This story is a stand-alone. It does not relate to any other stories I
have written, including my "Laurene" series.

Many thanks to my beta reader, Heather-Anne Gillis, and to my editor,
Jeri Friedman. Their help improved the story immensely.

Permission granted to archive at www.fkfanfic.com and the Jadfe
website. The NNAdult list may archive this if they choose. All others,
please ask.

Note on pronunciation: The first victim's last name, Nice, is
pronounced "Neese" (rhymes with "Reese")--like the city in France. <g>

Explicit sex: M/F -- Nick/female, Nick/Natalie
Humor and innuendo rampant.

DISCLAIMER:  The Forever Knight characters in this story 
do not belong to me. They were created by J. Parriott and 
B. Cohen and are owned by Sony/TriStar. No copyright 
infringement was intended by the author.

LEITMOTIF
 by Nancy Taylor
 January, 2000

     "Hey, Nat!" Nick walked into the morgue.
     "Hey, yourself," she smiled. "What brings you by my house of
horrors?"
     "Just thought I'd stop by on my way in to work to see how you're
doing."
     "That was thoughtful of you." She circled the autopsy table,
putting the piece of equipment between herself and her visitor. "We're
having a busy night."
     "I can see that." He looked around the room. "Anything
interesting?"
     "Well," Natalie said, ticking the count on her fingers, "we've got
one elderly victim of a heart attack, a teenage heroin overdose, a
knife fighter, and this fellow ... Harold Nice." She turned the sheet
back on a handsome young man. "Bruising around the throat would
indicate strangulation." She ran her finger along an ugly red line
circling the man's neck. 
     "But you don't think that was the cause of death." He knew the
pathologist well enough to know she had more to say.
     "Look here." She pointed to a tiny puncture just below the bruise.
Nick bent over to take a closer look. "He *was* strangled, but that
wasn't the cause of death. Blood work shows a high concentration of
barbiturate in his system. A drug overdose killed this man."
     "And someone tried to cover that fact by making it look like a
strangulation. Why?"
     "That's your job, Detective. I'm hoping you can tell me."
     "I hope I can. Guess I'd better get to the precinct before Cohen
notices I'm late." He leaned over to give Natalie a peck on the cheek.
"See you at the loft for videos?"
     "You bet!" She waved farewell as he nodded and walked out. "Well,
Mr. Nice," she said, turning back to her 'patient', "what more can you
tell me?"

     "Good evening, Detective Knight," Cohen greeted the tardy police
officer. "So glad you could join us."
     He followed the Captain into her office. From his seat in front of
the desk, Don Schanke grinned. "Howdy, Partner!"
     Nick smiled faintly and turned to Cohen. "I stopped by the
Coroners' Building on my way in tonight."
     "Good. Maybe you can enlighten us on this." She handed each
detective a manila folder. "Harold Nice. He was found dead in an alley
earlier this afternoon."
     "Nat said it looked like a strangling," Nick informed her, "but
the actual cause of death was an overdose of barbiturate."
     "It sounds as though you two have a case." As Schanke stood to
leave, Cohen waved them on their way. "Good luck, gentlemen."
     Nick followed his partner out to the bullpen as he studied the
folder. Tossing the file next to his computer, he grabbed his keys.
"Let's go, shall we?"
     "What's the first stop?" Schanke asked.
     "The Leitmotif. The body was found in the alley behind the club." 
     "'Nuff said. Let's get!"

