Beyond The Pale Part 3

"I might know things you should know. About Bonaventure. About your boss. About what you're mixed up in."

I looked into his eyes, which seemed to see right into my mind. They were nice eyes, in a handsome face. The hand on my arm held firm, but he was taking care not to hurt me. In fact, his hand felt warm and good. Finally I sat back down.

"You've got one more chance to convince me you're not a lunatic," I said.

"Listen, about the vampire thing," he said. "I tell you they're real, and for a couple of reasons I wasn't sure about you. Then you went to that spa. You came out looking as if you just flew in from the Caribbean. Vampires can't handle the light of tanning beds. They'd end up dust bunnies blowing in the wind. That did it for me. I'm convinced you're not one of them."

d.a.m.n, this guy is clueless, I thought. He's never heard of self-tanner? Where's he been He's never heard of self-tanner? Where's he been? One thing I'd bet on-he hadn't been around women in a while, that was for sure. So thank you, Benny So thank you, Benny, I thought. You just saved my a.s.s You just saved my a.s.s. I said in a nasty tone, "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. By the way, have you been living outside the U.S.?"

He looked at me suspiciously. "Who told you that? Why do you want to know?"

"Idle curiosity," I said. "Let's say you're a little short on the social graces."

He laughed without mirth and said, "Yeah, where I've been there wasn't a lot of polite conversation going on." A darkness pa.s.sed over his face, and I felt a profound sadness emanating from him. Silence fell between us. I fiddled with my napkin. He looked down at the table. He sighed and continued talking with pain audible in his voice. "Look, Daphne Urban, I saw you come out of J's office yesterday. I spent some of today asking around about you. You're pretty much a mystery woman. Then again this evening you were back at the Flatiron Building, so I a.s.sume you were meeting with J again. I hung around and followed you when you came out. You ended up at Bonaventure's. It stands to reason you are working for J and the agency, and you're connected to their plans for Bonaventure. You know, you're messing with the world's biggest arms dealer." His voice took on an edge. "And lady, you're stepping on my toes. Let me give you a friendly warning. You're in way over your head. J's people don't have the brains or the b.a.l.l.s to deal with Bonaventure. And a woman sure as h.e.l.l can't cut it in this business." He growled that last bit.

I didn't like his tone of voice, and my own was equally hostile when I said, "Look, you Neanderthal. I don't know who you are, but you think think you know who I am. You don't, and you have about ten seconds to tell me why I should sit here any longer. After that I'm leaving. And I mean it." you know who I am. You don't, and you have about ten seconds to tell me why I should sit here any longer. After that I'm leaving. And I mean it."

He started talking fast. "Look, Daphne, J and I go back a long way. How well do you know him? You know, he has a habit of using people and not giving a d.a.m.n if they get killed or not."

"How well do you you know J?" I asked, using what I call "the Jewish defense" of answering a question with a question. I had a very good teacher in Kiev long ago. know J?" I asked, using what I call "the Jewish defense" of answering a question with a question. I had a very good teacher in Kiev long ago.

"So you admit you do know him," Darius countered.

"Granted. Though 'know' is too strong a word."

"Okay, you're working for him, then."

"Well, who exactly are you working for? And what do you really want from me?"

He looked at me for a hard moment. Suddenly I felt a s.e.xual tingle that raised the stakes here. Darius was clearly sizing me up. Something was going on below the surface of conversation. The air was zinging with electricity. It was buzzing like the fluorescent light over my head. Darius started talking again. "I guess we should stop tap-dancing around. I work for a U.S. intelligence agency-but not the same one as J. And he's not going to mess up my operation again."

"And that operation is Bonaventure?"

"Bonaventure."

"Well, Houston, we have a problem," I said.

At that point the waiter showed up with tea and asked to take our order. I wasn't hungry, but it would be smart to eat something. Another old-wives' tale is that vampires only drink blood. I need to eat my veggies same as anyone else. Without fiber I'd be in some bind, pardon my pun. "Buddha's Delight," I said.

