A Taste of Night

I looked away from Isobel, and I saw Jane standing on the edge of the dance floor, alone, and I could see she was subtly trying to get my attention, waving her hand at me in a way that made me think she did not want anyone else to see. "I have to talk to my friend." I said, still avoiding Isobel's gaze. Isobel took a slight step closer to me. "Why?" She whispered, and I couldn't answer. I felt drawn to this strange woman in a way I could not explain, but I needed to help my friend. "She doesn't need your help." This shocked me and, despite myself, I looked at Isobel. She was so very close to me. "She doesn't want your help, not really." I found I couldn't look away. It wasn't just her clear, deep emerald eyes; I was also drawn to her mouth, so close and so soft. It would just have been so easy...

In the end it was Isobel who dropped her gaze. "Like I said, your very sweet. Go and help your friend, come and find us afterwards... if you choose." It was on the tip of my tongue to apologise to this wonderful creature but I didn't trust myself to say anything that wasn't embarrassing, so I simply nodded, and moved away towards Jane. I'm ashamed to admit it but, right at that very moment, I hated my friend.

She wanted to leave. She wouldn't tell me why but she insisted that we needed to go and go now. I imagined that Viktor and Katie's attentions had freaked her out even more than I would have guessed. I was tempted to just tell her to drink more wine and chill out, but she looked genuinely scared. She even objected when I told her we would need to tell Scarlett we were going. Shaking her head she said, "No, Scarlett's made her choice, she belongs here. She would only try and stop us leaving" "Calm down, no-one is going to stop us leaving. I'll just tell her we're going. It won't take a minute and it will save us the pissed-off text we'll both get tomorrow about how we're shitty friends who abandoned her." As it turned out the whole idea for telling Scarlett anything was pretty academic as, when I turned towards the place where Scarlett and her beau had been entertaining, the sofa was empty and she was nowhere to be seen.

I have not seen her since.

Jane was so panicky that she initially wanted us to leave without picking up our bags and coats. I told her there was absolutely no chance I was going without them. Maybe academics could afford to throw away a perfectly good winter coat and I-phone but legal assistants couldn't.

Once we had retrieved our stuff we made our way to the entrance, and Jane seemed astounded that there was no-one there to block our exit. The cold winter air reached out its arms to embrace us as we left the warmth of the building. I was immediately regretting my decision. I struggled to keep up with Jane who refused to answer any of my questions about what had gotten into her. She only slowed down as we approached the taxi rank in the centre of town. The presence of other people seemed to calm her.

As we lived in opposite ends of town it was usual that we took separate taxis to our separate homes. This time Jane asked whether I would go home with her. I could tell that whatever had happened had unsettled her, in a way that I hadn't seen before; and I think that in some recessed part of my brain I knew that she had every reason to be scared. I knew that there had been more going on at the party in the church than simply a group of people with fairly loose morals.

But, try as I might, I could not find it in myself to take her concerns to heart. All the way to the taxi rank, and despite my alternating concern and frustration over Jane's behaviour, the pale, bewitching face of Isobel was never very far from my thoughts, and behind her, the dark, mysterious, captivating shadow of Moretta: the woman I had very much wanted to meet. I think that is why I looked my friend in the eye, and lied.

I told her that I was going into work early the next morning so I really needed to go straight home. She seemed to believe me. Why wouldn't she? I had never lied to her before. I could sense that she wanted me to invite her back to mine, that she was waiting for me to say it. I let her wait.

Of course, there was only one taxi waiting at the real when we got there so, of course, I insisted that Jane get in it. I promised that I would wait, get in the next available one, and go home. She believed me.

I like to think she believed me.

As I waved her off I remember seeing her drawn, anxious face watching me from the rear window of the car, as it pulled away from the curb and drove away. I waited until the light of the car faded from view, and then I waited some more, just to be sure.

And then I turned and walked back in the direction I had come, back towards the church. Back towards them.

Did I know what I was walking back to? I think I had some idea, although I wouldn't have gone as far as to name it, to name them. But I knew that I had stepped into a world I had never believed existed. The look on the woman's face as Luc had pressed his mouth to her offered wrist; the way in which Scarlett had held that man in the palm of her hand, literally, as well as metaphorically. The way Moretta had looked at me from across the room. None of it was normal, none of it was safe. And that excited me more than I could ever describe.

