Gentlemen Prefer Succubi

CHAPTER NINE

The room Remy graciously gave me for my personal use was bigger than my apartment on the far side of town. The angry part of me was disgusted, but the girly part of me wanted to frolic in the massive closet, the canopy bed, and the sunken bathtub with power jets. I let the frolic side win.

After I hung up all my new clothes, tested all the expensive shampoos and lotions on the vanity, and took an hour-long bubble bath, I poked through my new clothes. My mouth watered as the faint scent of breakfast hit my nostrils, and I decided to follow the scent of bacon downstairs. I dressed in my new silk pajamas-the most decent item of clothing I now owned-and searched through the mansion until I found Remy, my cell phone in hand.

My new roommate was in the kitchen, sitting at the marble breakfast bar with a cup of coffee. Her silky black hair hung in an elegant, smooth ponytail, and she was dressed in a beautiful lounge set of sky blue. She looked like an ad for Elegant Living magazine. “Back so soon?”

I thrust the phone at her. “First things first. If I call in sick to work again, I’ll get fired for sure.”

She gave me a curious look. “And? You don’t need that job. You’re with me now, and what I can’t provide, Noah will.”

“As swell as that sounds, I’d rather not be a kept woman, or kept succubus, or whatever I am now. Besides, I like my job.” It wasn’t much of a lie; I did like it most of the time. There were just aspects of it I hated-like my boss. “Just because I’m undead doesn’t mean I have to totally change my life.”

At least I hoped it didn’t mean that.

Remy smiled and put down her coffee cup. “We’re not undead. We’re immortal.”

“I’m immortal?”

“Essentially. There are only two ways for our kind to die.”

“And how is that?”

“Usually by proxy. If both of your masters die, you die.”

That sounded like a crappy catch. “And what happens then?”

She lifted her shoulders in a dainty shrug and avoided eye contact. “You cease to exist on this plane.”

Gee. “Do I still exist in another plane?”

Another vague shrug. “I suppose. It’s not something our kind likes to talk about.”

I ignored the feeling of dread in my stomach. I wouldn’t think about that now; I’d think about that later.

I shoved the phone under her nose again. “Regardless, I need you to call in to work for me.” I wasn’t budging on this. “Do you know how hard a good museum job is to come by in this city? And my boss will smell a scam a mile away, so you need to, like, be my doctor or something. Tell her I have something harmless, okay?” I took the phone from her fingers and dialed the number before she could protest.

Remy grinned at me and held the phone up to her ear, waiting. I assume someone picked up on the other end, for Remy cleared her throat and began in a businesslike tone, “Yes, I should like to speak to …” She paused to look at me.

“Ms. Cliver, museum director.”

“A Ms. Cliver, if you please. She would be the supervisor of a Ms. Jacqueline Brighton.” Gone was the playful, teasing Remy voice. In its place was a clipped British accent. She flashed me a wink while we waited. “Yes, Ms. Cliver? This is Dr. Summore. Jacqueline Brighton is a patient of mine, and she wanted me to let you know that she is having an adverse reaction to the anesthesia she received. I’m afraid we cannot release her from the hospital for several more days. She will remain under my care until then.”

There was a pause in the conversation and Remy nodded, making a few “mm-hmm” noises of agreement. “It was a surgical procedure of a personal nature.” Another pause. “Breast augmentation.”

I gasped and tried to snatch the phone away from her. Remy sidestepped me easily and continued to talk into the phone. “I understand, Ms. Cliver,” she responded, looking me straight in the eye and trying not to laugh. “Yes, I will tell her when she recovers consciousness. Yes, yes, of course. Good day to you.” She snapped the phone shut with a smug smile and handed it back to me. “All taken care of.”

“What are you thinking?” I exploded. “My boss can’t think I’m skipping work for a boob job!”

“If it makes you feel any better, she said she wasn’t surprised. Besides, how else do you plan on explaining the new, improved you?”

As she spoke, a small elderly woman in an apron and powder-blue dress entered the kitchen and my protest died in my throat as I watched her prepare a plate of bacon, eggs, and sausage for Remy.

My stomach rumbled at the sight. Remy picked up a piece of bacon and nibbled on the end. “You hungry?”

“We just ate not too long ago.” But I was hungry.

