Sauce*Box 20: Cafe Del Noche

Cafe Del Noche
by Terrie Relf

ETTINA WATCHED while Damon painted. So young. So scrumptious. So unavailable.

Hector gave her a warning glance.

"I know, I know," she sent telepathically, "look--but don't touch."

"After all, " he said, "we don't want the City closing us down before we even open."

"Yes, Hector--business will be good. We'll get the college crowd and who knows what else." Damon turned around at the sound of her voice.

"Back to work, my little demon." Tina puckered her glistening red lips to blow him a kiss.

Flushed, Damon turned away from her, resumed painting. His hand quivered as he dipped the brush into the can of dusty-rose paint.

"Hey Hector, maybe we can get my little demon to help us at the opening."

She nodded her head slightly toward Damon. Hector grinned.

"Ah-the young ones. You always go for the young ones. Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-you know the rules."

He gazed fondly at Tina, remembering the days when she would have pouted, and he would have relented.

But that was before they'd decided to go legit.

Hector took off his lizard shoes, peeled off his thin taupe socks, and rubbed his feet.

"Tina, a massage for old time's sake?"

He knew she'd say, "no", but just to confuse him, she sat down next to him on the couch, placed his feet in her lap.

"You surprise me-no, you can't have him. He's a good worker. We need loyal people."

"He doesn't even know who we are yet-you didn't tell him, did you?"

"Of course not. But he'll figure it out eventually."

"What if he comes to me of his own free will?"

"You are an old woman filled with youthful fantasies, Tina. All they want is a good shot of espresso, a place to hang-out-"

"There you go again, thinking you know."

Hector smiled, toyed with the gold filigree chain around his neck. It used to hold a crucifix, but he'd left that-and so many other things--behind.

As Bettina expertly massaged first one and then the other foot, Hector scanned the café, pleased. He liked the sign: Café del Noche written in vermilion letters against an iridescent blue-black background. It was subtle, but would provide a beacon light for their kind. Word had traveled, and he'd received so many calls-some by phone, others telepathically. Yes, life would be less complicated for them all. No more roaming. No more running. Just hide among the day crawlers, provide sanctuary when they could.

Hector and Damon's eyes met. For a moment, he felt a resonant connection with this young man. How could this be? Yes, he must be imagining it. He was exhausted, and it was time to retire for the evening.

"That's all you get-got to go!"

"That's my Tina--always rushing, rushing. Where are you going, my pet?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, darling?" She kissed him on his forehead, whisked herself away.

"Hey Hector-is it ok if I'm finished here for the night? I've got to get up early. Ok?"

"No problem. Tomorrow night then?"

"Sure. After class, say around 9:15?"

"Good-see you then."

Damon looked around before leaving, hoping to catch sight of Bettina.

"Looking for me?" She smiled from the doorway.

"How'd you-never mind."

"See ya, B'tina."

"Definitely."

After Damon left, they locked up the café, climbed up the back stairs to an adjoining loft.

"You're toying with him, woman."

"He wants me. What do I do if he-"

"Just knock it off. Stay with your own kind."

* * *

Damon tugged off his sweatshirt, dropped it to the floor, and then stretched his paintbrush-filled hand to reach a spot he'd missed where the wall met the ceiling. Tina's eyes traced the muscles of his back, noting how his snug jeans hung precariously around his well-defined buttocks, how there was a light growth of hair trailing from his navel down to--

She turned away from him, away from the physical ache she felt imagining what lay beneath that faded-denim, and returned to the purchase order. She gnawed on her pencil eraser, a habit she'd taken up recently. They tasted nasty.

In the early morning, she'd tossed and turned next to Hector, longing for and yet resisting sleep, and mad with a desire that Hector no longer chose to appease.

When had Hector turned away from her? Why did they even stay together? Habit? She often wished there was more between them.

"We have a history," he had said when she asked him last time. Inevitably, he refused to elaborate.

Yes, they had history--had made history a few times as well. But they were younger then, younger and more daring. Hector was right. It was high time they learned to blend in with the humans, and that meant restraint.

It had been too long since she had fed on anyone besides her own kind; they were beginning to taste stale, too, as stale as she felt right now, untouched by human hands for so long.

She knew Hector was feeling the hunger as well. Much longer, and she doubted whether she could restrain herself-even with her new resolve to only feed when invited. Otherwise, Hector was going to need to throw more parties like the one tomorrow night.

"Oh my little demon-please come to me!" she moaned, fighting the urge to slip her fingers between the moist, slippery mounds of swollen flesh, to imagine that it was his fingers-not her own-which caressed the taut nub until she gasped at yet another wave of orgasms.

Stifling her moan with one hand, she lifted the other to sniff her fingers. Yes, she consoled herself; I still have the perfume of a real woman.

An image played before her, unbidden: Damon at the foot of the bed, crawling toward her; Damon sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking her breasts until the nipples became engorged; Damon whispering something in her ear, then slowly tracing the curve of her neck..

