The Kiss

Brit had already woken and was sitting on the bed with a book open in her lap before the sun had finally set. Reading slowly, her lips moved silently over the words before reading aloud. Ethan woke as she said, “The Kiss was painted by Gustav Klimt during his golden period and is probably his most famous work.” Tracing her knee with his finger, Ethan listened as Brit read about the painting yet again from the book that Larissa had given to her. She read the various interpretations of the painting, which caused him to grin as he mused why the painting had caught her imagination. “It’s in the museum that is housed in the Belvedere Palace,” she read. Brit looked over the book at him lounging lazily under the soft sheets. “That use to be a real palace,” she lisped.

“And we are dining there tonight,” Ethan added as he motioned her toward the dressing room, “but not until much later.” He teased her for her questions by ignoring them, and waltzed her backward to dress to go out. The early part of the night was spent with a seamstress who owned a small dog that yapped whenever someone moved. Ethan’s fingers kept sliding down his thigh to where his pistols were usually worn whenever he glanced its way. The dog eventually went quiet and hid beneath the sofa. Several outfits were commissioned for Brit. Each had lacy or fluttery sleeves because Ethan had found Brit wearing one of his favorite shirts due to her desire for such sleeves.

From the seamstress, Ethan took Brit to the spa, and watched as her nails were lacquered, her hair was styled, and her make-up was professionally applied. At each step, the cosmetician glanced back to him quietly to ensure that all met with his approval. Those running the spa seemed to understand that Ethan wanted Brit perfectly attired so that there was no doubt that she was special to him.

The museum was quite dark when they arrived. It was not until the door opened that Brit realized that people were within. She wore a gothic gown of intense crimson with a luxurious wisteria design embroidered into the fabric with matching thread. The ruffled neckline slid daringly off her shoulders supported by short, puffed sleeves. The gown had an empire waist and the skirt flared prettily causing her to look like she was gliding rather than walking. With gloves and shoes dyed to match, she looked much like a walking portrait. Ethan wore a black jacket and tie, but his vest was made from the same jacquard fabric as Brit’s dress. Her paleness and the gown’s crimson color accented the marks on her neck.

The Klimt room was glowing with hundreds of candles. Several small tables were expensively set and spaced around the room to give each party its own privacy for discussion. Mingled voices murmuring blended prettily with the stringed quartet that played softly from one section of the room. The room was filled with others. The guests were dressed similarly to Ethan and Brit in expensive, rich fabrics; and many were heavily bejeweled. Though she had opportunity to look at other paintings, Brit’s focus was on the “The Kiss” which clearly dominated the room. It was fortunate that their table was situated so that she could clearly observe it. Once seated, several others lingered at the table to greet him and gave Brit a curious glance that was not impolite.

Brit was sipping sweet sparkling wine when she realized that all of the guests were like Ethan, and all of the staff were mortal. Human, like Brit. It was then that she also realized that no other human was dressed as she was. Most were dressed like walking works of art. Thin, sheer fabrics that coyly covered human bodies and enhanced each staff members form, skin, and coloring. Her mossy green eyes widened as she watched a guest touch one of the staff familiarly as she milled about refilling goblets with rich, red liquid. Brit turned toward Ethan clearly alarmed. After giving her a reassuring smile, he placed a single finger to her lips and then leaned to her placing a triad of kisses on her lips settling back as the first course was set before her. It was impossible to notice that others were not being served actual food. As she nibbled on the petite, lacy parmesan basket filled with a goat cheese mousse, the lady at the nearest table sank her fangs hungrily into a pretty young man’s wrist.

Other courses followed: A seafood salad, grapefruit-mint sorbet and butternut squash soup, but Brit barely noticed what she ate. Ethan calmly stroked her cheek while the couple behind them drank from the same girl. The girl was clad in a thin silk set of deep blue that would not hinder touches or bites. One took the girl’s wrist and the other drank from her neck as she lay patiently across the table. When the mesclun salad with a lemon vinaigrette was served, the girl sat up and eagerly licked blood from the lady’s offered wrist while allowing the gentleman continued to sip from her wrist. Ethan leaned turning Brit’s face toward him kissing her cheek. “Don’t stare, baby. Eat some salad.” Ethan relaxed as he continued to watch her reaction and he could hear her anxious heartbeat. “You have nothing to fear, Brit,” he whispered.

Medallions of beef roasted in a pastry surrounded by baked potato fans laced with cheese and bread crumbs were presented on a plate along with a julienne of fresh snow peas and carrots garnished with a large tomato rose. Brit barely noticed its arrival as a human couple standing on a frame across from the painting embraced passionately and slowly as if they were paintings themselves. Ethan caressed Brit’s shoulder and they watched the couple’s performance for a long time before he pulled her to him. He scattered angel-kisses along her throat before he tightened his embrace and drank from her slowly.

With the touch of his fangs on her throat, her mind raced to understand the differences. Ethan’s embrace seemed different than what others were doing. It seemed that others like her were there to serve and to be fed from; and there was a difference between her dress and theirs. Also, differences in the way the mortal men and women seemed more like decorations as if they were merely tomato roses. It was very confusing to her. Ethan pulled back and encouraged her to eat. She noticed that other humans in the room did not eat anything but accepted blood that was offered to them.

Ethan tapped her plate between bites to encourage her to remember to eat. Brit nibbled a bit of everything, but he insisted she finish the beef. He drank from her again before she was served a dessert of a small chocolate cake round with homemade ice cream, crème fraiche, and chocolate ganache. All around her, other mortals seemed to move seductively slow to the music and were available for any to feed on. Brit had so many questions pouring through her mind. Ethan continued to watch her and could sense her nervousness. He noted that she barely touched her latte and her thoughts told him that she did not like the bitterness of the coffee in it. He continued to watch her thoughts for a moment. Then he took Brit’s hand and stroked it softly, “You are adored and mine.” Ethan looked about the room at the human men and women who were there for other reasons before turning back to her. He said simply, “Therefore there are no comparisons.”