Blow Me a Kiss
By Tara Ann Stridh
To a romantic like Lindsey McDonald, Valentine’s Day was like a personal holiday - except he had no one to share it with. After his first couple of months at Wolfram & Hart, when he was still in college, he had broken up with his girlfriend, Karen. Actually, she had broken up with him, but it hadn’t been a bitter break-up. Since then he had had little time for girlfriends. He’d occasionally go on dates, but they either ended up in one-night stands or one-night nothings. There was Lilah, but she didn’t really count.
So this Valentine’s night he sat on the washing machine in the basement of his apartment building. The heels of his feet banged against the machine as he swung his legs back-and-forth. He smiled as a pretty blonde girl came into the laundry room with a blue plastic basket in her arms. She smiled back as she threw her clothes into a washer across from him.
When she was gone he was left with the soft humming of his clothes circling round and round in the soapy water. He looked down at his watch – eleven-thirty five. When he looked up Darla was standing in the doorway. Every time he saw her his blue eyes would glaze over and he’d almost smile.
“Poor Lindsey, all alone. I could smell your loneliness.”
“I wish I could smell yours.”
“I don’t think you’re trying hard enough.“ She tilted her head to the side as she entered the room. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend, Lindsey?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me why I don’t.”
She didn’t answer him. Lindsey watched as she leaned against the swirling washer across from him. Every gesture of hers, even the tiniest one, was pure grace.
He nodded. “She left you all by yourself. You don’t like to be by yourself, do you, Darla?”
The blonde-haired vampire smiled at him, her violet eyes hazed.
“I wanted to show you something.”
Darla approached him, a smile still faint upon her soft red lips. With her small hands she lifted her black velvet shirt above her stomach, revealing a tiny purple hoop in her belly button.
He reached out a finger, his warm fingertip circling around her navel.
“Does it hurt?”
“Of course not, silly. I got it with Jasmin. She got a pink one. See, I’m not all by myself.”
Lindsey pulled his finger away. Jasmin Blood, with the short red hair – an ordinary girl named Marcy whom Darla had recently sired.
“Lindsey, we’ve been fucking around lately, but we haven’t been fucking.”
Her shirt was still raised above her smooth cold belly. It was true; Darla had been sleeping with him, in his sheets, next to him, but they hadn’t had sex.
“I like sleeping next to you, but I miss you, Lindsey.”
His light gray shirt was unbuttoned at the cuffs and neck. Darla observed him for a moment and realized she had never seen him in any casual clothes. She had fingered through them – tee shirts and blue jeans – in his closet, but never had she seen them on him.
“Tell me why you miss me, Darla.”
She shrugged and kissed his solemn lips lightly.
The blue of his eye seemed to twinkle at her.
“I don’t want to fuck you. Not tonight.”
“Maybe I came here to kill you.”
He thought about the possibility for a moment. “Valentine’s Day. Bummer.” *
Her tongue licked at his neck, and he couldn’t keep his heart from deepening its pounding.
“I thought, maybe, for a moment, you were scared.” She smiled at him, her palm rubbing over his thigh.
Then she lowered her head, keeping eye contact with him and kissed his plastic hand.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Lindsey.”
Darla was gone again. He looked down at his artificial hand and the lipstick kiss she had left behind.