Justify My Love-(Cree)

[Dominique]

Attire ::l:: Machine ::l:: Music

Moonflowers and soft black leather. That was how the beginning of this night would be remembered. It was perfect. The leather bound bouquet that ‘HOPE’ released to the passenger side of the 1968 Ford Mustang GT 428 Cobra Jet V8 smelled heavenly. It was the ideal visual contrast of delicate white flowers securely wrapped in the bold black leather at the base. Perhaps it was simple in the way she fastened them together but there was a lot of planning that went into the gathering of the blooms. This is pretty much how it went.

The colorful shadow waited until the sun went to sleep. What she had tended to with her hands and wanted specifically to collect in their embrace would not be ready for capture until then. The rays of summer heat first had some bargaining to do with it’s timely submission to the moon’s desire to have a life of its own.The warm grass beneath her bare feet was pressed down into the rich soil of Vita Bella where she stepped. Soft lush blades tickled between her toes. Permanent vibrant red ink draped over the top of each healthy appearing foot to display the dual roses she wore in honor of the grandparents she had loved and lost. The detail of an ornate rosary dangled for eternity around her right ankle to remind her nothing could save the soul she lost. The sounds of the night woods serenaded her as she reached up to pinch free the last fragrant bloom from where it had come to life in reverence to it’s namesake. All of this was continued perfection. The soft wind skated across her shoulders sending back the lengths of a natural black veil to dance in it’s wake. The edge of the faded denim skimmed the backs of her upper thighs as she found the sandals waiting for her happy feet to slide back into the caramel colored straps. She made a bouquet and she took in the scent of it as she glided her bottom into the driver's seat to deliver it.

The wall of steel in front of her car moved up and disappeared into the ceiling of Vita Bella's underground garage. The petite right index finger pressed the custom stereo until it offered up the station with a decent dance club mix. The typical ear deafening sounds of Godsmack and others would have to chill for the moment. She was in the sweetest of moods. To entertain it she opted for the selection of pulsing slow rhythm that inspired her to dance in the seat while the press of her foot had the engine under her control growling to life. The wispy eggplant material across her chest billowed as the speed of the machine increased. Open windows, good music and a warm beautiful night beneath the moon. Minx was feeling so good that she sang the words with Madge like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Smooth like cool silk on sunburned skin. That is how the odd sensation hit the usually ninety-nine point nine percent in control shadow. Dominique shook her head slowly and looked up in the rear view mirror. Wide warm chocolate orbs looked back at her as the glow of the red LED interior lights danced with the beat. Everything but the engine suddenly stopped as the music and its hosting station were interrupted briefly. It was barely enough time for it to register that her voice was the only one singing and it was not anything like Madonna’s. That was when she felt the first impact. Was she stoned? Her eyes were still on the rear view mirror while she erased that thought. She had not smoked and yet she felt this good? Maybe she needed to listen to more of the Madge and leave the weed be.

A nearly blinding set of lights blasted the windshield and fast reflexes had the steering wheel in her grip pulling to the right. The rush of adrenaline filled her as the sound of metal brushing against metal came far to close to her left side. The mustang shifted down quickly and her tires screeched in disappoint while she spun the car around in pursuit of what surely had peeled off the custom cherry bomb red paint. Once she located the only other set of lights on the road she pulled over and stepped out. The engine was grumbling and the song on the radio was stuck on a loop. The night was still perfect and so was her amazing mood despite the bald spot on her prized baby behind her.

[Cree]

Clothing - & - Vehicle

She had originally invited Parker on a midnight excursion, but he’d declined. He’d been more of a stick in the mud, something she admired and despised. She’d enthralled Parker because he kept her level. While she wanted to go everywhere and do everything, he convinced her to sit down or to calm down. He talked sense to her when no one else could, when no one else would. So when he’d turned her down for another night of absolute chaos, she’d called him a turd, stolen his glasses, and marched right out the front doors of Dark Eden. Tough love. That’s what she’d called her behavior. She’d shown him tough love.

