The Stall
by
R. M. Vitale
"Hello?
Who's there?" I asked,
pressing the telephone closer to my ear.
"My name's Dick. What's yours?" The man spoke in a deep baritone.
"Cute, real cute. Now tell me what's your real name." I turned toward the payphone, hiding my face
from a few customers who were leaving the store's elevator.
"You can call me Gus. What's yours?"
In listening to his voice, I had the
strange sensation of déjà vu. As though
somehow I knew this man. After a few
seconds, I replied, "Mine's Stephen."
"I was wondering if you were up for anything
tonight. . ." He was direct and to
the point.
I paused, letting him wait for my answer. "Sure, why not. What stall should I meet you in?"
"The one furthest from the door. I'll be right in. I'm calling from a payphone right outside in
the mall."
I licked my lips and in the sexiest
voice I could muster, I replied, "Come and get me."
Without waiting for a reply, I hung up the phone and
walked to the men's restroom that was directly down the hallway from the public
phone. It was after eight at night and
thankfully there were not many people in the department store. I opened the bathroom door, strode over to
the stalls, and casually glanced around the bathroom. No one was here. Perfect.
Just the way I liked it. Avoiding
the mirrors, I moved into the third stall, ran my fingers through my hair and
then fiddled with my moustache for a moment.
I probably looked like death warmed over, but I didn't care.
Waiting for them to come in was the most difficult
part. Sitting alone on the toilet,
taking a deep breath of the urine-laced air, always made me a bit edgy. I glanced over to my right, saw a toilet
paper dispenser, and above it various phone numbers carved into the gray walls
of the stall. I closed my eyes for a
moment and heard nothing. My senses were
alive, waiting to hear the door swing open and bang against the wall.
There it was.
I heard the door creaking on its hinges.
He rushed in and I could tell by the sound of his footsteps that he was
nervous. Bending over, I peeped out from
underneath the stall and saw a pair of black sneakers positioned away from me,
facing the mirrors. He turned the water
on, washed his hands, and dried them with a paper towel. I knew he had seen my feet beneath the
stall. So I waited.
Standing
up, I turned away from the stall door and faced the wall, hearing him walk over
to me. He stood outside, waiting for me
to signal him.
"Come on in."
He obeyed me, walked in, closed the door and locked
it behind him. The heat from his body
soothed me and the smell of his citrus cologne excited me. He was probably nervous because
I
wasn't facing him. I moved closer,
rubbing myself against his chest and stomach.
Before he could respond, I said, "Close your eyes and I'll turn
around."
"Okay."
He didn't say anything else and waited for me to make my move.
Slowly, I turned myself around and faced him. He was a middle-aged man, balding, but rather
handsome, wearing khaki slacks, a yellow short-sleeved oxford shirt, and
sporting a black knapsack which hung nonchalantly on his shoulder. I wondered if he were married and had
children like some of the others. Was he
trying to escape from his problems, searching for excitement his wife could not
give him? I would never know. Perspiration began gathering on his brow,
forming tiny beads that glistened in the light.
This was going to be fun.
I pressed my body close to his, put my arm around
his neck, holding his head while my other arm rested at my side. I blew a cool breeze into his face and he
smiled slightly. I could hardly keep
myself from grinning. In the deepest
voice I could muster I said, "Don't open your eyes yet. Let me take you all in."
He nodded fearfully but listened. I pressed myself tighter against him and
gently licked the side of his neck. He
moaned softly.
"Do you like that?" I ran my fingers through his hair.
"Yes. . ."
While
massaging his temples, I blew into his ear and asked, "Are you ready to open your eyes?"
"Yes,
but promise me something?"
"It
depends."
He reached out to me with his hands
and said, "Don't take this the wrong way.
Please, don't take too much blood and kill me."
I didn't know what to say. How could he have known? "What are you talking about?"
"I've watched you now for
weeks. Don't play any games with
me. I know what you are." He still kept his eyes closed.
"Open your eyes." I didn't trust him.
He did so, waiting for me to
act. This was definitely unusual. Holding his face in my hands, I asked,
"How did you follow me and discover who I am?"
"Stephen, does it really matter
how I found you? All that matters is
that I'm here, wanting you to take me."
"That's not good enough for
me. I need to know!"
"We don't have much time before
we're found." Sweat droplets
gathered on his brow and his muscles were tightly clenched.
"Then you better hurry up and
tell me." I smiled and showed him
my fangs. My thirst for his blood
grew. Never had a human wanted to give
himself to me. Inside, I felt a burning
and longing for him, but I still did not trust him.
Without fear, he held my face and
staring into my eyes said, "Stephen, I heard you calling me. I heard your loneliness as you roamed the
streets, searching for someone to understand.
Last night you sat by the river watching the night turn into twilight
and I could feel your anger and despair, tearing you apart inside."
My anger surged up within me and I
grabbed him by the throat. "How
could you know that? Who are you?"
"I'm an empath! How else could I have felt your
loneliness? Do you think you are the
only one who is different?"
I released him. No ordinary human would have been able to
track me for so long. Would it hurt me
to trust him for a few minutes?
