Author: Lassar
Email: Dragonrampant@yahoo.com
Website: Mythtime.com
Title: A Birthday Surprise
Summary: Anita wants to do something special for Jean-Claude’s birthday, but what do you get the vampire who has everything?
The large verdigris clock that stood on the corner of the riverfront district read three o’clock. It was closing time. I flipped the lapels of my black coat up higher and burrowed into the leather. I hoped that between the coat and the burgundy stocking cap that my presence would pass unnoticed by the drunks spilling out of the bars.
There was a down side to all the publicity I had garnered for Animators Inc., as well as for being Jean-Claude’s sweetie. In St. Louis at least, Anita Blake had near-celebrity status. Someone would invariably point me out while I was trying to have a quiet dinner, fill up the car, or buy ammo. The whispers and stares were bad enough, but the sheer number of complete strangers who felt they had the right to come up and talk to me was starting to get annoying, especially when I did NOT want to be noticed.
Tonight was one of those times. I was heading to the most notorious establishment in the Blood Quarter, an area full of tourists gawking at vampires. If they figured out that the ‘Executioner’ was in their midst, I would be mobbed by idiots with invasive questions and sexual innuendos. It was too bad I couldn’t get a court order of execution for stupidity.
Ok, maybe nothing that extreme, but wounding one might make the others back off. It worked with other nocturnal predators. It didn’t help that I was already in a bad mood, considering the nature of my errand. I hated to ask for help, hated to admit that there were things I couldn’t do myself.
The fact that it was a personal favor I would be asking, and not a professional one really made me a grumpy woman. I was ready to dish out violence to the first person that offered offense, and truthfully I would be very easy to offend. No, tonight was definitely a night that it would be safer for the masses to remain blissfully ignorant of the necromancer in their midst.
The bars had closed on the hour, spilling their patrons out into the brisk night air. Overheated by alcohol, dancing, and the heat of all those bodies in one place, none were hurrying to their vehicles. Instead they all milled about in the street, not as dangerous as one might think, since the roads were closed to all vehicular traffic.
I strode through them quickly, knowing I must look like a brooding raven amid the pigeons. Walk with purpose and don’t make eye contact, and people are generally content to ignore you. Tonight was no exception, thankfully. I reached my objective without a single lingering glance or comment.
The swirling neon script reading ‘Guilty Pleasures’ was the color of heart blood. It was a symbology that I never failed to notice, but lately it had taken on an additional meaning for me. I loved Jean-Claude, the vampire who owned this very profitable preternatural strip club. Right now it was an annoying reminder of how far I was willing to go in the name of that love.
I stared up at the sign and sighed. I was standing out here freezing my ass off because I was too chicken to take the last few steps that would bring me to the service entrance. After a few more minutes it became funny. Me, Anita Blake, the woman who was the court appointed vampire executioner for the tri-state area, was afraid to enter one measly little burlesque.
Honestly, the scariest thing inside were the vampire groupies, and they had all gone home by now. After all, the club closed earlier than any of the bars, only having a liquor license for one a.m. instead of three. The women probably went on to drink at one of the other clubs after the last act.
At least, I hoped they did. The idea that they hung around to be a post-show snack was something I didn’t want to dwell on. A little hypocritical coming from me perhaps, but it was still the way I felt.
I stiffened my spine and dug my keys out of the little burgundy purse. Yes, it matched the hat. Jean-Claude has been a bad influence on my wardrobe. I fumbled through the keys, looking for the one that I had copied from Nathaniel’s.
Jean-Claude would have given me a key if I had asked, he had given me one to the Circus without my asking, but I didn’t want him to wonder why I wanted it. I certainly couldn’t think of a plausible excuse as to why I should need it. I hoped Jason was a better liar than I was, since I’d asked him to meet me here after hours without telling Jean-Claude.
The building was as quiet as only a club closed for the day can be, the empty spaces somehow carrying an echo of the sounds that should fill the place. I strode past a walk-in refrigerator that probably held alcohol, although they could be keeping bags of plasma in there as well for all I knew. I’d like to think that the employees weren’t grazing on the customers, but with so many willing victims? Vampiric nature being what it was, I knew better.
