Breath of Life

Clarissa closed the door to the office and walked down the five steps to the street. The news had been as she'd expected, but nonetheless it was hard to take in. She'd been found to be in the early stages of tuberculosis. She coughed again, as she looked for a Hansom cab to take her back to her one room rooming house.

For a moment she thought of throwing herself in front of the milk cart that clattered by her, but she held back. She didn't want to die. She still had things to complete before she left this earth.

She'd just started her latest novel, a thriller in which a young woman meets with a vampire. The men of the night had been a rage ever since Bram Stoker had written about them some years ago. It was hard to write these novels fast enough, and she wasn't ready to give up the pleasure that she derived from making people wince in fright by only using her words.

She saw a dark wisp of something out of the corner of her eye, and she decided to follow it. Clarissa knew that etiquette demanded that she be accompanied by a man in this endeavor, but the moment would be lost far before she found an escort. Besides, who was she to care? It would only be a matter of months before she was gone anyway.

She shivered, remembering how horrid her sister had looked in those last weeks of her disease. She'd been weak with a bluish tint to her skin. Clarissa had no desire to go out that way. There were too many things had yet to try. She rued her own morality, thinking that no man would want her now, knowing that she was ill and could possibly infect him as well. She would soon be a pariah with little chance of knowing a man.

She quickened her step, rushing to go in the direction of the black shadow that seemed to be ethereal, a mere suggestion of a person. She turned the corner to go down a darkened alley, steeling herself. The worst that could happen would be death, and she'd already knew that the end was near.

She pulled up short as a man stepped from the shadows. He looked young, almost waif-like, but he sneered at her as he came closer. Clarissa thought that he would be perfect for Nigel in her current work-in-progress. He had a certain swagger to his hips as he moved closer to her. She supposed that this should be a threatening move, but instead the act held a certain allure to it.

"Odd time of evening to be out alone," the man said. "Where mightst you be going?"

"I thought I saw someone..." She let the words trail off. Her nerve-endings were tingling with the threat of something happening. For all the bravado that the man had, she felt no worries that he would kill her. If he did, she would just be spared the painful death from consumption.

"You did see someone, ducks. You saw me. Must be your lucky night." He laughed.

She thought back to the physician's words. It was indeed an unlucky night for her. She had months to live, a span that could be counted on her fingers.

"What's the matter?" the man asked, stepping closer. She could smell his odor, he was that near to her.

"I'm not well," Clarissa said, being honest with the man. She wasn't sure why it mattered, but she had lost all interest in the niceties of societal interactions. She wanted to tell things as they were and speak to the heart in all cases.

"Sorry to hear. You'll be better soon," he said, as if he needed to say that to Clarissa. She had no time for this.

She turned to leave before he spoke again. "What are you doing in this neighborhood? It's not where I'd like to see my woman."

Clarissa shrugged. He acted as if danger was something to keep her in line now. It would not hold her back. "Perhaps I was down here looking for something that would cure me. Something that would allow me to live and write."

He raised his eyebrows. "That's a tall order for anyone, miss."

She turned to walk away. "Thank you then and good night."

He ran so that he stood in front of her. "Not's to say that I couldn't get it. Just saying that it would take some doing to get it."

Clarissa nodded. "Perhaps then I could find someone else. Someone who could make this happen. What is the man's name which I seek?"

He took a deep breath. "That's worth a lot to a person, isn't it?"

She smiled at him. "And what do want in return?" She had an idea of his answer, and with little to lose and no hope of saving herself for marriage, Clarissa was inclined to say yes to any demands that he might make. In her remaining time, she would drink from life fully.

He leered at her.

She met his gaze and kept it. "For that, you'll need to tell me more."

The man looked around as if scanning for other people before he began. "He's foreign, you know. He's says that he's a vampire. Has a home not too far from here, and I've heard tell of the parties that he has, things what I couldn't tell a lady."

