Cold Spirits

Cold Spirits

Lesick held up two fingers while pointing at his glass with his other hand. The bartender nodded at him and then pulled a bottle from the shelf on his way to Lesick’s spot at the bar. He exchanged the old glass for a new one with two cubes of ice and two fingers of whiskey. No words were exchanged, the signals enough to make the exchange.

cold spirits

flickr creative commons via Michael Gaffney

He held the glass up from the bar-top, allowed light to pass through the amber liquid. What was the line? Haunted by waters… Maybe it didn’t mean what he thought it meant but the line stuck with him anyway. Sometimes he felt like he worked everyday for the amber liquid in the glass, a slave to its pull, desires pulled at him when they were apart. The knowledge should have armored him, given him strength to fight his addictions, but he reached the stage in his life that his addictions were old friends he couldn’t find himself living without. The liquid had become an old friend. Hell his addictions were old enough to drink at this point in his life.

“She was a lost love?” The voice, soft, feminine carried over his shoulder and caressed the glass in his hand. He inhaled her fragrance, a mix of musk and wild flowers, that overcame the scent of the whiskey. The intrusion in his worship of the glass should have annoyed him. Instead the soothing seduction warmed him as much as the whiskey.

“Not a love,” he said, “more like regret.” He didn’t turn around, though he set the glass down. “I wasn’t looking for company.”

“Forgive my intrusion.” A pause, a bit like eternity. The sound of her voice pulled him in, wrapped him in its embrace. “I thought you might need a friend.”

The voice pulled at him, he fought the urge but he was ill-suited for the war. He turned to face her, a need to see the face that went with the voice. The strength and warmth of her voice belied the woman who sat beside him. Short black hair, brown eyes, a common nose, and rounded cheek bones. Average, the word burst into his mind as he gazed upon her. She appeared completely unremarkable, but her voice, her voice took him places he never expected.

“Do you often invite yourself to conversations with lonely men?” he said. His smile, a remnant of the irony he found in his statement, a drunk judging a woman who offers conversation when he didn’t expect it. His inner cynic took liberties with her character before he spent time with her.

She smiled. Simple words but it was something much more than that. Like her voice belied the plainness of her visage, her smile hit him with warmth. At that moment he craved only to feel the warmth of her smile in the future.

“Like I said, I didn’t mean to intrude. I can go somewhere else and trouble you no more.” She began to collect herself.

Lesick placed a hand on her forearm. “Please, I didn’t mean to be rude,” he said. “Please stay.” He felt slightly stupid as he smiled at her. Self-conscious of his inept attempts to entice with a look, a gesture, he thought he might scare her away instead of lure her with his charms. “You shouldn’t have to drink alone.”

“No one should,” she said. She extended her hand. “Let’s start over. Hi, I’m Amy. Amy Goodson.” There was a spark when he took her hand in his. The touch lingered, like she was reluctant to pull her hand away. When they separated he felt a chill, his hand colder without the warmth of her flesh against his.

“Lesick Aarons,” he said. “I don’t want to sound cliche, but do you come here often?”

“Sometimes I have a thirst,” she said. Her gaze traveled past his him, over his shoulder. “Just a nip and I can satisfy it, but I find I can’t function without it.”

It was difficult to tell in the dim lights, but had a touch of color come to her cheeks? Had she told him more than she should have right then? Not that it mattered, he knew the call of the thirst. Too many nights at the bars, always searching for that next drink to fill him, give him the strength to carry on.

She looked him in the eyes. “You wanna get outta here? I think they are closing soon.” She clasped his hands as she spoke. The spark flashed through him again, warm and insistent.

“I need to pay my tab,” he said. He pulled a hand away to flag the bartender. After he signed the receipts and collected his credit card they walked to the doors and the night air beyond. She wrapped her arms around one of his, her body warm and heavy with need.

Cool night air chilled him as they walked down the street. She followed his lead without suggestions of where they should go. He knew the routine, even had a few places he could crash when he couldn’t find his apartment in the middle of the night.

Amy nipped at his ear, sending new shocks through his body. Desire struck him hard, urgent need drove him to find somewhere safe. They could enjoy some time here in a dark corner. A quick nip to sate their thirsts, to give them strength to make it back to his place.

She pulled him into an alley. He knew the place, had been here before, a service alley with no traffic in the middle of the night. No lights to disrupt the secrecy of their tryst.

A nip at his neck, her tongue caressed his throat. She gripped the back of his head and pulled him close with a deep, longing kiss. The heat of her need, sent charges deep into his core. Energy flashed between them.

His hands on her hips, gripped tight, he bit and nipped at her neck. The bites soft at first grew insistent, then tore and ripped at the flesh. Her life’s nectar flooded his throat as he filled himself with her lust. Lesick forgot pretense as he sated himself. She couldn’t pull away, never fought against his needs.

Drunk from his addictions he stumbled out of the alley alone.


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