“Your metabolism’s different now that you’re immortal.” She leaned in, whispering, “Besides, if I have the servants cook three meals a day for me, they think I’m normal.”

“You have servants?”

Her brows creased together. “Uh, yeah. You didn’t think I was the housework type, did you?”

Well, no. I leaned in, trying to keep my voice low. “But what about the whole undead thing? The vampires?”

She rolled her eyes and took another bite of bacon. I was tempted to steal it off her plate; it smelled amazing and I was starving. “First of all,” she said, “quit saying that we’re undead. It makes me think of zombies. Second of all, no vamps or any other weirdos can come here. I’m warded, remember? The best witches in town crawled all over this place. Priests too, so stop worrying about that part. Third of all, it’s not like I do anything unusual except have a few male guests now and then.” She shrugged once again. “Ethel just thinks I’m a bit of a loose woman.” Remy took another bite of bacon and beamed at me. “So do you want breakfast?”

Of course, I did. I turned to Ethel. “I’ll have what she’s having, please.”

Remy grinned at me. “Well, well, aren’t we proper and polite? I bet you turned in your homework on time and made straight A’s through school.”

I ignored her and poured myself a cup of coffee.

Remy wouldn’t be deterred. “Any boyfriends? Or did dating interfere with work? And how about sex partners? I’d be guessing fewer than three.”

She’d be guessing two too many, if you didn’t count Noah, but I wasn’t letting her know that. I returned her ambiguous shrug and dug into the food Ethel placed in front of me.

“Oh, come on. Are you still mad about the job thing?” Remy gave me an incredulous look.

“I’m a little mad, yeah,” I found myself saying. “Do you know how hard it is to find a decent docent position in this city?”

“A decent what?”

“A docent. Museum tour guide. It’s a good job.”

Remy’s bright blue eyes looked over-bright in her honey-colored face. “Sounds boring as all hell. Don’t worry, I imagine you’ll still have a job in a few days-which gives you plenty of time to figure out what your situation is.”

I stirred four cubes of sugar and some creamer into my coffee and slurped it. Delicious. “Uh, situation? What do you mean, other than the whole succubus thing?”

Remy polished off her breakfast with a few quick bites. “Well, you’ve got a lot of things on your plate right now: first and foremost being the fact that someone took the time to drain you dry and then left you in Noah’s path. It could have been coincidence, but I’m not a big believer in that sort of thing. That means the vamps have an agenda, and we need them to make the first move so we can figure out what they’re up to. Not to mention I’m still expecting one of the others to make an appearance. They usually do.”

I took a bite of the most blissfully crisp bacon in my life and sighed with delight. As I ate a few more slices, Remy continued to stare at me. “Oh,” I said, realizing she was waiting for me to respond. I had to think back to what she had said. “What ‘others’ do you mean?”

“Angels and the like. If we’re unlucky, a demon or two.”

I choked on my bacon. “Do we have to see all those?”

“I’m hoping not, but you never know-especially with a new succubus. You’re like an ever-flowing goody bag to them, so they’re drawn to our kind.”

I wrinkled my nose at her. “So in other words, I’m now catnip to the scum of the world?”

“Scum of the Heavens is more like it.” Remy jumped up and grabbed my plate as I was buttering a biscuit. “Come on, we’ve got to leave soon if we don’t want to be late.”

I crammed the biscuit into my mouth and watched longingly as she removed my plate. “Why is it,” I muttered around a mouthful of food, “that we can’t be late to your job? My boss thought I was out getting my boobs done.”

Remy winked. “Trust me, all right?”

I sulked. “I hate it when you say that.”

“That’s why I say it. Now go and get dressed like a good little succubus.”

I slammed out of my seat. “Fine. But we’d better be making a doughnut run on the way, or someone’s going to be cranky.”

Remy laughed as I trotted upstairs.

Since I didn’t know what Remy did for a living, I didn’t know what I should wear. Since she was dragging me against my will, I opted for casual and slid into the hot pink Juicy sweatsuit we’d picked up yesterday. It was comfortable, hugged my new body like a second skin, and bold printing across the fanny pronounced my ass was “Juicy” indeed. With my new looks and my new friend, it felt more like I was playing a role than being myself, and I decided to dress for the part. I stepped into some matching sneaker pumps and grabbed my purse.

