Wishes on Her Eyes (NC-17)

D.M. Evans

Chapter Two - Dancing the Night Away

She's my Coney Island Baby
She's my Coney Island Girl
She's a princess in a red dress
She's the moon in the mist to me
She's my Coney Island Baby
She's my Coney Island Girl


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"It's like magic," Dru said, standing on the fringes of the dance.

Spike smiled down at her. He tipped her chin up and feathered a kiss across her painted lips. He wasn't used to seeing her with short hair. She should have been wearing her hair in a shingle, a style that was very close to the head to accommodate those ubiquitous cloche hats. It was nearly in a bob, as long as it could be and still be fashionable. She had cried when the hairdresser they found, and later ate, cut off her beautiful walnut tresses.

He was the one who had encouraged her new look. A bandeau graced her head, beaded with jet beads and peacock blue glass ones. A few peacock feathers trailed over her glossy hair. The kohl around her eyes made them exotic and deep like any actress who smoldered at them from the silver screen. Spike liked to take Dru to the movies since she loved them so. He enjoyed movies, too, even put up with her crush on Valentino but he shed no tears when the star died last year. Dru, on the other hand, had wept herself silly as if death was something strange and new to her.

Her crimson lipstick made her as luscious as a banquet of nubile young women to him. He couldn't resist. He pressed his lips to hers. Her mouth opened to him, letting his tongue slip in. He pulled her close, his hands on the small of her back, feeling the jet and peacock beads on the silk rolling under his fingers. He loved this dress, beads, silk, silver embroidery like hieroglyphics and fringe hiding her knees.

He adored these new fashions and Dru, with his encouragement, had thrown herself into it. She had her silk stockings rolled down, the beaded garters showing and her kneecaps rouged like the rest of the vigorous flappers whirling around on the dance floor just a few steps beyond them. All those rouged kneecaps, that formerly forbidden flesh, made his knees go soft enough to be stirred. He had always liked the soft underside of a woman's knee and breasts. So it had come as a complete surprise to him that he found these androgynous tubular dresses, with the flatteners worn underneath so appealing. With their short hair and squashed chests, many of the young girls looked like young men in dresses and there was something disturbing about that, more so because it was so damn arousing.

"You'll make me want to go upstairs to bed but it's play time. I want to dance like dandelion fluff on the wind," Dru said, pushing her hand against the white silk shirt he wore under his grey wool suit jacket. Swirls of blue to highlight her dress patterned the silk.

"And you shall dance. I've messed your lipstick a bit," he said. "Do I have any on me?"

She giggled. "Lips like blood."

He rolled his eyes and let her lead him to a shadowy part of the dance hall. She took out a handkerchief from her tiny beaded purse and wiped his mouth. He took her Elizabeth Arden lipstick and reapplied it. It had taken a lot of convincing originally to get Dru to wear make up. Part of her puritanical upbringing still clung to the hollowed out spaces left behind when her soul took flight. But his assurances that it would make her even more beautiful, more lovely than her beloved stars, made her relent. So it fell to him to learn how to apply make up since she couldn't see herself in a mirror. He thought he had gotten good at it. He rather not remember how many times he had accidentally jabbed Dru in the eye learning to apply kohl.

Once she was fixed and she had straightened his tie and hat they went back out on the dance floor and launched into the Charleston, following the syncopated 4/4 time of the ragtime music. Dru's shoes with their ankle straps had been made just for dancing like this. Otherwise the flappers would be flinging shoes across the room as they made their little outward kicks with their heels. The up and down bird-like movements they made with their knees and their flapping arms is what lent them the nickname in the first place.

The music changed and Spike took great joy in watching Dru from his space along the wall with the rest of the men while the women danced the Black Bottom. The wild dance, as usual, was an unspoken challenge for the girls and two blondes and a red head went up against Dru. Their beaded dresses flashed like fire under the lights as they stamped their heels on the offbeats. Spike, like most men watching, didn't care who 'won.' They were just enjoying watching the women slap their asses, grind and gyrate as they hopped back and forth. Dru's pearl necklace swung wildly from her neck as her dress whirled around her. The girls who didn't have their stockings rolled down flashed their garters as they danced. If Dru wanted to Spike knew she could probably drain a half dozen men in a heartbeat from their fully cocked Johnsons pointing her way, his included.

