Charlaine Harris owns almost everything. I own the rest.
Thank you SeriousCrush for your amazing editing, brainstorming ideas, and help with the French. I rely on you for so many things and am grateful that you are such a giving person. Elsme, you saved my ass with the rest of the French, and I cannot thank you enough for coming through for me, especially so quickly. I love that I can rely on people instead of a computer translator, it’s just so much better!
Bienvenue à Paris
The check-in process was smooth and trouble free, thanks to Ella expediting my new passport with my new life status, decked out with a V for vampire. We checked our luggage at the counter, along with our travel coffins. Once we arrived at JFK, we would have a layover until 6:00 am, when the flight to Paris was scheduled to leave. We would be boarding the aircraft to Paris in our travel coffins. The flight would be 7 hours long, and because of the time zone changes and flight length, we would leave JFK at sunrise, and arrive in Paris just after sunset.
The flight from Shreveport to JFK was fairly empty, so my excited chatter didn’t disturb anyone. Our trip to France would be the second time I traveled out of the country. Only this time it was to Paris, the city of lights. I couldn’t wait and had way too many questions for Eric that I hadn’t had time to ask him before.
“I thought you might be curious, so I brought this.” Eric handed me his Kindle and opened ‘Rick Steves’ Paris 2011, Vampire Edition.’ “He rates hotels and blood banks, and gives detailed descriptions of museums, places of interest, and most importantly…. French culture. Most people, especially Americans, think the French are rude and snobbish. What they don’t understand is French culture, because if they did, these clueless travelers would avoid making mistakes that cause the rude response in the French.”
“So you’re saying that the French aren’t rude…. Americans are?” I scoffed.
“Not on purpose, but yes…” His eyes went back down to the Kindle.
I scanned the pages, flipping through the hotel section, moving along to the pages filled with helpful phrases. I practiced a few of them out loud, and Eric corrected me, softening my consonants and vowels. I practiced another phrase. “Où est le Métro?”
He laughed. “Why take the Metro when you can take me? Although, I am anxious to see if you are capable of flying.” I was too, but it was something I would have to wait to experiment with since we were on a plane at the moment. I read about French culture for the rest of our flight, feeling much better since many of my questions about traveling to Paris had been answered.
We took our time walking through JFK, but finally made our way to the Air France/Annubis Air counter. It was much like our flight to Iceland, Annubis Air contracted with Air France to use their flight patterns for their ‘specialty’ aircraft. The woman behind the counter checked us in, and had us sign a form saying that we inspected our coffins and everything looked right.
“I will need you both back here at 5:30 am, so we can get you boarded in the cargo bay of the aircraft which is scheduled to take off at 6:00 am. Your flight is scheduled to land in Paris at 6:35 pm, at which time our staff will unload your coffins in a secure wing of our Paris terminal. Do either of you have any questions for me?” Eric shook his head. By the time we woke up, we would be in Paris.
“Is there anywhere in the airport we can get some fresh air for our four hour layover?” I asked.
She smiled and directed us to the exit by the baggage claim. “You will have to come back through the security check, so give yourself an extra half hour for that.” Annubis Air employees were courteous and thoughtful. They had been every time we had traveled, and this was no exception. I thanked her and walked away, leaving our luggage and coffins in her capable hands.
March in New York was quite chilly. The people bustling in and out of the airport were bundled in sweaters and were followed by little puffs of breath. I took a deep breath and exhaled, expecting to see a puff of vapor, and was surprised when nothing happened. Right…no internal heater. My skin mimicked the ambient air temperature, getting cooler by the minute as we walked around the outside of the terminal.
We found a secluded section of sidewalk. Eric asked, “Would you like to try flying?” I nodded emphatically.
“How do I do it?” I asked, clapping my hands and rubbing them together excitedly.
“You focus your energy on your feet, and then put distance between yourself and the ground.” He demonstrated and levitated above the ground. “And then, you add direction and motion, which is flying. You must be careful about your surroundings. Streetlights and power cables can knock you right out of the air.”
I closed my eyes and focused my attention on my feet. I peeked through one eye, “Is it working?” Eric was shaking his head. “What if I jump, and then try to keep myself up?”
Eric shrugged. It was worth a shot. I ran down the sidewalk and jumped in the air, and forced my body to stop mid-air. I hovered for a few seconds before landing with a thud on the cement. “Excellent! Try it again!” I jumped up again, this time willing myself to stay in the air, and I was surprised to find that it worked.