     Music blared. Bright lights strobed across the stage. The two
detectives picked their way across the crowded floor to the back of the
club. Nick knocked on the office door while Schanke glanced around. A
handsome young man, dressed as a doctor, caught his eye as he strutted
out onto the stage. He began to slowly gyrate to the music. Unwrapping
a stethoscope from around his neck and twirling it over his head, he
tossed it out into the audience. The crowd, mainly young to middle-aged
women, screamed and jostled to grab the trinket.
     "Hey, get a load of this," Schanke said, nudging his partner.
"What do you make of that?"
     Nick turned in time to see the dancer lose his lab coat, exposing
impressive pecs to the appreciative hoots of the audience.
     A voice sounded behind the detectives. "May I help you?"
     Turning, they held out their badges for inspection. "Metro
Homicide," Nick told the woman. "We need to speak to the owner of the
club."
     "You're looking at her. Terri Black. What do you need?"
     "A man was killed outside your club," Schanke informed her. "Did
you know a Mr. Harold Nice?"
     "Harold?" Ms. Black looked shocked. "Harold worked here."
     "In what capacity?" Nick asked.
     "As a dancer, of course. Harold was 'The Fireman'. He was
extremely popular. What happened?"
     "That's what we're trying to find out." Schanke's attention was
split between the woman and the spectacle on stage. 
     The "Doctor" ripped off his pants, exposing an abundantly filled
G-string. The crowd went wild as the dancer thrust his hips toward
them, making his way down from the stage and into the audience. A blush
rose up the back of Schanke's neck as the bare backside of the dancer
disappeared into the crowd.
     "Was he known to associate with any of the customers?" Nick asked.
     "We have a strict policy of not allowing the dancers to date
customers."
     "But it happens anyway, doesn't it?" Schanke prodded.
     "Not to my knowledge, it doesn't." Ms. Black sniffed disdainfully.
"Any dancer caught fraternizing loses his job."
     "That's a pretty tough policy," Nick commented.
     "Exactly. This is *not* an establishment for prostitution,
gentlemen. We run a legitimate business, and I don't intend to lose my
license."
     "What's in that room?" Schanke indicated a closed door, guarded by
a hulking bouncer.
     "That's our private lounge. For a fee, a customer can take the
dancer of her choice there for a private show."
     "How much?" Schanke asked.
     "Two hundred dollars."
     "That must be quite a show."
     "I assure you, Detective, there is no prostitution. Our dancers
are well aware of the consequences."
     "Did Mr. Nice dance privately?" Nick inquired.
     "He was extremely popular, as I said," Ms. Black sniffed.
     "How about last night?"
     "Let me check the records." She turned and entered her office. The
detectives followed. Quickly tapping some commands into her computer,
she studied the screen. "Yes, he had two private shows last night. I
told you he was extremely popular."
     "Can you give us the names?" Nick asked.
     "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but our client list is confidential. You
understand."
     "We'll get a warrant," Schanke threatened.
     "Bring me the paper, I'll give you the list. Good-night,
detectives." Ms. Black ushered the men from her office.

     "What do you make of that?" Schanke hitched his thumb over a
shoulder as they exited the club.
     "Make of what?"
     "Male strippers!" Schanke's face was a study in apoplexy.
     "Make you a little uncomfortable?" Nick chuckled.
     "Doesn't it make *you* uncomfortable?"
     "Not particularly." Slipping behind the wheel of the Caddy, he
started the engine. 
     "Not particularly? Geez, Nick! Naked men! That doesn't give you
the creeps?"
     "They weren't naked...."
     "Close enough! Do you suppose some love-sick chick killed our Mr.
'Nice'?"
     "It's pronounced 'Neese', and it's too early to tell. We need to
do more research and get that warrant."
     "But doesn't it make you just a *little* upset?"
     "What? What should make me upset?"
     "NAKED MEN!"
     "Drop it, Schank, okay?"
     "Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Like you see naked men everyday...."
     "And you *don't*? Ever look in a mirror, Partner?"
     "Not when I'm *naked*!"
     A chuckle erupted from deep within Nick's chest.

     It had been a long shift. After returning to the precinct and
telling Captain Cohen they'd need a warrant to obtain the client list
from the Leitmotif, they'd gone out on another case. Schanke hadn't
been able to let go of what he'd seen at the club. Nick had had to
listen to his partner's outrage the rest of the shift.
     Dropping his jacket onto the nearest chair, he headed straight for
the refrigerator. He grabbed a bottle from the shelf, upended it and
drank greedily. Tossing the empty into the trash, he took another
bottle along with a glass, and headed for the couch. A touch of the
remote lit the fireplace. Pouring a glass of cow's blood, he settled
back to sip and watch the flames. He had finally begun to relax when he
heard the elevator grind to a stop.
     With fluid grace, Nick rose. "Hi, Nat." Walking across the large
room, he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.
     "Mmmm ... that was nice." She smiled and wrapped her arms around
his waist, pulling him close.
     Leaning down and capturing her lips, he kissed her deeply with a
passion he rarely unleashed. As he ground his crotch against her hips,
she could feel his arousal. A growl erupted from his throat, then he
pulled away, staring at her with golden eyes.
     Nick stepped back a few feet. "I'm sorry, Nat. That shouldn't have
happened." He closed his eyes, fighting for control. When he opened
them, they were again deep blue.
     "It's all right." She started to move toward him.
     "Don't. I'm tired and I don't trust my control."
     "I trust you. You wouldn't hurt me. Before we can relax together,
you're going to need relief." She took a bold step forward. Like a deer
caught in headlights, Nick froze, watching her approach. She reached
out for his zipper, tugging it down. Deft fingers released the button
of his waistband. Nick sighed with relief as the pressure on his
erection from the confining denim vanished.
     A warm hand caressed his silk-enshrouded organ. He leaned into
the touch, rubbing himself against her, feeling the tension of the past
night drain from his body. His hand slipped beneath her blouse and
kneaded a firm, round breast. Through the lacy fabric of Natalie's bra,
he could feel the hard nubs of her desire. Burying his face beneath her
jaw, he drank in her fragrance, vanilla and cinnamon. Sweet. Sensual.
Arousing.... 
     Shoving her away, he ran for the bathroom, slamming the door and
throwing the lock. Flipping up the toilet seat, he grabbed his penis
and rubbed it vigorously while biting savagely into his wrist. He
directed his ejaculation into the toilet, continuing to stroke himself
until the last pulsing rhythms of his orgasm ceased.
     He cleaned himself and straightened his clothes before meekly
opening the door to confront Natalie. She had settled herself on the
couch, VCR remote in hand.
     "Better?" she asked.
     "Maybe you ought to go," he said softly.
     "Not until I get an explanation."
     "Tomorrow, Nat. I promise."
     "No. Tonight. I want to know what happened." She patted the
cushion next to her. "Come. Tell me all about it."
     Nick cautiously sat in the chair next to the couch. Scooting
across the cushions, Natalie moved next to him.
     "It brought back memories," he began slowly. "That club. The
strippers. Schanke wouldn't let it go all night."
     "What kind of memories?"