They were doing the Lindy-Hop to the pulsing rhythmic eight-count beat when someone grabbed Spike and whirled him away from Dru, or at least tried to. He didn't have the strength to move the wiry little vampire. Spike saw the weak-chinned face that was beginning to really irritate him. Emily clung to Hetherington's arm, looking as if she were afraid the women around her were infectious and she'd die if someone breached the shell of celibacy and overhearing piety she carried around her.

"You don't want to be putting your hands on me, you toff," Spike grumbled, feeling Dru tensing next to him. He pulled her close. He couldn't let her lose her temper and lose them both the money and their new get. They had to suffer Emily and Alester for one more night.

"What did my sister find so attractive about you two? You're vile and disgusting and sinful. My sister's death hasn't caused a single misstep for you and your non-stop partying." Her unpainted face purple and splotched with rage, Emily slapped Drusilla hard.

Dru raised a perfectly manicured hand but Spike caught it before she used those nails to cut through Emily's pudgy neck. "Your woman has more bollocks than you do, Hetherington." Spike laughed.

"She's not my woman, you.you," Hetherington babbled, but Spike noticed he didn't look angry. He was pale, fear shining in his watery eyes. "We'll prove you killed Ann."

Spike's lips hooked up in a wicked smile. He realized he had it right. He leaned closer and took a sniff of the man. Under his sickly sweet cologne was a whiff of Emily. "I'm getting tired of saying this. I was at the bandstand. A dozen people saw Drusilla and me there. We were Ann's friends. Why would we kill her?" Spike tried to keep his voice calm.

"To get her money," Hetherington replied. Alester shook a small fist at Spike.

"Bloody hell."

Hetherington's pale face went livid. "Don't profane in front of the women."

Spike sucked in a deep breath, a leftover human way of calming himself. He could barely refrain from tearing this wanker apart. He kept up a mental mantra, 'money and Ann rising.' "You are as useless as a chocolate teapot, Hetherington. We aren't in Ann's will. With Ann dead, we not only lost a good friend but our place here once the money runs out at the end of the month. We had no reason to want her dead," Spike said, fighting to remain rational. 'Money and Ann rising.'

"Well, maybe you fought and killed her by accident. I know you're behind this," Emily shrilled.

"Tell me how, you stupid bint. All three of use went to the bandstand together. Ann forgot her Cartier brooch back in the room, the one you gave her, Hetherington. She wanted to show it off. She went back for it, leaving Drusilla and myself at the bandstand. We were there when the Pinkertons came to find us and tell us Ann had been killed." Spike took Dru's arm. "Let's find another place to dance, Dru, a place where the air's better."

Emily grabbed Dru, her plump fingers digging in. This time Dru slapped her hard enough to knock her down. Her long skirt flipped up revealing corpulent legs barely contained by her black wool stockings. Several dancers scattered and the music missed a beat.

"How dare you?" Hetherington took a step toward Dru but Spike interposed himself.

"Uh-uh, this is between the ladies," Spike said. "And it ends now or so help me you'll be in for it."

Hetherington helped Emily up. She grabbed a glass of tea from a passing waitress' tray and flung it at Dru, most of it missing.

"What is going on here?"

Spike turned and found himself staring into a tall man's bewhiskered face. He was another person Spike was tired of seeing; the Pinkerton who was first in Ann's room after her murder. "Mr. Bushnell, these two are harassing me and my wife," Spike said, hoping he could actually pull off being as hoity-toity as the rest of the Oriental's clientele.

