot, shook her hips and her head to the beat of the music, the casually enjoyment that would be hears till she got to the dance floor and unleashed herself upon it. She caught a whiff of cigarette smoke and inhaled deeply. “Hey. Bum one?” she asked with a grin to the man who stood beside her. Now, the Lorrea that worked for Benson-Kramer and Becks did not smoke, nor would she ever, but this woman, the one asking for the cigarette was not that woman.

Call it unnecessary or just being overly cautious but Lor never used her real name in this sort of places, she always used some crafty or fun little alias to disguise herself. One night she was Candy, the other Satine, but tonight she was Leia after a character some Star Wars. Yes she was a fan of the film series and liked the character immensely; she was bold, ambitious with attitude. The perfect persona for Lor that evening.

The man looked at her with a lascivious grin. “Sure baby,” he said pulling out another cigarette for her. She took the stick between her fingers and placing it between her lips and leaning into him, using his cigarette to light her own. She inhaled deeply and then set the smoke free casually. “Thanks,” she said turning her back to him. That was what she’d wanted and now she had it, he was of little consequence now. This wasn’t a time to make friends, at least not that moment. Yes it was fun to have some people to party with but she would enjoy herself with or without company. She was always sure to find the right people to keep herself entertained, usually people with piercings and tattoos.

“Sweet cheeks. Can I buy you a drink?” the man asked with his black hair and dark features. She leaned against the bar and grinned, “Sure why not,” she commented before hands slipped over her eyes. Her hands immediately flew to her face, who the hell was that! She attempted to peal the hands from her face, cigarette still dangling between her fingers when a voice whispered in her ear.

Guess who? What a question. She really wasn’t about games.

“I don’t know,” she said and turned on the spot to face the person, a look of annoyance on her face. The moment her eyes beheld him her face dropped. If her features could have fallen off and through the floor they would have.

Never by any stretch of imagination would she have dreamed to see him there. She stood there, cigarette smoking and brown eyes staring. “Isidore?” she asked almost in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” she asked, not so politely. Suddenly her pristine life flashed before her and the affects this little revelation would have on it if Isidore chose to disclose her habits.

Had they been at the party where they’d met, Isidore would still be (sort of) hiding behind the veneer of politesse. He would still be pretending to be a halfway decent human being. Neither of those things described him. In this place, full of people he didn’t know (and one person he did) he could be the arrogant jackass he really was under all that refinement. That being said, he did the only thing he could given the situation.

He smirked. He chuckled. He smirked some more.

Then, leaning in close, cheek almost touching hers, he said, “I suppose I could ask you the same thing, cherie.” He moved away to the bar and, leaning forward, ordered the hardest liquor he could think of. During this space of thirty seconds, he completely ignored Lorrea. For a moment, she ceased to exist. When his drink was given to him, when he’d paid and turned back around, only then did she come back into the realm of existence. He flashed another smirk at her.

“Nervous?” he asked, and this time his tone was mocking. He smiled, but it wasn’t quite friendly. “I told you – I’m dangerous.” Isidore smiled a smile that would have left even the most confident person feeling slightly uneasy. “But you – you were someone I did not expect here. I must say that I’m quite surprised.” He looked at the hand holding her cigarette. “That your flashlight?”

Oh yes, he was immensely amused.

She stood staring at him trying to fight back the growing anxiety in her chest. How was she going to handle this? How could her presence be explained? The answer was, that it couldn’t. The world she was now standing in was not the world that Lorrea Meir was supposed to be a part of; it was dark, dirty and filled with all manner of thrilling and forbidden thing that could be imagined. Good girls didn’t frequent places like this, good girls went home to their cats and watched romantic comedies. Good thing she didn’t have a cat or it would surely be dead by now the amount of time she spent in surroundings such as the one she was in now.

He laughed. She was stony.

She was far from amused, mortified would have better suited her feelings at that moment. Finding her there seemed to amuse Isidore extensively, and he could laugh, he wasn’t facing a threat to everything he had worked for…she was doing that.

She stood very still as he leaned in and spoke into her ear, not knowing precisely what to do or think. She watched in silence as he turned away and ordered a drink, not even looking at her.

This had to be some bad dream, some colossal mistake. If he stayed just there, with his back to her she could have pretended he was someone else and let the threat that loomed over fade away on the music. Then he turned around. Bang, there went that dream.

The man who’d asked to buy her a drink tried in vain to get her attention, but Lorrea was fixed on Isidore. Nervous? Yes! Emphatically, yes. “Bugger off,” she told the nuisance man. Could he not see her livelihood was in danger? Probably not. He called her a name and moved on, Lorrea didn’t care.

She stood, her arms folding over her chest for a moment and then falling back to her side. What to say, what to say? “That you did,” she finally responded, leaning against the bar with both hands, her head down and shaking slightly at his comment. “So…” she said finally looking at him and ignoring his comment about the cigarette, though it did cause her to give it a glance. “We all have our secrets, now you know mine. How am I going to get myself out of this danger?” she asked bluntly, her eyes serious.

Lorrea was an ambitious woman and she was not above doing whatever she had to get herself out of this sticky predicament and ensuring the safety of her daytime persona. The cigarette rose to her lips casually and she inhaled a calming breath then expelled it waiting for her answer.

With raised eyebrows, and big, wide eyes, Isidore was the very picture of innocence. The fact that it came off as slightly mocking, slightly condescending did nothing to help. He could almost see the fears, the doubts flowing inside her mind, and he found them beautiful. They swam in her eyes, as she thought of every worst possible scenario… And, if he had covered even half of them, there were quite a few. Her reputation could be severely injured, should he choose to do his patriotic duty to the wealthy and tell them that one of their own was a phoney.

It was one thing for a seemingly young man, a bachelor, of wealth and pedigree to go out. It was something entirely different for a woman, unattached and unmarried, to go out and flaunt herself. Which was exactly what she was doing, even if she didn’t realize it.

Isidore didn’t think she was that stupid. She realized it.

He sat next to her and watched her shake. Being ever the gentleman (ha), he reached over, plucked the cigarette from her hand, took a drag, and handed it back. He slowly exhaled the smoke, his eyes never leaving her face. Then he smiled disarmingly.

“I don’t know. Howare you going to get yourself out of this danger?”

There were so many innuendos in that, there’s no point in naming them all.

He shrugged, moving away and taking a long sip from his drink. “What makes you think I want anything from you?” He paused. “After all, I hardly got the impression that you thought it was likely that I was as dangerous as I said I was. Stupid, that. I might be dangerous, but I’m not a liar.” He seemed to pause and think about that. “At least, not when I don’t want to be.”

Turning, he leaned his elbows on the bar. “Besides, so far as secrets go, yours is terribly unimpressive. If this is all you’ve been hiding, I must say that I’m rather disappointed.”

The innocent look was not playing with her. Indeed, he could have suddenly fallen into the guise of a child and she would not have cared. Innocent as it might appear there was an air of mocking to it, as if this was precisely the type of situation he enjoyed. Whatever the case, whatever ideas were rolling around in his head, Lorrea wasn’t going to feel a moments peace till she knew what kind of trouble she was in.

Now most would see what she was doing as no big deal, if you took it at face value, but there was so much more attached to this little scene than met the eye. The biggest problem, the biggest cause of concern lay in one simple fact. Lorrea was a woman. To play the valiant and playboy male was perfectly fine by society’s standards. Men were expected to go out and sow their wild oats while women sat at home patiently waiting for them to settle and take notice of them. Bullshit in Lorrea’s opinion. However, those she did work for, those to whom she answered in her everyday life, to them these were important. A woman in her position and from her background was supposed to be a lady in very sense of the word. Mild mannered, polite, a hostess and a whole list of drivel that she’d mastered long ago but never assimilated into her being.

She knew what she risked every time she responded to a text and got ready to come to such events. She knew it was a risk to everything she had worked for, but still she did it needing that rush of adrenaline that the prospect of detection brought. Never did she think she would actually get caught.