"Steamed shrimp and vegetables, and 0-0 soup. You want soup?" he asked me.

"No, thanks," I said.

"That's it," he said to the waiter.

The waiter repeated back our order without writing anything down, gathered up our menus, and left.

"You a vegetarian?" Darius asked me.

I was sipping some water and choked. "Sorry, went down the wrong pipe." I managed to get the words out between coughs. When I could speak normally again, I said, "I avoid eating anything with a face." Biting anyone with a face is a different story altogether Biting anyone with a face is a different story altogether, I thought. "And you? Any dietary aberrations?"

"I try to eat 'clean' since I'm working out." That explains the hard body That explains the hard body, I mentally noted. "But I confess to having a weakness for Ben and Jerry's ice cream. My favorite flavor is Cherry Garcia."

"I'm with you on the ice cream," I said. "My favorite Ben and Jerry's is Phish Food. I like anything with gooey marshmallow and chocolate and caramel." I figured I'd try to find out something about this guy's past. "By the way, are you a Dead head? You know, Cherry Garcia and all," I asked.

"No." He laughed. "They were a little before my time. I just like the ice cream. When it comes to the music of my misspent youth, I was into Nirvana and grunge rock. But that was long ago and far away. Like I said, where I've been there hasn't been much chance to listen to pop music. When I was lucky, I could find some cla.s.sical stuff on the radio. I guess Nirvana was the last group I liked enough to buy every CD they made."

"As for Nirvana, me too," I agreed. "I've always had this attraction to the doomed, tormented type of guy with the soul of a poet. When Kurt Cobain killed himself, I felt like I'd seen it all before," I said as my thoughts drifted to the past. Get hold of yourself, girl Get hold of yourself, girl, I reminded myself. You're on the job here. Make polite conversation and see what you can find out You're on the job here. Make polite conversation and see what you can find out. So I went on: "I've also listened to Emmylou Harris for years. Annie Lennox, too, and Johnette Napolitano; you know, her group was Concrete Blonde. Oh, yeah, for a long time in the nineties I was crazy about a group called October Project."

"You're kidding," he said, his face lighting up and looking a lot younger. "Me too. Favorite song?"

"Ariel." You ever go to any of their concerts? They had a Northeast tour in the mid-nineties. Johnette also did a concert with the Talking Heads here in New York; I think it was in 1996 or 1997. Were you in the city then?"

"No," was all he said.

"Where were you living?" I pressed.

"Here and there. I moved around a lot," he answered vaguely. Then he looked at me again, holding me with his gaze. My stomach gave a little squeeze. "You know, you're a beautiful woman. All chiaroscuro shadows playing in your face, your hair, your eyes. You've got the most amazing eyes," he said. "Do you mind me asking if you're in a relations.h.i.+p?"

Being rejected by J had hurt more than I wanted to admit. Now Darius's words poured over me like honey. He could have been handing me a line, but it felt good anyway. "Not right now," I said. "I haven't been seeing anyone special lately. I'm still getting over a bad breakup. What about you? Married?"

"No. I'm single. I'm not with anybody. My job keeps me tied up a lot and doesn't give me time for a relations.h.i.+p."

"And what's your job exactly?"

"Cla.s.sified," he answered, and gave me a lopsided grin. "Same as yours."

"So we're both, shall we say, spies?"

"Some people might say that."

I tried a different tactic. I looked down at the place mat, which was a chart of Chinese astrology. "What year were you born?" I asked.

"Nineteen seventy-four," he answered, and I wondered if that was the truth.

"So that makes you how old?" I asked quickly.

"Old enough," he said.

I was getting nowhere. I found 1974 on the place mat. "Ah, the Tiger." I read aloud, " 'The Tiger is highly regarded in China with his almost magical powers to keep thieves and ghosts at bay. A Tiger person is born to command and not to obey. Tigers are charismatic and dynamic. They are courageous and respected even by those who oppose them. Tigers are fighters and stand up for what they think is right. Best matches: Horse, Dog, Dragon. Beware the Monkey.' "

"And what year were you born?" Darius asked as he started reading the place mat, too.