-- FLASHBACK -- 1873, a whorehouse in the south of France.

     "Isn't she lovely?" Lacroix smiled lustfully as the young woman
disrobed in a graceful dance for the two men.
     "Yes," Nick agreed. "Very lovely indeed." Part of him felt
uncomfortable. It wasn't like he'd never seen this before, or
participated in sexual liaisons, but this "woman" was no more than a
child.
     She bared her breasts. The twin peaks were firm and round, tipped
with dark areolas whose nipples hardened in the cool air of the room.
Lacroix rose and circled the young woman.
     "Look, Nicholas." He cupped the fullness of her bosom. "Warm
flesh. Firm. Ripe for the picking." Leaning in, he captured a nipple
and suckled. The woman-child threw back her head in abandon, wantonly
enjoying the stimulation.
     Lacroix bit, drawing blood. The girl yelped in pain and tried to
pull away. The vampire suckled all the more greedily, holding her
tightly in his grasp. When she attempted to scream, he caught her eyes.
Synchronizing with her heartbeat, he mesmerized her.
     "Don't you wish a taste of this fresh nectar?" Lacroix taunted.
     Nick turned his back in disgust....

-- END FLASHBACK --

     "Don't blame yourself." Natalie captured Nick's hand between hers.
     "But I do. I couldn't help myself. Despite how I felt, I still
found myself aroused. I should've called and told you not to come."
     "And I probably would have come anyway to see what was wrong.
Nothing would have been any different. I trust you. You wouldn't hurt
me."
     "I nearly killed you, Nat! Don't you realize that? Your scent.
Your blood. I was barely able to leave in time."
     "But you did."
     "This time." He looked down at their clasped hands.
     "I love you." Nick's head snapped up at the simple statement. He
stared in amazement. "What? You didn't know? You couldn't tell?" She
was amused at his obvious discomfort.
     "I know all too well." His voice took on a low, husky note as he
struggled with the vampire. "We can't do this. We can't."
     "Why not?" She seemed genuinely confused.
     "There are things you don't know, that I can't explain without
endangering you. I'm sorry, Nat. I think maybe you'd better go." He
removed his hand from hers reluctantly. Standing, he helped her to her
feet.
     Natalie sighed as she made her way toward the elevator. Nick
followed at a safe distance, standing several feet away as she opened
the door. Turning, she gave him one last glance, noting the growing
bulge in his pants. "Good-night, Nick. We'll talk about this again."
     The door closed, and she was gone. He rubbed the ache in his groin
as he headed back to the couch and his bottle of blood.

     "Another day, another dollar, eh, Partner?" Schanke dropped into
the chair at his desk. "You look like hell. Didn't you sleep?"
     "Not very well. Did the warrant come in?"
     "Got it right here. Ready to make tracks?" The two men stood.
     "Just a minute, gentlemen." Capt. Cohen stopped the pair. "I've
got another case for you. Same M.O., different side of town. Coroner's
there now. I'd like you to check it out."
     "Sure, Cap." Nick took the folder, glancing at the address.