She scoffed as he took her cigarette from her and casually took a drag before handing it back. Then…he smiled, she supposed it was to put her at ease or maybe increase her anxiety, whatever the reason she did not smile back.

She leaned closer to him, her eyes on his face. “Don’t play with me,” she told him with the same blunt tone as she’d asked her question. His response left the door opened to a thousand or more things that could be done to get herself out of this mess, but she would rather have him lay it bare than play at riddles.

He moved away and she watched him closely. “Maybe I underestimated you,” she admitted. “Silly me,” she added sarcastically, “but that’s not the point.” Not a liar unless he wanted to be? There was a fine line. “I wouldn’t know anything about that,” she retorted coldly. She lived on the edge where lies weren’t a choice they were a necessity.

“I’m glad you think so,” she replied, her tone annoyed and audibly so. “However it’s important to me that it stays a secret,” she said. “Sorry to disappoint,” she continued, “I’ll try to come up with something better in future. Just tell me what you want? Your type always want something in exchange.” By his type he meant men with money and position, nothing came for free everything was a trade. He thought she had darker secrets, then he was right but he didn’t need to know anything about them, about her late nights with a particular fanged gentleman for starters or anything else. She just wanted to protect them all.

“I would never have pegged you for the type to come to places likes this? I would have said you were the type that liked to play dangerous, but never actually crossed the line. A homebody, that was what I had you pegged for but that’s trivial now. I just want to know one thing,” she said her words emphatic. “Will you tell anyone about me?” Her eyes never left his face as she spoke, searching and waiting for an answer.

Did her reputation worry him? No. Did he feel like God, holding the power over someone's life? No. She was so worried, and it was at once lovely to see, and terribly depressing. Livelihood was all very good and nice, but it meant nothing if she was hiding herself. Isidore felt that they'd already established that she was doing so, and so he didn't feel as guilty as he should. Actually, he didn't feel guilty at all. He was just an asshole like that.

She leaned forward, and he matched her. Every word uttered from his lips was carefully accentuated. "But it's so much fun." It pleased him to say it to her face. It pleased him to throw it back in her face that he was nothing like what he pretended to be. Oh, some of his arrogance, of his perverse sense of humour had leaked out, but not quite to this extent. To him, mortals were fun to play with. They were puppets.

Until they chose to become more. It wasn't a conscious choice, of course, but there came a point when some of them just moved to a higher level. Isidore had helped several people come to that point. He felt rather proud, even if most did walk away despising him.

He lifted a finger to her. "You did underestimate me. Considerably." He cocked his head to the side. "And that is exactly the point. I might be dangerous, but I'm not a liar. I told you exactly who I was, even if I didn't show you. You, however, did nothing of the sort. So don't be annoyed with me that you've gotten yourself into a bit of a tangle. This is your doing, not mine. I told you - I'm dangerous. It's not like I could just walk away from this."

Yup. Super-huge jerk.

"You do that," he said in response to her promise to make up something better. He took a drink, before smiling. "A homebody? I'm certainly not that, as you can see." He was, well, draped over that stool and the bar next to it. There really was no way to put it. Here was a man who was attractive, and who knew it. "And I never play at being dangerous. I only do the real thing."

In a moment, he was standing. Green eyes peered around the room. "The truth of the matter is that this party is tame. You wouldn't be able to handle some of the things I do." Isidore tapped his chin for a moment. "I think I've decided what I want." He looked out to the dance floor and back. "Dance with me."

She watched Isidore with steady eyes, waiting for the answer that could possibly change her life forever. Would he tell anyone about her? She was pretty sure her plight mattered little to him, he was probably gloating in his mind over finding her in such a place. After all he was a man he had little to worry about, not like she did. She worked in a man’s field and was on top, which made her the object of some envy by her male counterparts and anyone of them would be looking for an opportune time to discredit her. Isidore now had the ammunition that they needed to bring her down; the question remained…would he use it?

She watched his eyes with an intense stare. Her jaw clenched as he told her this was fun, “Glad you’re amused,” she replied with a dry tone that was etched with her sarcasm. He was enjoying this. If he had been any other person there that night, any one else trying to pull something over her eyes he would have felt her hand across his face by now. Lorrea was not a woman who took to intimidation, the only reason she held her hand and her tongue was because she had something to lose and until she found a way to save it, she would be ‘nice.’

She watched his finger as he spoke. Underestimate him; that she had done and she would not do again. “You think you’re so smart don’t you?” she said emotionlessly. “Enjoying playing with me? Declaring how dangerous you are?” She spoke in a low tone then. “Then do not underestimate me Isidore. I find myself in the position of having to protect something I hold dear, and believe me when I say…I am not afraid to defend it with everything I have.” Her words were honest. She would take him on, dangerous or not, if she had to in order to protect herself.

She had chosen to like Isidore at their first meeting, finding the man interesting and considerably more to her liking than most she met at such frilly events, but right now liking him didn’t matter. She just wanted to know if her secret was safe. If it was safe, then fine or else, Isidore was about to become enemy number one on her list.

“Do nothing of the sort?” she retorted. She took a drag on her cigarette and then calmly exhaled, though inside she was far from calm. “Why should I have told you anything about me? You were just a guy I met at a film festival, I didn’t think I would see you again and besides what business would my personal life be to you.” Her words were logic and again honest. “My personally life and activities has nothing to do with you or anyone else. It’s my business.”

She ordered a brandy and then looked at Isidore. “But you could,” she replied. “You could walk away from this. Pretend you never saw me,” she told him with slightly softer eyes. Did she think he would take her up on her offer of simply forgetting this? No, she wasn’t that stupid, but it was worth a shot.

She ignored his statement about making up something better. She had better, but it was none of his business. “I see that now,” she replied as her drink was placed before her and she paid the man with a bill from her waist. “Well I don’t play either,” she replied. Now he knew something real about her other than her liking for wild parties.

She sipped her drink, “Then why don’t you leave? I am sure I wouldn’t mind,” she said with a sarcastic little grin. Yes, if this was different circumstances she might have found Isidore attractive, because he was, but at the moment her defences were up and the last thing she was considering was how good he looked in his clothes, or the earring that was now in his ear that wasn’t there when they met. Okay, she noticed but had no time to think on it. It was her job to notice things and she was very observant. She laughed, “Whatever you want to think,” she replied to his claim that she could not handle the type of things he did. She doubted that very much. She liked things that were slightly dangerous and wild, it was in her blood and she knew she could handle anything he could.

She finished her drink and left the glass on the bar, brown eyes turning back to Isidore. “What?” she asked. Here it comes, she thought and then paused when she heard his request. “What?” she repeated this time in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” she rose from her seat to stand right in front of him. “You’ll let this go if I dance with you?” Was he serious? That was it, that was all she wanted? She wasn’t going to have to pay him or promise him free accounting for the rest of her life? All she had to do was dance with him?

She could do that.

“If that’s all you want…I can do that,” she said calmly and started towards the dance floor.

Indeed, he did look like the cat that caught the canary. He so loved it when things just fell into his lap. Like he'd mentioned the first time they'd met, it was his life's purpose to waste his life away. There was nothing else left to him. If he were going to live away until the sun expanded in 5.2 billion years (provided no one killed him before that - good luck on that front so far), at least he could say that he'd spent his existence having fun. Sometimes at other people's expense. If he went to hell for it, Isidore was going to have a chat with Satan. Isidore, after all, was only following his example.

His pale eyebrows were almost at his hairline when she mentioned him being smart. "Kind of, yeah," he quipped, ginning at her. When she continued, he rolled his eyes - still grinning - and added onto what he had said before. "Defend yourself? I'm hardly throwing you on the floor and taking you from behind. I'm certainly not taking your puppy and throwing it against the wall." His face showed just how hard he found it to believe that her career was that important to her.

