A Taste of Night

"Sorry, you...you startled me." I finally managed to stutter out. She looked genuinely concerned.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I do tend to do that. It's a gift of mine. No matter how hard I try I always manage to creep up on people unawares. I swear its not deliberate."

"It's a good skill to have. You could always find work as a ninja."" I replied, having a fairly successful stab at levity despite the fact that I was unaccountably nervous talking to this gorgeous woman. I simply hadn't felt this unprepared to carry on a coherent conversation with anyone since secondary school. As eye-catching as she had been with the whole dance floor between us, she was ever more intimidating up close. Her skin was pale as milk and her freckles, rather than acting as blemishes, seems to heighten the sheer unreality of her beauty. Her green eyes were so radiant that it was difficult to maintain eye contact, and yet, when I looked down, I found it difficult not to stare at the outline of her body beneath the slight material of the summer dress she wore. I felt an ache in my stomach, nerves mixed with excitement. My eyes caught on the wide leather belt at her waist and I was seized by the sudden urge to slip my fingers inside it and pull this delicious woman closer to me. The feeling was so similar to that urge I sometimes had whilst standing on the edge of a cliff, or at the edge of a railway platform as a train approaches: that strange, dizzying sensation of how easy it would be to take a single step out into space.

"I'm not sure I would make a good ninja, black just isn't my colour. I leave that to Moretta."

"Moretta?""

She nodded, and strands of her red hair fell forward. She absent mildly pushed them backwards and I had to fight the impulse to reach our my own hand. "She's my partner, my lover. We came here together tonight."

"I think I saw her," I replied, "she is very errr...". I started kicking myself for starting a sentence with no real idea how to end it. I was about to call her beautiful, but that didn't seem right. The woman in front of me was beautiful, captivating so. Moretta was... something else, something more.

"Moretta is Italian," she continued, as though she hadn't noticed my floundering, "it means "dark lady".

"That's very apt, if you don't mind me saying."

"You have no idea," she said, a slight, secretive smile on her lips, "and I don't mind you saying at all."

I felt her gaze on me, and the tense silence became so awkward I felt the need to fill it with a question.

"So how did you meet, you and..?

"Moretta? We met at sea. I was a doctor on board a cruise ship sailing around Italy and Greece. She was a passenger." There was a pause before the word passenger, and I had the impression that the story was a little more complicated than the average holiday affair.

"That sounds romantic, a holiday romance"

"Well I was working, and Moretta was... well, I'm not sure she would call it a holiday. And I would call it intense rather than romantic. We finally got together in Venice, at a party, a little similar to this one, in fact."

"So, are you still a doctor?" She shook her head:

"Not practising, no. We tend to travel. Moretta's lifestyle doesn't really lend itself to holding down a day job. "

"Like Viktor and Katie?"

She nodded. "Exactly, in fact, they meet at the same party Moretta and I got together."

"A party like this?"

She took a step towards me, and just the mere fact that the distance between us was shortened was enough to make the ache in my belly move lower to between my legs, coalescing around my sex. I really did need to get a grip.

"There certainly are similarities." She was so close that all I would have needed to do was lean forward to kiss her pale, pink lips. Part of me was scared that I would lose control and do it; the rest of me was hoping she would make the first move.

"It's Isobel, by the way."

"I'm sorry?"

Her voice was no more than a whisper. By rights I shouldn't have been able to hear her, but the whole room seemed to have faded out to a dull hum so that her voice was as intimately clear as though she was whispering directly into my ear.

"My name. It's Isobel."

"I'm sorry, I should have asked."

"You were curious about Moretta. I understand that."

I shook my head, I did not want her to get the wrong idea. "No, not just her, it was you I saw first. I.." My words failed me and again I felt my face go red with embarrassment. ""I promise you, I am usually far more eloquent than this. My name is Ruth, by the way. "

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Ruth.

I looked at her, something I hadn't been able to do for long since the conversation had started. "You are beautiful." I said simply, "and I haven't been able to stop imagining kissing you since you started talking to me. It does get in the way of me talking like an even vaguely normal person." As soon as I said it, I regretted it, but I couldn't look away as Isobel smiled with pleasure.