     A short while later, the detectives were on the scene. Natalie was
stripping off her gloves in preparation to leave. The techs were
loading the body into the transport van.
     "What've we got, Nat?" Nick said as he walked toward her.
     "Young male, 20 to 25, apparent strangulation. He was found in bed
... naked. There were signs of recent intercourse."
     "What about puncture marks?" Schanke asked.
     "Oh yeah. I've got no doubts the blood work will show an overdose
of barbiturate."
     "Looks like we have a serial killer on our hands," the stout
detective commented.
     "Did you check for recent sexual activity on Nice?" Nick asked.
     "No, but I was planning to as soon as I get back to the morgue."
She turned to go, pausing at the door. "Talk with you later?"
     "Yeah, later."
     "What was that about?" Schanke asked once the coroner had left.
     "It's possible we have a sexual predator on our hands," Nick
explained.
     "That's not what I meant. What's with you and Nat?"
     "What about me and Nat?" he snapped.
     "You've got some tension going between you."
     "It's just this case. It's nothing." Nick spun on his heel,
exiting the room.
     "'Nothing', my arse," Schanke mumbled, following his partner to
the Caddy.

     "Come on, 'fess up," Schanke pestered once the pair had returned
to the precinct. "There's something going on between you and Nat, isn't
there? What? Did you have a fight?"
     "I said it's nothing, Schank. Just drop it!"
     "Myra and I have fights all the time. It's nothing! Trust me, the
making up is worth it!" he chuckled and slapped his partner on the
back.
     "I said ... drop it!" Nick snarled.
     "Man, what's got your knickers in such a twist?" Schanke took his
mug and walked off in search of coffee.
     Nick sighed as he settled himself at his desk. It really *was*
nothing, wasn't it? Nothing had happened between himself and Natalie
the night before. Nothing that couldn't be pushed aside and forgotten.
So why did he suddenly feel frightened? And why did his groin throb to
the beat of her heart when she was near? He opened the folder on his
desk and picked up the phone. Perhaps keeping busy would help.
     "Ms. Black? Yes, this is Detective Knight, Metro Homicide. We've
had another murder. Did you know Marcus Gann?" There was a gasp on the
other end of the line.
     "Yes, he worked at the club ... as a dancer."
     "Did he dance privately?"
     "Yes, just last night. You don't think...?" Terri Black was
shocked at the thought.
     "We'll need your records again."
     "He only danced once last night. The customer was Angie Davis. Do
you think she could have done it?"
     "I can't say, but we'll look into it. Thank you." He hung up the
phone and compared the name he'd just been given with the two women
Nice had danced for just a couple of nights before. Angie Davis. They
now had a suspect.

     Ms. Davis was brought in for questioning the following day.
Unfortunately, she appeared to have air-tight alibis for both evenings.
Yes, she had purchased private time with the dancers, but she had
stayed at the club until closing and gone home with a friend both
nights. Subsequent talks with her friend appeared to corroborate her
story. With nothing on which to hold her, they were forced to let her
go.

     When Nick arrived on shift that evening, Cohen called him into her
office. Schanke was seated in front of the captain's desk, waiting for
his partner's arrival.
     "What's up, Cap?" He took a seat.
     "We had Angie Davis in for questioning earlier today. She had an
alibi. We couldn't hold her."
     "But she's our most likely suspect!"
     "Yes, and everything we've got is circumstantial. We need
something more concrete. Something we can use to nail her."
     "Hey, how about we send Nick undercover?" Schanke chuckled at the
thought.
     "Not a bad idea, Detective," Cohen agreed.
     "Now wait just a minute...." Nick sputtered, waving his hands.
     "Think about it, Nick," Schanke said, warming to the idea. "Ms.
Davis doesn't know you. She hasn't seen you. If anyone could pull this
off, you could."
     "No. No, I can't do that. Captain? Isn't there another way?"
     "We could wait for her to kill again, Nick. You wouldn't want
that, would you?"
     "But *STRIP*? No. No. I can't do that. Besides, what makes you
think she'd want me to do a private show?"
     "You're just her type, Partner," Schanke teased. "Tall, blond ...
built."
     "I'm not that 'built'! Look, Captain, can't we find someone else
to do this? How about Schwartz from Vice?" Nick was desperate, and it
showed in every line on his face.
     "We need someone who knows the case. This is homicide, not vice.
You're the best man for the job." When he opened his mouth to protest
again, Cohen silenced him. "Look, Nick. This is your assignment. I want
this killer caught. Now go out and get us some hard evidence."
     "But Cap...."
     "Go." Cohen shooed the two detectives from her office. "Don't come
back without a conviction."
     Schanke wrapped an arm around Nick's shoulder as the pair walked
back to their desks. "This is going to be *great*," he chuckled. His
partner scowled.
     "Don't you DARE tell Natalie about this."
     "Aw, come on. Don't you think she'd enjoy it?"
     "DON'T ... tell her," he growled. "It's bad enough I have to do
this at all."
     "What's your character going to be?" Schanke just couldn't let go
of such a juicy topic. Teasing his straight-laced partner had always
been high on his "to-do" list.
     "I haven't decided yet. Look, Schank. I gotta go, okay? I'll talk
to you later--and don't ... tell ... Nat!"

