Moonlight Meetings - Three Erotic Supernatural Stories (The three first stories from Suzy's Adventures) by Dorian Mayfair Page B

caffeine and in the mood to do something, so when she walked past the place, she’d entered on impulse. She knew what she wanted; the sketch had been in her notebook in her bag for weeks. The owner – also the tattoo artist – had an opening, so Suzy went for it. 
    “Did you read the book where it was depicted?” the man asked.
    Suzy made a face. “That would’ve given me a headache. The letters were small as ants and really old-fashioned. I can’t even remember the book’s title.”
    “I see.” The man studied Suzy for a moment, then set his glass onto a stone and lowered himself into the pool until only his head was above the surface. With a single stroke, he swam closer to Suzy and stopped in the middle of the pool. Under his hair, his eyes reflected the moon as two brilliant pinpoints. “Let me ask you this,” he said. “Has something out of the ordinary happened to you since you had it made?”
    “No,” Suzy said, poised between fleeing and swimming towards him. Then the memories from her night in New Orleans and the Courtyard Hotel came rushing back, speeding up her already quick pulse. Those were out-of-the-ordinary enough. But she couldn’t share that. Or could she? The man was odd enough as it was. It couldn’t hurt to tell him. “Okay, maybe a few weird things. Nothing too strange.”
    The man said nothing. His eyes were twin pools of absolute night.
    “Well, maybe this one really weird thing,” she mumbled.
    “Something inexplicable, I wager? Something you have not mentioned to anyone else?”
    “You could say that.”
    “Was it dreadful?”
    Suzy, lost in reverie and starting at nothing, grinned. “It was amazing. I’ve never – ” She snapped back to where she was. Had the man come ever closer? When had he moved? He was only a swim stroke away. His wide chest filled her world. His nipples were small, dark circles on a pale field. The moon outlined every muscle under his ebony skin. He was an ideal hero, if on the tall side, sprung from a gothic legend. His lips were blue and full in his royal, proud, impossibly gorgeous face. His eyes poured warm honey through her bones, making her unsteady. His arms could break trees like twigs. Really, really small twigs.
    Some part of Suzy told her, in an urgent but awed voice, that she shouldbe scared, or at least intimidated, but she felt only jittery and longing. She flexed her hands not to reach out to touch him.
    “No, not bad,” she said hoarsely. “Just weird. And kind of great. What’s that got to do with this?” Suzy raised her wrist to show him the symbol.
    “Much.” Slowly, he lifted one of his long hands and held Suzy’s lower arm. His grip was gentle but strong, as if he was aware of his strength. Suzy shuddered, and not from annoyance. How can anyone so pale be so warm? Her heart redoubled its effort to bang its way out of her ribcage.
    “This symbol marks you as a guardian. It is a plain name for an old term – it is in Gaelic, so it will not mean anything to you – but its purposes is the same as it has even been.”
    “Purposes?” Suzy breathed.
    “In part, it is a sign of trust. A show of alliance.”
    She swallowed. “With what?”
    “The unseen.Those that walk beyond the corner of your eyes. The ones linger in the mirror when you look away. The beings who listen to your dreams as you listen to an instrument.”
    She paused, blinking. “Ghosts. You’re talking about ghosts.” God, I want to touch him. Just once.
    “Spirits of all kinds, woman. Phantom and of flesh. You are walking the sunlit side of a leaf. The rest is hidden, but you can feel the tremors.”   
    Thoughts crashed in waves through Suzy’s mind. I’m dreaming. But while she had managed to tell herself that her New Orleans Experience, as she liked to call it, was a hallucination, she was sure she was awake now. Wide awake. The man’s hand, the water against her body, the cool rock against her back – it was all too tangible. No. I’m not