Sinners and Saints

Sinners and Saints Chapter 30.1 - I'm Over My Head

Monte Carlo.  

It’s as opulent and over-the-top as you have always heard.  I’m in a strapless gown that nearly matches my pale skin-tone.  If it weren’t for the rhinestones trailing down the dress and gathering suggestively at my more provocative parts, I would look like a nude mermaid with the fish-tail hem sweeping over my feet.  My hair is loose and full and cascading the way it should.  Makeup perfect.  Nails and jewelry and shoes and pedicure and everything else – completely flawless. 

My perfume is my own, but that was only one of two concessions Lil granted me tonight.  She orchestrated everything else for the two succubi and me, down to my earrings and how closely my Brazilian is done. 

The game is simple – the one with the best getting-laid story is the winner.  Brenda and Brandy, my other contestants, are over-confident.  And hungry.  Lil has made sure that they haven’t fed since Spain.  They need to get laid.  Lil may have thought that gave them an edge, but I know it doesn’t.  They’re so desperate they’ll jump the first man who’s ready.  Me?  I have a lot more time to be choosy. 

Lil sits on her barstool – masked, of course.  If she weren’t, she’d have every man in the room fawning at her feet.  Even masked, she still attracts her share of attention, and she seems annoyed by it.  She’s here as judge in this contest – not as a participant.  I reach into the bar to get a cocktail napkin for my champagne flute, but I whisper, “A mole or scar or donkey-laugh might help.”

 “Thank you, Captain-Obvious,” she hisses, “I know how to handle mortals.  Your competitors have already moved in on their marks.  You’re behind.”

 “This contest is ridiculous,” I whisper back to her.

 “It’s actually fairly standard among the bi’s,” she murmurs, “Not officially-sanctioned, of course, but usually happens when a new bi comes into a territory.  Establishes the new pecking order,” she explains, “And since you refuse to kiss and tell, I had to take things into my own hands.  You can’t refuse me now,” she smiles menacingly, “And again – you’re behind.”

 I glance over and shrug my shoulders, “Easy hits,” I smile, “I like a challenge.”  I wink and walk away, noticing out of the corner of my eye as I scan the tables that Lil has pulled a tiny bit more ugly into her glamour and two of the six men buzzing around her leave.  My eyes wander around the room idly, fingers gliding along my ignored glass.  I don’t like champagne.  Give me a beer any day.  Sue me. 

I know there are plenty of men who notice me as I idly strut across the long room, but I pay them little mind.  They are consolation prizes if my intended target doesn’t work out.  The far corner has someone else masked, and even though I can’t see who it is, I know my target is there.  It takes me some time to weave through the throng and I get several “accidental” feel-ups along the way.  Which I tolerate with more patience than I usually would.  They are just obstacles to my goal. 

The crowd finally parts and I see the masked-entity for the first time.  I suspected, but until now, I wasn’t sure.  I sniff – woodsmoke and cloves.  The last of the throng moves past me. 

“Drake,” I approach the booth, “Thought you were in Sydney.”  He’s every bit as yummy as I remember, but even better in a tux.  I pull my bottom lip between my teeth slightly as I look him over.

 Drake grins, having sensed me a long time ago, “Claire,” he stands and takes my hand, kissing it and setting the flute down on the table, “I’ve missed you.  Do you want another drink?  I know you don’t like champagne.”  He reaches in closer and takes my elbow, “You look magnificent.  If I didn’t smell your perfume as soon as you walked in, I never would have recognized you,” he whispers in my ear. 

“You would have by my shoes,” I whisper back, missing our sexually-charged teasing, “You bought them for my last birthday.”  I lift my hem and step my leg against my dress and I can , feeling his eyes travel all the way down to my Swarovski-encrusted stilettos, “Lil liked them so much she made me wear them tonight.” 

“Lil?” he asks, his lips very close to my jaw, “Are you batting for the other side now?”  He leans in and smells the perfume on my neck slowly as his other hand lifts my hair so he can get a better sniff. 

“We’re not supposed to have sides anymore, remember?” I murmur, “A little over three weeks at the Vatican, saved the Pope, saved a plane with you, ten days with Satan and now on a world tour with the Queen of Hell.” 

Drakes makes a low chuckle and steps back from me slightly, “Well, then you definitely deserve a better drink,” he smiles, “The margaritas here are abysmal, but their daiquiris are passable.  And you look much better than you did in Athens.  Let me get you one and we can make our way to the jazz-club.  I want to hear all about this while I have my arms around you,” he smiles and winks before stepping away.  I’m already missing having his heat next to me, but I cover well by doing my bored-gaze around the room.

 Actually, I’m looking for my competitors, sizing up their conquests in my head.  Brandy has an Arian – all blond hair and blue eyes – teaching her baccarat and is giggling like a teenager at him.  Brenda is batting her lashes at a middle-eastern playboy.  Probably some son of a high-up family in Dubai or Saudi Arabia, judging by his looks and mannerisms.  Obviously schooled in the U.K.

 Both human.  Both horny.  And both easy marks. 

Lil brushes past me on her way to the ladies room, “A hellion?” she whispers, “Be careful you don’t bite off more than you can chew.  Although I would love to have you as a permanent employee of mine,” she gives a laugh full of menace. 

“I know how to chew,” I smile sweetly at her, “And swallow.  You’re the one who set the rules.  You never said humans-only.  Even if this all goes badly for me, I’m still betting that I’ll end up with the best story.  But somehow,” I pause and catch Drake’s eye for a second.  The look he gives me promises me that this is going to be a night neither of us forget, “I think you should probably worry more about losing one of your own than gaining another.”

 “We’ll see, Redeemer,” she arches a brow, but something in her eyes tells me she’s not as confident as she wants to be.  Her hips sway in her red and black gown as she makes her way past me, “I’ll be watching.” 

“Oh, I certainly hope so,” I smile to myself as Drake comes toward me.