Remy met me at the bottom of the staircase. I was relieved to see she was wearing something similar, except her jumpsuit was a dark blue and she wore a shirt under it that had a pink star across the chest. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

She drove, naturally. I didn’t own a car, and Remy didn’t seem like the public transportation type. I had to admit that I didn’t mind riding around in the posh little BMW.

The drive downtown was relatively short. Perhaps because it was so early in the morning, but the traffic was clear as could be. Remy was as wide awake as me, and since neither of us had slept in days, I supposed that the not-sleeping thing had some truth in it.

We pulled up in front of a nondescript building on the corner of Sixth and Main, in the business district. The windows were clean, the shades open, and I could see people moving around inside what seemed to be a busy office. Surprised, I turned to Remy. “You work in a corporate office?”

“Not exactly.” She winked at me and slid out of the car.

The sight of two beautiful women walking into the office didn’t cause even one head to turn. It bugged me; I knew how damn good I looked. But the suits sat in their desks, answered their phones, and ignored us. Bizarre.

Remy waved at the receptionist as she walked to one of the back rooms. “We’re heading for the studio.”

I followed close behind her, curious. “Is that why you looked so familiar to me? Are you an actress?”

“Something along those lines, yeah.” She gave me a very blue-eyed look and I realized that Remy would need to feed her Itch, and soon, or we could have some problems.

She pushed through the double doors ahead of me and was immediately greeted by a man with a headset over his ear. “Remy baby, how are you?”

“Good morning, James. I’m lovely. How are you?” She gave him a kiss on the cheek, her hand sliding into his. “Is everything ready for the shoot?”

“Ready as they’ll ever be.” He gestured to the set in front of us, which looked like a bedroom in the final stages of preparation. Stage hands rushed everywhere, fluffing pillows and straightening the covers, and securing microphones in out-of-the-way locations. I watched with interest, wondering what they were taping. Soaps, maybe?

“Your costar’s in his dressing room. I’ll get him if you like, and we can begin whenever.” He turned toward me and gave a low whistle of appreciation. “Who’s your friend? Redheads are in right now.”

Flattered, I gave him a faint smile and looked to Remy. She beamed and looped her arm through his, grinning. “This is my friend Jackie. She’s a museum dough-spend.”

“Docent,” I corrected, offering James my hand, smiling graciously. “At least, if I still have my job.”

“They’d be fools to fire you,” he whispered against my hand, raising it to kiss. “Let me know if you’d ever like a job in the industry.”

“The industry?”

Remy shook her head at me. “Trust me when I say I don’t think it’d be your thing.”

At first I bristled, but James’s attention was definitely riveted on particular parts of my appendage. I extracted my hand from his. “I’ll think about it,” I lied.

Remy flashed me a smile and bounded away, bright blue eyes gleaming. “I’ve got to change into wardrobe. Have a seat; hopefully, this won’t take too long.”

I sat in the director’s chair I’d been pointed to at the edge of the set. “How much time are we talking?”

“An hour or two. We just have to reshoot this one scene.”

A male assistant came up to me and held out a tray of snacks and a variety of bottled waters, which improved my mood. “Fine,” I said, picking up a finger sandwich or five. “I promise I’ll be good while you’re gone.”

She trotted to the far end of the bustling studio and disappeared into a room with a star on the door, which I assumed was her dressing room. Cool. Her own dressing room. Maybe I should take her boss up on his job offer, since I was about to be unemployed. Being famous would be neat.

“So Remy’s a big star, huh?” I glanced over at the assistant still holding the tray for me and took a cookie off his hands.

“Miss Summore is our biggest draw,” he gushed, smiling down at me.

Or rather, smiling down at my boobs. I resisted the urge to zip my top up higher. “Great,” I said, turning my attention to the stage. “So what are we filming here? Commercials? Soaps? It’d be really cool if Remy was a soap star.”

A strangled look crossed his face. “Soaps …?”

He was saved from answering me as Remy entered the small stage flooded with lights. She sat on the edge of the bed in a filmy night robe-part of her costume, I guessed-and her blue eyes shone like beacons.

“Is Braddock behind the door?” the director boomed into his megaphone, and I watched all cameras position themselves on Remy’s lovely face.

Someone gave the thumbs up, and the director nodded. “Action, then.”