“Anita, I’m glad to see you. I was beginning to get concerned.” Jason interrupted my reverie. I realized I was still staring at the large metal door. I had allowed myself to be distracted again. Anything to put off what I was about to do…
“Hello Jason. Thanks for coming. Did you have any trouble with Jean-Claude?” I walked down the hall with the young blonde, pulling my stocking cap off.
“Nah, I just told him I had a hot date.” Jason shrugged and gave me a slightly naughty grin, his pale blue eyes full of very personal knowledge. “It’s true, so far as it goes. I just wish I thought you called me here to jump my bones.” Jason waggled his eyebrows as he said the last part.
“You wish.” I couldn’t help but grin, mood momentarily lightened by his antics. He was going to get an even bigger kick out of my request, I knew. I was probably going to catch a lot of teasing for asking this, but my other options had been Stephen or Nathaniel. Stephen I just wasn’t that comfortable with, and Nathaniel was still recovering from the draining affects of the Arduer.
“ I need your help with something, but before I tell you what it is you have to promise me two things.” I looked into his eyes, being nearly the same height made it easy to do. “I’m not asking this as Bolverk, or as Jean-Claude’s servant. You can refuse if you want to, and nothing more will be said.”
Jason’s face sobered, as did his tone, “Now you’ve got me REALLY concerned. What’s going on?”
I wanted him to take this seriously, but I had overdone. Now Jason thought something was wrong. “Nothing is going on. I just need your help, but it’s a personal request, not an official one. I wanted you to understand the difference.”
“Uh-huh. What do you want me to promise?” Jason did not sound convinced. That was ok. He would find out soon enough.
I held up one finger. “First, you must promise that you will never tell anyone what has happened here tonight.”
“I’d like to promise that, but if Jean-Claude asks, he’ll know if I lie. If I am even able to lie to him.” Jason cut in. He looked a little upset, probably about being put in the middle more than his possible inability to cover for me. Jason liked being where he was, and having seen what was going on with the pack, I wasn’t sure I blamed him.
I had to give him points for thinking about what I was asking, and for being honest. “I don’t think that will be a problem Jason, but if he asks you, tell him I said he was to bring his questions to me.” I shrugged, my voice taking on a wry tone, “I’m not sure my ego could stand you telling him your version of what happened.”
Whatever Jason had been about to say, my last comment stopped him cold. He closed his mouth and looked at me very hard. It was difficult not to squirm under that direct blue gaze. I could feel a blush heating my cheeks when he suddenly smiled, “Ok, I promise. After a lead up like that, how could I possibly refuse? What’s your second condition?”
“The second one will be harder for you. No laughing, and no teasing about what I’m about to ask you.” I was more concerned about the comments. Jason wasn’t quite as bad as Zerbrowski, but he was getting there.
“Uhm, Anita, you’re not pregnant. I’d be able to smell it if you were.” Jason managed to keep from laughing out loud, but his eyes were sparkling and the corners of his lips twitched.
“I know I’m not, you jerk.” I punched him in the arm, perhaps harder than was warranted, but his attitude was making me feel defensive. For me, the best defense is a good offense. Besides, he was a werewolf. I could hit him a lot harder than that and not do any real damage. ”Swear to me, or forget it.”
Jason stopped rubbing his bicep where I’d punched it. He raised his hand in the traditional Boy Scout salute, although to the best of my knowledge he had never been one, “I solemnly promise not to breathe a word of what happens here tonight, and not to tease you.”
“And?” I prompted.
“Laughter is involuntary. I can’t promise about that. Besides, that would be three things, and you only stipulated two.” Jason plopped down in one of the seats by the stage as he tried to weasel out of the last part of the deal.
“I mean it. No laughing.” I glared at him.
“I’ll do my best, that’s all I can promise.” Jason seemed unmoved by my glare; maybe I needed to practice more.
I looked down at him for a long minute, wondering if I shouldn’t just forget the whole thing. It was a stupid idea anyway. I could go home and get some much-needed sleep instead. No one would ever know.