Bushnell cocked an eyebrow at that as if he knew Spike and Dru wouldn't know a marriage if it jumped up and attacked them. Spike disagreed. He and Dru were better than most of the old marrieds. Oh, there were little side ventures to break up the routine but for the most part it was just him and the woman he loved more than life. He enjoyed having Dru all to himself especially now that Angelus had gone insane or whatever his problem was because of the whole soul business.

"These two are responsible for killing my sister. I don't know why you didn't tell the police that, Mr. Bushnell. You Pinkertons are supposed to be good. Well, you didn't keep my sister safe and you can't see the killers when they're standing in front of you. Take them to the police." Emily stamped her foot at him.

"Don't tell me my job, ma'am, and I am going to have to ask you and Mr. Hetherington to leave. I can't have you causing a scene," he said placidly.

"My dear man, do you know who we are?" Hetherington asked.

"Yes, I do, sir but you're making a public disturbance. You are not guests here and you should be grateful I'm not summoning the police to deal with this. That goes for all of you," Bushnell said. "So I'm asking you two to leave the dance hall as well. Go back to your rooms. Go to the park. What you wont' be doing is staying here further disturbing the guests." He wagged a finger at Spike as if not at all worried he might lose his job if he upset the wealthy guests of the hotel.

"She hurt me," Dru said, leaning against Spike stabbing a finger at Emily. Spike hushed her.

"That's all you're going to do? Send them out to have more fun?" Emily demanded to know.

Bushnell played with an end of his moustache. "I do have more questions for them but it can wait until tomorrow morning."

"Oh no it can't. We're leaving the dance hall right now. Ask now or wait until tomorrow night. We're not much for company in the middle of the day," Spike said.

"Fine. Just let me escort Miss di Gobeo and Mr. Hetherington out," Bushnell said.

"That won't be necessary." Hetherington sniffed, taking Emily's arm.

Spike waited for them to leave before leading Dru out. Bushnell followed them.

"What do you want, Mr. Bushnell? Are you going to be like that spoiled cow and ask me how I murdered Ann when I was nowhere near her room?" Spike asked, barely able to keep it below a roar. He wasn't a patient man and tonight had been too big a strain. All he wanted was to be left alone until Ann rose.

Bushnell kept his calm. "No. You were clearly where you said you were. But it's harder to find people who saw your wife there, Mr. Harker."

Spike almost grinned. He had chosen that name from Stoker's book just for giggles but the thought of Dru being in trouble sobered him. Not that this man could pose a real threat. He had no idea things like vampires were real. They could kill him where he stood before he ever knew what was happening. He just didn't want to have to flee before Ann woke up. "And where do you think Drusilla went, Bushnell? Up to Ann's room to cut her throat? What for? She has nothing to gain from Ann's death."

Dru looked at Spike, worry in her blue eyes. He patted her hand and she kept quiet.

"If she did it, I doubt it was premeditated. But I have noticed she seems to be a bit.touched."

"Watch it. This is the woman I love and there's nothing wrong with her," Spike said, realizing he shouldn't have. He knew Dru was obviously insane. It was what he loved about her but he hated people saying it. It hurt her feelings. He squeezed her hand gently.

"I think we both know better. I really think I should talk to her alone," Bushnell said, his dark eyes raking over Dru.

She shrank back against Spike. Her lover noticed this man wasn't looking at her like a suspect. His eyes stayed too long on her flattened chest, on the curve of her legs and the sweep of her neck. Spike knew when a man was interested in a woman and Bushnell had his eye on Dru.

"I don't think so. We're guests here. We had nothing to do with our friend's death. And you're not the police. If you had any evidence Drusilla did anything wrong, you would have turned it over already so leave us alone to mourn our friend," Spike said, thinking once again, 'money and Ann rising.'

Bushnell's brow knitted. "It doesn't look like you're in mourning."

"Ann would have appreciated our style of mourning. If you knew anything about her, you'd know that. Come on, Dru, let's get you upstairs and get you cleaned up. And I'm making damn sure the hotel sends the cleaning bill for this dress to Miss di Gobeo," Spike said.

