Strictly Taboo(8)

“Sir?” A different flight attendant from the last appeared beside Francis’s row of seats. He looked up at her questioningly. “Sir, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to buckle your seatbelt. The captain has turned on the light and we will be landing shortly.” The young woman seemed to be asking for his cooperation more than telling him it was a necessity, but Francis obliged. She looked relieved. “Thank you, Sir.” She disappeared back to the first class galley and Francis returned his gaze to the window.

“I think you scared that last girl off!” Francis turned to find a rather obese man with red cheeks looking at him from the opposite row of seats. He stared at him blankly. “The last flight attendant that was here?” The man said. “I think you…”

“I understand what you mean.” Francis said, his voice deep and resonating. “Why would you think such a thing?” The color drained from the man’s face with the exception of the two red patches that permanently stained his cheeks.

“I just…what I meant was…hey, look, man, I was just kidding around.” The man held up his hands. “No harm, no foul!” Francis could smell his fear, he could also smell the body odor that was emanating from his armpits. His upper lip curled as his nostrils widened.

“Yes…no harm, no foul.” Francis repeated in a haunting refrain.

In any other situation, Francis would have pulled the man aside and shown him what it really meant to scare someone, but not today…at least not in the first class cabin of a 767.

For the remaining thirty minutes of the flight, Francis kept a close eye on the fat man with red cheeks. For his part, the fat man with red cheeks kept his eyes locked on the window. Not even when the flight attendant passed requesting his trash, did he look away from it. Francis smiled to himself. He may not have been able to dish out his usual form of punishment, but he was satisfied with the fear he was able to impart.

When the plane landed, and Francis disembarked, he was greeted by a rather pale looking boy who couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old. He held a rather large cardboard sign with Francis’s full name scrawled out in black marker. Francis couldn’t help but shudder at what passed for good help these days. He instructed the boy to fetch his trunk from the baggage claim area and once he had disappeared, Francis stepped outside.

The air in New York was polluted and thick with the smell of car exhaust and people. Francis reached inside his blazer pocket and pulled out a glinting silver cigarette case. Flipping it open, he slid the hand rolled cigarette between his plump lips.

“Hey, man, you got a light?” Another young man sidled up to him with a cigarette in his mouth. Francis glared at him, but when the kid wasn’t sent running by the sight of him, he reached in to his pocket and flicked a flame from his lighter. The young man leaned in and lit his cigarette. “Thanks, man.” He turned to leave and just as he did, he looked back. “Oh, and cool contacts!” A low and barely audible growl emanated from somewhere deep in the back of Francis’s throat. This city was going to prove a test of his patience.





Chapter 2




Francis found himself to be much more at home in the seclusion of his penthouse suite at the hotel. The staff had insisted on furnishing him with a doorman who would also double as a butler, but with one look, Francis had sent him running. It was of no consequence to Francis anyway, he much preferred to be alone. The companionship of mortals was tiring and for the most part it invited far too many questions.

Walking over to the panoramic window, Francis lit another cigarette and looked out over the city. He regretted that he had chosen New York as his first destination, it was far from the home that he was used to and he found himself feeling homesick already. His choice had been a practical one however. He had heard from many sources that New York was a melting pot of sorts, a gathering place of a large group of women who were accessible and easily impressed by what they referred to as the ‘goth scene.’ Francis was still a little unsure of what the ‘goth scene’ was, but from what he understood, it was a group of people who seemed to emulate what they thought was a vampire lifestyle. He had yet to observe this phenomena for himself, but the idea of it intrigued him and it was possible that it would provide easy pickings for the woman he was looking for. He planned to take to the city after sundown, but first, he needed to cleanse off that mortal smell. After the fifteen hour journey, Francis could smell nothing on his skin but the scent of human sweat and it made him ill.

The large rain-shower shower head shot the pounding water on to Francis’s pale white skin in a rhythmic percussion. He closed his eyes as he leaned back his head and let the water bathe his skin. He had to admit that his own drafty abode lacked such luxuries. Bringing his hands up to his face he massaged the warm water in to every pore before leaning forward and opening his eyes once more. He listened to the water drop heavily on the top of his head and basked in the warm steam that surrounded him.