Clarissa raised her eyebrow. Could those rumors be true? If she'd read Stoker's book correctly, the vampire had eternal life. She's be able to write a million books in the millennia she would live. It seemed too good to be true.

"Is that worth it to you?" the man asked.

She nodded. She was slightly disappointed that her first time would be quick and public, but Clarissa planned for there to be many more in the weeks - and maybe years - to come.

She carefully lifted the front of her dress, and the man smiled broadly at her. "You certainly don't waste any time, do you?"

She lifted her dress higher and said, "There'll be more for you if you get me that name."

He nodded, looking like a hungry man at a feast. "And what would I get if I brought you to his house?" he asked, quietly.

"His house?" Clarissa asked. She was feeling skeptical. She had barely dared to hope for a name, and this man was promising her entrance into the man's home. It seemed like too much, something too good to be hoped for.

"He has these - parties," he said after a pause. "Not affairs for a lady, but you might fit in," he said, staring at the view under her petticoats. "You might just indeed."

Clarissa smiled. "I should love an invitation to one," she replied, trying not to get her hopes up. "I need an introduction to this man."

The man approached her, eyes still on the sight under her petticoats. "I promise you shall have it." She could feel his hot breath on her neck as he moved closer.

The alley was dark, and not a soul was in sight. Clarissa was more nervous about the venue than the act. He pressed his mouth against hers, and she started to open her lips in protest. His tongue went inside her mouth, and she had to admit that he was a good kisser. Given the chances she'd taken, her new partner in crime was an attractive man. And he was doing something with his tongue that was making her warm inside.

He broke off the kiss and looked at her a moment when she moaned softly into his mouth, as if he was evaluating her. Did he doubt her word that she was pure? That moan had sounded anything but virtuous. The sound was more the battle cry of too many years of worrying what people thought.

She moved her mouth back to his, wanting to feel that warmth again. He was an eager participant, and his hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She could feel her breasts pushed against his own shirt front. His kisses were sloppier now, wetter. She felt that same heat inside of her. Why had it taken her so long to seek this out?

She could feel his hands against her corset and he ran his fingers up and down her back. His hands traced her sides as they continued to kiss.

He broke off the kiss and began to lick and nip at her jawline and then slid down to her neck. For a moment, she worried that he was a vampire too, but the feelings that ran down her body soon told her that he had other notions in mind at the moment.

His hands moved to the front of her dress and kneaded her breasts through the heavy fabric of her dress. This was certain not the outfit to remove easily, but it did serve to slow things down for them.

The lack of entrance into her bodice seemed to stop him for a moment, but his hand quickly ran down her waist and under the petticoats she had shown him before. Clarissa moved a hand down there as well, wanting to allow him some touch of skin.

Instead she was surprised when he took her hand and slid it between his legs. She'd heard stories of men's endowments and she'd seen the farm animals from her childhood, but she'd never touched a man in an engorged state. The man acted like she would pull away if his hand did not cradle hers, but she kept it there, running up and down its length through the fabric. She had no way of knowing if he was adequate or not, but she grew warmer still knowing that she had brought this effect to him.

Now it was his time to moan, and his call was a throaty rasp that sounded nothing like his normal voice. "You're going to be the death of me soon," he said.

Clarissa stopped, in part because he seemed to want to prolong it and also because it brought back the reasons why she was in a dark alley with a strange man. Death.

The man removed his hand from hers and slid in between the buttons on her undergarment. He soon found what he wanted.

A single finger slid inside of her. She was shocked for a second and then pleasured by the sensation. He seemed experienced at what he did, and he wasted no time in finding spots inside of her that she wasn't even aware existed. He was direct and rubbing on her in a manner similar to what she'd done to him earlier. She felt wet between her legs and Clarissa was confused as to where the juices were coming from. What had he done to her?

The heat built inside of her, and she felt as though it must burst forth soon.

Just as she was getting ready to ask for more, he pulled his hand out of her garments and uncouthly licked his fingers.

"A copper's coming," he said. "I can hear him. Besides, I figured you were going to stop me anyways. I'm sure I don't get the rest until I made good on my end of the deal."