Lips slurping the rest of his drink from his glass, Isidore looked at her. "No. I couldn't just walk away." It was said quietly, confidently. There was no hint of love, or even affection in there. "Once you get to know me better - if you get to know me better - you'll see that I really, truly, am not that sort of a person."

And then he was standing, holding his hand out to her, waiting for the inevitable acceptance of his proposal. Was it really that hard to believe that all he wanted was a dance? Well, yes, he supposed he could see how it would be. But the look on her face was priceless. Some small, sick part of him on the inside was laughing at the look of it. Couldn't help it. He was that sort of person.

He sighed and deadpanned, "No. I'm lying. Love me, love me, baby." Isidore's face was completely bland when he said this, showing just what he thought of that. When she accepted - which he'd known she'd do - he took her by the arm and led her to the stage.

She'd said yes. Now she didn't have a choice.

Was he ruining her perfectly planned night of decadent indulgence? Most definitely he was, and to make it worse he was grinning at her like a bloody Cheshire cat. She loathed his smugness, she might have found it slightly amusing if it weren’t directed at her, but it was and therefore she couldn’t pretend to stand it.

She gave him a look, something between a grin and a scowl as he confirmed that he felt rather good about himself at the moment. “Now there is an image I didn’t need,” she retorted to his statement about taking her from behind. “I hope this place as enough alcohol to erase such a repugnant image from my head,” she said with a smug look on her face. If there was one thing most men couldn’t stand it was a challenge to their masculinity and their sexual abilities. She really could careless if he was offended by her remark, after all he put it out there in the first place. “I don’t have a puppy. I’m not the puppy kind of woman,” she added for good measure.

He really didn’t understand how important this was to her, how much she needed to retain her pristine image. She wasn’t doing it for herself; on the contrary for someone she loved much dearer, her mother. Though the woman would hardly know her to look at her, her mind being held prisoner by a paranoia-inducing diseases, her daughter still did what she could to make her proud even if it meant living two lives to do it. however she doubted very much Isidore would understand that, doing something for the sake of another and she was not going to explain it to him.

His confirmation that he could not walk away was not unexpected. Lor knew he wasn’t about to walk away without getting something out of it. “What would make you think I want to know you better?” she retorted with a sweet yet insincere smile. “Or is that your way of trying to imply you would like to know me,” she added with slightly raised brows.

She looked at his hand, the temptation to slap it away from her to show just how annoyed she was, was very strong. However, a dance was no big deal, it could be worse she supposed so she might as well try to enjoy it and get it over with. Hopefully he wouldn’t suddenly think of something else he wanted as well. I hope he can dance. she thought, it would be even more annoying to her if he couldn’t.

She glared at him for a moment, “Thump…thump…thump goes my heart. I want you, I need you, oh baby…oh baby…” she retorted to his comment, and then added “and that…was a lie,” she said with a smirk, “just in case you missed it.”

He led her to the stage, Lor walking beside him but not looking at him. She discarded her cigarette on the floor amidst the crowd on her way, till they reached a suitable place in the heart of the dance floor. She continued to ignore his presence as her body began to move giving into the song’s commands. It was a fast song with a very defined and intoxicating beat, one that made you get lost, which was precisely what she needed.

Yes, that was something Isidore was very good at, ruining nights. He'd done it countless times in the past, and usually on purpose. Some might say that it was self-loathing that made him lash out at other people in subtle and unpredictable ways, but Isidore wasn't sure you could go that far. He didn't hate himself. He didn't even hate things that he did. Once in a while he felt a tinge of regret. Even less often, he felt guilty. It was just the way he was built.

Or the way he was brought up (the second time), if you rather.

Placing a hand on his chest, he managed to look mocking and somewhat offended at the same time. "There is no point in denying it. If you haven't thought about it yet, you will at some point in the future - trust me." Arrogant, yes, but to his way of thinking, completely true. Was it sad that he had that much confidence in himself? He gave a mental shrug and decided not to think about it.

No, he really didn't understand. There had been few things in the life of Isidore Sauvageot that he'd really ever feared losing, and he'd lost them all. Since then, he'd structured himself in a way that made him enjoy life, but take everything for granted. If he lost it, it was gone, he'd find something else. If he lost someone's good favour, it was lost, and he'd go find someone else to get him what he needed. It was all very simple. Don't put too much trust in things being static, because they always disappeared. Sometimes it just happened sooner rather than later.

His shrug said nothing at all. It was casual. "Just a hunch." His eyebrows waggled at her.

Despite himself, Isidore barked out a laugh. It was loud and surprised. "I'm an ass, I'm not deaf, cherie." He watched her dance, obviously ignoring him. That was something that was going to have to be rectified. He positioned himself as close to her as he could without actually touched her and danced.

He was actually pretty good, for someone that had been raised in an era of dances that were now considered archaic.

She laughed fully in his face at his reply. “You do think highly of yourself,” she mocked. “I however know that thought will not cross my mind…ever,” she emphasized the last word. True or not she had said it, and it was completely intended to do just one thing, hit at the colossal ego the man seemed to possess. She liked a man with such an ego; she liked rubbing it in his face when she showed him up. Arrogance was not an appealing characteristic to her, well it depended, but at the moment as attractive as he might have been, it was not inclining her towards him.

She could say one thing, his price for silence was rather cheap and for that she was thankful. Yes, she was putting up with the arrogance, but at least she didn’t have to promise herself to something she would hate. A dance was nothing, she did that all the time with perfect strangers, she could stand a dance with Isidore.

She’d lost her father and then her mother; though her mother wasn’t dead she was gone. Her mother’s mind ceased to function on a level where she could be guaranteed to even know that you were her child long ago, but sometimes she hoped that one morning her mother would just snap out of it and be the woman she used to be. It broke Lorrea’s heart the day her mother lashed out at her, thinking she was some mystery person trying to get her. Isidore couldn’t possibly understand that and why it was one of the reasons that she needed to keep up her face.

“I’ll have to make it more clear the next time,” she said with a cheeky grin.

The music blared and the beat thumped in her chest as her clothes began to grow wet. The sprinklers were on, soaking everyone in the vicinity from head to toe, not that any of them minded they came here for this, for this type of unexpected fun. The water rolled down her body causing her shirt to stick to her body and her hair to grow darker and strands to stick to her face. she was being oblivious to Isidore at this point, the man had almost spoiled her night, but she had just determined that he was not…not, going to ruin the rest. Once this dance was over she’d go about her business…the business of having fun, and lots of it.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Lor replied not looking back at him as he called himself an ass. She sensed him draw nearer, catching a glimpse of his body out of the corner of her eye. She wasn’t deterred by him at all, she just kept moving, letting her body do what it willed. After a few minutes she concluded that Isidore was not a bad dancer, unfortunate because that would have ensured her mood stayed negative towards him. Now, she might actually be coerced into enjoying this dance.

In the jumble of human bodies all clamouring over each other, she found herself being pushed back against the man whose silence she was currently purchasing. She felt his body behind her and while she had to, she remained against him till once again the crowd surged forward and she was able to take a step away. She turned to face him then, still dancing. “Have I purchased your silence yet?” she asked. The instant her back was turned she felt another body behind her, a man who was most definitely drunk gyrated his thin body against hers, completely ignoring Isidore.

Lor looked over her shoulder and then back at Isidore, a grin on her face as she fought a laugh. “Looks like I have more than one partner,” she teased with a raised eyebrow. She was ignoring the man behind her, her concerns were with Isidore however she made no attempt to shoo the man away.

Unfortunately, Isidore's ego was rather hard to pop. Once you got past the outer wall, there were half a dozen more, each with stronger and stronger defenses. He was very hard to offend in this way, since he found it more amusing than anything. That ego still floated above his head (had it been in his head, said head would have been five times too large for his body), and it would take a nuclear holocaust to bring it down.

