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The big bike was nice. She liked hers a little better, but Monk
had done a great job customizing this machine. She looked at her
reflection in the store window and someone might think that she was a
very lean boy. The riding leathers compressed her breasts and
while her waist was slim, her hips were not pronounced. With her
hair tucked under her helmet, there was no way to tell if she was male
or female. She blew herself a kiss and burned rubber when the light changed. It was an exciting prospect, a 3200 mile ride alone, with no one to account to or for. She headed towards I-80 where she would spend over 1500 miles. A good guess is that she'd hit some really cold weather, since her track would be northward towards Maine. November may not be the smartest time to try this, but she did like it cold, and she had purchased state of the art cold weather gear prior to starting this trip. She was planing on making Salt Lake City before easing up. With a little luck, and pushing hard enough to have fun, she should be able to do that in ten or so hours. She settled down in the comfortable seat, and with a smile, remembered the last night with Patrick. The poor man seemed so conflicted. After telling him that she wanted him, she had to reassure him that her desire was lust and it was for the moment, that no long term commitment was expected, given or wanted. Every vampire has a well tuned sense of what their prey is thinking and feeling. She instantly realized that Patrick was already feeling guilty about choosing Kristina over Lisbon, like he was cheating in some form or fashion. She'd smiled and held up his left hand. With relief she saw that he'd finally removed his wedding ring. "What do you see here," she'd asked. "Just my hand," he'd replied. "Exactly!" Eliza announced. "No wedding ring, and I don't see a ring in your nose, either. According to what I've been led to believe, that would mean, until you actually commit to someone who commits in return, you are a free man." Maybe what she was doing to him with her hand, and the fact that her bare breasts were only inches from his face, influenced his decision just a bit, but he had smiled and agreed. "Oh, goody," she breathed, smiling, sinking down on him, causing him to gasp in pleasure. Eliza squirmed on the seat of the big bike, almost wishing the vibration of the seat would finish what her reminiscences had started. She glanced at her watch. She'd been on the road for over four hours and nature was beginning to assert it call. "Damn bouncing bike does a number on my bladder," she thought. "Rest Stop, two miles," the sign said. She sighed and twisted the throttle watching it climb from seventy to pass one hundred ten. She saw the rest stop turn off and started braking. The bike nosed down as the disk brakes engaged, but remained rock stable. "Good job, Monk," she thought as she braked from over a hundred miles per hour to less than thirty. The area was deserted. She like that. A female alone, especially on a chopped hog, could attract some unwelcome attention. She spotted the ladies facility, down near the end, parked and gratefully went in. Inside, she paid little attention to the sound of a vehicle stopping near where she was. Traffic could be expected in a rest area. Exiting the facility, she realized that there was a problem. A jeep was parked, blocking her bike in, and a man standing next to it, smoking a joint, the smell was unmistakable, just staring at her. She stopped and shook her head. "I guess it's snack time," she thought. "If he's a total jerk, I'm really going to hurt him. My butts sore already and I have a lot of miles to go before this one day is over. The bat is in a baaaaad mood!" "Wa'll I'll be damned. You are a gurl," he drawled. Eliza walked up to him and glared. "And this surprises you, why? I did come out of the ladies room. You think I was some sort of perv, like you?" Eliza's mood soured some more. "You got a smart mouth, little lady. I guess I'm going to have to teach you some manners." He reached for her and found his arm rotated and twisted in a manner that caused him to drop to one knee, but not quickly to avoid the sickening sound of something tearing in his shoulder. Eliza stepped forward, swinging her right arm in a arc that allowed her to strike him in the temple with her elbow. When he awoke, mostly from the pain in his shoulder and the headache he had, he found that he'd been transported to a remote area, and been staked to the ground, nude. Both arms and legs were at forty five degree angles, secured with wire wound around what appeared to tent stakes driven into the ground. Eliza was sitting in his jeep, apparently waiting for him to revive. He grunted and tried to pull free, but the wire cut viciously into his