The floating sensation felt unnatural, and sort of tingly. I could feel the pull of the earth below me, tugging me back down, and I had to consciously fight it to stay in the air. Seeing me struggle, Eric spoke again, “It will get easier. Eventually you don’t even have to work to make it happen. It just does.” I felt worn out from my efforts, which Eric could feel. “There is a bar inside, we need to get you something to eat before our flight.”
I took his hand and walked through security, enjoying the fearful stares from the TSA agents that got to deal with us. No one dared to pat Eric down, but I seemed less intimidating, so I was selected for the ‘random’ screening. A female agent pulled me aside and squatted in front of me. When her hot hand slid up the inside of my thigh, my fangs snapped into place. I immediately apologized to the poor woman, “I’m sorry…I’m hungry.” She continued to work, but her heart was pounding harder than before. I stared at her openly, and could feel the heat of her body radiating away from her, and I could smell the sweet metallic aroma of her blood. I leaned a little closer to her, feeling my desire to taste her overpower me.
Eric stepped forward, and touched me, snapping me out of my blood lust. “My wife is hungry, and needs a True Blood. Are you finished?” He was talking to the TSA woman, who happily waved us through, stepped away from us until she was hiding behind the safety of the x-ray machines with her coworkers. “Come with me,” Eric’s voice was commanding, and I followed him happily, slipping my shoes on as we walked away.
“Thank you, Eric. I couldn’t stop myself, she smelled so good, and she kept touching me…”
“You don’t need to explain. Believe me, I remember hunger like that.” Eric laughed softly as he spoke.
We walked into the nearest restaurant and sat at the bar. “Two True Bloods, B positive,” Eric said to the bartender. The bartender brought them to us and Eric put them both in front of me. “Drink.”
I picked up the first bottle and drank it quickly. It filled my stomach, but did nothing to satisfy my hunger. I downed the second one quickly, not letting the bitter chelated iron linger too long on my tongue. I looked at Eric with empty eyes.
“I’m hungry for something more…”
“Delicious?” he answered. I nodded. He put down money on the bar and pulled me with him out towards the terminal where our plane was going to take off. He sat in a secluded waiting area near the window. “Kiss me,” he said, leaning towards me.
My lips met his and my whole body responded as the taste of his blood coated my tongue. I sucked greedily, feeling satisfied as desire and lust rushed through me. I desperately needed him, and my hands fell to his lap where they went to work on the button of his jeans. His hands covered mine, stilling my movement. I opened my eyes and remembered that we were in the middle of a bustling airport. I heaved a sigh of disappointment. Eric whispered into my mouth, “Later Lover.” I licked his pierced tongue one last time and pulled away.
“Thank you,” I breathed, swallowing my desire.
Moments later, an announcement on the overhead system told us that we could begin boarding our flight to Paris. I jumped out of my chair, a mixture of excitement and nerves making my stomach flip.
The woman that had checked us in earlier smiled and directed us to the lower jetway leading into the cargo hold of the plane. A flight attendant was directing the handful of vampires flying with us into their coffins, which were attached to the aircraft with a series of tie downs wrapped through the carry handles along the side. Eric and I slipped off to the side while two vamps bickered over which coffin was which. The flight attendant wisely stood to the side, offering helpful advice (like checking the ID tags) from a distance.
“I’m afraid to fly by myself,” I said, looking down at the metal belly of the aircraft.
“My coffin has plenty of room, especially if we’re close…” He put his finger under my chin, bringing my face up to meet his. “It’s a strange experience, flying during the day, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Not to mention that this is your first night away from home.”
The flight attendant made his way over to us. “Is there a problem?” His voice was friendly and helpful, but also rushed, since the sun would be rising soon.
“No, not at all. My wife will be flying with me,” Eric answered, handing him our boarding passes so they could update their system with the information.
“Excellent. Let me just make a note of that and I’ll leave you two to get settled,” he said, smiling. He handed our passes back to us, and left us.