Instead of answering her, he merely smiled at her as if to say, You keep telling yourself that. This all seemed very much like a Shakespearean comedy - the lady saying she would have absolutely nothing to do with the lord, only to find herself wondering why she wasn't getting enough attention. Or, at least, that might be the way it played out. With this particular woman, it was hard to say. She didn't seem particularly amused with him - he couldn't imagine why. Isidore thought the whole thing was hilarious.

He wasn't sure if he liked the water. It was interesting, to be sure, but it had ruined his shirt (he'd known it would), and his ponytail was dripping water down his back. The white of the shirt stuck to his chest, becoming translucent (as wet, white things are pone to do).

"At least we agree on something," was his dry retort, coupled with a half-smirk. Isidore danced, even as her body was pushed up against his, moulding his moves to match the curve of her body. The crowd changed, and then she was facing him, asking him about the cost of him keeping mum. "I don't know. If I say yes, will you walk away?" There was something almost playful in his tone - playful and more or less innocent. It was actually devoid of the mocking that had permeated most of his words.

When the man arrived, Isidore just looked at her. "If you'd rather dance with him than with me, then by all means..." He bowed - hard to do in the crowd - and gestured grandly to the drunkard currently behind her. "I'd like to hope you have class - you seemed to - but I'm not your chaperone."

The fact that he was trying not to laugh at her ruined this chivalrous gesture.

His smile made her feel that she needed to repeat herself and how she would definitely not be seeking to find out anything more intimate about that man, but knowing it made no sense. If other attributes of his were as big as his ego, he’d be a fright in bed. Not that she was thinking about it. Some men could be gotten to with words, this one obviously wasn’t and she wasn’t going to waste her precious time trying…she could be having fun instead.

She gave him a smug smile and kept her mouth shut on that point. He was probably thinking she was just saying that now and he’d win her over eventually, but she wasn’t going to have it. She wasn’t interested, she wasn’t and he couldn’t make her.

She held back at smirk as she took in the full appearance of the man now fully covered head to toe in water. Gone was the fine lines and elegant appearance of their first meeting, and instead stood something of a mixture between someone from a tawdry romance novel and a perfect marble sculpture of maleness with just a hint of arrogant ass thrown in for good measure.

She had to be thankful she hadn’t worn white tonight like she’d planned, or else her assets would be as visible as his at the moment.

Right…back to her question.

She returned the smirk and then paused at the statement which followed. Would she walk away if he said yes? “Does it matter?” she asked slyly. “This was just a business transaction wasn’t it?” she snidely. His words were a bit nicer than before, she did pick that up but the point was, she honestly didn’t believe he has asked her to dance for the fun of it, just because he wanted to. She was sure he was seeing this as a way to make her squirm for his own amusement, and Lor didn’t like being anyone’s comic relief. Perhaps if she did believe him she might have smiled and found it a tiny bit charming.

She laughed at his statement about the guy who danced behind her. “You’re a riot,” she replied stepping towards him and then much as she had leaned into him at the film festival she did it again, till her lips were near his ear. “Class…if you or I were looking for class…neither of us would be here,” she said somewhat more playfully than she had spoken to him before. She had to admit the class statement had tickled her funny bone as they say. “And…I don’t need a chaperone, I’m a big girl now,” she added teasingly.

She stepped back but not enough to once again be in the grasp of her drunken friend, “Besides dancing is more fun with someone who actually wants to dance with you,” she replied and with that walked past Isidore, brushing him with her shoulder and headed back to the bar.

Had Isidore heard what she had thought about his appearance, he would have done everything he could to play to his advantage - however slight it might be. One had to admit that even his life sounded like a cheap novel: a monk falls in love with a woman, the woman turns out to be a vampire, he becomes a vampire and devotes the rest of his life being as naughty as he possibly could. If he were musically inclined, one would expect him to break into a musical theatre number any moment.

Her sly look was matched by his. "Does it?" Answering a question with a question - wasn't that annoying? "Was it just a business transaction?" There was something on his face that hinted that it might not have been. Was there a possibilty that he had done that just to get a dance from her? Well, yeah. Everything in the universe was a possibility. It was even possible that the sun might not rise tomorrow. It seems unlikely, but it could happen.

When Lorrea's face came next to his, he breathed in her scent in an exaggerated way. "Yes, I always thought so." There. Some more arrogance. "And I'll have you know that there are some particularly classy people here. Namely, you and I." Isidore looked her up and down. "Yes, I can see that." There was more than a little innuendo in his voice.

He didn't even turn around when he called, loud enough to be heard over the music, "Because, of all the things I could have asked for, I asked for a dance I didn't want." Looking over his shoulder, he watched her. "Your logic makes absolutely no sense, cherie."

This man was being insufferable. Playing with her mind, trying bargain with a dance? Nothing he did made any sense and yes usually Lorrea liked that, but at the moment she just wanted to know what the hell he was up to. What had really irked her was the answering a question with a question. What was he raised by baboons that he didn’t know that was rude and rather annoying at that?

Was it a business transaction? HA! She could have laughed at the repeat of that question. What else was she supposed to take it to be? If she hadn’t been so annoyed by the questions being asked back at her she might have cared to notice the look on his face as he spoke, that hint of something more being behind that statement. Anything was possible she knew, but at the moment she doubted very much that what she was considering actually would. She could suddenly decide to stop running around in the dark and actually be the woman she portrayed by day…HAHAHA!!! Another big laugh to that one.

He was the most arrogant man she had ever encountered and that was saying a lot considering she worked with mostly men who all thought they were business gods.

She didn’t miss it this time, the look that accompanied his statement about classy people. She was too annoyed to smirk at the statement and bedside with Isidore there could be some hidden meaning she wasn’t picking up on.

She was walking away, head high and feet moving as quickly as possibly back towards the bar but with the sea of people that lay between the two it was a very slow process. She heard him then, just as she was squeezing by a group of young men all jumping around in a circle together. She stopped and turned quickly, her hair whipping against her body as she did so and her eyes fixed on him. “Yours doesn’t,” she retorted.

She walked back, her eyes never leaving his in an almost challenging manner. “If you wanted a dance Isidore…” she said coolly, her hand finding its way casually to hip as she shifted her weight to one leg, “then all you had to do was ask. You didn’t need to play me with me. You could have just said you’d keep your mouth shut and you wanted a dance. Simple isn’t it?” She added sarcastically.

“So…do you want to dance with me?” she asked calmly. If he said yes she might indulge him but if he said no she was heading to the bar getting another drink and finding herself someone who did.

She thought questions being asked back at her was annoying? It was a good thing she had never been raised in a monastery. Every question asked was answered with another. It had just become another little piece of Isidore's make up. Now when he didn't feel like bothering to answer your question in an intelligent manner, he'd act as an echo. It was no wonder Narcissus had ignored her.

And Isidore didn't just think he was a business god - he knew it. He'd had a couple centuries to perfect his technique, after all.

Hearing her talking to him, he just stood there looking back at her. The man didn't even look remotely sorry for what he'd done - probably because he didn't feel sorry. If she didn't come back, she didn't come back and that was that. Instead, he shrugged. "They say that opposite sexes don't understand each other. They also say that I'm an arrogant bastard. They'd be right on both accounts." His smile was soft. "I am utterly incapable of asking for anything. If I want something, I must go in a round-a-bout circle to get to it."

Which was completely true. Hence the whole hullaballoo of the evening. Oh, he could do it fine in a nice setting, but not when he was being himself. That was when he had too much to lose.

Funny, since he prided himself on being completely unattached.

Even then, he toyed with the idea of toying with her, of giving her some cryptic reply. He didn't though. He didn't even answer her. He just walked up to her, took her hand, and pulled her back to the dancefloor with him.

Like previously mentioned, he had a hard time asking for something. Or admitting he wanted something. So he just took what he wanted.