     Nick made his way through the crowded club to the back office
where he was greeted by the owner. "Hello again, Detective Knight. What
can I do for you?"
     "Well, uh, in order to get hard evidence to convict our suspect,
I'm going to have to go undercover as one of your dancers." If vampires
could blush, Nick would have been beet red.
     "Have you ever done exotic dancing before?" She eyed him from head
to toe.
     "I've done stage work--acting."
     "But have you ever stripped?"
     "No," he admitted with an embarrassed grin.
     "Come on in my office." She shut the door behind him and turned to
stare appreciatively. "Strip."
     "What?"
     "Take your clothes off."
     "But...."
     "Look, if you can't strip in front of me, how are you going to do
it in front of an audience? Just down to your shorts will do."
     Reluctantly, Nick began to undress. He fumbled with the buttons on
his shirt.
     "Come on, Detective Knight, do it with a little class." Ms. Black
stood with her arms crossed, looking for all the world like a
disgruntled schoolmarm. "There's more to exotic dancing than just
taking off your clothes. If you want to work here, you're going to have
to show me your stuff." 
     Nick closed his eyes and composed himself. If he had to do this,
he was going to do it right. Sliding out of his shirt, he swung the
garment through the air, draping it across the owner's shoulder.
Thrusting his hips toward her, he unbuckled his belt and slowly removed
it. Closing the gap between them, he wrapped the belt around her waist,
pulling her close then ground his hips against her before letting her
go. Still standing near, he unbuttoned his slacks. 
     "How am I doing, Ms. Black?" he asked in a husky voice as he
slipped off his shoes and socks.
     "Call me Terri," she breathed into his ear, running her hands down
the silken softness of his chest. She tangled her fingers in the
sparse, tawny hair and brushed against his hard nipples. "You're doing
just fine."
     Backing away, he slid the zipper of his slacks down slowly,
revealing a bulge under blue silk. With a slight push, his pants fell
to the floor. Except for the thin material covering his obvious
erection, he stood naked before her. Entranced, she reached out to
fondle him. He backed away quickly.
     "Look, Nick. I can call you Nick, can't I? The women in the club
are going to want to touch you. A G-string is a lot less clothing than
what you currently have on. You'd better get used to it."
     "I understand, but not now. Not now." He picked up his slacks and
began to dress. "Do I pass?"
     "Oh, you'll do just fine. Have you given any thought to what kind
of character you'd like to play?" Terri took one last opportunity to
glide a hand across his chest before Nick buttoned up his shirt.
     "How about a vampire?"
     "Oooh, *that* would be wonderful! Very popular. Very sensual.
Let's see ... we'll call you 'The Count'. I'll get you a costume. I'm
assuming you'll want to start tomorrow night?"
     "As soon as possible, yes."
     "Very good. Report at 4:00 PM tomorrow and we'll get you fitted."
     "That's going to be a problem.... I've got an allergy to UV rays
and can't go out while the sun is up."
     "Hmmm ... a real vampire-type." She grinned. "All right. Come in
as early as you can." Nick turned to leave. "Don't forget this." Terri
held out the silver-buckle belt. Sheepishly, he took it and left.

     "Hey-ya, Nat! How's it going?"
     "Hi, Schank. Oh, just another busy night at 'Natalie's Bed and
Breakfast'. Where's Nick?"
     "Well, uh, he, uh, he took the rest of the night off. I was just
coming by to see if you had any more information for us on the
victims."
     "Harold Nice showed evidence of sexual activity just before his
death. Everything else you already know." She turned to look at
Schanke. He was hiding something. She could feel it. "Did Nick go home
sick? Maybe I should go check up on him."
     "No, that's not necessary. He's fine. Really."
     "Okay, spit it out. Something's up." She advanced on him until
they stood toe-to-toe.
     "It's nothing, really." Schanke backed up a step, trying to
reestablish his personal space. He glanced at his watch. "Oh, look at
the time! I've really got to be going. Talk to you later!"
     Natalie grabbed his arm as he tried to make his escape. "Not so
fast, Mister. Something's up with Nick, and as his doctor, I think I
have a right to know."
     "He's going undercover...."
     "Where?"
     "At the Leitmotif." He tried to scurry away.
     "The strip club?" Her eyes widened.
     "Don't tell him I told you," Schanke begged. "He'll kill me."
     "Your secret's safe with me." She patted him on the shoulder and
let him go. "A strip club," she mused once she was alone. "Undercover
... UNcovered? This I've GOT to see!" A wicked smile curved her lips.
This was going to be good....