Even as I thought it, I knew that I wouldn’t. It would be cowardly. Besides, I’d come this far. I might as well finish it. “I want you to teach me how to do a strip tease.”
Jason curled up in his chair, making small choking sounds. I stared at his bent form, knowing he was trying not to laugh. It really had been too much to ask of him. After several seconds of this I sighed, “Go ahead and laugh before you hurt yourself.”
He took me at my word, letting the laughter escape, although he remained hunched over. I guess he didn’t want to actually laugh in my face. Finally Jason straightened, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. I knew he’d think it was funny, but I thought his reaction a little extreme. I guess it showed on my face because he started to explain between intermittent chuckles.
“All this secrecy, and promises, and it’s just so I can teach you how to strip?” That set him off again, and I realized that there was a tinge of hysteria in his laughter.
“I want it to be a surprise for Jean-Claude, and he’s hard to keep secrets from.” I shrugged. Ok, maybe I’d gone a little overboard with the subterfuge, but one could never be too careful when trying to hide something from a master vampire.
“Whew. Anita, you have no idea what I was thinking when you asked me to meet you here tonight. I got more worried as you started adding on conditions, and that whole ‘I’m not asking as your Bolverk etcetera’ thing really freaked me out. I though you were going to ask me to do something like help you get out of town or something.” Jason leaned back in the chair, looking wrung out.
“I’m sorry Jason. I never meant to give you that impression. Now that you know what I want to do, will you help me?” I asked, swallowing my irritation. Get out of town? What was he thinking?
“If you need help taking your clothes off, I’m your man.” Jason leered.
“Good. What do I do first?” I ignored the lecherous tones, sometimes it was the only way you could have a conversation with Jason, and went straight to business.
“Have you ever watched the show?” Jason asked, gesturing to the empty stage.
“Sorta. Several years ago I came here with Catherine’s bachelorette party. I wasn’t here for very long, I got a call from RPIT to go to a murder scene.” I closed my eyes for a moment, remembering when my life had been simpler, and Dolph had been my friend. I hoped he was taking those two weeks of personal leave and getting his shit together. “I watched Robert and…” my voice trailed off.
I tried not to think about Phillip. I had really liked him, liked him a lot. He had died because he stood up for me to the old Master of the City. Nikolaos had tortured him before she had Aubrey kill him. Robert was dead too, but I hadn’t cared about him. In fact, his death hadn’t bothered me at all, until I realized that I was going to have to make nice with his widow, Monica, whom I hated. Not very Christian of me perhaps; but true nonetheless.
“Hello, Earth to Blake! I said, Robert and who?” Jason was standing now, and waving his fingers in front of my eyes.
I must have zoned out. It wasn’t like me to get that distracted. I realized it for the delaying tactic that it was and finished the sentence. “And Phillip.”
“Robert was kinda weak. A good warm up act, easy to follow, but he really didn’t put his heart in it. He probably didn’t do anything for you, did he?” The question seemed rhetorical, so I just shook my head while Jason continued to talk, “This Phillip guy was before my time, so I never saw him work, but I hear he was pretty popular. Was he any good?”
I didn’t really want to talk about Phillip, “Probably, but I was too busy being freaked out by all the scars to be a good judge. I had never even heard the term coffin bait back then.”
Jason gave me wide eyes, “Were you old enough to be in here?”
I punched him in the arm again, trying for the same spot, “It wasn’t THAT long ago.”
“Sorry Anita, I just can’t imagine you being that innocent.” Jason put a protective hand over his bicep as he spoke.
“We all have to start somewhere.” I hunched my shoulders, not really comfortable with the memories that were crowding to the surface. “Just like tonight. I need to get started, I don’t have all night.”
“You aren’t going to learn everything in one night Anita, I hate to break it to you.” Jason shook his head, eyes crinkling with humor.
“I’m not going to start a new profession, I just want to do something special for Jean-Claude without looking like an idiot. For that, all I need is the basics right?” I asked, although it wasn’t really a question. I had to learn whatever I could tonight. There would not be another opportunity before Jean-Claude’s birthday.