She maintained her pose, her face still and her eyes questioning. Did he want to dance or what? She didn’t have time to waste playing cat and mouse.

He didn’t answer her…typical. He stood there looking at her as if she were speaking some foreign language or he was an alien from Melmac. He didn’t look apologetic, not that she had expected him to be, he just looked present. She listened in silence as he spoke of the opposite sexes and him being an arrogant bastard. She smiled at the last part, “That they would be,” she replied still smiling. She was not going to argue the point, arrogant bastard he was and that was fine by her.

She gave him a smug half grin, “Well then I guess you have a problem then,” she replied with a raised eyebrow. “Cause in this world there are few things that just fall in your lap, more that have to be asked for and a minuscule amount that can just be taken. I suggest you learn to ask for what you want.” You might just get. She didn’t let the thoughts of her mind be the words of her mouth, oh no she was not about to give him the satisfaction of openly saying she wasn’t entire apposed to the idea of dancing with him. That would be inflating that humongous ego of his still further and heaven help her then.

Was he going to ask? Her foot was seconds from beginning an impatient tap that would have quickly turned into a step in the opposite direction, namely the bar. However the only walking her feet got to do was further into the ocean of bodies as Isidore took her hand and led her back. She smirked behind his back…got ya! So this was about a dance. She wanted to laugh, so she did, her beautiful smile lighting up her face as she stepped in front of him.

She looked up at the men, half looking like a drowned cat but infinitely better. Her smile said it all, there was no need to argue a point anymore and neither was there a need for her to be concerned about her secret. If this was truly about a dance he didn’t need to hold anything against her because she was dancing with him now of her own accord. She could have pulled away and gone back to the bar or home for that matter, but the point was from the second she saw him she had stuck around, which may or may not have meant something.

Her body picked up the beat as if she had never stopped moving, her body alive in one fluid motion before him. It didn’t take long before her eyes closed and she was lost in the music.

Aha. She really didn't know him.

Isidore crossed his arms. "That just shows what you know," he said. "It has been my experience that if you play your cards right, you can get almost anything without asking. They might not fall into your lap, but they certainly end up on your desk. It has been a very long time since I asked for anything. It would take something very important indeed to sway me." He didn't mention exactly how long a very long time was, but decided he'd put the proper emphasis on it.

The fact that she was preparing to turn and walk away had been blaringly apparent. That's why he did what he did. It was no coincidence that he was leading her away from the bar. It was only part of his master plan - a plan he'd thought up about five seconds ago. What could he say? He liked improv. When she laughed, he looked over his shoulder at her, quirking an eyebrow in an exaggerated question.

And yes, he had noticed that she had stuck around. What was that about her not thinking about him in that way? And never, ever going to? Right. He was going to make sure she ate those words, even if it took a very long time.

It wasn't like he had anywhere to be for the next few decades.

He moulded his body to hers, moving with her to the beat of the music. It was ecstacy - the escape, not the music. The dancing with a beautiful woman didn't hurt either. Isidore grinned softly.

She was going to laugh now; most definitely she was going to laugh. Didn’t end up in your lap but on your desk? She laughed slightly. A very long time eh? Well she was going to find out how long was very long for Isidore. “I’ll keep that in mind, should I ever see something important that might interest you,” she replied cheekily. Again she laughed to herself…on his desk…haha!

That eyebrow, how she was considering shaving it off the amount of time it had raised itself on her account for the evening. However she hadn’t walked with a razorblade or the temptation might have been too much to not give into. Had she known he had some master plan in mind she would have begun to formulate one of her own, perhaps she was doing that anyway just because he had played with her earlier. He would find out eventually wouldn’t he?

Their bodies met in their respective performances, and fit quite nicely if truth be told. Taking her from behind? Well this was going to be closest he ever got to that, thought it didn’t mean she wouldn’t let him think he was going to have that pleasure. He was dangerous and she wasn’t always so nice either.

Her hands moved above her head, over her skin, wherever they chose to go. She didn’t command them, they commanded her. Her hips wriggled and writhed in a manner one could only describe as expert, she couldn’t have moved better if she’d been trained as a belly dancer or some other exotic. This was right; this was what she had come for, some fun, and some simple pure enjoyment.

She would have loved to see his face right then, but her back was to him, her body pressed against his. She could imagine it however and it roused a grin of glee on her face.

While he didn't laugh with her, Isidore certainly came close. He looked almost as amused as she did, despite the fact that he was almost at the centre of the joke. "You do that, cherie. While I have excellent eyesight, I'm horrible at recognizing what I need." Read: downright dreadful. He'd gone without things simply because he didn't want to ask for them. It had been painful. It had been hard.

And then he'd stolen them, and everything had been right in the world once again.

Isidore didn't really know how many times he raised that eyebrow - truly. There was something in his genetic makeup that made it his predisposition to be snarky, to be sarcastic and rude. That eyebrow merely put on his face what he felt on this inside. Yes, it was a very good thing she didn't have a razor. Had she one, it might have been the end of their friendship. (You ask, what friendship? The answer: exactly.)

Their bodies fitting together, they both seemed to be sharing the same wavelength, but unlike Lorrea, he wasn't sure this would be the closest he ever got. Despite wanting what he wanted and taking what he took, he could be remarkably patient. Not with people, of course, but with waiting to want what he want and take what he took. Very complicated stuff indeed.

At this moment, the only real reason he wanted her was because she was so steadfastly denying that it was possible. Which it was. Far too possible.

Could she imagine it? There was amusement, sure, but there was also concentration. Perhaps not on the dancing, but on the woman herself. It wasn't the lusty, aroused look she was probably invisioning, but it wasn't flat either. He moved with her, running his hands down her sides to rest on her hips. If she could wiggle, he could wiggle as well, and very close to her. '

Let her believe what she wanted.

The fact that he leaned over to whisper in her ear in a voice that wasn't entirely gentlemanly, "Don't tempt me," didn't help either.

She didn’t respond. She would remember, she would keep an eye open for anything that might interest him, oh yes she would. She didn’t understand a person who didn’t or couldn’t ask for what they wanted. To ask was easy, much easier sometimes than trying to take it, and it did save you some aggravation as well. If he had wanted to dance a simple question, short and to the point would have gotten him an instant yes, instead of this round-about method.

Her body stayed in time, her mind lost in the daze that the music created in her head. She didn’t have to worry about that eyebrow now; she couldn’t see it to have it annoy her. That eyebrow could possible be just as curious and annoying as some of his words if not more so, but it was also somewhat…flattering to his face. Yes, it made no sense but the man was attractive there was denying that, but the point was, she was a far cry away from envisioning him in all his male glory. She was not going to be seeing him naked and he most positively was not going to be seeing her.

Were they friends? No. They were, for lack of a better word acquaintances, though she would admit that from their last meeting she liked him better than most of her acquaintances.

If he was any sort of man, which he was, he was probably planning how to prove himself right. Lorrea, being the woman that she was, was planning on how she was going to prove herself right. They would both see who would win…it was going to be her, she was sure of it. Lorrea had will, a very strong will when it came to proving herself. She didn’t shy from a challenge, and Isidore was just that…a challenge.

His hands found her hips of their own accord, which made her smirk to herself but nothing more as she continued her dance against him. They matched to a ‘T’ each move perfectly fitted to the other. Too bad, she didn’t want to mix her two worlds or else there would have been some definite potential for Isidore in it.

He leaned over, she could feel his breath gently against her ear as he spoke, his words lacking the gentlemanly flair of before. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she replied coyly as her hips took a slow turn against him.

A person who couldn't ask for what they wanted was someone who was used to being declined. Isidore knew this, just as he knew that it was for exactly that reason that he had that wedge of bitterness in his heart. His ego was something else entirely, but that bitterness was all because of this. That, however, was not something he wanted to think about. Thinking on bad memories only served to make them more real - not something he wanted.

He had quite enough dead bodies in his past, both literal and metaphorical, and he didn't want any of them being unearthed.