flesh. The stakes had been angled so, that the harder he pulled, the firmer they were set into the earth. He was not getting free. He watched her numbly as she slowly removed her clothing and walked towards him. She stood straddling his waist. "This is the part I like," she told him as her fangs descended. His eyes widened in fear as she sat on him, leaning forward, making full body contact, with her lips on his neck. He felt he needle prick of the initial insertion and since the only control Eliza was exerting was to immobilize him, he did feel the pain as she tore the muscles to expose the artery to drink from. She'd decided to kill him, but she was not really torturing him. Sometimes she'd rip and tear. Sometimes she'd have sex with them as she drained their lives, the combination of their fear and lust, almost palpable in their blood. That was always a tremendous turn on for her and her own response was always explosive. This one was feeling some pain, but nothing like that she could inflict. She briefly considered having sex with him, but he was totally limp. "Not worth the effort for such a bland snack," she thought. After dressing, she tossed the limp body in his jeep and drove several miles into the wilderness, ditching the jeep in a ravine. As she jogged back to her bike, she wondered if his body would ever be found and what would be made of his condition. She'd lost over two hours of road time, but the infusion of fresh blood had been worth it. She straddled her bike, started it on the first kick and roared off. "Salt Lake, here I come," she thought, as she pulled back onto the interstate and accelerated to eighty five miles per hour. At that speed, the wind was bitter cold, but she was wearing a helmet with a full face shield, and her warm riding leathers were efficiently doing their job. She leaned back on the comfortable custom seat and let the sound of the road and engine lull her into a comfortable reverie. Patrick had been very curious about her interaction with Kristina, once they had sex out of the way, their initial needs satisfied. She finally had to admit to him that there had been almost no interaction between them. Kristina had fainted almost immediately after the danger was over, though she'd been ready to fight during the thick of it. Patrick had the impression that she'd just walked up to the door to knock and caught the assailant entering. She did nothing to correct that impression. Patrick sighed and allowed that was consistent with his understanding of her. He smiled, as if in approval. "She does have some good qualities." The little taste of his blood, that she'd had earlier, had whetted her appetite and she really wanted the opportunity to have more than just a tiny taste. She'd never hurt him, but she was very good at judging how much she could take with no harm being done. She kept up a consistent drink rate, which he was matching one for one. She had not replaced her clothing, figuring that if of she remained undressed, he would too, and so far he had. "So far, so good," she thought, doing her best to unobtrusively influence Patrick to fall asleep. Her senses alert, she slowed her machine down to the legal 65 miles per hour, which, now, seemed like crawling, but she'd seen trooper ahead of her, and catching up to a cop at over eighty miles and hour was not a good idea. His brake lights had not come on, so he may be unaware of her and how fast she'd been going. She was carefully pacing the trooper, hoping he'd turn off before too long, so she could resume speed. She sighed, resuming her reverie about Patrick Jane and Kristina. Kristina's comment about her being dark, but not the darkness was confusing and interesting. That is not a statement a normal person would make just after nearly being murdered. Since Eliza was something that science was almost totally unaware of, she was prepared to accept the fact that maybe Kristina had abilities that were a bit out of the ordinary. Eliza had been in too many strange situations, caused too much death and seen too much to just assume that death was the finality that many assumed it was, nor did she believe in any sort of hippy-dippy "summer land", but it wouldn't surprise her if Kristina could see into that amorphous nether region that she'd touched on several occasions. A sadness enveloped her as she remembered taking the life of her best friend so he could pass, unchanged, and be with his love. A tear leaked down her cheek. Only the face shield kept it from freezing. It had gotten much colder now that the sun had set. "Another couple of hours," she thought. "I'm not used to these long hauls, anymore. Who would have thought that a vampire could get out of shape?" She grinned. "Not me, but I sure have." The miles passed and she remembered Jerry's music. He was sort of the