Eric opened the lid of his coffin and removed some of the extra padding so there would be enough room for my body. We tucked the pieces inside my coffin and snapped the lid shut. He got in first, and patted his chest to let me know he was ready for me to join him. I took a step towards him and he wagged his finger back and forth. “Pants. Off.” I looked around us and noticed that the other passengers had already settled in and the hiss of the locks let me know they weren’t coming out any time soon. The lid of Eric’s coffin blocked any view the flight attendant would have, so I discreetly stepped out of my pants and panties, tucking them into the coffin next to Eric. While I undressed from the waist down, Eric did the same, giving me a view of his magnificent erection that was ready and waiting for me. I stepped inside the coffin, straddling his waist. Eric grabbed my calves, knocking me off balance until I fell forward, landing firmly on his face. His tongue licked my slit, teasing my wet lips apart and thrusting into me. I bit my lip to stifle a moan while I held on to the rim of the coffin to support myself. Blood flowed freely from my lip, touching my tongue and awakening the hunger I had ignored earlier. I pushed off of Eric and impaled myself on his cock, too impatient to get off from his talented mouth. My mouth met his, combining the flavor of my sex and blood. Eric moaned and held my face against his, kissing me fiercely and fucking me hard enough to make the coffin rattle. I came in tiny quakes around him, feeling the pleasure replace the nervousness I had just suffered from. As the orgasm pulsed through me, I was having an increasingly difficult time opening my eyes, and my body was slow to respond.
“The sun is coming up,” Eric’s voice said, urging me down against his body while his arm reached past me and pulled the lid down to conceal us. I reached down by our legs and locked the bottom latch, while Eric flipped the one by our heads. I flattened my body against his, stretching my legs out along side his. Our movement was restricted slightly, but Eric never lost his rhythm. His arms wound around me, holding me gently while we moved together. My brain started to shut down, the need to sleep overpowering my need for another orgasm.
“I’m so tired,” I mumbled, holding onto Eric’s body as he continued to thrust into me, filling my last waking thoughts with pleasure. And then, everything went dark.
Life flowed back into me, and the blissful sensations I went to sleep with came rushing back. Eric started thrusting faster and harder. I pushed up off his chest, hitting my head against the lid of the coffin. I growled in frustration and held onto his chest firmly, slamming my body down against his in this confined space. Moans filled the coffin, deafening us both as we neared release. The noises in the cargo hold changed as the landing gear descended, and then the aircraft hit the ground, the contact amplified Eric’s thrust, giving him even more power. I screamed as I came and the coffin shook with the vibrations radiating from our joined bodies. I collapsed against him and kissed his neck and cheeks and lips.
Eric unlocked the lid, bathing us in cold air. I sat up and looked around. The other vamp passengers were unlocking their coffins as the aircraft continued to slow down. I grabbed my clothes tucked into the side of the coffin and pulled away from Eric so I could crouch in the privacy of the coffin lid and get dressed.
“You might want to fix your hair, Lover,” Eric said with a quiet laugh. I reached my hands up and smoothed my hair down.
Eric was still laughing, until I spoke. “You’re one to talk! You should see the rat’s nest on your head,” I added smiling, stepping out of the coffin into the cargo bay. He wiggled back into his pants and stepped out of the coffin, stretching and touching the ceiling. I closed the lid and had a seat, listening to the humans in the cabin above us, their blood calling to me, driving me wild. We were almost to the gate, which was good since I knew that I would need to feed soon.
The cargo door opened, filling the space with a gust of fresh air. A woman, wearing the Annubis Air uniform stepped inside the cargo door and said, “Bonsoir. Bienvenue à Paris. Merci de voyager avec Air France. Nous vous souhaitons un bon séjour. (Good evening. Welcome to Paris. Thank you for flying with Air France. We wish you a pleasant stay.) I stared at her blankly, trying to make sense of the words that just came out of her mouth. I looked to Eric for guidance. He took my hand and led me through the jetway, and then through the bustling airport. I was overwhelmed with the sounds that surrounded me. The overhead system chimed and gushed a string of French that left me baffled. I gripped Eric’s hand tighter and went to the baggage claim where we waited for our luggage and coffins.
With our hands loaded, Eric walked outside to a curb, where a man was standing holding a sign that said ‘Northman.’ Eric walked up to him.
“Bonsoir,” Eric said, nodding to him.
The man smiled back, “Bonsoir Monseiur Northman?”
Eric nodded again and held out his luggage. The man loaded them into the back of the hotel van waiting at the curb. I smiled at him and practiced a phrase I remembered from the Paris guidebook, “Pardon, je ne parle pa français. Parlez vous anglais?”