I leaned forward, nibbling on my sandwich. “How awesome is it to see a movie made from the front row?” I glanced over to the assistant, whose eyes were glued on the stage, and I turned my attention back there as well.

And nearly choked on my sandwich. Braddock had entered the room all right, naked as a jaybird. Remy was disrobing as well, and she had nothing on but a black garter belt and some stockings, and the highest spiked platform heels I’d ever seen.

Before I could spit out the piece of lettuce that was clogging my throat, they set upon each other like rabid wombats in mating season. And then I just couldn’t look away. Her tongue was all over his face, and then she was throwing him down on the bed and making a beeline for what had to be the biggest schlong I’d ever seen.

“Um,” I managed, covering my eyes. “Is she doing what I think she is?”

The sounds of slurping and moaning echoed through the microphones on the set. “Oh yeah,” the assistant breathed, his eyes riveted to the bed.

“Are they … supposed to be doing that?” I mean, Remy’s eyes were blazing. Maybe her hormones went out of control and she was just nailing the first guy she’d run across.

The assistant looked at me in surprise. “Miss Summore is a huge adult film star, didn’t you know?”

Aww hell. I’d probably seen her on cable the other night and not even realized it. That was why she looked so familiar. It would also explain the money, and how she managed to control her Itch.

It also explained the smarmy director, who’d given me a few creepy looks. I shuddered at the thought.

A low groan caught my ears and I couldn’t help looking over at the bed again. Remy was locked onto the actor in a position I’d heard referred to as “reverse cowboy.” She had her head thrown back, her black hair rippling down her back as she cried out in ecstasy. I wasn’t sure if it was real or fake, but it was sending aftershocks directly to my groin. As I watched, she licked her fingertips and slid them down her body to finger herself. My body responded to the blatantly sensual move with a jolt, and I shifted in my seat, trying to accommodate the sudden throb of desire.

I hated being a succubus.

On a hunch, I jerked out my makeup compact and took a look at my eyes. Sure enough, they were brightening with every moment I spent watching Remy have wild porn-film sex like some horny voyeur.

That thought was a little too close to the mark.

When Remy cried out again and he grabbed her long hair, arching her backward over his body, my breath caught in my throat. I had to get out of here, or I was going to end up joining them on the bed.

I stood up abruptly and handed my sandwiches to the assistant. “I’m going to Remy’s dressing room.”

“Whatever,” he breathed, eyes focused on the bed.

I bolted for the dressing room and slammed the door shut behind me, breathing hard as I leaned against it. My skin felt dewy with sweat and I fanned myself frantically, my pulse pounding in my ears. To think that my body could betray me so easily was appalling. I staggered into the room and my hand hit something soft on the table-a dildo the size of Manhattan.

Horrified, I stepped backward and took a good look around me. Remy’s room was like something out of, well, a bad porno. Posters of close-up shots of Remy’s face licking all kinds of anatomy adorned the walls, and there was a large bed with silk sheets in the center of the room. Mirrors covered the ceiling. Sex toys of all imaginable types were lined up on every inch of counter space, and her open closet door, revealed a ton of lingerie and spiked shoes. The dildo stared at me from across the table, along with a few other pieces of equipment that I did not want to guess the purpose of.

So much for a safe haven. I flew right back out and heard Remy’s cries of “Oh yeah, baby, do me just like that!” and “Harder!” echoing in the room.

I had to get out of here.

I bolted out the first door I found, ignoring the buzzer that went off as I escaped through the emergency exit into the alley. I stumbled over to the main street, where I allowed the pedestrian traffic to swallow me. My brain was throbbing, my loins were throbbing, and all I could think was that I’d rather flip burgers for the next millennia than end up astride some guy for money like Remy.

I headed across the street to a small chapel that was sure to be deserted this early in the morning. Alone time was just what I needed.

The peace of the tiny church washed over me as soon as I stepped through the doorway, and I hesitated in the aisle. I felt like a hooker at a church social. I didn’t belong here anymore, did I? Forcing those thoughts out of my mind, I moved to the back row of pews to sit down and focus my thoughts.