     It was Friday night. The Leitmotif was packed to the rafters.
Alone in his dressing room, Nick downed two bottles of blood and
started on a third. If he was going to have to strip in such a sexually
charged atmosphere, he needed to be fortified. He'd chosen to dance as
a vampire so the appearance of his golden eyes and fangs would be
assumed to be a part of his costume. There was no way he was going to
be able to prostitute himself in this manner without vamping out. A
sheen of bloodsweat dampened his brow. 
     Discarding the empty bottles, he eyed the black silk G-string
lying in a pathetically tiny heap on the table. He undressed and put it
on, wondering if the minuscule scrap would even contain him once he
became aroused. He quickly donned the rest of his costume--a tux with
breakaway pants, white shirt, red cummerbund, the cliche medallion and
a cape. How could so many clothes still feel like nothing?
     A knock sounded at the door, and Terri stuck her head in. "Oh,
you're looking good! Just about ready for your big debut?"
     "As ready as I'm going to be." He drew a deep breath to calm his
nerves.
     The club's owner stalked across the room to where Nick stood.
"Just one thing," she purred. "The customers expect to see you fully
loaded." Slipping her hand inside his costume, she massaged his
scrotum. He flinched, pulling back. "You'd better get used to it,
because it's going to happen out there." She stroked her thumb against
his penis, encouraging him to become erect. Her smile grew as she felt
him swell under her touch. "Very good! You'll do fine." She gave him a
final squeeze before turning to leave.

     Natalie entered the club, hoping she wasn't too late. It was
crowded. The tables near the stage were already full. No matter. A back
table suited her better. She didn't want Nick spotting her and spoiling
her plans.
     Settling herself, she ordered a drink and looked around. The room
was packed with women. Her attention was drawn to the stage as a petite
blonde strode across the boards. 
     "Tonight I'm proud to introduce a new dancer to our line-up. I
hope you all will give him a very warm welcome." Terri paused to let
the hoots and applause quiet down. "Ladies ... The Count!"
     Music pounded as colored spots lit the stage. A figure appeared
out of a cloud of dry-ice smoke. Natalie sat a little straighter,
smiling to see Nick. He spun, releasing the billowing cape which fell
in a twirl around his feet. Hips thrust forward, he strutted closer to
the edge of the stage where eager women reached out to tug on his pant
legs.
     Backing away, he wrapped himself around a pole, spinning as he
tossed the cummerbund into the screaming audience. The shirt and pants
soon followed. Natalie's heart beat faster. Even she, his doctor and
best friend, had never seen Nick so unclothed. The albescence of his
skin glowed under the stage lighting, making him appear otherworldly.
Golden eyes and sharp fangs completed the supernatural look.
     He strutted toward the stairs and stepped down into the audience.
He had barely set foot on the floor when one woman grabbed the
medallion from around his neck, pinching his butt as he passed. 
     Nick found it was taking more of his control than he expected
being down amongst the crowd. He was constantly being fondled. His
erection grew until he ached. He stopped next to a table of four
giggling women and climbed up on it. After dancing briefly, he bent
over, kissing each one and sliding down to sit in their laps. As he
rubbed himself against one of the women, she pulled at his G-string to
slip in a tip. As she did, the glans of his penis escaped the confining
garment, standing at attention against his belly. 
     Panic raced through him as he tried to think of what he could do.
The fondling increased, including one brash woman who bent to suck his
penis as he stopped at the table for his tips. The G-string continued
to slip as more and more women pawed at his genitals. As quickly as he
could, he made his way across the room and through the exit. By the
time he made his escape, he was nearly fully exposed.
     As Nick entered his dressing room, he could hear the roar of the
crowd, applauding and screaming for an encore. "Go out and take another
spin around the pole." Terri stood in the doorway, staring pointedly at
his erect organ. "They loved you." She walked over and did her best to
tuck him back into the skimpy silk. "Go." She patted his naked behind.
     Reluctantly, he walked back out on stage. The hoots and catcalls
were deafening. He twirled around the pole, giving all the women one
last look, before strutting off into the safety of his dressing room.
     He picked up his clothing, anxious to be covered again. "No, don't
get dressed." Terri's voice rang out. Turning, Nick watched the club
owner stride across the room. "You have a private show request." She
smiled wickedly. "The customer asked that you not get dressed."
     This is what he had hoped for and dreaded all at once. This could
be their killer. "Where do I go?"
     "Down the back hallway. The first door on your left. It's a rear
entrance to the private lounge." She smiled. "Remember, in a private
showing you do whatever the customer wants, except sex. That's our only
rule. Have fun!" She watched with envy as Nick's firm buttocks
disappeared down the corridor.

