Kerr grasped Sonya's petite hand in his much larger one, feeling like an oafish imposter as he leant forward to press a kiss to her soft, cool flesh. It wasn't a gesture that came naturally to him but the angle at which she'd proffered the hand had led him to believe this to be the only appropriate action. He enjoyed the contact, brief as it was, and smiled broadly as she complimented their conversation before sashaying her way out of Venture.
He found it very uncomfortable to reconcile the amount of times he stared at the empty space where he'd last seen her for the rest of that evening, not understanding what had been so very different about this vampiress that he was left pining for her mere minutes after meeting her. It wasn't his usual style.
The club emptied without incident and Kerr saw everyone out before he locked up. He went home and cooked himself some lean chicken and vegetables, fantasising about seeing Sonya again over a sizzling pan, barely watching what he was doing. As he ate, he imagined what he'd say when he called her, how she'd sound coming through wires and space, whether that superior tone of hers would translate. While he showered, he thought of seducing her, of heaving her against the tiles and driving into her, of how she'd sound when she peaked. He came quickly, leaning against the wall and milking his erection into the warm water swirling at his feet, thinking of pouring into her. She didn't leave his dreams all day.
Kerr was back at Venture before the sun set, checking all the mortal staff were present and attending to their assigned tasks. Fresh linens were collected and wrapped onto beds, new kegs tapped, full bags of blood hung in cold rooms and everything polished, vacuumed, disinfected and reset, ready for another night of dark discovery. When Jeanne arrived almost an hour after sunrise, he followed into her office, ready to give a status report and ask his unexpected question. She looked chic in her shiny black and white checked sixties-style mod dress with knee-high go-go boots and a truly epic half up, half down brunette bouffant hairstyle. On anyone else, it would've looked like a tacky attempt at retro styling; on Jeanne, it just looked like an outfit she'd found in her closet and felt like wearing tonight.
After he'd run through the club's report and she was smiling happily at him, he cleared his throat and launched into his personal request. "I-I wanted to talk to you about a night off, actually. Early this morning, we had a guest I made my cherry-smoked blood for. She wondered if I could be hired to make drinks for her vampire guests at her Halloween party. I said I'd ask," he admitted with a shrug, looking nervously at his ex-lover.
Jeanne's gaze sharpened immediately. "Who is she?"
It hadn't been the question Kerr had expected, so he was momentarily thrown. "Uh, Sonya Turkevich," he blinked. "Do you know her?"
Jeanne's lips compressed disapprovingly and jealousy flared as she looked Kerr over. All females were peripherally aware of the beautiful women that orbited in their spheres and doubly so if they were also kindred and of a certain age. Sonya Turkevich was all three but Jeanne had never had cause to be concerned by her. They'd circled one another a time or two, sniffing the competition out long enough to learn that Jeanne was older than Sonya, all while exchanging pretty pleasantries. Jeanne wasn't feeling particularly polite at hearing that the woman wanted Kerr - whom she considered hers - in any manner.
"We've met," she replied airily. "The party is the thirty-first, I presume?"
"Yes. Since it's never that busy, I thought... it might be okay?" he asked, his voice becoming high with false nonchalance. Halloween was, traditionally, a completely dead night for Venture (pun intended). Any night where supernaturals could roam the streets in their true and free forms and be accepted for having an ultra-realistic 'costume' while they infiltrated parties and were generally never looked at twice was going to have an effect on an establishment that provided those same select outcasts refuge for the other three hundred and sixty-four nights of the year. Why would they hide away in a club when they could walk among scantily-clad mortals that openly admired them? Venture was a ghost town on Halloween.
"So you've decided you will go, then?" she asked sharply.
Alarm bells went off in Kerr's head, causing him to sit up straighter in his seat. "I didn't mean to presume. I'm sorry," he said humbly, lowering his head. "It's your decision entirely," he said, looking at his black-clad knees fearfully.
Jeanne considered his reaction, mildly appeased by his subservience and silent acknowledgement of his role as hers. Well, her employee, anyway (thanks to Charon's decree). "I suppose we will be able to accommodate your absence for one night. I assume she'll be paying you for your time and that she knows you're contracted here?"
"She will and she does but I'll reiterate the point, if you wish."
"Very well. Have your party night," Jeanne decreed, waving an airy hand that Kerr rightly took to be his dismissal.
He hurried out of Jeanne's office and, as he passed by, stepped through an open door in the mirrored wall and into one of the feeding rooms. Closing the door for privacy and to take full advantage of the thorough sound-proofing in here, he sat down facing the club (which was more populated now) and pulled his personal mobile phone out of his pocket. He didn't even need to look at the piece of paper with her number on it anymore. He'd stared at it so much, it was committed to memory; he dialled Sonya's number and waited for her to pick up. When she did, he wouldn't prevaricate, saying: "Hi Sonya. This is Kerr Galvin - from Venture? I'm calling to confirm that I'm available to work at your Halloween party on the thirty-first."