"I think you very sweet, and very pretty." She said in the same soft, clear voice. " I would very much like to introduce you to Moretta. I think she will find you just as sweet as I do."

So there it was, the invitation I had been half hoping and half dreading. I was speechless, my heart beating hard in my chest. I avoided her eyes, I think I knew even then that if I looked at those deep emerald pools I would be lost. Even though a huge part of me desperately wanted to take that step off the edge, the rational part of my mind was trying to keep me safely anchored to reality. This just wasn't something I did. But then, telling a woman I was attracted to her within five minutes of meeting, that was also something I never did, would never dream of doing. And yet, I just hadn't been able to stop myself.

I looked away from Isobel, and I saw Jane standing on the edge of the dance floor, alone, and I could see she was subtly trying to get my attention, waving her hand at me in a way that made me think she did not want anyone else to see.

"I have to talk to my friend." I said, still avoiding Isobel's gaze. Isobel took a slight step closer to me.

"Why?" She whispered, and I couldn't answer. I felt drawn to this strange woman in a way I could not explain, but I needed to help my friend.

"She doesn't need your help." This shocked me and, despite myself, I looked at Isobel. She was so very close to me. "She doesn't want your help, not really." I found I couldn't look away. It wasn't just her clear, deep emerald eyes; I was also drawn to her mouth, so close and so soft. It would just have been so easy...

In the end it was Isobel who dropped her gaze. "Like I said, your very sweet. Go and help your friend, come and find us afterwards... if you choose." It was on the tip of my tongue to apologise to this wonderful creature but I didn't trust myself to say anything that wasn't embarrassing, so I simply nodded, and moved away towards Jane. I'm ashamed to admit it but, right at that very moment, I hated my friend.

She wanted to leave. She wouldn't tell me why but she insisted that we needed to go and go now. I imagined that Viktor and Katie's attentions had freaked her out even more than I would have guessed. I was tempted to just tell her to drink more wine and chill out, but she looked genuinely scared. She even objected when I told her we would need to tell Scarlett we were going. Shaking her head she said, "No, Scarlett's made her choice, she belongs here. She would only try and stop us leaving"

"Calm down, no-one is going to stop us leaving. I'll just tell her we're going. It won't take a minute and it will save us the pissed-off text we'll both get tomorrow about how we're shitty friends who abandoned her."

As it turned out the whole idea for telling Scarlett anything was pretty academic as, when I turned towards the place where Scarlett and her beau had been entertaining, the sofa was empty and she was nowhere to be seen.

I have not seen her since.

Jane was so panicky that she initially wanted us to leave without picking up our bags and coats. I told her there was absolutely no chance I was going without them. Maybe academics could afford to throw away a perfectly good winter coat and I-phone but legal assistants couldn't.

Once we had retrieved our stuff we made our way to the entrance, and Jane seemed astounded that there was no-one there to block our exit. The cold winter air reached out its arms to embrace us as we left the warmth of the building. I was immediately regretting my decision. I struggled to keep up with Jane who refused to answer any of my questions about what had gotten into her. She only slowed down as we approached the taxi rank in the centre of town. The presence of other people seemed to calm her.

As we lived in opposite ends of town it was usual that we took separate taxis to our separate homes. This time Jane asked whether I would go home with her. I could tell that whatever had happened had unsettled her, in a way that I hadn't seen before; and I think that in some recessed part of my brain I knew that she had every reason to be scared. I knew that there had been more going on at the party in the church than simply a group of people with fairly loose morals.

But, try as I might, I could not find it in myself to take her concerns to heart. All the way to the taxi rank, and despite my alternating concern and frustration over Jane's behaviour, the pale, bewitching face of Isobel was never very far from my thoughts, and behind her, the dark, mysterious, captivating shadow of Moretta: the woman I had very much wanted to meet. I think that is why I looked my friend in the eye, and lied.

I told her that I was going into work early the next morning so I really needed to go straight home. She seemed to believe me. Why wouldn't she? I had never lied to her before. I could sense that she wanted me to invite her back to mine, that she was waiting for me to say it. I let her wait.