No sooner had I sat down than I felt a hand on my arm. Startled, I jerked away, only to find myself staring at the most singularly beautiful man I had ever seen. White-blond curls framed his pale face, and the biggest pair of dark blue eyes stared back at me. A faint smile touched his lips. He was dressed in flowing white robes, with a white fur cape tossed over his back.

Frightened at his sudden appearance, I jumped out of my seat, clutching my handbag. “You can’t sit here. That seat’s taken.”

“It is a sin to lie in church, Jacqueline.” He gave me a soft smile.

My jaw dropped; so did my purse. “How do you know my name?”

“I am sorry if I startled you.” Again, the self-deprecating smile.

“Who are you?” I began to suspect my new friend wasn’t your normal garden-variety churchgoer. “And why are you dressed like something from Jesus Christ Superstar?”

He laughed, a sweet, gentle sound. Weird or not, there was something appealing about his manner, and I relaxed. “Is that what you think, my dear Jacqueline? Look closer.” He obligingly leaned forward to show me.

I gasped. What I had taken for a fluffy fur coat was actually feathery down: massive wings cascaded around his shoulderblades and swept down his back.

“Holy shit, you’re an angel.”

His smile faltered as he sat upright. “Please, your words.”

I gasped and covered my mouth. “Ohmigod, I’m so sorry.” When he flinched again, I winced. “Oh crap, I did it again, didn’t I?”

“God understands the vagaries of human language, but I confess it is a bit hard on my ears.”

I collapsed on the pew next to him again. “I’m so sorry,” I repeated, not knowing what else to say. “What are you doing here? Are you cast out, like Noah?”

He looked a little green at the thought and shook his head. “No, no. I am not like your Noah.”

I blinked hard. “You’re still an angel, then. Like, a real one, not a Serim. Wow.”

The angel gave me another softly sweet smile, and I immediately felt trampy and unworthy in my Juicy sweatsuit and overly bountiful new body.

“I am glad that you have come here. I wished for us to … talk a moment. My name is Uriel. I’ve heard of your plight.”

Uriel-it even sounded angelic. I was in awe: a real live angel, here with me. My hand reached out to touch a ringlet of his white-blond hair to make sure that I wasn’t dreaming, and it felt real and baby-fine. “I can’t believe I’m meeting an angel. I never thought it would happen to me.”

“Most likely it would not have. Only the deceased may gaze upon us, and we rarely exit Heaven. Humans with regular lives never see our kind.” He cocked his head at me and took my hand in his. “But that was stolen from you, was it not? A regular life?”

To hear someone else state it like that made me pause, uncomfortable. “I guess so. The succubus thing is a little hard to get used to, but it could have been worse.” I pried my hand out of his-not that I didn’t love touching him-but my hormones were keeling toward overdrive and I didn’t want to think nasty thoughts about the beautifully pure man before me. It seemed … wrong. “Remy’s been really great, though,” I defended. “Noah, too. I’m lucky that I have them to fall back on.”

He gave me another knowing, pitying look and clasped my hand in his. “Is that true?”

I slid my hand back out of his once more. I liked his touch way too much for my own good. “Look, I’m feeling a bit under the weather right now, so I’d prefer that you don’t touch me, if it’s all the same to you.”

His brows drew together in a faintly puzzled look, then acknowledgment dawned, and he shied away from me like I had a wad of snot hanging off my nose. “Ah.”

“Yeah.” I blew my bangs up off my face in frustration. “It’s the downside to the whole shebang-the constant maniac sex drive.” I dug through my purse for some aspirin for the throbbing that was bound to turn into a headache soon.

“Don’t forget eternal damnation.”

I choked on the aspirin that I had just flung into the back of my throat. “What?”

“Eternal damnation,” Uriel repeated and turned innocent eyes on me. “Did your new friends not explain that to you?”

I spat out one of the aspirin, my throat suddenly dry as a bone. The other had lodged itself to the roof of my mouth and I had to fish it out with a finger. “No one menshioned efernal damnashion,” I said around my finger.

He gave a knowing nod. “I thought not. Their kind prefers to gloss over the negative details of their hedonistic lifestyle.” Uriel had a hand to his heart, a sad look on his face. “I seek to help you return to your normal, mortal life. Don’t you fear what paths you will take if you follow your friend Remy’s lead?”

“Her lead?”

A line formed between his brows. “I refer to the Afterlife.”

