Vampire Vacation (10 page)

I wander to our closet to stand in front of the full-length mirror. The myth about vampires not having a reflection always makes me laugh; I wouldn’t think a trait so distinguishing could go unnoticed by humans for long. Cocking one hip out, I stare at my reflection. I push out to Olivia’s mind, projecting the image in my mirror to her. Running my hands up my sides, I bring them forward to cup my bra-covered breasts, then round them over the tops to slide up my neck into my hair. I’m able to blur my face in the illusion while replacing my copper colored hair with blonde.

Olivia will see the pictures in her mind and think she is reliving an old memory of herself in front of the mirror, or a memory she dreamed. It’s like a strong sensation of
deja vu
, though most people can’t tell the difference.

If I’m timing my manipulation right, Olivia should be getting ready now. I allow the power of being desired to course through the vision. Every smart woman knows one important fact—you
are
sexy when you
feel
sexy. If I can get her to believe in herself half the battle will be done.

Selecting an outfit from the numerous racks, I grab something form-fitting in fire-engine red. I love the way a corset top displays the girls nicely. Pair it with a pencil-thin skirt which falls just below my knees and a red bolero jacket accented with sequined trim to make the ensemble complete. I send a memory of myself in the ensemble to Olivia, with the powerful confidence I experience when I look so damn good.

With my influence she’ll want to wear something red too. Carefully, I insert in her mind an idea of calling the friendly, sexy, innkeeper if she needs to borrow anything. Slipping a robe on my semi-naked self, I belt it and go sit by the phone. It takes about five minutes for her to call.

“Hello, Olivia.”

Her breathless voice greets me on the other end. “How did you know I was calling?”

Damn, I think I freaked her out. Not good.

“Oh, honey, I know lots of things.” I sense her trepidation and rush to smooth things over. “This phone shows the room you’re calling from, and I guessed it was you and not Joanna.” I’m a smooth liar.

She states her request for clothes in a timid voice and I reply with warmth and encouragement.

“Come on down to our suite. I’ve got something dynamite for you to wear.” I give her directions to find me then gently hang up the phone. Projecting reassurance she did the right thing by calling me, I settle back in the chair for her to arrive.

In twenty minutes I’ve got Olivia dressed in a tight v-neck red cashmere sweater with a matching above-the-knee, equally tight cashmere skirt and ballet flats. Where are the corsets and leather you ask? Know your prey and know it well. If I learned anything from seeing Antonio in the lobby, it’s this: Antonio dresses with style and class. He has good taste in clothes and I can guarantee any man who takes such care in his own appearance is going to judge a woman by hers. What he wants behind closed doors is anyone’s guess, but what he wants in public will be a mirror image of his own style.

He’ll want sexy, but he won’t want in-your-face come-and-get-it-while-it’s-hot sexy. There’s a difference. He craves subtle. Antonio needs to notice her and not her clothes, but those clothes should still be fine. He may have been attracted to the cheap type of Elvira style I was wearing earlier in the lobby, but that’s not the style he’d choose for a mate. I bet he hasn’t even figured it out yet. Ah, to be old and wise does have advantages.

The body-hugging knit shows the delectable curves on Olivia guaranteeing every man in the room will notice. If I can judge a man, and damn, after 500 years I sure as hell can, then she’ll have to trust me. Good thing Rafe likes me in anything I wear, because at heart, I’m a chameleon.

I pass on my unasked-for wisdom to the wide-eyed Olivia during her short visit. Cajoling her to confess her heart’s desire, without her discovering I already know it. I offer to share my man-hunting skills with her tomorrow over tea at eleven, which she jumps to accept. She has a good heart and appears to love Antonio. After this, I’ll see if I can get the young vamp up to snuff as well.

For now, I look Olivia deep in the eyes to give her some parting gifts of advice and
suggest
with a vamp whammy she follow them. Poor thing doesn’t know she has no choice. My sly guidance requests that she arrive in the bar at half past ten, not to dwell on Antonio at all for tonight, and instead, to enjoy the company of the other male guests she’ll meet there. Little does she know what I have planned for her.

