Succubus Dreams

CHAPTER 10

When I came home from Seth's the next day, there was another note stuck to my door reminding me about the package. I plucked it off and went inside, surprised to find Vincent there again. I'd figured his angel business would be keeping him busy elsewhere.

"How's it all going?" I asked. I rummaged through my cupboards, looking for food. I'd skipped breakfast. "I mean, if you can tell me without having to kill me."

He sat at my kitchen table, leafing through newspapers. "Ah, well, still can't give you details, of course, but I can say that…um, well, progress isn't being made as quickly as we'd like. There's leftover lasagna in the refrigerator if you want it."

I opened the refrigerator door. Sure enough. "Wow. Did one of the angels conjure this up for you?"

"Only if you consider Yasmine's cooking a type of conjuring."

I uncovered the casserole dish. It looked great. There might be magic afoot after all. I put a piece in the microwave and set the timer.

Sitting down across from him, I peered at the spread out newspapers and remembered finding them left out the other day. "You sure like your news."

He grimaced. "Most of it's depressing."

Glancing at the headlines, I had to agree with him. Murder. Corruption. Theft.

"You hear about the cop shooting the other day?" I asked. "That one was really depressing."

Vincent turned his attention away from a story about domestic abuse. "No, what happened?"

"This cop was outside a convenience store and claims someone was inside shooting his partner. So, he ran in, gun in hand, and started shooting. He ended up killing his partner himself."

Vincent frowned. "Huh. I hadn't heard that one," he murmured. From the distracted look in his eyes, his mind had clearly latched onto something I wasn't privy to.

I gave him a sidelong glance. "That mean anything to you? Maybe to this mission from God you're on?"

His easy smile returned. "You're good but not that good. You know I can't say anything."

The microwave dinged, and I retrieved my food. As I stabbed a piece of cheesy pasta, I recalled what he'd said about Yasmine's cooking. My curiosity got the better of me. As it often did.

"Vince…" I began slowly, carefully keeping my eyes on my food. "I know it's none of my business…"

He laughed. "I always love it when people introduce topics like that—and then go ahead and dive in anyway."

Blushing, I shut my mouth.

"No, no," he said, clearly entertained. "Go ahead. What were you going to say?"

"I…well, nothing really. It's just, I mean, it doesn't matter to me…but I just sort of noticed that you and Yasmine seem, um, close."

His levity faded. I quickly looked up and met his eyes apologetically.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out. "Forget I said anything."

"No…it's, I don't know." He folded up the newspaper, staring at it without really seeing it. "Yeah, I guess. I've known her for a long time, and after a while, it's easy to…well, she's easy to like."

"Yeah, she is."

A few pregnant moments passed. When he spoke again, I heard affection in his voice. "I first met her at this fair in Akron, of all places…about, oh, fifteen years ago. Not sure what she was doing there—you never do with them—but I found her walking away from a concession stand. She had this giant tower of cotton candy. I swear, it was taller than she was. And, since I could tell she was an angel, it made the situation that much more absurd."

The story made me smile too. It also shed light on why he was here with the A-Team. I could tell she was an angel. He was another gifted human, like Erik and Dante, who could sense the immortal world. "And you went and talked to her?"

"I hadn't planned to, but then the cotton candy started to fall over, so I went to help her and ended up eating half of it myself."

"That's sweet," I said. "Er, no pun intended." It didn't matter that in the last few months, I'd fucked one guy in an office chair, used a leather whip on another, and gone down on another in the back room of a seedy club. I still loved romantic stories.

"She started asking for my help after that, off and on, once she realized what I could do. It was supposed to just be that…nothing more than her, you know, professional cases. But after a while, we couldn't help it. We're together all the time now."

I swallowed another piece of lasagna. It was divine. Seriously. "Do any of the other angels know?"

"Yeah, right. Joel barely tolerates me now…"

"But obviously, you guys aren't, um, you can't be—"

"No, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't have to be physical. Really, it's ironic. Angels are creatures of love. They're supposed to love everyone. They're just not supposed to love one person so much more than another."

"That's stupid," I stated adamantly.

"To you, maybe. And to me, I suppose. But to her…well, she devotes her entire existence to the service of a power and cause bigger than all of us. To be so in love with something—or someone else—is distracting. You can't serve two masters without eventually betraying one."

I looked down again, turning over his words. "And yet you guys still stay together. Sort of."

