The Drinker of Blood

Chapter Five

I met Freya at her hotel at a little after 7:00 that same evening. I purposefully was a few minutes late so as to avoid again seeing her as my evening surge engulfed me. That sensation was heavenly, but simply too overwhelming. I couldn't always control my various aches and urges.

"Sorry I'm late," I called out when I saw her.

She met me with a kiss, one not quite on the lips but very close. I made myself a promise at that moment. I would behave myself. But my word, she was so beautiful at that moment. The woman could make any outfit, at any time of day, appear sensual. And there was something about her face, the intensity of her gaze, that left me breathless.

"Another minute and a half!" she replied in mock outrage. "I'm not sure I can tolerate anymore of this tardiness."

"If I can shave it down to an even minute, can we still be friends?"

"Get it to a minute, and I'll consider putting you on a probationary status."

"Thank you. I like having something to work toward. You look marvelous this evening, by the way. How was the conference?"

"Dry. Stuffy. Very much like a conference in every way."

By that time, we were walking toward the main drag. We'd decided to follow the wind that evening and to allow our noses to make the choice on where to eat. There were plenty of places nearby. No doubt one would appeal to us.

"I appreciate a person who doesn't like talking about work," I told her. "Especially when it's boring."

"Nah," she said. "I don't really find it boring. But most people would. And I always try to draw clear lines between work and play."

"Play?"

"Well, isn't that what we're here to do? Speaking of which"—she did a quick look around—"where is our friend Fallon?"

"I put her on a plane home right before I came to meet you."

"That seems abrupt. Is everything okay?"

I nodded. What would a normal person say to that? There were some types of talk I had to pick my way around. I finally said, "She was rather in a bad way, I think. Some family and friend issues. She told me a little about it when we went out to shop for a new phone today."

"Bad?"

"I shouldn't say." I pondered another moment, and then spoke from the heart. "I've run away from problems before. It's almost never a good approach. In the end, I encouraged her to go home and to take things by the horns. I hope it works out."

"You must be very persuasive. I can never get youngsters to do anything."

"I've had lots of practice. All I had to do was point out all the flimflam artists and confidence tricksters plying their trade on unsuspecting lasses here in the south. She beat feet north."

"No kidding. Did you get a load of the two reprobates she had dinner with last night?"

"I hear it ended in a brawl."

Our slow amble allowed me to regard her face with some care, and for a moment I thought she might say something. Then it appeared she changed her mind.

"How old are you?" she asked instead.

"Old enough to know better, but young enough to remember how much fun it was," I replied.

"No, really." She gently caressed my right arm before taking it in hand, a move that nearly made me leap. "I was looking at your skin the other day. You have zero signs of sun damage, but you have this incredible tan."