Like Loving the Dead - Peter Steele

Only Fools Make Mistakes Twice

"I knew it'd only be a matter of time before you came crawling back to me."

Vanessa was sitting at her painted black antique vanity, teasing her impeccably dyed hair up into a half-bouffant, her signature hairstyle. She was in her lingerie, a retro black bullet bra with matching black panties, with a garter belt holding up her sheer black thigh-high stockings. She paused as her cold gray eyes shifted to him in the mirror and she gave him a pout before continuing, "Don't worry, baby. It's pathetic but in an endearing way." She then turned around and looked at him, "What happened with Miss Perfect, anyway?"

Peter swallowed the lump that was lodged in his throat as he sat on the foot of her bed, his elbows resting on his knees. He straightened up and folded his arms across his chest defensively as he murmured, "I...I want to forget. You said you'd help me forget."

Vanessa's cold gaze studied him beneath her winged eyeliner and thick false lashes. Her lids narrowed before she shrugged and turned back to the mirror, inspecting her image closely, "I hate to tell you I told you so, but...no. Actually, I love that."

Peter's stomach churned at Vanessa's malicious giggle that shook him to his core. His skin was crawling. The need was burning inside him. The release from his misery had yet to come. He swore he'd be obedient and would do anything she asked once he crossed the threshold of her apartment door. Still, it wasn't good enough. She didn't give him what he was seeking.

What did he need to do?

He watched as Vanessa shifted on the red cushioned stool of her glossy black vanity set as she reached for a flat shiny silver box...a cigarette case. She opened the box and pulled out a slim white stick, holding it delicately between her index and middle fingers. She then rose up to her feet and sauntered towards the bed where Peter lay. She perched down next to him and her feathery baby voice asked, "Got a light?"

There was a time when it would have driven him crazy. She knew how to taunt and drive him wild. She was a woman who really knew how to smoke. But something was off and he couldn't help but feel increased annoyance in the pit of his stomach, paired with a nearly unbearable urge.

"Vanessa...come on, you said-"

Vanessa tutted with a shake of her head, "So, so needy. All in good time. First, I want to smoke and to have a talk so we are perfectly clear on all things, Pete."

"Fuck," Peter huffed annoyed with a roll of his eyes. His pores were seeping with sweat. He needed a fix before he clawed his own skin off. He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and the tips of his fingers found the cool, smooth metal of his silver zippo lighter. He pulled it out and flicked it open. He watched the flame dance for a moment, and a memory flashed across his mind.

Hair like fire.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Forget. He had to forget. Vanessa had promised him she'd help him forget.

He held the flame to her and Vanessa leaned closer, her full lips surrounding the thin white rod of the cigarette. She puffed a few times before nodding and inhaling, sitting up straight. Peter watched her as she exhaled, the white cloud of smoke wound and danced from her full, parted lips like a hypnotized cobra...and she was just as dangerous.

"We need to set a few things straight, Pete," Vanessa said, her voice soft and unassuming. Her cold eyes fixed on him as Peter closed his lighter and shoved it back into his pocket, "I have everything you need, and I'll give it all to you because I'm just that generous. But, you have to understand...this is my show, and you're just part of it. You cater to me, and to me only. No one else. If I find out otherwise, you will be punished." Vanessa hummed as she teetered her cigarette between her fingers, looking at it thoughtfully before turning back to him, "Especially not that redheaded hussy."