The driver turned to address me, “Yes, Madam Northman.”
“Are we going straight to the hotel?” I asked him. I whispered low enough that only Eric could hear me, “I am so hungry!”
“Yes, Madam, I am taking you to Hotel Ensanglanté.” His English was impeccable, and his accent was thick. He flashed me a quick smile before he offered to take my luggage out of my hand.
He sped through the city, dodging in and out of traffic, pulling up to a curb outside a towering hotel of glass and lights. Traffic whizzed past us, honking as they went, since the hotel van was taking up too much of the road. Eric and the driver both got out of the van and unloaded quickly. My stomach lurched as I was reminded again of how hungry I was. I couldn’t believe that I was really here, in Paris! And yet, the only thing on my mind was feeding.
I thanked him while Eric tipped him, and we hurried inside. During the check-in process, I asked the woman if the hotel had a donor service. She assured us that she would send someone up to our room immediately. She leaned away from me, obviously uncomfortable by the presence of my fangs, which had come down on the ride to the hotel, and I was unable to retract them, no matter how hard I tried. Eric smiled at me and gave me a reassuring pat on my arm. We checked our coffins into the hotel storage, and followed a bellhop to our room.
The halls had creamy white and black marble floors and the walls were glossy chestnut brown. The walls were divided by decorative molding, each section framing a large beautiful painting. The crown molding was the same chestnut brown, which contrasted the creamy white ceiling. One side of the hall was lined with windows. The moldings around each window were hung with heavy drapes shielding our eyes from the headlights flashing on busy street outside.
Our room was on the seventh floor, and on our way down the hallway, I stopped and stared. The north-facing view was stunning. The Arc de Triomphe was imposing and beautiful, its base was surrounded by spotlights, which displayed the detail carved into the stone. The bellhop and Eric both waited for me, chatting conversationally in French. “Wow, that is so beautiful,” I said as I pulled myself away from the window and followed them down the hall and around the corner.
“Just wait…” Eric said, his eyes dancing.
Once we were in our room, I knew what he meant. The entire south wall of our room was glass, with a stunning view of the Eiffel Tower, glittering like a golden beacon in the night. I unlocked the door leading out to the private balcony, and admired the view, which was framed with neatly pruned hedges surrounding the railing.
I dragged myself back inside, just as Eric was tipping the bellhop, who gracefully bowed out of the room. The central focus of the room was the massive hand-carved four-post bed, covered in a soft floral blue and white duvet and piles of matching pillows. The walls were butter cream yellow and heavy blue drapes softened the edge of the windows where interlocking light-tight blinds were all tucked away neatly for the night, revealing the stunning view. A chandelier hung from the center of the room, casting a soft glow across the bed. There was a small table with two chairs against the wall opposite the window, and the table held a vase full of fresh flowers. I walked around the room touching everything, committing this moment to memory.
A soft knock drew me towards the door, where Eric was waving in a handsome man, dressed in a robe. “Is he my dinner?” I asked Eric, feeling my hunger control my movement, propelling me towards him. Eric smiled and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Vous êtes son premier,” (You are her first) Eric said to the man.
He looked me up and down and smiled widely. “Je suis honoré. Je m’appele Jacques.” (I am honored. My name is Jacques) Eric translated for me.
“Pleased to meet you, Jacques,” I answered, trying my best not to butcher his beautiful name. “My name is Sookie,” I said nodding to him as I greeted him. “So…how do I do this with a person?” I asked, waiting for Eric to give me direction. Eric summoned the man to sit next to him on the bed, and then motioned for me to join them, with Jacques wedged between us.
“Puis-je montrer comment on fait?” (May I demonstrate how it is done) Eric asked. Jacques nodded his consent. “You must be sure that the donor is comfortable.”
“Êtes-vous confortable?” (Are you comfortable?) Eric asked. The man nodded again.
“And then, focus on the spot you intend to feed from, holding your mouth open and steady so you don’t damage the skin more than necessary,” Eric demonstrated by holding Jacques’ wrist in front of his mouth, holding his mouth open, his fangs hovering over his skin. “This is the most important part: you must not take too much. The hunger will try to control you. You must be stronger. If he feels pain or fear, you must stop.” Eric moved his mouth over the man’s wrist again and pierced the skin, gently drawing blood from the wound. Jacques moaned and his body relaxed. I touched his skin, listening to the fragmented French sentences spewing out of his mind. Even though I could not understand him, I could feel his pleasure pulsing through my hand.