As I walked, the pubs and nightclubs began to release their customers onto the streets. I needed to push my way through a tide of people, all of whom seemed to be heading in the opposite direction to me. It would have been so easy to have simply let them carry me back to safety. Easy, but impossible. I looked into their faces as they passed and, compared to what I had seen already that night, they all seemed so grey, so safe, so lifeless.

I couldn't get to the church fast enough.

At first, I was worried the door would not open for me; that I had been given my opportunity and that, once I had decided to walk away from it, no second chance would be given. I shouldn't have worried. As soon as I began to make my way down those stone steps to the side door I heard a dull, metallic click, and the door swung slightly open.

They had seen me coming.

I dumped my bag and coat in the cloak room, just left them in a heap in the corner, and then made my way up the stairs. Before I went through the double doors I took a moment, I had never been more nervous in my entire life, I took a deep breath, and pushed.

The music again swelled as I stepped into the main hall. The trio of cellist were still hard at work entertaining the room and the dance floor was crowded with dancers. There was a mixture of styles in evidence and I could see some engaged in the courtly dance routines from earlier, but there was more than a few couples gently moving to an intimate rhythm of their own.

I edged my way around the dance floor, scouring the crowd for familiar faces. I noticed, again that there were many who shared that peculiar, otherworldly quality I had noticed in Moretta, Isobel and the others. How could I have missed them? Here they were: dancing, talking in corners or huddled in the many alcoves.. And, more often than not, they were in the company of someone paying them rapt attention. I watched as one couple, a strikingly powerful looking man with Maori style tattoos covering most of his dark face, danced with a younger black woman, her back pressed against his chest. Her eyes were half closed with a dreamy, langorous look and she seemed lost in pleasure as the man's hand caressed her, moving down her body before moving up, under her skirt. Her lips parted dreamily and she reached up to cradle his face, pulling him down so she could feel his lips on her long neck.

As I made my way to the front of the hall I noticed something else I hadn't been aware of before. The three musicians: two women and one man, were each wearing simple black blindfolds.

As I watched them play their cellos, seemingly oblivious to the world around them, I had the strong sense that I was being watched. Turning, I saw Isobel, standing in the very centre of the dance floor, still as a statue, watching me, while around her bodies whirled and spun. She looked as though she was waiting, untouched, at the centre of a hurricane.

Waiting, I was sure, for me.

I moved through the crowd towards her, the dancers seemed to part before me, allowing me a path. Her eyes were as as captivating as ever, only now I could detect a faint reddish tinge in the emerald depths. I felt the familiar, heavy ache between my legs as I approached, my mouth was dry and my heart beat so loudly in my chest that it threatened to drown out the music. "You came back." She whispered, as I finally stood before her. Again, her voice was low, and gentle and yet I could hear her clearly as though there was no other sound in the room. She smiled, and I had the urge to lean in and kiss her there and then, but I felt I needed to explain. "I'm sorry," I began, "my friend needed to..." "Ssshhhn," she breathed, cutting me off, "you came back." She reached up and placed a cool, soft hand on my face. I covered it with my own hand, thrilled by the fact that this gorgeous woman was finally touching me. It felt at as if I had been waiting for that touch all my life. Turning, I kissed the palm of her hand. "I'm not sure I had a choice, not really." I smiled. The hand on my cheek moved to the back of my neck. She leaned in, slowly, as if to give me every opportunity to refuse. I inclined my head towards her but, before our lips were about to touch, she paused, becoming distracted by something just over my shoulder. "I think there is someone you really have to meet." She said, and I could sense that her excitement matched mine as she indicated that I should turn around. When I looked, it was to see Moretta, standing close behind me.

For a moment, I couldn't breath. She was beautiful, but it was a dark beauty, a terrible beauty. The kind of beauty you could imagine sinking ships or driving back armies. She was not human, could not possibly be human. Her pale, luminous skin shone in the dim lighting of the hall, and her full mouth was a dark as a pool of blood in the moonlight. Her eyes were dark, alive with a power that was irresistible, unstoppable.