The only way I’d managed this meeting was by telling everyone I was doing something for Rafael, who had graciously agreed to cover for me after learning that I was trying to arrange a birthday present for Jean-Claude. No, I didn’t tell him what kind of present.
“Hoo-kay. You’re the boss.” His tone was disbelieving, but he wasn’t arguing. Clearly Jason was getting smarter every day. “Since this is going to be a special engagement, one night only class, let’s make this as simple as possible. What are you going to be taking off, and is there music involved?”
I didn’t say anything, just opened my coat so he could see what I was wearing. It was a compromise between the outfits Jean-Claude liked to put me in when he invaded my dreams, and what I was comfortable wearing, while being something I could get out of by myself without becoming a contortionist.
The dress was a red and black silk brocade that I had been informed came from France, woven using a jacquard pattern that dated from the fifteen hundreds. Considering what I paid for it, it better have. But it was too perfect for me not to buy it, no matter how much a yard it had been.
I was glad that I wasn’t doing a traditional outfit; Erraine told me that the skirt alone took eight yards. Since you couldn’t get me in a hoop or a mountain of crinoline, that wasn’t an issue. Instead I had a very full a-line skirt that gave me some of the same silhouette without all the bulk or weight.
The corset, which shoved my breasts up in a manner I still found disconcerting, closed up the front instead of the back, as did the dress. The lacing on the bodice was cleverly hidden by a small overlap in the fabric that was held in place by small buttons that looked like part of the decoration. Erraine had put yards of trim, buttons, and beads on the outfit, and it camouflaged the needed alterations quite nicely.
I was glad I’d had the foresight to wear the outfit, even if it was hardly cold weather attire. I’d practiced just getting in and out of it for nearly two weeks before setting this meeting up, and could do it easily now. The hard part would be looking seductive while doing it. Ok, and doing it in time with the music. Hey, I didn’t swear any more while lacing it up, surely that had to count for something?
Jason took a good look, finishing his perusal with a, well, a wolf whistle. “Nice outfit. Where on Earth did you get it?”
“I had a word with Jean-Claude’s tailor, Erraine. She’s a very interesting woman. Turns out, she used to work for a big Parisian designer, until she got tired of seeing him take credit for her designs. I told her what I wanted, and Erraine told me she loved a challenge. This is actually the third version, the first two were too hard for me to get in and out of.”
“But you can get out of it, right?” Jason said doubtfully, eyeing the elaborate costume.
“Oh yea of little faith. Of course I can get out of it.” I crossed my arms so he wouldn’t see me crossing my fingers. We were not going to discuss how long it had taken me to get to that stage. I wasn’t all that confident about my ability to get everything unhooked and unlaced to the music without frowning in concentration. That would certainly ruin the image I wanted to present.
“Right. Let’s get started. What music am I playing?” Jason held his hand out, rightly assuming that I had brought something for him to use. I just smiled as I pulled the jewel case out of my coat pocket and handed him the CD. I wanted to see his face when he saw the name and figured out the song. I wasn’t disappointed.
He gaped at the CD for a full minute, cornflower blue eyes big in disbelief, and then started laughing. “Rob Zombie. Anita, I never knew you had a sense of humor.”
“Don’t let it get out. It would ruin my reputation as a hard ass.” I was chuckling too; Jason’s laughter was infectious.
“I think that falls under the promise I already gave about tonight. Which song?” Jason asked, shaking his head as he moved off to the sound system.
“Do you really have to ask?” I rolled my eyes. It seemed pretty obvious to me.
“Not really.” Jason entered the DJ booth, still chuckling intermittently.
I wandered onto the stage while he set the music up, the heels of my black dress shoes clacking against the wood. I stood there, not able to see past the glare of the footlights to the rows of empty tables that I knew were there, and waited.
“Who is this irresistible creature who has an insatiable love for the dead?” Rob Zombie’s ‘Living Dead Girl’ began to pump from hidden speakers. I wasn’t really one for music, but Nathaniel had been playing it one evening while doing housework, and I’d liked the beat.