standard that she measured music by, now. He was the first true musician, someone who's entire life revolved around the production of harmonious sound, that she'd ever encountered. It had been an enlightening experience and gave her one of the major loves of her life: music. The lights of Salt Lake City were ahead of her, now. She groaned and stood up on the foot pegs, stretching her muscles. She'd picked a very upscale hotel in which to spend the night. Actually, it was not the hotel she'd picked, but the advertisement for live music. Times had changed, and you actually buy a drink in Salt Lake City, now. Not that she was planning on getting wasted, but if the music was good enough, who knows? The bar was dim, as was to be expected, and the live band was off to one side, where a small dance floor was available, but not currently in use. She spotted an empty table close to the band and claimed it for her own. Tonight, she was in the mood for Pernod, and that was available at a reasonable price. The band members were certainly no kids or working their first gig. They were not flashy, but they impressed her as very competent, though uninspired. Eliza grunted. She wanted good music. There was a low rail separating the band's raised dais from the dance floor. Eliza walked to it and leaned on it. She stared at them until the lead guitar finally noticed her and looked at her quizzically. "Can I help you, Miss?" He never missed a beat on the tune they were playing. Eliza offered him her sweetest smile and nodded. "Yes, you can," she replied. "You can start playing that thing." He cocked an eyebrow and turned to his two mates in the band. "Guys, I think I've just been insulted. Little lady, here, wants me to start playing this thing." The other two grinned but said nothing. No one had missed a beat. "No," Eliza said. "You don't understand. That was not an insult. It really means I think you can play it." Eliza examined him and could see the calluses on his fingers, and noticed how easily he corded and strummed, almost without thinking about it. He walked closer to her, and bent to get eye to eye with her. "What makes you think I'm not playing, now," he asked, looking puzzled. Eliza smiled. She knew she had him now. "What you are doing is playing songs that you think the crowd wants to hear, but I'd bet you that I'm the only one really listening. I want you to stop playing songs and start playing music. What do you think?" He stood, did a quick riff, and put this axe down. Everyone else stopped playing, too, that riff obviously, to her, a take a break sign. He walked over to her and stared at her, eye to eye. "I'll make you a deal," he said. "If I make you cry, I spend the rest of the night with you. You game?" Smiling, Eliza nodded. "Bring it on, Big Boy. You make me cry and I'll give you the night of your life!" They both grinned as the two behind him gave each other high fives. Turning, he said to them, "OK, guys, don't let me down now. I'm counting on you." He bent over and adjusted his amp processor, picked up his axe, turned his back to her and struck a clear note on the high "E" string and slowly slid to almost supersonic. The note had been processed by his amp and had an eerie, almost ethereal quality, that caused the hair on her arms to stand up. The drummer was working the brushes, lightly, enhancing the effect. The bass player was laying down an almost subsonic riff that acted as counterpoint to the guitar. He turned to face her and said something that caused her to freeze as if paralyzed. "This one's for Jerry," he said starting to play a version of "Summertime" that was so close to the one of so many years ago, that she'd been thinking about this afternoon, that they could be the same. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt tears flowing down her cheeks. She could almost see Jerry, almost feel him next to her. The guitarist was so involved with the music he was making, that didn't even realize the effect he was having on Eliza. For a timeless interval, he played, she listened, and both were engulfed in their thoughts. As he finished he looked up and smiled at her, for the first time realizing that he'd actually made her cry. His grin was shaky, the music seemed to have affected him too, and his eyes were at least moist. "Our bet," he said. "That was a joke, really. You don't have to." Eliza wiped her eyes and gave him a hesitant smile. "Ah," she said, "but, now, I want to! We can talk about Jerry and Rolain and how you know Jerry." He paused and stared at her. "Lady, how old are you? Jerry was years ago and how did ever hear the name Rolain. She was dead before I even met Jerry." Eliza sniffed, smiled and handed him a key to her room. "I like rum." She turned and walked away. ~O~
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