"It's impolite for a gentleman to ask a lady her weight or her age," I said as I quickly scanned the mat. I tried to remember how old I was on my latest ID. I was about to choose the year of the Dragon. Meanwhile I knew exactly what astrological animal I'd be if I used my real birthday.

No doubt about it; I was the Monkey. If I believed in signs, that one would set off alarm bells.

Fortunately the silent waiter reappeared and wordlessly plopped down Darius bowl, obscuring the place mat below.

Saved by O-O soup. I thought.

"Let's get back to J," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"I think you're being set up," he said.

"Why do you say that?" I asked, feeling a little nervous. It's true I had mixed feelings about J. Maybe I was being thrown to the wolves. He said he hated vampires. He acted like a real b.a.s.t.a.r.d too. Like all women scorned, I was ready to trash the corner. "Do you know J well?"

"I wouldn't say well well. But I've b.u.t.ted heads with that SOB more than once."

"Doesn't sound like you like him."

"I'm not a fan. Why do you want to know?"

The rules were that I wasn't supposed to discuss my job with anyone. But maybe I should just get out of this whole mess while I could. More information about what was really going on would help. Darius could be an important source of information for me. I intended to survive, and Darius was light; I didn't know if I could trust J. I didn't know if I could trust Darius either, but he wasn't threatening to kill me if I didn't work for him. I had some deep-seated resentment about the coercion the agency had used to recruit me. So I decided to answer with most of the truth. "I do work for J. And to be frank, I've already had a run-in with him. Do you think he has a problem working with women?"

"I don't know about that. I do know he's ex-military. Special Forces. Has a reputation as a by-the-book kind of guy. To quote Churchill, 'He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire.' " Darius looked at me, studying my reactions. "He's got no sense of humor, but he's not a bad guy, from what I hear. Fair. Unless you cross him. So did you cross him?"

Ah oh, I thought. "In a manner of speaking," I said.

"Well, from what I've heard, there are no second chances if someone screws up. At least, that's his reputation. He's a real hard-a.s.s. I never liked the guy. Nothing personal. Some of his people were friends of mine. They ended up dead. I know what I'm talking about, Daphne. Part of the problem isn't J himself. Officially our agencies don't communicate. The upshot is we duplicate efforts and get in each other's way, like on this Bonaventure thing."

"Yeah, the Bonaventure thing. Look, Darius. I can't get out of this a.s.signment. But maybe I can rub your back, if you rub mine." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. All I meant was that I was a rookie and could use all the help I could get. The s.e.xual innuendo had brought a smile to Darius's face.

"You know, that sounds like a good idea. What do you have in mind?" I felt his foot touch mine under the table. I could have pulled away and ended the overture. Instead I put the toe of my boot behind his calf and rubbed. Our eyes met. Things were starting to heat up. and I should have been keeping my mind on business.

"Well, what do you know about why Bonaventure's in New York?" I asked bluntly.

"Daphne, no offense, but he's out of your league. Bonaventure is a wicked dude. He doesn't have a conscience. He'll sell weapons to anyone who has the money, no matter what they plan to do with them. And he's a Russian. I'm not putting the Russian people down, but Bonaventure is a Soviet-style Russian. Ruthless. Eliminates anyone who gets in his way. Loves money above all things. A true ABM."

"ABM?".

Darius laughed without humor, "A Very Bad Man."

"That's really cute, Darius. But what's your interest in him?"

"Sorry, Daphne. That's cla.s.sified, too. And yours?"

"Ditto."

"All right," Darius said between mouthful of soup, "a.s.suming we both are after the same thing, how can we each get what we want?" Again there was a double entendre. He put down his spoon, reached out, and took my hand. He started playing with my fingers. Sensation ran along my skin and a tingling shot up my arm. I pulled my hand away.