Of course, there was only one taxi waiting at the real when we got there so, of course, I insisted that Jane get in it. I promised that I would wait, get in the next available one, and go home. She believed me.

I like to think she believed me.

As I waved her off I remember seeing her drawn, anxious face watching me from the rear window of the car, as it pulled away from the curb and drove away. I waited until the light of the car faded from view, and then I waited some more, just to be sure.

And then I turned and walked back in the direction I had come, back towards the church. Back towards them.

Did I know what I was walking back to? I think I had some idea, although I wouldn't have gone as far as to name it, to name them. But I knew that I had stepped into a world I had never believed existed. The look on the woman's face as Luc had pressed his mouth to her offered wrist; the way in which Scarlett had held that man in the palm of her hand, literally, as well as metaphorically. The way Moretta had looked at me from across the room. None of it was normal, none of it was safe. And that excited me more than I could ever describe.

As I walked, the pubs and nightclubs began to release their customers onto the streets. I needed to push my way through a tide of people, all of whom seemed to be heading in the opposite direction to me. It would have been so easy to have simply let them carry me back to safety. Easy, but impossible. I looked into their faces as they passed and, compared to what I had seen already that night, they all seemed so grey, so safe, so lifeless.

I couldn't get to the church fast enough.

At first, I was worried the door would not open for me; that I had been given my opportunity and that, once I had decided to walk away from it, no second chance would be given. I shouldn't have worried. As soon as I began to make my way down those stone steps to the side door I heard a dull, metallic click, and the door swung slightly open.

They had seen me coming.

I dumped my bag and coat in the cloak room, just left them in a heap in the corner, and then made my way up the stairs. Before I went through the double doors I took a moment, I had never been more nervous in my entire life, I took a deep breath, and pushed.

The music again swelled as I stepped into the main hall. The trio of cellist were still hard at work entertaining the room and the dance floor was crowded with dancers. There was a mixture of styles in evidence and I could see some engaged in the courtly dance routines from earlier, but there was more than a few couples gently moving to an intimate rhythm of their own.

I edged my way around the dance floor, scouring the crowd for familiar faces. I noticed, again that there were many who shared that peculiar, otherworldly quality I had noticed in Moretta, Isobel and the others. How could I have missed them? Here they were: dancing, talking in corners or huddled in the many alcoves.. And, more often than not, they were in the company of someone paying them rapt attention. I watched as one couple, a strikingly powerful looking man with Maori style tattoos covering most of his dark face, danced with a younger black woman, her back pressed against his chest. Her eyes were half closed with a dreamy, langorous look and she seemed lost in pleasure as the man's hand caressed her, moving down her body before moving up, under her skirt. Her lips parted dreamily and she reached up to cradle his face, pulling him down so she could feel his lips on her long neck.

As I made my way to the front of the hall I noticed something else I hadn't been aware of before. The three musicians: two women and one man, were each wearing simple black blindfolds.

As I watched them play their cellos, seemingly oblivious to the world around them, I had the strong sense that I was being watched. Turning, I saw Isobel, standing in the very centre of the dance floor, still as a statue, watching me, while around her bodies whirled and spun. She looked as though she was waiting, untouched, at the centre of a hurricane.

Waiting, I was sure, for me.

I moved through the crowd towards her, the dancers seemed to part before me, allowing me a path. Her eyes were as as captivating as ever, only now I could detect a faint reddish tinge in the emerald depths. I felt the familiar, heavy ache between my legs as I approached, my mouth was dry and my heart beat so loudly in my chest that it threatened to drown out the music.

"You came back." She whispered, as I finally stood before her. Again, her voice was low, and gentle and yet I could hear her clearly as though there was no other sound in the room. She smiled, and I had the urge to lean in and kiss her there and then, but I felt I needed to explain.

"I'm sorry," I began, "my friend needed to..."

"Ssshhhn," she breathed, cutting me off, "you came back." She reached up and placed a cool, soft hand on my face. I covered it with my own hand, thrilled by the fact that this gorgeous woman was finally touching me. It felt at as if I had been waiting for that touch all my life. Turning, I kissed the palm of her hand.

"I'm not sure I had a choice, not really." I smiled.