Acquaintances, haha. Is he had known how many different ways that word was used by Isidore, she would be less inclined to use it to describe whatever the hell it was that they were. Oh yes, Isidore could make pages of lists of acquaintances.

And unfortunately for Lorrea, he wasn't used to being wrong. Just because he was being an ass tonight (he wasn't every night, surprise surprise) didn't mean that he wasn't intelligent. He could read people - or, he could read in people what he wanted to read in them, and inspire other things in them that they never thought possible. He was what people liked to call a 'bad influence'. It was a title he accepted willingly.

Oh! So she wanted to play like that did she?

His hands moved to her stomach, and slowly moved upwards to the base of her ribs, where he let them stay though his fingers twitched with the promise of moving higher. "I'm sure you don't," he agreed dryly in her ear. "Just like I'm sure that women haven't known what they were doing all throughout history. Cleopatra? Anne Boleyn? Honest mistakes, really." He leaned his head a little closer. "If you play the game, Lorrea, you have to be ready for the consequences. Are you?"

Lor wasn’t used to being denied; in fact she could hardly think of a time when she didn’t get what she wanted. Whether it was simply given or she had to work very hard, she always got it, no matter how long it took, in the end it was hers. Perhaps if she knew of Isidore’s bitterness and his reasons for it she might have felt inclined to feel sorry for him, not that she would pity him but compassion. She didn’t however, and therefore she could only deduce that he just didn’t know what he wanted sometimes, a sad state of affairs in her opinion since she always knew who and what she wanted.

If she had known what acquaintances meant to Isidore she would most definitely have chosen a different word but for the time she didn’t know and that was the word she would use. She had her own acquaintances as well though she was hardly considering them now.

Bad influences, Lor didn’t need those; she was a bad influence of and to herself. Her own mind tempted her into things that most people never got persuaded into doing, or even considered. Lorrea didn’t need more temptation in her life; she was a walking temptation herself. Isidore may have been able to implant little thoughts and ideas and curiosities into other women’s minds, but Lor wanted to be the one to implant them in his. She couldn’t help it, she was used to being the bad influence and it was a title she found very fun indeed.

His hand moved to her stomach, his firm hand wandering further up her wet top to the base of her ribcage, and still she kept dancing. His fingers seemed tempted to go higher, to explore the peaks above but didn’t. She kept the smile to herself. “I’m positive I don’t,” she reiterated teasingly. “Those women weren’t me,” she replied as he brought up Cleopatra and Anne Boleyn, women who had come to some sad ends. He leaned closer and she turned her head towards him, her words soft and daring. “The better question is…are you?”

Then it was probably a very good thing that she didn't know about Isidore. The last thing he wanted was pity. The second last thing he wanted was compassion. Having someone be compassionate towards you made it so very hard to be the sick bastard you knew yourself to be. Besides, that bitterness was his and his alone. To explain that bitterness, Isidore would have to go through the entire history of his life, explain some things to her that some people wouldn't want explainin. In short, it would be a mess. He didn't want that.

Implant ideas in his head? Lorrea would have a hell of a time doing that. He was stubborn. Maybe not as stubborn as she was - she was proving to be rather so, in Isidore's opinion - but stubborn enough to hold his ground, and do what he wanted, despite beautiful women telling him otherwise. The last woman that had tried to control him had been left in a silk dress, in the rain, in the slums. Isidore still remembered that her mascara had been running. That was in 1948. He hadn't seen her again. He strongly suspected that someone merely ate her.

Funny, he didn't feel bad about it. It wasn't something he made a habit out of, but that woman had gone too far. Embezzling, pah!

"Are you so sure?" he asked. "I never had the pleasure of meeting Cleopatra, but I must say that you remind me a great deal of Anne Boleyn." He was grinning. He looked like he was teasing, but he wasn't. Although he'd never met the second wife of Henry VIII, he'd been in the court for a whole season - long enough to see what the woman was like. Of course, that had been before she was queen, back when she'd been denying the King at every turn.

"Oh, cherie, you don't even have to ask."

Who hated compassion? What person didn’t like for someone to care at least a little about them? She would have thought Isidore rather cold-hearted indeed if she’d known that, but she didn’t. Then again, would she have been surprised? Men seldom liked to admit weakness or to show their true feelings. Though she might have been compassionate to Isidore just to see him act as something other than an arrogant ass. She didn’t understand bitterness, she didn’t feel it, or at least convinced herself well enough to think she didn’t. Her father had died when she was young, the man whom she loved more than anything and then her mother had gone mad. Why would she feel bitter?

Challenge, challenge, challenge, she did so love one. It would be interesting to see if she could convince Isidore, into seeing things her way, persuading him that she might bend her words for him and in turn get him to bend his for her. She was stubborn and so was he, a mix that was usually quite volatile because both always wanted their way. Problem was that only one could win and both would fight for it to be them. She didn’t want to control Isidore, she liked his ways (though she wasn’t going to tell him that at the moment, might make his ego bigger than before).

“I’m sure,” she said coolly, with that same playful grin. She didn’t respond to his Anne Boleyn statement, she really didn’t know what the woman was like nor did she care. She was not her.

“Unlike you…I ask when I want something…sometimes,” she added coyly.

Lor wasn’t afraid to challenge Isidore, and she hoped he wouldn’t mind, though she was sure he wouldn’t. It was fun pitting herself against him and vice versa. Two stubborn people going against each other, it would be fun to watch, and more fun to be a part of.

She placed her hand on his. “So…what brought you here?” she asked coyly, still leaning towards him.

Yup. That's him. On top of being an arrogant ass, he was also a cold-hearted asshole.

Well, he was Ishak. What could you expect? He wasn't the type to cry on someone's shoulder, to divulge his story, his pains, his weakness. He wasn't even the type to tell people how he'd become a vampire. That was something that was his own, that was private. Anyone who picked at that particular crack would get the entire dam of his anger falling upon them.

That made two of them, for Isidore loved a challenge as well. He wasn't about to lose this one, even if it was just because Lorrea thought he would. He would prove her wrong, but he was getting the nagging feeling that that was going to be easier said than done. It had been a long time since he had chosen someone with so much... spunk. Because, let's face it, he had chosen her after a fashion. He'd chosen her for a challenge if nothing else. The last few had been far too easy.

What had been the last one's name? Delphine. He'd had to move after her. The carpet had never been the same.

"Do you, then?" he returned, matching her grin and tone. "I don't doubt that." He looked pointedly at her hand on his. And then she asked why he'd come.

Because I was looking for someone to kill in the alley behind this place. There are always people here that no one will miss.

The sentence was on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't say that. He said, "I was looking for a good time. I suppose I've found one."

She watched his face, not knowing fully what to expect from him but somewhere inside looking forward to finding out. He was like her in a way; he was dabbling where propriety told him he shouldn’t be, just as she was. They were kindred in that, in the need to be their own person and doing exactly what they wanted. The only problem was, she still had the life outside the parties and clubs to worry about. She had the house on the hill with the pool and the friends with their kids and the office overlooking St. Raine’s. She had that and she wanted to keep that, at least she thought so.

Her life had never entirely been her own. Since her father died she’d tried to be the ‘right’ person, the ‘good’ girl but inside she just wanted to be free. She did well in school…for her parents. She went to college and graduated…for her parents. She became good at her work…for the challenge, for the thrill of it, but also…for her parents. Most things in her accepted life was done for her parents.

If she had known his mind, she would have seen herself as a conquest, a notch that he needed to etch onto some invisible chalkboard to make sure he was making enough tallies. Lor didn’t care, she wasn’t going to be some conquest, she was more than that and she knew it. She would never allow herself to feel like just another woman, she was special even if no one else wanted to see her uniqueness, she did.

She was not going to make anything easy for him…not a thing.