Clarissa cleared her throat. "Indeed. When do you think you can have the information I require?" He had stopped of his own volition, thinking her a hard bargainer. Little did he know that she likely would have allowed that fire inside of her explode, if he had but asked.

"By the weekend," he said with a smile. "You've given me reason to work hard to find out what you need."

Clarissa nodded. Today was Wednesday, so she would not have long to wait. She had been led to believe that vampires stayed in the form they had possessed when they turned, and she wanted to still be fair and beautiful when she became a vampire. She had no desire to live throughout eternity as a haggard, blue-faced crone.

Clarissa waited patiently for the man to return. She spent her days wondering if she'd traded that moment of passion for a promise that would not occur. The housekeeper must have thought her mad for all the hours of pacing she did in those two days.

On Friday afternoon, the housekeeper brought up a card. "From a gentleman, miss."

The card had a name and address on them. Clarissa did not recognize the name, but the address was in Mayfair. Had her partner in crime truly been of such a tony address? She turned the card over, which revealed the answer.

I'll be by tomorrow to escort you to the party. We will need to bring this card.

He had scribbled a name on the card that might have been Anthony, but it was more a cursive swirl than a word.

She tucked the card into the bodice of her dress and went back to her pacing. Now she had to find a dress to wear. Clarissa would be wanting to wear something provocative and yet ladylike. She still wanted to show her status in society, even if she were going to there to make a deal with a devil.

When Friday night came, Clarissa was dressed in a crimson dress, a treat that she only wore on rare occasions. When she was not under the watchful eye of the housekeeper, Clarissa had modified the décolletage to be more daring. She wanted to ensure that she caught the eye of the man who was hosting the party. Her life and her art depended on it.

Her escort arrived promptly at 8pm. He was wearing a black suit with a white shirt front sporting ruffles around the neck. He looked much like the types that would be seen walking in Mayfair tonight.

They entered the carriage that awaited them. The seats were leather, but comfortable. He sat across from her and smiled. The driver snapped the reins and the carriage started its journey.

"Are you sure that the party is what you say?" Clarissa asked, not wanting to miss this opportunity.

"Yes, miss. It will certainly prove to be enlightening for you, I trust." He smiled to her with a hint of a leer. "I believe we had discussed a reward for my assistance in the matter."

She nodded. "I remember our pact. And you remember that we will only go so far now, and the rest will occur after I've met our mutual friend." Clarissa licked her lips to ensure he understood her meaning.

"I remember well," he said, placing a hand on her knee. "Do you?"

She nodded, but didn't speak. The hand was firm and insistent as it climbed slowly from her knee to her thigh. The feeling she'd experienced early in the week began to return. "What about the driver?" she asked. "We're in a carriage."

"I had the foresight to tell him to take us through the park until we indicated otherwise," he whispered in her ear as he moved closer to her. "I didn't want us to be disturbed."

She smiled and parted her lips to greet his. The man's tongue was in her mouth without hesitation. It was familiar this time, the firm pressing against her tongue, the light caresses along her own tongue. His right hand brushed her cheek gently, running shivers up her spine. The thought of what she'd missed over the years returned to her. If she was successful in her plan, she would spend her free time exploring sex and men.

His other arm rested against the back cushion on her side, and his legs slipped between hers and parted them as gently as he had her lips. This time, he pushed her dress up, the crinoline rustling in the air of silence. She had deliberately worn little under her dress tonight, knowing what she would likely be doing now and later.

His body pressed against hers. The man broke off the kiss and his mouth ran down her throat and stopped at the breasts, which had artfully been displayed by the altered dress. He kissed the tops of her breasts as she felt desire run through her body.

Without prompting this time, she reached out and ran her hand over his manhood. He grunted as she palmed it. With both hands, she buttoned his pants and loosed it. Apparently, he had developed the same idea as she had, since he was wearing nothing underneath the pants.

