III. The Ride Home
Kirsten watched David from the corner of her eye as she drove down the half-lit streets of Charlotte. How had events progressed this far so quickly? She had stayed for his second performance, and the two had watched each other for most of the night. He approached her afterwards with a practiced routine of drinks and conversation. Kirsten was glad for the company, and the two had talked long enough to close down the bar. David didn't want to end the night, and in truth neither did she, so her offer to drive him home had been quickly accepted.
Now that they were alone in her car, she could breathe in the myriad of wonderful scents. Overall, the cloying smell of smoke permeated his clothes and hair. Underneath laid the shots of liquor with which he began the night with and the drying sweat from his breathtaking performances. Beyond the faded splash of cologne, she found a smell that was unmistakably David - a primal aroma, mixed of pheromones and physical chemistry. Kirsten had inhabited nightclubs for years, yet never tired of the scent of a man.
"So what kind of job lets you stay out all hours of the night?"
She tightened her grip on the wheel in frustration. It was an apt question, perfectly acceptable in this situation, but she could sense the reason behind it. Something in David's mind was prompting him, that part of the human psyche that could sense the unnatural predator within her. A part that needed to know the truth.
"I'm in the music industry." She paused, allowing him to think for a moment. "I work with Marionette Records, a small-scale production company." It was a half-truth; she owned controlling interest of said company, but that was a well-guarded secret.
"Wow," he said. "I'd love to work with music day-in and day-out."
"So the saxophone isn't your bread and butter?" She smiled, knowing the answer already. David studied his hands as she maneuvered the car through an intersection.
"Nah, I'm not that fortunate," he said, his voice taking a somber tone. "I've got a state job with the department of public works. Boring stuff, in truth. Jazz is my true love."
"Government work isn't bad, but you play well enough to make a living from your music." David laughed away the suggestion, but in the resulting silence, she could see him considering the idea.
No further words were said as he guided them to a quiet brownstone deep on the eastern side of the city. They stepped from the car out into the cool night air, aware that they were the only souls on the street at this late hour. David wasted no time, pulling her into a fiery kiss. She enjoyed his taste, yet underneath she could feel the warmth of his blood, keenly aware of her hunger. She had not fed recently, and that need smoldered inside of her, greater than any sexual desire.
Somehow she managed to free herself from his delicious embrace, allowing her a moment to gaze upon him. David stood inches taller than her, with a lean frame overshadowed by his broad shoulders. His dark brown hair was just long enough to show that it held a slight curl. A single silver stud adorned one ear, but otherwise there was no jewelry or tattoos to mar his handsome face. She desired this man, and yet…
"You're welcome to come inside," he said with a touch of nervousness. "I would gladly stay home from work to spend time with you."
"No," she said, politely withdrawing from his arms. "I couldn't have that on my conscience."
She left David standing on the threshold of his apartment, watching as she drove away. There was no exchange of phone numbers, but she reassured him that she knew where to find him. What are you doing Kirsten? So many years full of nights like tonight and you've never walked away empty-handed. What makes him so different from the others?