Cree fiddled with the gold bracelet secured around her left wrist. Without Parker by her side, she felt empty. She’d introduced him to Niklaus, just as she’d introduced him to numerous others, because she kept her thrall close at all times. Sangue had died. Her sire had vanished. She had no one but her thrall and her businesses. She’d gone underground, so to speak. She’d stripped away most of her outgoing nature to make way for responsibility and maturity. If it weren’t for the people that popped in on her or reached out to her, she might have disappeared too. She might have died. She might have vanished. She might have lost herself completely in the arms of the shadow realm.

In the silence of the night, she focused on the dull sound of her heels connecting with the pavement and the familiar swish of her leather skirt. She shouldn’t have been bothered by the night, but every odd noise set her on edge. The chirping of the crickets blended nicely into the cadence of her walk, so she knew when something was out of place. She heard the footsteps of fellow travelers and the roars of distance engines. The only reason she settled on walking was because she had left her vehicle at her club, Flash. The place wasn’t too far from Dark Eden and it saved on gas. She only really drove around when she needed the sanctuary of her car or she needed a kinky place to ****. And there had been the few times when she’d wanted to impress a lady or a gentleman, but that was a while ago, almost around the time she lost touch with Jasmine.

She felt the bass in her bones. She always heard the club before she saw the neon lights; she always heard the chatter of the people waiting in line before she saw the strobe lights flashing through the building’s skylights. Flash had a growing reputation among the city’s younger population. The entrance fees were almost nonexistent and the food and drink options were pretty damn good. When Cree got to the entrance of the club, she stepped in front of the first people in line and grabbed the keys offered to her by the doorman. She had a ritual of leaving her keys and picking them up later. She didn’t even have to say anything to the man. She flashed him a cheeky smile and left the line to circle around the building.

Her vehicle was the only one colorful enough to stand out in the dimly lit parking lot. Her graffitied 2011 Porsche 911 looked like a perfectly arranged color palette compared to the other monochromatic vehicles in the area. She’d paid almost double the value of an original Porsche just to have the special-edition car in her lot. Cree loved the vehicle more than she loved herself. When she got to the driver’s side, she swung open the door and immediately sunk down into the leather interior. She started the engine and revved it a few times. She listened closely to the purr of her vehicle. The last time she’d driven the vehicle, she’d gone to the city limits and circled all the way around Harper Rock. She got lost, cut off from the rest of the world.

Encased in metal and glass and fabric, she felt invisible. Cree peeled out of the lot, pausing only to honk at the doorman, and took off down the street. She loved the way the car hugged the curves. With a particularly sharp turn, the tires squealed. Cree eased off the gas and steered into the turn, righting her vehicle. With the turn behind her, she floored it once more and split her attention between steering and loading music on her cell phone. Driving. She was a horrible driver. She went left of center or right or center. She oversteered. She ignored speed limits. Having a Porsche only encouraged her to drive recklessly.

Honestly, Cree never meant to have an accident, but it was called an accident for a reason. She looked away from the road for what felt like a second and she felt the impact. As odd as it sounded, Cree swore she felt her precious graffiti scraped off the left side of her vehicle. She’d sideswiped another vehicle. She had no one else to blame but herself and that pissed her off more than anything. The blonde slammed on the brakes and her car swerved, moving like a poor imitation of a sidewinder, until it came to a harsh stop.

Her phone flew out of the holder on the dash and bounced into the passenger seat. All of the spare change she had in her vehicle flew onto the floor. As soon as she car came to a stop, Cree threw open her door and planted both feet firmly on the ground. She didn’t need night vision to see the obvious scrape along the side of her car. As if it were the other driver’s fault, she whipped her head around and started cursing.