Eric removed his fangs, and licked the small wound closed. Jacques eyes met mine, asking me silently if I was ready. I steeled myself and leaned towards him. Jacques moved his head to the side, offering his neck to me.
“Remember Lover, be gentle,” Eric said in a calm voice as he watched me open my mouth and lean closer still to Jacques’ neck.
I could feel the heat of his skin radiating away from his neck, warming my face. The thought of sinking my fangs into his warm taut flesh made me moan. It turned into a gurgle as my fangs broke his skin and my mouth flooded with his hot blood. I swallowed and felt a rush of thoughts coming from Jacques: oh my god, I have never loved my job as much as I do at this moment. I want nothing more than to pull this robe off, so I can be devoured by this beautiful woman and her gorgeous husband. So good, please don’t stop. I want her mouth all over me… His thoughts were troubling since it was obvious he was very turned on. Feeding had aroused me as well, but all I could think of was Eric.
My cheeks felt hot, and I could feel the lust and passion in his blood push its way into every cell in my body. I pulled away from him, removing my fangs gently, just as Eric instructed me. “Était-ce bon?” (Was that good) I asked, looking from Eric to Jacques.
Jacques answered, “C’était très, très bon…” (It was very, very good) His eyes were glazed over, and the robe was not large enough to conceal his massive erection.
Eric just stared at me. “What did you say?”
“J’ai demandé qui c’était bon, parce que c’est ma première fois. Est-ce que tu as des suggestions qui pourraient améliorer ma technique?” (I asked if I did that right, since it’s my first time. Do you have any suggestions that might improve my technique) I asked, trying to figure out why he was staring at me like that.
“Sookie? You’re speaking French.”
“Non, je ne suis pas!” (No, I am not) I answered, hearing myself speak this unfamiliar and beautiful language.
“Yes you are…how do you feel?”
“Je dois sortir, je dois bouger. Jacques?” (Like I need to get out, I need to move. Jacques) I turned and faced him, “Quel est le meilleur club de danse à Paris?” (What is the best dance club in Paris)
“Club Morde, C’est mon club vampire favorite. Je vais vous dessiner une carte,” (Club Mordre, It is my favorite vampire club. I will draw you a map) Jacques offered helpfully. Eric handed him a pad of paper and a pen from the side table, and Jacques began drawing a map to the club.
“Merci, Jacques,” (Thank you, Jacques) I said, giving his hand a squeeze. That was a mistake, since the contact opened his mind to me again, and images of the three of us naked in the bed shocked me. My hand snapped away like I had been electrocuted. “Que devrions-nous faire de lui?” (What should we do about him) I asked Eric, pointing to Jacques.
Jacques smiled and answered with in a sweet voice, “Baise-moi?” (Fuck me)
Eric laughed and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Jacques’ lust had worked deep into my core, making my body tingle at the prospect of having wild, amazing sex…with Eric. Jacques was beautiful, but Eric was mine. I didn’t want anyone else.
“Tell him to go find his girlfriend. Touch him, tell him.”
I reached out and held onto Jacques arm again, “Jacques, vous devez vous rendre à votre amie. Non, désolé, votre copain. Vous devez aller à votre copain et lui dire combien vous l’aimez et de partager une nuit de passion avec lui. Merci de vous partager avec moi, Peut-être nous retrouverons.” (Jacques, you must go to your girlfriend. No, sorry, your boyfriend. You must go to your boyfriend and tell him how much you love him and share a night of passion with him. Thank you for sharing yourself with me, maybe we will meet again)
“Je l’espère,” (I hope so) Jacques answered. “Maintenant, si vous voulez bien m’excuser, je dois appeler mon copain.” (Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to call my boyfriend)
“Well done, Lover. Would you like to change before we go out?” Eric asked.
I looked down at my disheveled clothes and nodded, opening my suitcase in a blur of speed and pulling out my satin garnet red ruched dress from my shopping trip with Ella in the Black Light District.
“Are you in a hurry to leave?” Eric asked, as I peeled the clothes off my body.
“Il n’ya qu’une seule raison pour moi de rester, Mon Amour.” (There can be only one reason for me to stay, My Love) I answered, pushing myself on top of him.
Please review, they inspire me to write. Also, if my French translations are off, just let me know and I’ll fix them.