She leaves, excited and flushed. She’s going back up to her room to adjust her makeup and hair accordingly to match the new clothes. She thanks me profusely, acting as though she’s known me for years. The fireworks later are going to be damn fun and I can hardly wait. I think teasing Antonio will be one of the best times I’ve had in a while. It would be good for the gorgeous Adonis to not get the girl for a change. Make his blood boil.

I take a brief shower, washing my body. Rafe hates when I remove his scent, but tonight I should. He finishes up in the kitchen, coming into the bath right as I leave the enclosure. I dry off slowly while he watches me. He doesn’t say a word. His hot gaze follows as I put the towel back on the rack. I can see what watching does to him. It’s not like he can hide his reaction when he’s big.

“Hey—no fun on your own in the shower. I need you at full mast when you’re done.”

His face appears set and serious; he must be having some naughty thoughts. I turn to the side, bend over at the waist, and pick up my discarded stockings. His eyes take in my every move and he looks like he’d eat me up if given half a chance.

His voice comes out in a growl, “Not to worry dear, I’ll be out of the shower in a flash.”

While he’s wet and soapy, I get dressed and smooth my hair out making it sleek like Olivia’s. I re-apply makeup with a heavier hand, similar to how Olivia’s will appear when she’s done. I broadcast the images to her and like a good little student she eagerly follows the new ideas in her mind without questioning their origin. When I hear Rafe finishing up, I lay out his clothes for the evening. One great thing about him is that he lets me dress him up.

It’s like having my very own Americana circa 1950’s-inspired Ken doll: Full sized and anatomically correct. I love to picture the fabric hugging his firm curves and clinging to his hard lines—it makes me hot. The good news is Rafe couldn’t give a rat’s ass what he wears.

On a day-to-day basis, or in a pinch, he
can
dress himself well. At least, now that is. After sixty-five years he no longer needs Garanimal-type color pictures on the clothes to show what goes with what, but it was painful in the beginning.

Upon seeing the red corset, his grin turns sly, like the cat who ate the canary. “You look vampy-trampy and hot as hell.”

I hand him his things, “I need you to put these clothes on then sit in the chair.”

“Sure thing. Is this what I’m wearing tonight at the bar?”

I nod.

“Okay, looks comfy.”

I watch him remove his white terry robe. Totally without guile, he’s sexier than he knows. My perusal of his actions has the desired effect. He grows firm again while I stare. Knowing me like he does, he knows the fun cannot begin until we set the stage. He pulls on the new clothes then sits where requested. On a hunch, I’ve dressed him all in black. I have no idea what Antonio will choose, but I’m guessing he’s not going to be dressed up like the guys in the Natsuhara cabin.

“Wait,” I direct. “Stand still a moment, please. There’s another image I’d like to capture for tonight.”

Rafe stops, then turns to face me. I close my eyes, thinking of Antonio. His dark good looks and sleek sophisticated style partner well with his internal confidence. The result—pure sex in a dark wrapper. I impose this image in my mind over my lover standing in front of me. When I open my eyes, it looks like Antonio has replaced Rafe in the room.

“Picture me blond and project to me” I say.

“Done.”

When I open our connection, I can see a curvy blond in tight red clothing, coming from Rafe’s mind. This will make the images much better when I send them to a poor unsuspecting Antonio. The blond looks damn good too, if I do say so myself.

“Am I the Adonis I saw you drooling over in the observation room?” he asks with an impish grin.

I knew he peeked, the sneak.

“Yes. Now keep your mouth shut and don’t ruin the moment.” I smile to soften the cut; my comment didn’t sound nice after it came out.
Let’s keep the dialog internal for a bit, shall we?

Anything for you, my corseted concubine.
He follows with a low laugh rumbling deep in his chest.