I felt fear for the first time that night, a deep mortal terror of this woman and what she wanted. And yet, as if my body was obeying its own instructions, it's own needs, I reached up a trembling hand to touch the dark woman's face. Like Isobel, her skin was cool to the touch, perfectly smooth and soft. She took hold of my hand, pressed it harder against her face. Her movements were slow and gentle, and yet I sensed the strength there; so much so that, if she wanted to, I was certain she could have broken every bone in my hand.

At first I thought I may have crossed a line in touching her, been too forward. It was on the tip of my tongue to apologise when I felt Moretta, with agonising slowness, again as if to give me the space and opportunity to refuse, begin to draw my hand slowly downwards, over her body, until I could feel the firm swell of her breast through the soft velvet of her dress. I gasped at the intimacy of the gesture, and I felt the ache between my legs become a deep, wet heat.

I felt Isobel press herself against my back, felt her hand gently pull my hair back from my shoulder. "Do you know who we are?" Isobel's voice: the question, whispered so close to my ear that I could feel her cool breath on my shoulder. "Do you know what we are?" I nodded, helplessly in their power. My hand squeezed, and I felt Moretta's nipple respond, rising up to press itself against my palm. This gave me a sharp thrill, the knowledge that the attraction was not one way. Moretta took a step closer. I was now trapped between the two women. I felt Isobel's lips brush lightly against the exposed skin of my neck. I moaned with pure, animal longing. "Do you know what we want? What we need?" I felt the caress of her lips, so gentle and fleeting, on the sensitive skin beneath my ear. Again I nodded, too breathless to talk. I felt Isobel's hands on my waist, holding me against her. "Will you give it?" Again the voice, little more than a breath against my ear. My need was so great that I finally found my voice. "Yes." I said. I would have said anything. For me, there was no-one else in that huge, crowded hall. Just Isobel, pressing her firm body against my back, and Moretta, slowly and gently raising my chin with her soft, velvet-gloved hand. "Thank you." Moretta said, and then, finally leaning forward, kissed me. The moment before our lips met I had a moment of doubt, a last moment of rational thought before it was gone, blown out to sea, as I felt her mouth on mine, a wonderful, intoxicating kiss that I gladly surrendered to. The kiss was gentle, but insistent: an act of claiming, and I opened my mouth to accept her tongue. She tasted of deep, heady wine.

I felt Isobel's mouth on the side of my neck, tasting me. The two women pressed themselves against me and I wrapped my arms around Moretta, drawing her in, signalling again my consent. I was conscious that her body felt strange now that I had her in my arms. There seemed to be ridges running down the length of her back. But it was hard to concentrate with the exquisite feeling of her mouth on mine. In the end it was Moretta who broke the kiss, freeing me up to turn my head towards Isobel and accept her first kiss: a slow exploration that was more gentle that Moretta's insistent touch. I could feel she was holding back.

Breaking the kiss, Katie returned her attentions to the side of my neck. I tilted my head to one side, allowing her access. "Not here, Isobel my love." Moretta spoke, her chiding voice had a wonderful vague flavour of European. "You were right, she is a charming choice, but I think she deserves a little more privacy than we can offer her here." Isobel's mouth moved from my neck and I felt an almost stinging sense of disappointment. Although, part of me wanted nothing more than be alone with them both, a huge part of me did not want to wait. They could have had me right there on the floor of the church and I wouldn't have complained. Moretta kissed me once more, then said: "Come, we have a place we can go. " She led me from the dance floor towards a heavy wooden door at the side of the stage which she opened, gesturing for me to go through it. I looked back at Isobel, a little uncertain, and it was then that I had one of the biggest shocks of the night.

Over Isobel's shoulder I could see the two double doors that led to the exit open, and Jane walked in. She looked around nervously and, for a moment at least, I arrogantly assumed she was looking for me, possibly with thoughts of rescue. Instead, I watched, stunned, as Viktor and Katie emerged from the mass of bodies on the dance floor and Jane, without showing any sign of doubt or hesitation, accepted their offered hands, and allowed herself to be drawn into the crowd. The last I saw of her, the last I ever saw of her, she was smiling.