He shrugged. "In as much as we can. Maybe I should move on with my life, but, honestly, there's no one else I want to be with. I accept what she is. It's why I love her. I'd rather be with her in a limited capacity than none at all."

Goosebumps rose on the back of my neck. He'd just stated a variant of what Seth used to tell me all the time, back when I would continually urge him to leave me and find someone else. I'd accepted his choice by now and honestly couldn't imagine not having him in my life. But still. Sometimes I didn't entirely get how he could be okay with everything between us; hearing another person support such a choice was refreshing.

As though reading my mind, Vincent gently asked, "Am I hitting too close to home? Carter mentioned a boyfriend…"

"No. Yes. I don't know. He—Seth, my boyfriend—says the same thing as you. That if it can't be any other way…well, then this is the way he wants it."

"Exactly. And thus, life goes on." Vincent started gathering up the newspapers. "I tell you though, I think your side and hers are both so fucked up, it's not even funny. Why the rules? Why does a succubus always have to take away someone's life when she's with them? Why can't you have the choice? And why can't Yasmine make love? Why can't she be in love?"

Good question. I don't think Vincent really expected an answer, but I had to give one anyway.

"Because that's the way it is. The way the system works. The way it's always worked."

"The system is fucked-up," he said.

I thought about it and nodded. "No arguments."

Smiling, he reached for his coat and slipped it on. "You're okay for a succubus."

Vincent left, off to do whatever it was one did with a posse of angels. I almost envied him because I had something to do that I wasn't looking forward to at all. It was another necessary evil.

I had to get Tawny a job.

After that debacle of a dance lesson, I'd told her I'd help. I might not be able to do much about my mysterious energy loss or angelic romances, but I sure as hell could do something to expedite Niphon's departure.

I drove down to Seatac, a city that owes its entire existence to the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. It's more of a shadow, really, spreading around the airport in a blanket of long-term parking lots and cheap hotels. It also has a couple of strip clubs because really, what else are out-of-town businessmen supposed to do in their downtime?

It was late afternoon, so business was slow when I stepped inside Low Blow. A few bored-looking men sat scattered throughout the place, which was dingy and in need of some serious redecorating. Or, well, any decorating. A couple of the guys glanced up with interest as I walked through. Apparently, I held more appeal than the poor brunette trying her damnedest to fuck a pole in time to the dulcet sounds of Pink Floyd's "Young Lust."

I opened my mouth to speak to the bartender, but a voice behind me interrupted.

"Ho…ly…shit. I don't believe it. I don't fucking believe it."

I turned and looked into the long, narrow face of Simon Chesterfield, the proud proprietor of this dive. Between his face and lanky body, he always reminded me of a weasel. His black mustache never quite seemed able to grow in completely, and he dressed in brand name clothes that were always one size too small. He was chummy with the local Hellish players, and rumor had it he was in line to be an imp, eventually selling his soul for immortality and the chance to be a diabolical salesman.

"You finally come to dance for me, doll?"

"You wish."

For a sleazy guy who ran a sleazy establishment, Simon actually had a legitimate appreciation for dance. I'd once seen him trying to choreograph his strippers and had been impressed by his sense of aesthetics and rhythm. His employees hadn't really caught on. Such talents were kind of wasted here, and I used to wonder why he didn't take his business to one of the more affluent suburbs where he could get a higher caliber of dancers. The reason he stayed, I'd later learned, was that this was a better venue for all sorts of other shady business he conducted.

Still, Simon had a sharp eye and knew what a good dancer I was. He'd been on me for years to come work for him.

"We need to talk," I explained. "Business."

"It's what I do." With a sweeping gesture, he pointed to a doorway beside the bar. "Let's go to my office then."

His ‘office' was barely a broom closet, but it had a stool for me to sit on. Resting my heels on a mid-level bar, I brought my knees up to my chest. It made my gray linen skirt slide up a bit. Simon watched with an interest that was more professional than personal.

"Fuck, woman. You come dance for me, and I could make a killing." He shook his head and collapsed into a rolling faux leather chair. "A succubus on my stage. Fuck."

I tilted my head to the side. "It's funny you mention that because that's kind of why I'm here."

I think my innocent tone set his alarms off. He eyed me suspiciously. "I thought you said you didn't want a job."

"Not me. We just got a new succubus, and she's looking for a gig. Didn't you hear?"

"No…" He frowned. "And she wants to dance? Here?"

"Yep," I said glibly. "She can't wait to take her clothes off." Wasn't that the truth.