"Why should I trust you, Darius? Why would you want to work with me, and what am I going to get out of it? And right now, can you prove to me we're working on the same side?"

"Proof? Daphne, in this business there is no proof except a shared history: people you've trained with and people who watched your back when you needed them to. When you don't have a common past, you have to take others at face value because you trust your instincts. That's a risk, but as you know, this business is all about risk. You find informants. You get information. You use your gut to weigh whether it's reliable or not when you can't verify it from another source. I'm following my instincts with you. But here..." He went into a pocket inside his coat. He pulled out a wallet and flipped it open. He threw it on the table in front of me. "That's my ident.i.ty card. No, it doesn't say, 'Darius Bella CHI's, spy.' What does it say, Daphne?"

I picked the wallet up. On one side of the billfold I saw a New York State driver's license. It listed a Queens address. Darius's birthday was February 8, 1974. d.a.m.n, he was telling the truth about that. On the other side of the fold was a government ID card. The agency was the Department of the Interior. His position was "Exhibit Specialist." s.h.i.+t, that sounded familiar. That was what my cover was. Bureaucrats have absolutely no imagination.

"I've seen plenty of fake IDs, Darius. This means nothing," I said.

"That's the point. Are they real?" He picked up his wallet and put it back in his pocket. "It comes down to instinct, Daphne. And risk. Weigh them. Look at me. What do you want to do? You can walk out of here right now. I won't stop you. But I think we can help each other. Do you trust J? What do your instincts tell you about him? What is your gut saying about me?" His words came fast; he didn't let go of my eyes with his. His face looked open, honest, totally sincere. If he were lying, he was a master at it. I examined my feelings and let my antenna pick up every vibe he was sending out. He hadn't told me much. He had been evasive. But my bulls.h.i.+t meter wasn't registering anything. I believed him. And I felt we were at a turning point. We could be allies... or enemies.

I made my decision. "Look, Darius. I have a meeting with Bonaventure tomorrow night. You want to meet up afterward? I'll be in a better position to see if we can collaborate after I know more." As I looked at Darius, my pulse sped up. I was losing control of my hungers. My physical needs had become a tide pulsing through my blood. I was rus.h.i.+ng toward the dark side. The long resisted temptation of intimacy with a stranger, of overpowering him and drinking from him, started to drown out my reason. Right now the only position I wanted to be in with Darius was under him. Or on top. I'd enjoy him either way.

He was looking at me with frank s.e.xual desire. An understanding pa.s.sed between us. He wanted me too. Our feelings bypa.s.sed words. It wasn't an unusual thing. Men and women meet in bars, they have a few drinks, and they go home together for a night of pleasure, no strings, no commitment. It happens all the time. I really had nothing to lose except my growing s.e.xual frustration. I certainly had nothing to fear.

At that moment the waiter showed up with our order and we broke eye contact. We pa.s.sed the rest of the meal making small talk about the food. We compared Chinese and j.a.panese cuisines. He talked a bit about restaurants in Thailand. I admitted I spent time in Kyoto. All the while my foot was going up and down behind his leg. He asked if I wanted a taste of his dish. I nodded. He asked for my chopsticks, and I handed them to him. He delicately picked up a shrimp and brought it to my lips. I steadied his hand with mine as I took it into my mouth. The sensations when we touched spoke volumes.

"I'm ready to leave," he said. "What about you?"

"I'm ready too." The meaning behind my words couldn't have been clearer.

Darius insisted on hailing a cab and taking me home. I didn't argue. I insisted he come up for nightcap. He didn't argue. As soon as we stepped into the elevator and the doors slid closed, I turned toward him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He backed me up against the elevator wall, his lips coming down hard on mine. All thoughts stopped, my mind spinning off into a welcoming darkness of pure sensation as our bodies collided. His hand went up under my blouse, found my nipple, and stroked it with his thumb. I groaned. We could have slid down the wall right then onto the elevator floor, but I lived on only the tenth floor. The car stopped and the doors parted. I opened my eyes, blinked, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the hall. We got to my apartment door without de-touring into another kiss as I fumbled through my bag for my keys. Darius stood behind me, pressing his body into mine, his d.i.c.k firm against my a.s.s. I managed to unlock the door, and we just about fell together into the dark hall. I didn't turn on the light.