     He opened the door slowly, cautiously taking a step inside. At
first, he didn't see anyone, but he heard a familiar heartbeat. He
closed the distance between himself and the sound just as the plush
chair swiveled to reveal its occupant. "Nat! What are you doing here?"
In his surprise and anger, Nick forgot he was nearly naked.
     Natalie eyed him appreciatively, taking note that his penis really
*didn't* fit inside the small scrap of silk. 
     "Nat!"
     "Hmmm? Oh. Well, you didn't think I could pass up an opportunity
like this, did you?" She reached out to touch him, but he backed away.
     "How did you find out? Schanke told you, didn't he?"
     "Don't blame poor Schank. He didn't have a chance." She stood and
advanced upon him, rubbing her stomach against his erection. "I think I
like this side of your personality." 
     He backed away again, out of her reach. Her lips turned down in a
pout. "I thought I could do whatever I wanted with you in here. After
all, I paid well enough for it."
     "I'll give you all your money back. Nat, what were you thinking?
You could blow my cover by being here!"
     "I think you've already *done* that." She giggled, unable to keep
her eyes off his exposed organ.
     "Get serious. We're trying to catch a killer."
     "I know," she said, turning thoughtful, "but we never got a chance
to talk. We need to talk about us, Nick. I told you how I feel. I need
to know if the feeling is mutual."
     He felt his penis begin to throb. The glans turned a deep purple
as he struggled for control. "You know how I feel," he gasped, his
golden eyes tinged with red. "You can *see* how I feel."
     "I need to hear the words, Nick. You need to *tell* me."
     With unnatural swiftness, he was upon her, holding her in his
arms, rubbing desperately against her. "I love you, Natalie Lambert. I
love you." His passionate kiss took her breath away.
     When he finally released her, he was shaking. Blood tears traced
scarlet lines down his cheeks. She reached up to wipe his tears away.
Grasping her hand, he kissed it gently. "I promise to make this up to
you. Whatever you need. Whatever you want. But first, we need to solve
this case."
     "I understand. Please be careful."
     "I promise."
     She turned and left without looking back. At her departure, Nick
felt the tension and lust drain away. By the time he reached his
dressing room, his genitals fit comfortably inside the G-string. He
washed up and grabbed a bottle of blood. Thank goodness he had thought
to bring a case with him. 
     After finishing off two bottles, he finally felt he had regained
his control. It was time to call it a night. The thought of going
through this again tomorrow made his skin crawl, but he would have to
keep up the act until their killer noticed him.
     As he was leaving the club, Terri stopped him. "You were a hit
tonight. Will you be back tomorrow?"
     "I'm afraid so. That private show wasn't our killer."
Disappointment dripped from his voice.
     "You're sure?"
     "Very sure."
     "Good then. I'll be more than happy to have you back. You're good
for business." She patted his behind. "You've got a nice butt. Have you
considered quitting the police force and working for us? The pay's good
and the benefits can't be beat!"
     "No thanks. I don't think I could take this for very long."
     "I thought I had you pegged as the quiet, loner type. Good to know
I haven't lost my touch." She smiled. "You make a hell of a dancer,
though, Detective Knight! I'd sure hate to lose you."
     "Good-night, Ms. Black."
     "Good-night, Nick. See you tomorrow." She gazed wistfully as he
disappeared into the pre-dawn darkness.

     When he got home, he went straight to his bedroom. He couldn't
remember being this tired in a long time. He lay down, fully clothed.
The last thing he wanted to do was get undressed. He'd had enough of
that to last a lifetime, and then some. As he began to drift off to
sleep, he saw a vision of Natalie coming toward him, naked and
inviting. The familiar throb began once again in his groin. He loved
her so much....

     "Hi, Nick! Boy, am I ever glad you came in early!" Terri hustled
him back to the dressing room. "A customer came in asking if you were
going to dance tonight. She paid $500 up front for a private session
with you."
     "Now?"
     "As soon as you can get into that G-string. Forget the rest. She's
a hot one."
     "Can I have fifteen minutes? I really need to prepare for this."
     "No problem. I'll let her know. This is so exciting!" She clapped
her hands. "I've never had a dancer have two showings before his second
performance. Are you *sure* you don't want a job here?" She chuckled at
the detective's look of disgust. "I'll leave you alone."
     Nick sighed heavily. Pulling an extra bottle from his stash, he
downed the blood quickly, then nearly gagged as he rinsed his mouth
with a strong mint mouthwash. Reluctantly, he stripped and stuffed
himself into the scrap of silk.