I had borrowed the CD to work out to, without really catching the lyrics. After listening to it for two weeks, I still couldn’t make most of them out. I wasn’t sure it mattered, the few lines I could understand seemed just fine. Something about ‘Only one way to bring the giant down’, but ‘one flat foot on the devil’s wing’ was my favorite line. It just seemed perfect for this, for me.
“What do I do first?” I asked as Jason joined me on the stage. He hadn’t cranked the music up too loud; we could both talk over it.
“Take off something that doesn’t reveal very much. You want to give the idea time to sink in. Seduction is as much in the mind as the body.” Jason tapped his temple meaningfully.
This was Jason’s area of expertise, and he was giving pretty good advice, so I refrained from making any comments about the state of his mind. I held out my left arm and grabbed the sleeve with my right hand. I gave a sharp tug. The sleeve separated from the bodice with the harsh ripping sound of Velcro.
I flipped the beaded fabric at Jason, who caught it easily, and proceeded to do the same with the second sleeve. This one I peeled off slowly and dropped in front of me like a lady dropping a handkerchief.
“Very nice, a good combination of sass and flirtation. I take it the rest of the dress is modular too?” Jason asked as he draped the sleeve around his neck like a scarf.
“You catch on fast.” I rolled my eyes as I reached for the small jet buttons that kept the front lacing from showing.
“Ah ah ah, no sarcasm. Sarcasm is not sexy.” Jason reprimanded, shaking a finger at me like a schoolteacher with a naughty student.
Instead of making the comment that came to mind, I concentrated on opening the last few buttons. Much as I’d hate to admit it, he was right. Sexy is what I was trying for, and reverting to my natural ‘sparkling’ personality would hardly win me any points in that department.
“Don’t forget to move in time to the music,” Jason warned, swaying his hips for emphasis, from the sidelines
“Wasn’t I?” I asked. It was hard to focus on the music and the fastenings at the same time. I felt a new respect for the men who took their clothes off on this stage. Somehow they’d made it look easy, like anyone should be able to do it if they were brave enough to get up there and try.
“No. The only thing moving is your hands. Come on, feel the beat Anita.”
I untied the bow at the top and slowly pulled the cord through the grommets. I was trying to gyrate to the music at the same time. Jason started laughing. I shot him a dark look. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m sorry. You don’t dance much do you?” Jason finally got his mirth under enough control to talk.
“No, why do you ask?” I was forced to glare at the top of his head as he dropped his face in his hands.
“You have no sense of rhythm. None.” Jason flung his hands in the air like a director having a fit. He stalked over to me and put his hands on my hips. “Move like this.”
I followed the direction of his hands, telling myself it was like kempo. All your strength flows up from your hips. I could do this, really I could. After an entire verse Jason stepped back, letting me sway on my own. Either I’d gotten it, or he’d given up, because he took up his former position on the edge of the stage.
I pulled the last of the cord free. The fabric parted and fell open, revealing a deep valley of cleavage and the blood red silk corset responsible for it. Jason was watching my chest with gratifying intensity, making me think that perhaps Erraine had been right to insist on the corset instead of just a red bra.
The bodice slid down my arms, the fabric somehow still cool despite contact with my body. I could feel it catch a little against the scars and gave a little shimmy to help the cloth move that last little distance. I could feel my breasts jiggle with the motion and watched Jason’s eyes glaze slightly. I filed that move away to try on Jean-Claude.
The skirt was next. I unhooked it and let it fall. Underneath I was wearing red silk panties, a black garter belt, and black hose with red ribbon tied just above each knee. Jason was quietly appreciative for several moments.
Finally he shook his head and said, “Not that I don’t appreciate the direct approach Anita, but you should draw it out a little more. Put a little more tease in your strip, so to speak.”
“What would you suggest?” I could hear the sarcastic defensiveness in my voice and winced. I guess I was still smarting over the ‘no rhythm’ comment. I had asked for his help, so I should try to be a little more gracious. I bent down and scooped up the skirt, fumbling for the ends instead of meeting his eyes.
