Don't misunderstand--it wasn't just about sex. In fact, it wasn't really about sex at all; I was beginning to see what people saw in it. Monica might be a little sharp here and there, but a few cuts and scratches were nothing to complain about compared with the rest. Besides, she told me that she was doing me a favor by mortifying my flesh for me. She was probably right.

No, the problem was how I felt out of the bedroom, in daylight, among normal people. I had a terrible secret now, and it weighed on me like a stone.

It wasn't that Monica wasn't being discreet--for her. I'd begged her to please, please, please not out me, and she'd agreed. That wasn't necessary yet, she said, and besides, secrecy suited her purposes right now. I couldn't get her to explain the "yet" or the "right now," but I'd decided to settle for her current discretion.

We had a deal of sorts: She would appear only to me, only at night, in private, and in exchange, I would consent to whatever pleasure she wanted. At first, I'd worried about my end of this deal. What if some night, she wanted something really diabolical? Children, say, or men? But nothing that bizarre ever happened, so I figured that the very fact of my sleeping with her was bizarre enough.

I wasn't really safe, though. I was still afraid of Monica, and I was even more afraid of what people would think if they found out about her.

I was starting to worry about that question again, on a very regular basis. I'd become uncomfortably aware of the company that people might think I was in, if word ever got out...so to speak.

Hypocrite? All right, sure, maybe I was. But the funny thing was, I didn't feel that way. The stereotype was the problem, and I knew very well that a stereotype doesn't get to be one without a reason; what else was advertising about, after all? As far as Meridian at large, J/J/G in small, and I in particular knew, all gay women looked like men, and therefore were not women at all. Good God, look at Connie the Barbarian. I may not have been Barbie, exactly, but I was certainly not Ken, so I wasn't one of Them. A woman, after all, was somebody like, say...well, Monica.

With whom I was sleeping. Damn. And it was sensational. Damn.

So the vicious circle kept turning.

Heather and Troy were in my office to discuss the fine points of a print ad one morning when he walked in, uninvited.

"It can't be drugs," he said, without preface. "You don't even smoke anymore."

"Get out of my office, Kurt," I ordered.

He decided not to have heard. "It can't be multiple personalities, either, because you don't have a primary one. No, I think it has to be something sexual."

I narrowed my eyes to slits and counted 10. Monica had pushed most of my buttons last night, and now Kurt was working on the few that she'd missed. As much as I wanted to kill something today, I didn't want blood on my office carpet.

"You're getting to be a goddamn bore, Kurt," Troy complained.

"You have a better theory?"

"No, but..."

Just to be safe, I counted 10 again. "We don't have time for this. The client wants to see a mockup tonight. So make yourself gone."

Not troubled by not being welcome, Kurt leaned back against a wall, planning to stay a while. "That's exactly the trouble--you don't have time for this. But you don't have time because you don't make time. My God, boss, that can be dangerous. The human sex drive comes right from the reptile brain, and you don't want to cross the reptile. If you don't feed it, it'll bite you."

I decided to try counting in French this time, just to hold my own interest.

"Kurt," Heather protested, "we're busy."

"You don't think she's been acting funny lately?"

"Yes. But so have you."

Grateful for the defense, I smiled at her. She shrugged.

"We're working here," I reminded Kurt. "Don't make me throw you out--I really don't want to have to touch you. Don't you have something to do? Aren't you supposed to be helping Paula on the Holloway account today?"

"She's at a doctor's appointment right now. My guess is that it's about birth control. Ever since she started seeing Jack, she's been acting funny, too." He grinned unpleasantly. "And Jack'll be walking funny if his wife ever finds out, with that baby on the way and all. But you're getting me off my point. Which is..."

"Five seconds, Kurt," I warned, losing patience.

"...that all strange behavior has a sexual basis. That's the reptile part. The way I see it, Dev, your reptile is starving for sex, and sexually sick, if not downright..."

A couple of critical fuses blew in my brain, and the next thing anyone knew, I had Kurt by the collar, pinned flat against the wall.

"I told you celibacy was unnatural," Kurt said, as though nothing had happened.

"This is personal," I growled. "Not professional. So don't even think about running to Jack, even if he sent you. If you say one more word about my sex life..."

Kurt's eyes lit up. Jackpot. "You mean you have one?"

Troy and Heather groaned. I tightened my hold on his collar. "Ow!"

"One more word, of any kind, and I'll put you right through this wall. I'm mad enough to do it. I'll make sure that it hurts. Understand?"

Kurt tried to loosen my grip. He was a good 4 inches taller and a whole lot heavier, but I had the power of absolute fury at the moment. Finally, he understood his position, and nodded.

I let go. Kurt took a gulp of air and yanked at his collar. There was a faint red mark on his throat.

"Don't come anywhere near me the rest of the day," I said quietly.

He nodded again, rubbing his throat. In the doorway, though, he paused, looking at Heather and Troy.