I approach him sniffing deeply. Replacing Rafe’s scent in my mind with the musky, sexy aroma of an unwashed Antonio I imagined from earlier in his room. No expensive colognes or perfumed soaps to hide the smell of his spent essence. I stand close to Rafe, then turn to give him my back. Bending at the waist, I lower my palms to the carpet. My hips nudge his crotch and rotate a bit when I feel his thick response behind the tailored pants. Thanks to his ongoing projection to me, in my mind I can see when he reaches out to grab my hips—which allows me to straighten and step away before he makes contact. The illusion of Antonio about to touch the blond woman’s hips will be intoxicating.

I motion to the chair; Rafe reads my cue and takes a seat. He settles himself in to gaze up into my face, waiting for what will happen next. Realizing my pencil skirt won’t have the same flexibility of Olivia’s knit one, I remove the garment and drape it on the bed before continuing. I strut over to the chair, making the hip action exaggerated and difficult to miss.

Leaning down, I run my fingers through his hair before straddling him on the seat. I bend his head back and kiss my way up his neck to his supple lips. My hips are high enough I don’t make any body-to-body contact in the pelvic region. He can’t resist my curves any longer, reaching out to touch. The warmth of his hands spreads through me. Moisture gathers at my opening and I hear Rafe’s sharp intake of air. With his sensitive nose, he can smell my arousal coating the air.

Rafe projects to me the image of olive-skinned hands placed on alabaster hips. He slides down to the tops of my thigh-high stockings then curves around and up to caress my bottom. My position gives him the freedom to explore and I know what he’s going for next. Rafe’s an ass man at heart. Here’s to hoping his actions intrigue Antonio too. My husband’s fingers eagerly grasp, exploring my firm cheeks.

He parts them enough for a lone finger to slip down and probe the waiting wetness. Rafe slides his moistened digit back to push inside my most delicate, tight rear opening. No matter how much I may want Rafe to continue, I pull away. The illusion needs to be a tease for Antonio and Olivia, not an intimate exploration by familiar lovers.

When I stand, he groans his frustration into my mind. Trying to soothe his raging sexual beast, I whisper a promise in his mind:
Later, my love.

With a sudden flash of insight on Antonio, I wonder if he could be the type who puts his needs first while having no idea of the fault with such actions? Often, good-looking men have that problem. If they love themselves the way they are why shouldn’t the women who covet them? What follows is the single-mindedness of achieving their own pleasure, with their partner’s a close second. He’s old enough to have learned better by now.

I bend over the table in front of Rafe’s chair. My body faces sideways to him. I turn my head away from the stiffly aroused Rafe and purposely say out loud, with a deep seductive tone: “Give Olivia pleasure, Antonio. Put her needs first.”

This verbal cue can be called up later without him seeing his vision of Olivia say the words. It will permeate his thoughts while directing his actions.

I offer myself up with an arch to my back and push my rump out on display. The Antonio projection reaches a hand under my front to rub my hairless mound from beneath. My hips tilt of their own volition forward and backward on his firm hand. The wet slickness from my opening spreads fully from clit to pucker. I allow it to go on a few more minutes until my breathing starts to get rough. Straightening up, a bit shaky, I step away.

This is where the projection will end. I think I have enough small snippets to drive the average man around the bend with desire. I’ve got a nice steady burn of heat building low in my middle. It would be so easy to bend over and ask Rafe to take me right here on the table. The sane part inside knows I’d rather save the lovemaking for later. He’s pleasured me so many times today it won’t kill me to show some restraint. I give a little all-over-shake then reach for my discarded skirt on the bed.

“Whew! That was a close one.”

“Why didn’t you let me finish, love? You were almost done.”

“Because I want to get him hot, not drive him to completion in his pants. He’s going to be batty for her by the time I’m done.”

I check my wrist. It’s almost ten. Time to get to the bar and set the scene. I slip my skirt back on and pull my lover to his feet. He adjusts his throbbing privates while looking longingly at our bed. I know he’s calculating whether we have time for a quickie in his head. I want him on high alert later and don’t want a diminishment of the urge.

“Will you let me touch you behind the bar and keep your cock hard and wet?”

I love it when he takes me and he’s barely able to control himself.

He stares down at me, a burning heat in his gorgeous blue eyes. “When do I deny you anything, Dria?”

God, I love this man.