“What the **** was that? My fuckin car! Damn. I can’t believe this,” she whipped back around, facing her car once more, and tugged at her loose blonde hair. “****.” She drew the vowel out as she stooped down to pet at the scraped paint. The dinging caused by her open car door faded to the background, replaced by the low tones of the radio. “****. ****. I can’t believe this,” she practically whined, resting her cheek against her car. She didn’t even want to think about how the other vehicle looked. “I’ve gotta pay attention to the road. I know. I’m a shitty driver.”

She didn’t know what else to do, so she kept her cheek pressed to her car. She couldn’t hug her vehicle, but she tried. She tried with all she had, as evidenced by the way she spread her arms and clung to the side. No, she wasn’t attached to the custom car. Not at all. After all, it was her most prized possession.

[Dominique]

Inattentive. That is what came to mind as Dominique pressed her wafer thin sandals on the asphalt feeling the smooth roll of the loose pebbles beneath the new soles. The heat of the night air moved around her hugging the curves of her body. A soft dull stroke of beads against skin could be heard if one was aware they were there. Beneath the worn low cut denim and hue of eggplant a creatively fashioned belly necklace of salvaged rosary beads were available if anyone was wishing to work on their devotion.

It was time to take care of the business at hand. The flutter of her sheer top licked the petite shadow’s midriff as she placed one foot in front of the other. Gradually the slow moving colors of thigh high ink on her right leg and the blank canvas of healthy flesh on the left closed the distance between her and the woman. What had Dominique expected? Nothing she could really think of except to not be robbed of the delicious feeling increasing through her body. Anything or anyone that dared to attempt such was a thief of the cruelest kind.

Dominique was drawing on some of that feeling fine energy to keep her calm while her feet finally delivered her to stand close to the car and the female. Close enough she was barely out of reach but could still deal with the chick if she got any bright ideas on pulling any surprises from her pockets. She cocked her head. Dark wide eyes took a tour from the ground where a set of sassy heels were firmly planted and worked upward to a warm blonde head of hair. That golden veil concealed the face of the one hugging her car like a lover she barely saved from the brink of death.

Dom knew at times these moments took a little longer than usual. She was prepared to give it the respect due. She knew how went. She was the same way when she got her car back from Doc after he had stole it. A minute or two more then she would offer up the sales pitch. She would inform the inattentive driver it was her lucky night. She would give a great deal on custom repair paint at Twisted Sister Custom and Design and ignore the fault of the accident. It would be an easy sell and an extensive job that could bring in a nice amount of money. It would need a full restore. Why wouldn't it be accepted? The woman side swiped her and pretty much admitted being at fault. At least that was how she heard it. She could be wrong. If she was then she didn’t really care. It all came back to that feeling so damn good that nothing could shake her mood. Not even the long scuff on the driver's side of her baby patiently waiting behind her on the road.

Dominique rolled her right shoulder back while her eyes went heavenward. The skull that covered the twitching deltoid moved while HOPE slid into her front pocket. The music pulsed behind her while the glow of the interior car lights sent dull beams of red across the body of the car and the woman in front of her. Was the lady done pulling her hair and making nice with the machine she had been driving?

“I can make it all better.” Dominique said in a soothing tone. The sound of her own voice was foreign even to her. What possessed her to sound like that? LESS found it’s way to the back of her head and massage the pettie tips of its fingers into her abundance of raven hair beneath. “Such a sweet paint job.” This was getting bizarre. Her feet were moving again and this time she went around to the opposite side of the graffitied Porsche. She felt like she was being pulled into something beyond the custom paint and the high performance car beneath it. HOPE left the snug comfort of the pocket it was in and reached out to caress the side with an open palm giving it an appreciative pat at the rear like a fine *** that bent over for her attention. “Yes, I can make it happen.”