Placing my hands on his shoulders, I
asked, "But why do you want me to take your blood?
"I want to be made a part of
you. I'm tired of not feeling a sense of
belonging. I know how miserable your
loneliness is and I want to be with you.
For those few seconds, you and I will be one. What do you have to
lose?" He spoke animatedly, waving
his hands in the air. My thirst ate at
me and I had to have him. It didn't
matter that he was probably lying. All
that mattered was his blood.
I grabbed his wrist, held it in
front of my face, and motioned for him to take my other wrist in his hand. He did as I asked and waited.
"You'll know what to do when
it's time. And if you try anything, I
will kill you."
"I understand." He squeezed my wrist firmly in his hand.
Smiling at him, I raised his wrist
to my mouth, and licked it with my tongue.
I tasted the saltiness of his skin and the alcohol from the cologne he
was wearing. My body surged in ecstasy
as I bit deep into his wrist, hearing the crunch of bone echo in my head. The hot flood poured into my mouth and I felt
it burn my insides like a shot of whiskey sliding down my throat.
He tried screaming in pain but he
had no strength. Then, I closed my eyes
and clamped my teeth onto his wrist, sucking on the oxygenated blood. His breathing rhythmically matched my sucking
and my vision went blurred for several moments.
Softly, I heard him moan. He put my wrist to his mouth and tore into
it. The pain tingled up my arm until I
cried out in agony. He began sucking on
my blood and swallowed instinctively. I
wanted him to be mine and in being with him, I desired to lose myself in his
blood. After a while, our bloods mixed and
I felt my blood seeping out through the wound in his wrist. The recycling of the dark power I had been
given years ago now fed me again through this man. For those seconds, we were one. I don't know if it were his being an empath
but both of us became lost in the ecstasy of taste and sound. I could hear his thoughts as mine were washed
through his mind. We became enmeshed for
those few moments. My loneliness was
gone. Gus walked with me in the shadow,
seeing the death on the streets. And I
walked with him in the day, seeing the hopeless faces of so many humans. We were of one mind, sharing our most
intimate selves until I felt something was wrong.
Feeling myself about to lose consciousness, I opened
my eyes and saw Gus was still sucking the blood from my wrist. Then I heard a pounding sound. Someone was trying to get into the
stall. Feeling disoriented, I let go of
Gus's wrist and heard a man shouting.
"You've got until the count of ten to come out or we're coming
in!"
My vision was blurred, Gus was still
drinking from my wrist, and I felt so weak but in ecstasy. Carefully, I pushed Gus away, placing him on
the toilet.
"Seven!"
The man was screaming at the top of
his lungs but I couldn't keep my mind focused.
My head felt saturated with blood and my vision was coated in the dark
colors of sunset. Moving to unlock the
stall, I heard the man yell something and before I could react the door was
ripped from its hinges.
A cop stood there holding his club,
expecting to arrest two lovers. Bearing
my fangs, I lunged at him, throwing him back against the sinks and into the
mirrors. Another cop who stood at the
doorway pulled out his gun and fired at me.
I felt the bullets pass through me and heard Gus cry out in pain. Turning to the cop who shot at me, I rushed
toward him, and knocked him against the wall.
Rage poured through my body but I
had to control myself. I was running out
of time. Going back into the stall, I
lifted Gus into my arms, and left the bathroom.
Soon others would be after me. I
did not stop to look at the faces who stared at me as I carried a man
splattered with blood from the bathroom.
People screamed and hid. I still
could not think clearly.
I brought Gus to an underground
parking garage and placed his limp body on the cold, concrete ground. Holding him in my arms, I saw the two gunshot
wounds had wounded him badly. The one
bullet had punctured his lung and the other I couldn't find. Unless I helped him, he would die. There was only one thing I could do.
Slashing my wrist with my nail, I
placed my arm by his mouth so that my dark blood would save him. But he opened his eyes, and pushed my wrist
away.
"No, Stephen, that won't work
with me. I have one power already. It is not my lot to become as you." He breathed heavily.
"I don't understand. Why won't you let me save you?" I smoothed his hair with my hand and wiped
some of the blood from his face.
"Don't you see? You already have! I know where I belong now. If you made me like you, I wouldn't be the
same. All of who I am would die. Stephen, trust me. I'll always be in you and you in me. Thank you for that." He began shivering and I knew he would be
taken from me.
Holding onto his hand, I bent close
to his face and kissed him softly on the lips, tasting the mixture of our
blood. I then stared at him and said,
"I don't want you to die."
Squeezing my hand as tightly as he
could, he replied, "Remember me."
I felt his strength leave him and a
feeling deep inside me rose to the surface.
After all these years of repression, I felt sorrow. I cried holding Gus's body in my arms,
shaking like a little child. For those
few precious moments, I had lived again through Gus. I had seen the light of day, the laughter of
love, and the darkness of despair. He
had shown me all I had forgotten. And
yet, he had also shared with me his hope.
It wasn't so much for him that I cried, but for myself and my fate. I rocked him like a baby in my arms for a
long time, fearing who I had become and what I had lost. While outside, it slowly began to rain.