The door led to a flight of stone steps curving downwards which, in turn, led to a long corridor with doors lining each side. All of the doors were closed, with clear sounds of activity coming from within. It was while passing one of these doors that I heard the sound of a woman moaning, and then laughing softly. I would have recognised that laugh anywhere.

The corridor ended in a door, which took us onto the darkened street at the back of the church. A long, black car with darkened windows was waiting for us, it's engine running. I never saw who the driver was. Isobel opened one of the rear doors and climbed in. Moretta gestured for me to get in, and she climbed in after.

No sooner had we settled down in the back than the car pulled away from the curb, the sudden acceleration pushing me back into the plush leather seat. Isobel and Moretta wasted no time in turning their full attention on me.

I couldn't tell you anything about the route we took that night or even how long the journey was. Moretta was the first to take my face in her hands, studying me in the dim light of the car. This time her kiss was gentle, exploratory and again I savoured the taste and feel of her tongue, the inside of her mouth. To my other side I could feel Isobel's hands stroking my body, feeling my breasts beneath the material of my blouse, then her hand moved down over my belly to press down hard between my legs. My clit felt as though it was about to melt its way through the fabric of my jeans.

Then it was Isobel's turn to claim me, and, as I felt her mouth on mine, Moretta's hands began to explore my body. Moretta was gentle but I could sense her strength, feel her restraint. I imagined what would happen if she lost control. It made me even more wet.

I didn't even notice the car stopping, but I was soon being led up a path leading to a sizeable country house. The next part is a blur, to be honest, I must have been let into the house, and I have a dim recollection of being led up a wide curving staircase. My legs were so shaky it's a miracle I made it to the top.

The bedroom was large, with overstuffed bookcases lining every conceivable inch of wall space. There was a large canopied bed next to bay windows looking out into the night. I felt the need to collect my thoughts. I was breathless and disoriented by the power of the emotions flowing through me that I needed some time. Isobel and Moretta watched as I circled the room, gazing at the book titles, making my way around to the bed. I could feel the intensity of their hunger as they watched me and, perversely, this made me slow down and take my time, teasing them.

I reached up and trailed my fingers along the spines of the books lining the shelves. Many of the titles were in Italian and meant little to me. When I reached the bed I again let my hands trace the soft, smooth contours of the sheets, which were dark silk. With a sharp thrill, I noticed that silken cords were wrapped round each of the bed posts, hanging loose. I picked up one of them, let its smooth but strong material run through my hands. I looked at the two women, questioningly, "Are these for me?" For some reason I was growing more confident, my need overcoming my sense of awe about these two women.

Isobel smiled. "Maybe," she said, a hungry look on her face, "but for right now I am a little curious about what you can do with your hands."

Grinning, I walked back across the room to them. I gave Isobel a brief, soft kiss, and then moved onto Moretta. She was standing with her back against the closed door and I pressed her harder against it as I kissed her: a hard and hungry kiss. My hands went to the fastenings on the front of her dress; I was desperate to see feel this woman's skin against my own. She broke away from my kiss, shaking her head. The only time she refused me that night. "No, my sweet." She gasped, and part of me was amazed to realise she was as turned on as I was. "I reveal myself only to Isobel, only to her."

I was disappointed but my hunger was such that I didnt want that to be an end to it. I kissed her again, even harder this time, tasting the inside of her mouth, the hard sharpness of her teeth. I ran my hands down the contours of her body, feeling the firmness of her form beneath the velvet of her dress, her breasts, her hips. I began to bunch up the material of the dress in my hands so that at least some of her form was revealed.

She was wearing long leather boots almost to her knee. When I pulled the hem line up further, her thighs were unveiled, stark white against the midnight shade of her clothes. All the time I was expecting her to tell me to stop and yet she didn't, not even when my hand stroked upwards along her cool, smooth inner thigh. Her breathing quickened and I felt a moment of exaltation that I had the power to bring pleasure to this creature that had brought so much pleasure to me. As my hand slid higher I found that she was wearing nothing underneath her dress and my palm felt the damp curls between her legs. I pressed my hand harder against her and she groaned in pleasure as my fingers teased out her clit. She held onto my shoulders as I began to stroke around her nub in slow, teasing circles. I had never done this to a woman before although I had sometimes fantasized about it. It turns out that it was as natural and as easy as breathing.