[Cree]

Once again, Cree had to acknowledge the woman’s presence. She felt a chill rush up the length of her spine, extending from her tailbone and spreading up around her pale neck. The sound of the woman’s feet upon the ground had faded and blended into the music pouring from within her vehicle. She couldn’t explain why she felt so uncomfortable. Something just felt different. Whatever it was, she couldn’t say it was a bad thing. In fact, while she felt uncomfortable, she also felt quite happy. Was she happy her car had been ruined in an accident she’d already admitted was her own fault? No.

The music lulled her into a state of utter contentment. Pushing herself off her car, Cree got to her feet and nudged her car door closed, effectively ending the chorus of beeping brought on by the fact that the keys were still in the ignition. The woman hadn’t said anything, so Cree refused to say anything. They could have stood in silence for the remainder of the night and Cree wouldn’t have cared one bit. Of course, normally, Cree would have cared. She liked talking; she liked joking. Normally, she would have felt an overwhelming urge to open her mouth and make some sassy little comment about their unfortunate meeting, but she didn’t say anything.

She wanted to hear her music again, but the metal and glass separated her from the sweet song. She’d never felt so attached to her radio or so interested in a single song. She’d just been in an accident! She’d just been moping over her beautiful car and its custom paint job! None of that mattered anymore. Cars were fixable. And as the woman spoke, Cree had to admit that someone else fixing the situation, someone else making it all better, sounded divine.

“How can you make it all better?” Cree moved closer to her vehicle, the only thing separating them. Her bare knees brushed against the cooler exterior of the car and she rested her palms flat against the metal. When had her voice sounded so silky? A better question came to mind: How could she have overlooked someone so beautiful?

Of course the woman could make it happen. Cree didn’t even know what it was, since she had stopped deciphering the words and only focused on the woman’s tone. Her name didn’t matter. Neither of their names mattered. The thought crossed her mind that the woman had been talking about fixing the vehicle, but Cree could have been mistaken. They could have been in a discussion about the weather, for all she knew.

Slowly, a smile spread across her lips. Her narrowed eyes had opened up and all signs of her previous tension faded from her facial features. She wished that the car weren’t between them, or maybe she wished that they could simply walk away from the scene and actually get to know one another. The question was on the tip of her tongue. Did the woman want to go somewhere sometime? Did she want to accompany Cree for a drink? Nothing about her thoughts seemed absurd, despite the fact that they had met only moments before. What seemed absurd was the fact that they hadn’t already gone for a drink.

Something about the woman’s eyes seemed almost hypnotic. If it weren’t for the dim lighting, Cree might have missed the opportunity to admire such a wonderful sight. She might have missed the opportunity for her eyes to burn a line down the woman’s jaw to such a cute chin. Cree hated the word cute, but she’d used it then. She used it describe almost every feature on the woman.

“I’m Cree,” she finally introduced herself. "I don't normally say this," she had to admit, "but you're beautiful." The words came out like a sigh, so soft and sincere. She had said something similar to others, but she'd known them longer. The entire interaction seemed like an exception to the norm.

[Dominique]

Dominique pulled her hand away from the vehicle as soon as the woman lifted from comforting the colorful sportscar. Dark eyes stayed with the female like those of a wild set peering from distant shadows. Each was full, wide with attention. The dark shadow was curious, fully prepared and willing to act at any given moment to anything. Anything at all. There was nothing that could escape her watch. Not now. The face. Where did she come from? The moment she set eyes on it the effects were about as subtle as a flying brick slamming into her chest. She seriously ached? HOPE went to cross to the upper left side of her chest and massaged lightly over the sheer eggplant material that rested on her skin. Could she simply caress away what was slowly consuming her? It was worth the attempt.