If Tina didn't know better, she would have thought that her little demon was crawling around in her mind.

As he left the café that night, she noticed how his eyes shimmered in the artificial light of the street lamps, how his cheerful, dimpled grin shifted to a brooding expression as he turned away from her to walk down the street toward his car.

She wondered where he went after work. If he had a girlfriend. A boyfriend. If he stayed up all night trying to study, or if he would sink, exhausted to his bed, instantly asleep, as untroubled as she was disturbed.

Would he still want her if he knew how old she really was? What did it matter if she looked 30-ish; she was oh so much older than that.

If she and Damon so much as kissed, Hector would find out as he always did. It was nearly impossible to keep secrets from Hector. She'd grown lazy, and rarely created a wall in her mind. Besides, Hector rarely probed her. Her mind was like an open vein; her thoughts flowed freely.

If Hector found out, Damon would be history.

The eraser crumbled in her mouth. She spit it out in the palm of her hand, dumped it in the trashcan. The things she could show Damon. Yes, he'd like a few in particular. But what if he used her little tricks to lure other women-human women? Yes, it would be better for all involved if she just forgot about him.

The day's entries completed, Bettina closed the ledger and sighed.

* * *

It was 9:22, and Damon had just started his shift, helping Hector rearrange the wrought-iron tables and chairs in the patio section of the café.

"So, tonight's the night?" "Yes, we open at midnight. "Hector placed individual candles on each table, setting a book of matches next to each.

"You will light these for me later?"

"Sure." Damon liked working for Hector. With him, a request was a request, not a command. He wanted to please him, to do whatever he could to secure his place among them.

"So, I hope Tina hasn't been giving you a hard time. She can be, ah, how shall we say, a bit annoying at times."

Damon blushed.

"Ah-I thought so. A piece of advice?"

Damon nodded.

"She is not what she seems, and I would hate to see you get hurt--or lose you as an employee."

"Is she your wife?"

Hector threw his head back, laughed with delight.

"Once I considered marrying her, but she is, how do you say, a free spirit."

"I know it's none of my business, but I kinda thought you two were together."

"We are--friends. Close friends. Business partners, too. We do have other investors for this café, but they are silent partners, and will only be here from time-to-time."

"Like tonight?"

"Yes, like tonight. And there will be other events like this one. Please--feel free to invite your friends."

Hector rested his hand on Damon's shoulder, felt the pulse of this much younger man and sighed, remembering a time when Tina and he would have shared him-and turned him, perhaps, as well.

There was something else that he sensed, though. Some secret that his youthful employee held just beyond Hector's grasp.

* * *

Damon lit the votive candles on the wrought iron and glass patio tables, then leaned against the doorjamb to watch the small flames spiral in the light summer breeze. It was nearing midnight, and the local radio station was playing The Gypsy Kings. He leaned against the doorjamb, savored the triumphant sounds of the flamenco guitar solo.

He could sense their guest's imminent arrival. Tina-sensual Tina-lounged on a corner divan, while Hector paced back-and-forth, wringing his hands, eager for the festivities to begin.

All was ready.

* * *

Carrying a tray of crystal goblets, Damon approached the guests while Hector and Tina moved through the rooms, greeting their friends.

"Would you care for a glass of wine? It's from Hector's own private collection."

"Ah! The special reserve-yes, thank you."

There was an interesting assortment of people, and Damon noted how most were dressed in black and vermilion, some elegantly attired, while others wore trendy leather jackets and bustiers with jeans and T-shirts.

When Damon wasn't filling or refilling glasses with the seemingly endless supply of Hector's private reserve, he oversaw the assorted barristas, making sure that they peeled and sliced the lemons "just so" for the occasional guest who preferred espresso to wine. A corner table was laden with assorted cheeses and breads, another with European pastries and fruit, but very few of the guests lingered there.

Occasionally, Damon would pass Tina, lightly touching her whenever the opportunity presented itself. Her scent wafted toward him, as hypnotically pungent as the night blooming jasmine that crawled up the patio trellis. He longed to press himself against her, to trace the arc of her neck with his lips, then his tongue, rather than with his mind.

* * *

The last of the guests, some a bit tipsy and giggling, covered their reddened lips with the back of a hand, as they moved into the dark gray of predawn.

Hector yawned, winked at Damon. "I'm going to sleep now, Tina. Damon-will you lock things up for us?"

Tina turned her thoughts inward, resigned to yet another night in a cold bed.

"Sure Hector. Tina-do you have a minute?"

Hector and Tina's eyes widened with surprise.

"How-"

Hector chuckled. "I knew there was something about you. No wonder Tina was so mesmerized."

Damon smiled. "Yes, I suppose I am a little demon."

For the first time in over a hundred years, Tina blushed.

Your critique of this work is appreciated.
Please e-mail the author.

Return to Sauce*Box, Summer 2001