As he kissed her breasts, she tilted her head to get a look at him from the waist down. His legs were thick and muscled, covered with hair. They were flexing and straining to hold that awkward position in the carriage.

His member was large and thick, much bigger than she'd been led to believe. It bobbed and twitched as they made their way through the park in the carriage. Clarissa reached out and touched the hot flesh. The man stopped kissing her when she did and met her gaze.

He kissed her again, sloppier and hungrier than before. Steadying himself with just his legs, he pushed both hands under her skirts.

Within seconds, he had found his target. He tugged at the thin layer of underwear until she was exposed. Clarissa didn't think she'd ever been exposed in the open air this way. It felt delicious and erotic. The air was cool where it hit the moisture that had developed between her legs.

He pushed a finger into her - as he had the other night. If anything, the action was more charged tonight. He was quick with his motions and found the spot that gave her so much pleasure. She moaned, louder this time and he laughed at her carnal appetite.

"This half must be done quickly, but we'll take our time later," he said. With that promise, he thrust a second finger into her. The motion was exquisite. He pushed in and out of her quickly, not waiting for her to catch up with the action.

She gently took him in her hand and began to stroke him back and forth. Clarissa found it hard to concentrate on the task as he slid his fingers in and out, hastening his speed as the carriage continued on its path.

She met this quickened pace by rubbing her thumb across the head of his member, feeling the slick liquid dripping from him. Clarissa wondered if her own juices were similar. If she were allowed to live, she made a promise to find out.

Bumping down the road, she felt the desire warm her. She knew that she was on the precipice of something, but she knew not what. His fingers were moving quickly now, and he managed to find the spots inside of her that turned up the heat inside of her. With a sudden jolt of the carriage, his fingers drove deep inside of her. The heat sped through her system like a fire out of control. She closed her eyes and let out a moan at the feelings that burned inside of her. Wave after wave of bliss crashed around her, and for several minutes she forgot everything around her and enjoy the pleasure.

When she opened her eyes, he was still standing over her. He'd taken the responsibility to stroke himself, and she watched in the name of education, not because she found that it stoked that fire in her.

He had a wicked grin on his face as he watched her through hooded eyes. His face had started to redden, and through gritted teeth, he grunted as strings of liquid landed between her legs. He panted as if he had run a race or had followed the carriage on foot. He sat back down in his seat and smiled at her.

She eyed him warily. "Will I be able to do that again later tonight?" Clarissa asked. "I don't want to think that I cannot impress our host."

"Women take much less time than men to recover their energies," he said earnestly, his eyes not leaving her face. "I don't think you'll have to worry about impressing the host. I'm sure he'll find you fascinating."

Clarissa felt her face redden, not from desire, but from embarrassment. She was not used to such compliments.

The carriage, through some unspoken cue, picked up the pace. Within a few minutes, they had arrived at a posh townhome in Mayfair. Clarissa couldn't help but look at the face walking by, wondering if she knew any of the dukes and lords who might be passing by. The driver opened the door to the carriage and helped her down. The man followed her, having put himself back together in the carriage during this last few minutes.

The door was opened by a butler, who took the card that Clarissa proffered and inspected it carefully. He looked up, smiled at the men with her, and let them into the house.

Clarissa wasn't sure what she had expected, but certainly it was not what greeted her there. Her escort had told her that the party would involve the more carnal appetites, but in her wildest fantasies, she had not considered this.

She walked through the long hallway, looking into rooms on either side of the hall. In some were men with men. Others held women with women. She had seen several rooms with couples engaged in intercourse. At one doorway, she stopped to watch, seeing how these people, who obviously had more experience, perform their acts. The man at her side slid his hand under her elbow and moved her along.

"They don't necessarily want an audience," he whispered in her ear. His lips brushed her lobe, leaving her to feel the sensation all the way down her torso. What had this man done to her?

"But some do?" she asked, feeling somewhat brazen tonight.

"Yes, some do. If that interests you, I will show you such a room later." He gave her a grin. "Does it?"