The hand on my cheek moved to the back of my neck. She leaned in, slowly, as if to give me every opportunity to refuse. I inclined my head towards her but, before our lips were about to touch, she paused, becoming distracted by something just over my shoulder.

"I think there is someone you really have to meet." She said, and I could sense that her excitement matched mine as she indicated that I should turn around. When I looked, it was to see Moretta, standing close behind me.

For a moment, I couldn't breath. She was beautiful, but it was a dark beauty, a terrible beauty. The kind of beauty you could imagine sinking ships or driving back armies. She was not human, could not possibly be human. Her pale, luminous skin shone in the dim lighting of the hall, and her full mouth was a dark as a pool of blood in the moonlight. Her eyes were dark, alive with a power that was irresistible, unstoppable.

I felt fear for the first time that night, a deep mortal terror of this woman and what she wanted. And yet, as if my body was obeying its own instructions, it's own needs, I reached up a trembling hand to touch the dark woman's face. Like Isobel, her skin was cool to the touch, perfectly smooth and soft. She took hold of my hand, pressed it harder against her face. Her movements were slow and gentle, and yet I sensed the strength there; so much so that, if she wanted to, I was certain she could have broken every bone in my hand.

At first I thought I may have crossed a line in touching her, been too forward. It was on the tip of my tongue to apologise when I felt Moretta, with agonising slowness, again as if to give me the space and opportunity to refuse, begin to draw my hand slowly downwards, over her body, until I could feel the firm swell of her breast through the soft velvet of her dress. I gasped at the intimacy of the gesture, and I felt the ache between my legs become a deep, wet heat.

I felt Isobel press herself against my back, felt her hand gently pull my hair back from my shoulder.

"Do you know who we are?" Isobel's voice: the question, whispered so close to my ear that I could feel her cool breath on my shoulder. "Do you know what we are?"

I nodded, helplessly in their power. My hand squeezed, and I felt Moretta's nipple respond, rising up to press itself against my palm. This gave me a sharp thrill, the knowledge that the attraction was not one way. Moretta took a step closer. I was now trapped between the two women. I felt Isobel's lips brush lightly against the exposed skin of my neck. I moaned with pure, animal longing.

"Do you know what we want? What we need?" I felt the caress of her lips, so gentle and fleeting, on the sensitive skin beneath my ear.

Again I nodded, too breathless to talk. I felt Isobel's hands on my waist, holding me against her.

"Will you give it?" Again the voice, little more than a breath against my ear.

My need was so great that I finally found my voice. "Yes." I said. I would have said anything. For me, there was no-one else in that huge, crowded hall. Just Isobel, pressing her firm body against my back, and Moretta, slowly and gently raising my chin with her soft, velvet-gloved hand.

"Thank you." Moretta said, and then, finally leaning forward, kissed me. The moment before our lips met I had a moment of doubt, a last moment of rational thought before it was gone, blown out to sea, as I felt her mouth on mine, a wonderful, intoxicating kiss that I gladly surrendered to. The kiss was gentle, but insistent: an act of claiming, and I opened my mouth to accept her tongue. She tasted of deep, heady wine.

I felt Isobel's mouth on the side of my neck, tasting me. The two women pressed themselves against me and I wrapped my arms around Moretta, drawing her in, signalling again my consent. I was conscious that her body felt strange now that I had her in my arms. There seemed to be ridges running down the length of her back. But it was hard to concentrate with the exquisite feeling of her mouth on mine.

In the end it was Moretta who broke the kiss, freeing me up to turn my head towards Isobel and accept her first kiss: a slow exploration that was more gentle that Moretta's insistent touch. I could feel she was holding back.

Breaking the kiss, Katie returned her attentions to the side of my neck. I tilted my head to one side, allowing her access.

"Not here, Isobel my love." Moretta spoke, her chiding voice had a wonderful vague flavour of European. "You were right, she is a charming choice, but I think she deserves a little more privacy than we can offer her here." Isobel's mouth moved from my neck and I felt an almost stinging sense of disappointment. Although, part of me wanted nothing more than be alone with them both, a huge part of me did not want to wait. They could have had me right there on the floor of the church and I wouldn't have complained.