“You shouldn’t,” she replied with a smile. Doubt her, which was something you should never do. Doubting that Lor would do something was a mistake, because even if she didn’t want to she’d do it just to prove to you she could. They told her she would never make it in a man’s business, she had proven them wrong. She enjoyed proving people wrong about her.

She studied his face waiting for her answer. “Have you?” she teased in response. “I guess you could see it that way,” she added. She guessed she could see it that way too, but she wasn’t about to say it.

It was good that she didn't know what to expect from him. Hell, he didn't know what to expect from himself half the time. He went where he went, he did what he did, and he saw where he ended up. In this way, he was a lot freer than the mortals he worked so closely with, because despite the lack of sunshine (he'd gotten enough of it in life anyways) he could do what he wanted. If something didn't work, he'd move, he'd survive. He'd discovered that there was a life outside of what you thought you needed to accomplish.

Isidore had gone to become a monk for his mother. Well, he supposed it had been for himself too, at the time. God this and God that. God loves me. God makes puppies and rainbows and lollipops, if lollipops existed. It had been his mother's idea though, going to the monastery. A better life. A pious life. Blahdiblah. Isidore probably would have done better to stay a butcher like his father.

Well, in a way, he supposed he had.

Not going to make anything easy? Yeah, Isidore was somewhat used to that. He could sense that underneath her skin, that she was going to be difficult.

He laughed, loudly. "Now who's answering in questions?" It didn't bother him, not in the least.

There was a faint nagging at the back of his mind telling him he was ignoring something.

He ignored it.

She didn’t want to, she really didn’t but his question made her laugh. “Now you see how it feels,” she said still smiling. He wasn’t bad looking at all when he laughed; too bad he didn’t do it more often.

Isidore, though an ass and arrogant and probably a thousand other words to describe the very same personality traits, was somehow charming. Don’t ask her how he blended the two but he did, almost seamlessly. He made you want to kill him, strangle him where he stood but he also made you like having him nearby to see what he would do next. At the moment…she liked having him around to see what he’d do.

“What do you say we start over?” she asked coolly. “You try not to be such an arrogant ass and I’ll try…not to laugh too much at your attempts,” she said jokingly. Dangerous man, a very dangerous man, that was Isidore’s claims. She wasn’t going to challenge that point further, no she was actually kind of hoping he was, then maybe he’d bring a bit more spark into her life…if she ever saw him again after this night. She still wasn’t sure about that one.

It really would have been nice to do what she wanted in the open, but she couldn’t. She liked the life she had, the day life and the night, the contrasts of the two. It was fun to try to keep them separate, to have her cake and eat it too. There were things of course, things that no matter how much she wanted them she wasn’t going to be able to get and she accepted that, but she was going to enjoy everything thing that she could get.

She wondered suddenly as someone jumped into her head…Romax. How was her friend doing? He was a very special friend, a vampire friend. Her biggest secret of all was this, a secret that no one would ever know and even if she did tell they would never believe her. Lor had, for over a year now, been the willing food supply to one Romax Finch, a vampire. That was right, he fed on her blood and let her live to do it again and she got the rush of knowing she had survived to see another day.

She was darker than Isidore would ever know, and he was probably better off for it. She could only imagine what people would say if that little bit of news ever became public knowledge.

A part of him was glad that he'd made her laugh, not that Isidore would ever admit it. No, he'd just shrug in response to her question and leave it at that.

Amazing how he worked, wasn't it? You knew you shouldn't like him, you knew it, yet you couldn't seem to help yourself. Isidore knew how it worked, or, at least, he knew it worked. He'd been told so many times by many different people. Most of the time, they'd been completely exasperated with him, and had flung the truth back at him. The first time, he'd been stunned. The second time, he'd laughed. Now it was just a merry part of life.

He could have been childish. He could have said, But I don't wanna, but to his credit, he didn't. He nodded and he said, "All right, but I'm not promising anything. I'll try, but no matter how hard I try, I still manage to be insufferable without trying." He held out his arms in a gesture of helplessness.

Had Isidore known about this special vampire friend, chances are he probably would have called it quits right now. He would have said, Enjoy your night and would have taken off. They might have run into each other at some other gala, might have made small talk, might even have made plans, but Isidore would have kept aloof. If he had a mortal (to be far from politically correct), he didn't want to share. He was like a kid with a toy.

But he didn't know, and couldn't know - he wasn't telepathic - so he stayed. He stayed, even as that bit of his brain reminded him that sometime tonight, he still had to feed.

There were a few hours left. No big hurry. It could even be put off until tomorrow, if he felt like waking up ravenous.

He was the opposite in all ways to every other person she knew. Her associates, friends and normal acquaintances would never be caught in such a place, soaked from head to toe amongst a mass of strangers. No, they were far to respectable for that. It was a wonder that Lor never considered her respectability, it was a given that she was but she never really thought about it. What made one respectable? If it was the things you didn’t do, then Lor would fail that test by her actions at the moment. So respectability was very relative, it depended on what you did by lgiht and not by night.

Good thing too, because Lor could get into a lot of mischief by night.

She smiled, “Thank you. I can’t ask for more than that,” she replied to his statement. She didn’t know if he could manage not to be insufferable…probably not, but if he tried she could live with it. Who knew maybe it was his insufferable nature that she liked, it was so much more interesting that polite.

Had Lor known that Isidore was one of the very same, a man of the night like Romax, she might not have been so bold and interested…then again she just might be. Her relationship was Romax was based on the fact that he was a vampire, that was their bond…he liked blood and she had it to give. There was nothing more to it really, they enjoyed each other’s company and satisfied some basic needs at the same time. She didn’t, and wouldn’t see why that should bother anyone far less Isidore.

“Well since you are making such a huge sacrifice in trying to curb you nature tonight…why don’t I buy you a drink then?” she asked curiously. “As a sign of good faith,” she added. A drink was always good to break the ice and loosen up a bit.

Yes, Isidore was the opposite. Once upon a time, that had been his life's goal - to be contrary. It must be that somewhere along the way, he'd stopped trying to be contrary, and it had just started happening. There was almost nothing he wouldn't do, and those that were on the list weren't important. They involved insignificant little things that didn't change history in any way. In all ways that counted, there was nothing that held Isidore back.

He nodded his head, his face oddly solemn. "You're welcome." He was thinking the same thing as her. He didn't know if he could refrain from being insufferable. It was what made him Isidore Sauvageot. Without it, he just would have been another stodgy art dealer. No thank you.

Why would Isidore care? Because if Lorrea alread 'belonged' (for lack of a better word) to some vampire, then he wouldn't waste his time. Even had she assured him that it was simply a symbiotic relationship, he might not have bought it. He didn't need anyone's handmedowns. He could go out and buy a new pair of whatever he wanted.

"I think," he said slowly, "that is is customary for the man to buy the drink. However, if you will allow me to buy the first one, you may by one later in the evening." See? He was trying. "If, by some miracle, we're still talking by then." He grinned.

Okay, he was sort of trying.

She smiled as he told her she was welcomed. She didn’t know how much of that he meant, but she wasn’t too bothered if he didn’t. Lor was back on track now, her concerns over protecting her secret were gone which meant she was free to actually enjoy the night as much as possible.

Isidore Sauvageot nor anyone else, had any idea how much of this life, the life of alcohol, dancing and free fun, made up Lorrea Meir. If it wasn’t for the night and the opportunity to literally let her hair down and just dive head first into whatever little thrill she could get into, she would surely go mad. She wasn’t built to be restrained, though she tried. Her father had been the same in his youth, wild and untamed and completely reckless. However, he had changed the day he met her mother and realised that he wanted something more than just a quick bit of fun that was gone by the morning. Lor wasn’t to that point in her life, in fact she doubted she ever would be, she enjoyed this life and sometimes she thought it was better than her other. However, the sun would come up and she would get dressed in her designer suit and forget the thoughts of the night before.