No. This couldn’t happen again. Was she being cursed? As far as she was concerned being this happy to discover a complete stranger could very well be just that. A curse she probably earned in full measure. It was that incredibly rare euphoria filling her that she could count on a few fingers that had ever been inspired in her short life. In the past it had nothing to do with a face. Dom was not one to be into physical exteriors despite her fixation on the custom bodies of her treasured machines. It was first in the eyes before. Always the eyes. They still haunted her in the recesses of her mind and she had never been in a rush to banish any of them. The most unforgiving had been a set of ancient blue pools full of wisdom. They struck her hard washing over her and knocked her down without a prayer's chance in hell of recovering. She had long accepted her fate had been sealed. However, that all seemed to change as soon as the leggy blonde did the unthinkable by looking at her and smiling like she did. If the world was supposed to be spinning it just suddenly stopped. Did this angel with the halo of blonde drifting in the night air feel it too?

Dominique was stunned. Questions instantly plagued her mind like a chorus of disorganized carolers singing from entirely different pages. Now what? She was cured instantly? How was she was able to bounce back from all of that right then and there? Was it the moon that warmed her bare shoulders? Or perhaps it was the purr of the retro Madonna that appeared to give those sassy heels a beat to step to? Something was responsible and it had to be something she was missing because nothing she had known ever before was capable of this. What were the chances on a dark and desolate road someone so intoxicating with their mere presence would appear from a vehicle and do that and so much more at first sight?

The attraction was instant and powerful as the beauty moved closer. Dominique lost interest in the vehicle responsible for her standing on the dark road to begin with. She was becoming oblivious to her own as well and that never happened. Ever. HOPE slid down and went over the firm curves beneath until crossing back over and hooking to the loop on her waist band.

Dom stood still and speechless. Another rare response on her part. The sensational blonde with an eye for graffiti had to go and speak. The sound of her voice might as well have had fingertips for the way it went to certain places on her skin and stimulated her. Did she really ask how the petite shadow could make it all better? Well now that sounded so wicked coming from her mouth. Dominique’s lips parted slowly while her tongue traced the sharp flat edge of her teeth. She was oblivious to what she looked like. She had no idea what her mouth was doing. Her head was swimming with ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ that she had not entertained in as long as she could remember. How long had it really been? Yes, she still remembered but it had been that long.


The smile that surfaced and stayed on the lady’s mouth captured her. Was it a subtle invitation? How wrong a thought should be but with the way she was feeling it was becoming a hope she otherwise would have never entertained. The bottom lip was slightly fuller than the top. Plump with a hardly noticeable edge framing it. Dominique noticed it. She couldn’t stop looking at it. Did the woman know it was there and it was the type that was increasingly tempting her to be so bold as to lean in and ignore her introduction and nip and pull on it? Cree. Her mind’s voice purred that name with the sound of a heated lover’s exhale. Her hips swayed gently as her feet stepped a little closer. If Cree thought she was beautiful then there was only one thing that she could think of to impress upon her that it was a mutual attraction.

“Cree…” Dominique’s feet took a step each and closed a little more of the unwanted empty space between her body and that of the goddess before her. “My name is Jane.” She used her real name. It was her legal and birth name. She never it out before. She was losing her mind with all the want of this vision before her to step a little closer. “I have never said this before...” If she had a pulse left it would be too fast to count from the anticipation that went with her words. She inhaled deep hoping to be flooded with the scent of her hair or the light hint of her skin in case she was left standing on the road alone like a fool. Something to remember the moment by in the very least. “Care to go somewhere so I can show you just how I could make it happen?” If she accepted just where the hell was she going to take her?

Dominique couldn’t believe she heard her own voice say out loud what she had just proposed. Her head was swimming with all sorts of possibilities of what would happen as a result. Mace, a bullet or an instant slap across the face came quickly to mind. Oddly she knew she would welcome all of it to get a little closer to what was just out of reach. Cree. There was relief in the few seconds that passed that her face did not burn. Major relief and a little twisted disappointment. If she was slapped she surely would at the very least know what the scent of the female’s skin was like and not be left guessing. Whatever happened as a result there was no denying her offer was bold, unsolicited and likely would deserve an apology… later. For that moment she felt overwhelmed with maddening desire to know everything about this lady and she meant it in any way at all this lovely Cree was going to interpret what she suggested.