“Do something like you did with the bodice. Slow it down. Maybe unhook the skirt and show a length of leg, then turn with it. Let it flare out around you. You could toss it at the end of your spin, or stalk toward Jean-Claude with it trailing behind you like a tail. It would let you do some meaningful eye contact.” Jason offered in a flat monotone that reminded me of Ben Stein.
“Ok, I’m a pain in the ass. Have I said thank you for helping me yet?” I asked, sorry I had been so bitchy.
“No you haven’t,” Jason’s voice was a little sulky, but not as hurt as it had been a moment ago. It echoed oddly in the sudden silence. The song had ended.
“Thank you.” I smiled, hoping he would hear the apology as well as the thanks. I suck at taking care of other people’s feelings. The best thing I could think to do was follow his advice. I settled the skirt back around my waist and waited for the next song to start playing. To my surprise, ‘Living Dead Girl’ started over. I raised a questioning brow at Jason.
“Auto-repeat,” one lip quirked up. I think my lack of knowledge about certain forms of technology amused the Hell out of him.
“Ah, “ I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make me look like a bigger idiot. Instead I tried his advice with the skirt. Everything went fine until my second spin. I stepped on the sleeve that I’d left forgotten at my feet and skidded.
I was falling. The edge of the stage was close and I couldn’t control my trajectory. I had a frozen moment to wonder how much it would hurt. The stage was about four feet above the floor. I hoped I’d miss the table, which would probably leave me with some interesting bruises.
Hard arms caught me, encircled me in their protective embrace. I looked up, wondering how Jason had managed to get to me in time. Instead of pale blue eyes, I met cobalt orbs that glowed with concern.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I heard Jason say from above me. He must still be on the stage. I couldn’t look away from Jean-Claude to check. He sounded concerned, and I realized what it did look like.
The fact that Jean-Claude wasn’t angry could only mean one thing. I narrowed my eyes and asked suspiciously, “Just how long have you been watching?”
“Long enough to know why you wouldn’t dance with me at the opening of Danse Macabre.” Jean-Claude smiled.
“Well I hope you enjoyed it, because you’re never seeing it again.” I huffed, angry over his humor at my expense as well as a surprise ruined.
“I will cherish the memory forever, ma petite. Especially once I realized that you had not made a secret assignation with Mr. Schuyler.” A remnant thread of anger wove through the last sentence, letting us both know that the evening would have had a very different ending if we had been.
“Who told you?” I ignored his veiled threat.
“No one told me anything, I assure you. The alarm company called to inform Willie that the building alarm had been turned off. He assumed the worst and contacted me. I’m afraid I was not the only one to see your little performance.” Jean-Claude flinched slightly, anticipating my outburst.
“WHAT!?!?!?!?! How many?” I shrieked.
“Enough. Everyone will know by dawn, I would imagine. My apologies, ma petite. This humiliation I would have spared you.” His voice oozed apology.
I pulled away from him and buried my face in my hands. I would not scream; I would not. I took deep breaths. I said the only thing I could think of, “I hope you don’t think you’re getting anything else for your birthday.”
“Not even an encore performance?” Jean-Claude teasingly asked.
I threw the skirt I still had in one hand over his head and swore, while I hopped back on stage to get my coat. I was so mad I didn’t trust myself to say anything.
“Is that a no?” the voice was forlorn.
I pulled the black coat on and buttoned it, not in the mood to be cajoled. I stomped to the rear exit, not wanting to spend another moment in the club. I pulled the burgundy hat on; I was going to be even colder on my return trip to the car. I paused at the door and called over my shoulder. “That would be a no.”
“What if I went first?” Jean-Claude purred, his voice holding the promise of sex the way the breeze sometimes carries the smell of rain.
I closed my eyes and leaned against the cold metal for a moment. That man could tempt me without even trying, but when he tried he was damn near irresistible. I wasn’t ready to let go of my embarrassment and anger though, no matter how good Jean-Claude was.
“That would be a maybe.” I replied, letting the door swing shut behind me, cutting off any further comments he might make. I escaped into the night, Jean-Claude wisely not following.