"I'm sure to have more questions for you, Mr. Harker, and for your wife," Bushnell called after them as Spike started for the stairs.

"And I'll have answers."

"That awful woman ruined all our fun." Dru pouted as they climbed the stairs.

"I know, ducks." He leaned in close and added in a whisper, "But we can't kill her yet, not until Ann rises."

Dru's pout intensified. "Ann will want to kill her herself and there won't be any fun for me."

"I'll let you kill Hetherington," he said and she brightened.

Once back in their suite, Dru started a bath in a sunken tub that looked more like a Roman pool. Spike helped her out of her tea-stained dress. He held her close, his hands tucked against the stiff flattener she wore. He knew she wanted free of the stupid thing - he was so glad he wasn't female - so he got it off of her while steaming water bubbled into the tub. The scent of lavender filled the air. Dru went into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed to try and get off her shoes. Spike knelt down and unfastened them for her. He planted a kiss on each instep. As Dru giggled, he sucked on her toes, the silk stockings catching on his teeth. Knowing she'd never forgive him if he laddered the expensive things, Spike reached up and slowly rolled them down, his tongue following the silk as it moved down her leg.

Dru's back arched as he toyed with those stockings lifting her bare hips in a way that sent fire through him. But she slipped out of his grip and sashayed off to the bathroom. She paused at the door to throw a coquettish look his way then went inside. Spike knew she wanted to play slow and long. He took off his jacket and draped it over the chair. Shoes, pants, shirt all came off as he listened to Dru splashing in the tub. He nearly forgot his hat. He put it on the dresser as he went back into the bathroom.

His dark beauty had sunk to her neck in the scented suds. He sat on the edge of the tub, slipping a hand under the water. Her nipples were soft as rose petals as he teased them, one then the other. Dru moaned a bit, reaching up with a sudsy hand to caress his cheek. She twisted in the tub so she had better access to him. Her painted lips engulfed his stiffening member. His eyes fluttered shut as she took him into the cool reaches of her mouth. It was such a difference from the warm wetness Ann had treated him to, with Dru watching. Maybe Angelus had taught her that two women and one man was acceptable. If so, he'd have to thank him.

Dru sat back, leaving crimson streaks of lipstick along the length of him. Spike eased into the tub her legs parting for him. Their lips met as he explored under the water again. His fingers gently massaged her clitoris until she was bucking against him.

Dru pushed him away and he looked at her curiously. She occasionally liked to take the lead and tonight was obviously one of those nights. She pushed him back under the water and climbed on top. Having a tub large enough for at least four people to lay down in had its advantages. Spike looked up at her through water that was rapidly becoming sud-less. Dru's face broke the water as she came down to kiss him again.

She reached back to stroke him as they continued their underwater kiss. Finally she broke it, sitting up and moved back so she could slip him inside her. Dru held him under as they made love. It was an interesting new game. Seeing her through the refracting water made it seem otherworldly. This was a benefit to being undead, no need to breathe, couldn't drown, could try out things mortals couldn't.

Dru's movements were languid and wonderful. She was in no hurry to bring him to climax and he knew he could have a very long fuse. Finally she picked up the pace, urging them both forward. She held him under until both of their orgasms played out. When she let him up, she laughed, getting out of the tub. They dried each other off and Spike carried her back to their bed.

"Night's still young," he said, fluffing Dru's short wet hair.

"Want to go out and play some more?" Dru's blue eyes were bright.

"I think I know where Hetherington and that cow are," he replied.

Dru scowled. "Don't like her. Don't want to play with her."

"They're together, pet. And if I can prove that, I bet Bushnell would have himself a nice new suspect and that'll leave us free to get things ready for Ann's rebirth." Spike could care less about the ritual. He knew Ann would rise one way or the other but it was important to Dru.

"Show me, my star."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Three

"Wishes on Her Eyes" Contents...

Back to Plum's Picks...




Background courtesy of "Pure Elegance"