"We didn't see a thing," Troy told him. "Did we, Heather?"

"Actually," she said, "I wasn't even here at the time. I imagine it's just another rumor."

Kurt left, still rubbing his throat.

"You'd better watch it, Dev," Troy warned, as soon as the coast was clear again. "All hell's going to break loose with that one sometime. Maybe you'd better get a sex life, just to be safe." Heather elbowed him, hard. "Hey! That hurt!"

"Thanks," I told her. "Now, what color did we decide on for the banner?"

The shock couldn't have been greater had Jerry Falwell walked in wearing a dress. I fell out of bed--an event precipitated largely by the fact that the part I'd been lying on was gone. The enormous bed had simply vanished when Cassie opened the door, along with the rest of the vampire trappings, and I was lying on very solid real-world carpet. Fortunately, I still had my real-world robe on. Cassie, for her part, had backed up against the wall so hard that it constituted a nasty vertical fall.

"Oh, my God," she was saying. "I didn't mean to...I mean, I didn't know..."

I scrambled to my feet and scanned the room with an eye to damage control. The situation seemed to call for all kinds of control. There was the situation itself, for one thing. Also, I was bleeding, thanks to Monica's idea of a friendly little bite. Then, of course, there was Monica herself. She was propped up against the headboard of the bed, completely nude, entirely calm. When I looked at her, she merely smiled and patted the place beside her invitingly.

Pretending not to understand, I turned from her to Cassie, who was starting to get a little color back. Her eyes, though, were still the size of CDs.

"I'm sorry," she said, barely audibly. "I wasn't thinking. But I didn't expect..."

"Never mind that right now. How'd you get in?"

She held up the spare key.

"But I moved it a couple of months ago."

Cassie shrugged, as if to say that even a Chihuahua could outwit me, and dropped the key on the dresser. She still hadn't looked at me directly.

"Would it be too trite to ask what you're doing here?" I asked.

"I heard what happened with Kurt today. I wanted to see if you were all right. You must not be--you didn't actually kill him."

I let that go. "You could have rung the doorbell, at least."

"Oh, hell, Devvy, when do you ever answer?" A faint smile and eye contact, finally. "No, really, I did ring this time. You didn't answer. I got worried. But if everything's all right..."

"Oh, yes," Monica assured her. "Perfectly all right. As you see." She turned to me, smiled, and patted the bed invitingly again.

Cassie's smile vanished, and I didn't like the look that replaced it. Unsure what to do, I tried acting normal. "Maybe I should introduce the two of you. Monica, Cassie. Cassie..."

"She's the woman I saw you with at that party," Cassie said suddenly.

That didn't register right away. "What?"

"Greg and Linda's party. She's the woman I saw you with that night." Cassie's tone was flat. "The one you wouldn't tell me about."

She was studying Monica, who remained calm and even amused by the scrutiny. Something hostile seemed to meet between them, and lock...

To Cassie, I said, "Right. You're right. Great memory. Listen, there's something I need to tell you about..."

Monica hooked a fingernail under the sash of my robe. "Not yet, baby duck. Remember your manners. Offer our guest a drink."

Wincing, I hoped against hope that Cassie hadn't heard that. Unfortunately...

" 'Baby duck'?" Cassie repeated, incredulous. "Lady, that's my line. Where do you get off..."

I made haste to cut her off--she didn't know who, or what, she was about to insult. "Never mind. She's right. Manners are good. Let's have manners. May I offer you a drink?"

"Baby duck?" Cassie asked Monica again, ignoring me.

"I'm having a brandy myself. But if you'd rather..."

"Baby duck," Monica confirmed. "May I ask why you object when you call her so much worse?"

"Excuse me?"

They were almost the whole room apart, but just to be safe, I stepped between them. "Maybe you should leave, Cass. We can talk about this tomorrow."

If either of them heard, they gave no sign.

"Let me refresh your memory," Monica told Cassie. "'Pornographer.' 'Pervert.' 'Deviant.' 'Caligula'--and various parts of his tribune. Does any of this sound familiar?"

"You left out 'Antichrist.,' " Cassie said coolly. "What are you? A spy?"

"After a fashion. I'm her demon."

"Her what?"

"Shall I spell it? D-e-m..."

Cassie glared at her and then wheeled on me. "This isn't funny, Devvy."

"I know. You'd better go."

"Yes," Monica said, taking a firmer hold on my sash. "We can do without venial bitches after hours. Can't we, Devvy?"

Demon or not, she'd just gone one round too many. I pushed her hand away in a fit of temper, not knowing--or really caring--what the consequences would be. "Damn you, Monica, back off her. You can't talk to her like that. I don't care if you're the Beast of Revelation--you can't..."

I broke off, startled by the slam of the front door. Cassie was gone.

"Was it something I said?" Monica asked sweetly.

(c) 1999, ROCFanKat

Continued - Part 10