Darius pulled up my sweater and trailed kisses down my chest, the stubble on his cheeks rough against my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. My head went back against the wall and I made a soft, happy moan.

His lips touched my stomach above the waistband of my jeans. His hands were around my waist; then they were lifting me. He swung me into his arms. The living room held the soft illumination of the city lights, enough to show Darius where the sofa was. He carried me there. He put me down gently. I half sat up and struggled out of my coat, ripped off my sweater, and threw them both on the floor. Darius slid out of his leather jacket, his eyes fixed on me.

With my sharp night vision, I could see him clearly. I took in every tempting inch as he peeled off a tight-fitting T-s.h.i.+rt. He undid his jeans and stepped out of them. No underwear. I had guessed that earlier and wasn't disappointed to find out I was right. I definitely wasn't disappointed with Darius. I couldn't wait to touch him.

He knelt next to the sofa and removed my boots. Then he undid the b.u.t.ton of my jeans and carefully pulled them down. They went on the pile. My black lace panties joined them in an instant.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked. I was half reclining with my back propped against a sofa cus.h.i.+on, looking down at his face.

"I couldn't be better," I murmured, and meant it.

"Yes you could," he said with meaning, and spread my thighs apart with his hands. Next thing I knew his tongue was running over me, tasting me and making my stomach clench and my breath come in gasps. With sensations going to my brain like the bubbles of fine champagne, a sweet dizziness took me in spiraling circles upward. He added little nibbles to his tonguing and I just about lost my mind. I could not wait any longer. The yearning and frustrated longing of all the years rushed forward and demanded to be satisfied right now.

"Please f.u.c.k me," I moaned, writhing beneath him.

"I want you to come first," he said.

"No, please, I need you in me now," I pleaded.

He stood up. He picked up his jeans and pulled out a condom from a pocket. He put the rubber on and then found my sweet spot with the head of his p.e.n.i.s, teasing me for a moment by rubbing against my c.l.i.toris before plunging inside me.

"Oh!" I said, pain and pleasure combining as I remembered what it felt like to be with a man.

"Ohhhh, " he said. "You are so hot, so good," he whispered. He leaned down and kissed me as he buried himself deep within me. I could taste myself on his lips. I was rus.h.i.+ng off into an oblivion of no thought, where everything was feeling. I had to rein myself in. If I lost myself completely I could bite him before I realized what I had done. Yet oddly, so far with Darius I felt no urge to drink from him. No moonlight lit up his neck. No dark urges overwhelmed me. I just felt consumed with the joy of this eager, handsome man taking me with all his strength to the top of the mountain and higher, ever higher toward the stars. he said. "You are so hot, so good," he whispered. He leaned down and kissed me as he buried himself deep within me. I could taste myself on his lips. I was rus.h.i.+ng off into an oblivion of no thought, where everything was feeling. I had to rein myself in. If I lost myself completely I could bite him before I realized what I had done. Yet oddly, so far with Darius I felt no urge to drink from him. No moonlight lit up his neck. No dark urges overwhelmed me. I just felt consumed with the joy of this eager, handsome man taking me with all his strength to the top of the mountain and higher, ever higher toward the stars.

Now I kept my eyes open and watched the ecstasy on his face as we moved together in perfect rhythm. I pushed hard against him until he buried himself deep inside me over and over again. He was positively incandescent, glowing with pa.s.sion. He pulled out. "What-" I started to say.

"Shh," he said, cutting me off. His powerful hands went behind my knees and pushed my thighs up against my sides. The movement opened me wide, exposing my most private self to his steady gaze. He leaned forward and brushed my c.l.i.toris with his tongue. I groaned.