Simon leaned back in the chair and put his feet on the desk. Casual pose or not, he was still on guard. "What's the catch?"

"Why does there have to be a catch? You should be excited about this. We're doing you a favor."

"You're offering to drop a succubus into my lap. That sounds too good to be true, so it is too good to be true." He paused, still thinking. "And why are you here instead of her?"

"I'm altruistic."

"Georgina," he said warningly.

"Okay," I admitted. "She's kind of…new."

"How new?"

"Really new. Still under warranty."

"There's still a catch here somewhere."

"Well…she's…" I spun through my mental rolodex of adjectives. "Inept."

He raised one narrow eyebrow. "Inept?"

"She's still learning how to get men." Since Simon probably wanted sexy women working for him, I figured it wasn't worth mentioning that Tawny wasn't so much learning as she was still trying to find her way to class. "And she's a, um, bad dancer."

"How bad?"

"Bad."

"Can you be a little more specific on what level of bad we're dealing with?"

"Remember Gigli?"

"Jesus. So, why do you think I'd want to take on a shitty dancer?"

"Simon," I exclaimed. "All your dancers are shitty."

"Not all of them," he said. "And it's not like I'm trying to get more. We have standards."

I gave him a pointed look.

"Alright, alright." He ran a hand through his gelled black hair. "What do I get in return?"

Now I was the indignant one. "What do you mean? You're getting a succubus dancer. What else do you need?"

"I'm getting a succubus charity case. I'm the one doing you a favor." His eyes were shrewd. Yeah. He'd make a good imp someday. He was this close to breaking out a contract. "I want you. Dance for me two nights this week."

"No."

"One night."

"Simon, there is nothing in this world that's going to get me to dance here, not even a succubus charity case. Pick something else."

"Okay, fine." He pondered. "You. I want you."

"Hey, I just told you—"

"No, no. Not as a dancer. As in right now. On the desk."

I sighed. That kind of want.

"Look, if I've gotta hire a bad succubus, I might as well fuck a good one."

"Interesting logic. Aren't you worried about your soul?"

He looked at me like he couldn't believe I'd had the audacity to ask such a thing. It was similar to the look I'd given him when he said Low Blow had standards.

"Noted." I stood up. "But not this body. Pick another shape."

Simon snorted. "You think I'm interested in a pinup girl crossed with an Ann Taylor model? Fuck that. I want a sixteen-year-old version of Liza Minnelli. In a school girl's uniform."

I stared. "I have no idea what that would look like."

He started undoing his pants. "You're a smart girl. Figure it out."

Sighing again, I shape-shifted, taking on a small body with a black pixie haircut. Baby smooth skin. Green plaid skirt with matching vest. Simon grunted his approval.

Turning, I rested my hands on the desk and bent over, thrusting my ass out toward him. I hoped it would be over soon. If I could just get the weasel comparison out of my head, this would probably be a lot easier.

I felt his hands slide along my legs as he pushed the skirt up. Suddenly, he froze.

"A thong? Are you insane, woman?"

"You're a sick bastard," I told him. The thong changed to white cotton panties.

"Don't I know it."

He pushed the panties down and thrust forward. Well, I guess it was a thrust. Simon wasn't that well-endowed. I was on the verge of saying something like, "Are you there yet?" Alas, the Tawny situation was too dire. I couldn't risk Simon changing his mind about her for the sake of a joke, no matter how funny.

But, whatever Simon lacked in size, he made up for in enthusiasm. He gripped my hips, nails digging into my bare flesh as he pounded away. I had to keep a fierce hold on the desk. Eventually, seeking variety, Simon flipped me over to my back. He unfastened my blouse and bra, exposing small, perky breasts that had just "blossomed into womanhood." Eyes on them and not my face, he grabbed my legs and spread them so that my ankles practically rested on his shoulders.

He returned to the task at hand, and when he finally came, I have to admit I welcomed the energy burst. It wasn't a lot—the guy practically worked for Hell already—but I needed it. Simon pulled out of me, and I sat up, mildly sated from an energy standpoint, if not a physical one. I honestly hadn't done much but lie there the whole time, but he regarded me as though we'd just gone through the entire Kama Sutra.

"Definitely worth putting up with an inept succubus," he said happily, pulling his pants back up.

I wanted to say that he might want to withhold judgment until he actually met Tawny, but instead, I just smiled. I knew when to keep my control switch on.