Dinner and a Movie

Dinner and a Movie

“Nervous,” Angel said. Angel was right beside him. Lindsey blinked and Angel was right in front of him.

The way Angel looked at him made Lindsey’s skin tighten across the knuckles in the same way it had when he was a kid about to pick a fight in some dumpy bar.

But Lindsey wasn’t nervous- despite what the dry mouth and loose knees might say to the contrary.

“You shouldn’t be,” Angel said. “After all, you lawyers are used to these big fancy dinners.” He reached out a hand and straightened Lindsey’s bow tie. “Right?”

Angel stepped back. He wasn’t wearing a tuxedo. He was wearing a black silk shirt, open at the collar to reveal smooth, white skin. There was a small smear of blood along his collarbone and Lindsey couldn’t decide which was more disconcerting: Angel’s perfect skin or that innocuous smudge of blood.

“Why did you ask me here?” Lindsey said.

Angel smiled. “There’s something I want you to see.”

Angel moved away from Lindsey and Lindsey followed. He sidestepped an overturned table, someone’s purse, a waiter without really focusing on anything but Angel’s broad back. It suddenly occurred to Lindsey that he had a sort of begrudging respect for Angel. Or maybe that was just the liquor talking.

He’d come to the party and ordered a vodka tonic, squeezing lime into the drink before licking the acid-clean taste of citrus from his fingers- dirt under the nails like he was still hauling junk to the dump for spending money instead of making six figures and living in a condo in the nice part of town. He’d had two more drinks after that, waiting for the steady heat of the vodka to reach his balls while he scoped the room for someone to fuck.

Angel disappeared through a door and Lindsey followed.

His foot slipped and he would have slid through the greasy blood on the floor if Angel hadn’t grabbed his elbow. He felt the bile- most of it alcoholic- shift upwards, burning at the back of his throat.

“Fuck.”

“This is what happens when you play in the big leagues, Lindsey,” Angel said neutrally.

“I didn’t have--”

“Anything to do with this? Any idea it would happen?” Angel dropped Lindsey’s arm and stepped closer. He bent towards Lindsey’s ear and whispered: “That’s dinner, now how about a movie?”

*

Lindsey woke up with a start. The alarm clock blinked 2:17 and he reached out an arm to twist the glowing numbers away from him. He’d had too much to drink and he knew that he was going to sleep like crap for the rest of the night. Might as well get up.

He sat up and swung his legs off the bed. He’d hit the shower, pump off his hard on, make some coffee- maybe get caught up on some paperwork. He scraped his fingers through his hair and stood.

A noise made his heart thump: rabbit-feet against his chest.

He went out into the hall and started towards his living room.

There, silhouetted against the huge picture window that looked out over Los Angeles was Angel. Lindsey would know the set of his shoulders anywhere.

“Hello, Lindsey.”

“Angel.”

“I brought that movie you wanted to see.”

“Sorry?”

“You know the one, where the vampire sucks the lawyer dry- tosses his husk of a body out the window of his very tony penthouse apartment. You know the one.”

“Can’t say that I do,” Lindsey said.

“Well, maybe I can refresh your memory.”

Angel stepped forward and Lindsey saw his true face.

Just like he knew Angel could see his.

*

Lindsey rolled over and looked at the alarm clock.

This was getting to be a pain in the ass.

He and Angel had been dancing around each other for weeks. Sometimes days would go by and Lindsey would forget that there was a vampire lurking in the shadows of his life. He couldn’t say which was more unsettling: the fact that he knew that Angel wanted to kill him or the fact that Angel knew that Lindsey wanted Angel to fuck him. Either way- it was messing with his psyche.

Lindsey reached for his cock and closed his eyes. Sex and death. He came to the remembered dream of Angel’s hand at his elbow, and blood on the bottom of his shoe.

THE END

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