Now that threw me for a loop. “Uh, I thought I already died?” I looked around. Yep, still New City. I could smell the smog even from inside the church. “It’s not exactly what I pictured, but it could be worse.”

He shook his head, white-blond curls moving in a symphony that made me long to reach out and touch them again. I picked up my purse and clasped my hands around it to keep from reaching out. “This is not your Afterlife. You were scheduled for greater things, had not you been forcibly detained upon this earth.”

He had my interest all right. “Forcibly detained?”

Uriel arched a delicate eyebrow at me. “Do you mean to tell me that you planned this?”

Well, no, I hadn’t exactly. “Er …”

He nodded, as if that was the answer he had been expecting. “Precisely. It is lucky for you, Jacqueline, that I have decided not to hold your current status-or the company you keep-against you. Most of my brethren would not be so enlightened.”

My feelings hurt, I resorted to the oldest of defense mechanisms: sarcasm. “So what makes you so special?”

Uriel’s lips thinned, a sure sign I was irritating him. “I see I must get straight to the point with you. Very well, then. I need a favor.”

“From me?” There was a squeak in my voice, despite my best efforts. “What could Heaven possibly want with me?”

“Not Heaven itself,” he corrected me. “Just me. Uriel.” He sent me a smile so warm, I thought I would melt right there in my seat. “Your friend.”

“Oh,” I breathed, scooting closer to him. He had the most beautiful face. Even Noah’s amazing looks didn’t compare with Uriel’s perfect, sculpted beauty.

“Watch the wings,” he reminded me in a gentle voice.

I shied back in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

He touched my cheek, and I felt my knees go weak. “It is all right. I know you do not want to harm me.”

“Oh, I don’t,” I said, breathing hard.

“I know,” he repeated, the smile looking a little more … forced at my adoring gaze. “Especially when I have heard of your situation and decided to help you.”

“Help me? How?” My ardor turned to puzzlement. How in the world could an angel help me with my current situation? Unless … I slid a glance over to the confessional. “You mean … I thought angels didn’t do that.”

“And how is it that you think Noah got into his predicament?” Uriel tilted his head at me like an inquisitive bird.

“Sex?” I blanked for a moment. “Really?” Noah had mentioned that, come to think of it.

Uriel leaned in, his voice soft. “It is not my story to tell, but perhaps you should ask your friend the next time you see him.”

I noticed that the angel scrupulously avoided Noah’s name. I almost asked about it, then changed my mind. I didn’t want to make him angry. He seemed so … sweet. Wholesome.

I wanted to do dirty, nasty things to the man. His scent was wonderful, like cookies and baby shampoo-an odd, but fresh combination. And he was leaning very close to me, his gaze intent on my face.

“You shouldn’t lean in to me,” I warned him, recognizing the signs. “I’m sort of …” There wasn’t a delicate way to put it. In heat? About to tackle him in a fury of lust? I just pointed at my eyes, which I’m sure were bluer than his own. “You know … this.”

He smiled and my heart melted. “It’s why I’m here.”

I straightened in my seat, surprised. “You’re here for that? But you just said …” I frowned at the thought of helping an angel, well, fall. Word traveled fast in the Afterlife. “I’m not some sort of celestial hooker, thank you very much.”

Uriel looked almost as offended as me. “You’ve misunderstood me.” He shook his head and put his fingers on my chin, pulling me closer. “Let me show you.”

At his touch, my whole body throbbed, and I leaned in to the embrace. Instead of my lips, though, he brushed my forehead with a chaste kiss, and I pulled away in surprise. “You came here to do that?”

The edges of his mouth pulled up in a faint smile. “You take too much at face value, Jacqueline. Tell me, do you feel any different?”

I sat for a minute, thinking. My fingertips tingled, but that could be due to the fact that I was clenching my purse against my body. I set it down gently on the pew before me. “Am I supposed to feel different?”

“No urges?”

Gasp!

He was right. The obnoxious throbbing between my legs that told me that I was about to go sex crazy again had stopped. Ceased. Gone. My breasts didn’t feel heavy and aching with need, and I could think clearly. I shot him a look of disbelief and jerked my purse open, rummaging through it for a compact. Sure enough, a quick look in the mirror showed my eyes bleached to the pale silver of Remy’s and Noah’s.

I was cured!