Lor ‘belonged’ to know one, that was something she prided herself on- to not be owned, and she was no ones hand-me-down either…thank you. Lor know what it was to be bought and paid for and she wasn’t about to be put in the category, not for anyone. Men were a funny breed, who took to women for certain comforts and for what they could do for them. Perhaps that was why Lor liked them on a one night basis. Yes she couldn’t keep up that life forever, people would begin to wonder and her stepfather was already asking questions. Eventually she would have to further conform to the image that he and the others she knew imagined for her and another little part of her would die. But…that day was not today.

She nodded. “Yes, that’s very true; the man usually buys the drinks. Sorry I tried to steal that privilege from you,” she teased. “but I can allow you to buy me the first drink and I’ll get a round later on.” She laughed, “If…we’re still talking? Are you planning on giving me a reason not to talk to you Isidore?” she said with a grin.

Would Isidore call himself wild? Not particularly. He could get wild at times, but he wasn't so unfettered as that. There were still times when he held back, when he stopped for a moment to read a book, to play the piano - to do a million other (quiet) things. Partying was just a simple cover for looking for feeding. That wouldn't stop if he found something important to him. He'd still be out here, finding someone to sustain him.

As for men using women, well, Isidore was hardly the person to argue with that. He'd used his fair share of women - not that he'd talk about it. He had to have some dignity for them, even if he had left some in rather dire straights. It wasn't his fault they got clingy and wanted more from him than he was willing to give. If there was one thing he despised, it was clingy. Once upon a time, he would have taken their invitation (it so often turned out that they didn't mean them, in the end) to get what he wanted, but not anymore. Now he avoided them like the plague.

He waved her apology away. "Think nothing of it. I've already forgotten it. My manhood will survive." He just shook his head. "I said I'd try not to be insufferable, not that I'd manage. There is every possibility that I'll say something stupid, that you'll get offended, and that the evening will be over. I think, then, that we should probably get those drinks now." Taking her hand, he pulled her towards the bar.

Cling, now there was something Lor definitely wasn’t, in fact she was the opposite. Lor was the type of woman you hoped to see again when the night was over, but more than likely didn’t. Clingy wasn’t compatible with her lifestyle, it was hard to maintain a relationship (a real one) when you were essentially living two lives. Lor couldn’t imagine a man who would fit into her day life and still could be a part of her night life. It left her very little choice; she was single and would more than likely stay that way for some time.

She smiled at Isidore again as he brushed off her apology like nothing. “I’m sure your manhood will be just fine,” she replied. She laughed; a demure laugh as he told her he would try not to be insufferable wouldn’t guarantee he would succeed. Call it insane, but Lor sort of wanted him not to be completely insufferable, that was after all what made him more interesting than the people she was forced to be company with everyday.

She just wanted someone different around, someone new and not stuffy. Isidore was definitely not stuffy, they had established that already and it had only been proven finding him there.

She nodded her head as he suggested they go get a drink. He took her hand, and Lor looked at him as he led her away. When was the last time someone held her hand? Wow…that long? She was used to manoeuvring her way through crowds alone but now she was being led, by Isidore of all people, the man whom a few minutes ago she was ready to rip his –albeit handsome- face off. It was amazing how things could change.

They reached the bar, there was of course no room and she was forced to stand and wait to order. She leaned against the bar, her foot tapping in time with the beat of the music. “Hey, you got a cigarette?” she asked Isidore calmly. She wanted a smoke again, it was something she didn’t do normally but there was something about this atmosphere that made her crave one. She really was a doppelganger, two women inhabiting one body. Isidore was the first to see them both. She wondered what he thought.

That was something Isidore had noticed about Lorrea - that she wasn't clingy. Not that he'd ever say it out loud, but half the reason he'd sat at the back of the movie theatre at the premiere was because of the other woman, Kat. She'd seemed clingy. Very clingy. Had it been only Lorrea, he'd probably have sat with her, but with the other one... Things usually ended badly when he went down that road. Mainly, the women ended up in the ditch beside it.

No, Isidore definitely wasn't stuffy. He might be considered classical in the right setting - I.E. his loft when nobody else was around - but never stuffy. Or so he tried.

When she asked for a cigarette, Isidore patted himself down. He knew he had some, somewhere. While he was looking, one drunkard bumped into him. Isidore looked up as the man stumbled off. Frowning to himself, he pulled out a metal case from his pants' pocket. He flipped it open, revealing several cigarettes. "It's a good thing I had them in this, or they'd be as limp as..." He didn't finish that sentence, but instead sent a look of derision after the man that had bumped him.

What Isidore thought of Lorrea was quite complicated. He liked the woman that he had seen the first time, poise and class and (most of all) not clingy. He also liked this new, wilder version. Combined into one body - a very lovely body at that - it made quite a nice package.

A funny thought came to Lor’s mind as she sat there waiting to order and craving a cigarette. Had Isidore met up with their friend from the theatre…Kat? She smirked as she recalled that night. Kat had been into him, there was no doubt about it, and she’d even tried to arrange to see him afterwards. Did she get her wish? Did she and Isidore meet up? It wouldn’t have surprised her if they did; after all Kat was an attractive woman and Isidore…well just look at him. Her eyes glanced over his body momentarily and then went back to looking over the bar.

By the time her eyes wandered over the third bottle of Brandy she was sure he must have met up with her.

She glanced back at Isidore as he searched for a cigarette, patting himself down. She smiled. An inebriated man stumbled across their path shortly afterwards, bumping into Isidore. It wasn’t exactly spacious and Isidore was hardly a waif so accidents were bound to happen, but Lor could tell it didn’t make Isidore very happy to be run into.

When that metal case popped out his pants’ pocket and Isidore flipped it open, her eyes lit up as her fingers reached for a ciggie. She laughed, “Oh I think they would have managed okay. I don’t think they could be as limp as…” and her head nodded after the drunkard. She laughed again. Good thing she hadn’t bumped into him…then again she had.

She laughed again wondering if Isidore had regarded her with the same thoughts as he had regarded the man just now, when she had run into him at the theatre. Yes it had been a different circumstance, where he had to be polite…well didn’t have to be but was relatively so. Had she been seen as such a pest that night? Something told her she hadn’t been, but then again this was Isidore and she couldn’t be entirely sure.

“You got a light?” she asked again casually resting the cigarette between her fingers pointed at him. If he had ciggies he ought to have a light, they sort of went together.

Had they met up again? No. Well, at least, not yet. Isidore hoped they wouldn't, but you never did know who you would run into. Unfortunately. Attractive women were nice - Isidore wasn't going to argue this point - but there had to be something besides good looks. He'd gotten over being that shallow very quickly. Being nagged will do that to you.

No, Isidore didn't take being bumped well. He might have had the man apologized (it really depended on the night) but not tonight. Really, had he not promised to be more or less nice, he probably would have led the man outside and offed him. His ego was just big enough to believe that the world almost revolved around him. Not quite, but it was mighty close. He had also been a vampire long enough to wonder why mortals didn't have some sort of sixth sense that would allow them to figure out that there were non-humans among them. Had they had this ability, there would have been far less bumping-into.

Mind you, there probably would have been far less vampires as well.

"You're right," said Isidore. "I don't think there is anything more pathetic than a man that can't hold his liquor. Or that can, but drinks enough to down a small elephant." He mentally cheered on his vampire metabolism. It was just fast enough that it was extremely hard for him to get drunk, should he ever sit down and attempt to try.

And no, she hadn't been a pest. It was something very different when a beautiful (sober) woman bumped into you.

Putting a cigarette in between his own lips, he put the metal case back in his pocket and pulled out a lighter. Flicking the flame into life, he lit first hers and then his, drawing a long drag. Lucky for him, his distinct lack of "life" made it impossible for him to get lung cancer. Lorrea on the other hand.

"You know," he said, "these things will kill you. I'm already black on the inside, so I don't have to worry, but I don't think you're in the same boat."