     Walking down the hallway to the lounge's back entrance, he
wondered who would be waiting for him. He opened the door and stepped
inside. A tall redhead greeted him. Her tight low-cut emerald dress did
little to contain her ample bosom or hide the fact that she wore no
underwear. Steeling himself for what was to come, he smiled invitingly. 
     "Hello," she drawled, stalking across the room like a cat intent
on its prey. "I watched you last night. I dreamed about you." She
rubbed herself against him, exposing her breasts as they escaped the
tight confines of her dress.
     "You won't be needing this." She grabbed a silken cord and pulled.
With a snap, the G-string fell away. Cupping his genitals in her hand,
she stroked him, watching his penis swell beneath her touch. "Come."
She led him to the bed, pushing him down. "Let's have a little fun,
shall we?"
     Reaching to the nightstand, she grabbed a can of whipped cream,
spraying it generously up the length of his hardening shaft. Her lips
enveloped his glans, sucking the sweetness from the crevices. Her
tongue explored his contours, before her mouth engulfed him completely.
Nick moaned and writhed under her, his arousal becoming almost
unbearable.
     Spraying patterns of whipping cream up his torso, she licked her
way up his chest, stopping to tease taut nipples with her teeth. "Make
love to me," she whispered in a voice hoarse with lust.
     "We're not allowed, Ms...?" 
     "My name's not important. I paid enough. I'll get what I want!"
She lowered herself onto his erection. With a slow, steady rhythm, she
began to slide up and down.
     "No!" Nick struggled to contain the vampire as the stimulation
pushed him nearer to orgasm. "I can't. I won't!" Rolling to his side,
he slid out from beneath her.

-- FLASHBACK -- 1873, a whorehouse in the south of France.

     The prostitute hung limply in Lacroix's arms. He lifted and
carried her to the bed. Sitting beside her, he stroked her breasts,
rolling a taut nipple between his fingers. Nick stood with his back to
his master, determined not to be enticed.
     "I know that you want her, Nicholas. I can feel your need. Come,
take her. Taste her." He stood and moved to where his son waited.
     Turning slowly, Nick was drawn to the scent of spilled blood
despite himself. A distinct swelling in his crotch betrayed him. He
walked toward the bed, eyes locked on the young woman. He sat beside
her, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.
     "She's yours, Nicholas. Smell her arousal--she wants you, needs
you. Take her!" Lacroix stood tall, looking down on his son, demanding
compliance.
     Nick turned her head to one side, brushing long russet locks away
from the pulsing artery. Fangs bared, he bent down, grazing them
against her naked flesh. Her scent overwhelmed him and he reared back,
preparing to strike. Just before his fangs pierced her skin, he
stopped. "I can't, Lacroix. I won't. She doesn't deserve to die." His
body shuddered at the sudden denial of his need.
     Enraged by his son's refusal, Lacroix swept him off the bed and
took the girl into his lap. "If you won't, I will!" he snarled, biting
deeply and drinking the ruby nectar.
     Nick sat on the floor where he had landed, watching his master
feed while rubbing his painfully erect organ. He felt remorse for the
young woman's death. He hadn't even learned her name....

-- END FLASHBACK --

     "What do you think you're doing?" the redhead snarled.
     Nick rolled off the bed and stood facing the woman. "This is
wrong. I won't allow it."
     "I bought you. You're mine." She advanced on him. Reaching out,
she grabbed his penis and put it in her mouth. As she suckled, she
caressed his testicles, rolling them through her fingers as she kneaded
his scrotum. Aching with need, he squirmed at her touch, momentarily
unable to withdraw.
     "No ... Stop ... Now." He slid out of her embrace, wincing as she
bit him. 
     "No one denies me," she growled. "I *will* have you." A hypodermic
appeared in her hand as if by magic. With lightning speed, she plunged
the needle into his neck.
     The reaction she got was not the one she expected. Golden eyes and
sharp fangs greeted her as Nick's control finally slipped. He grabbed
her wrists, twisting her arms behind her. "Angie Davis, you are under
arrest for the murders of Harold Nice and Marcus Gann."
     Startled, she stared into the vampire's eyes. "Why aren't you
dead?"
     "Because I'm *already* dead," he whispered in her ear. Catching
her eyes, he synchronized with her heartbeat. "You will forget what you
saw here tonight."
     "Forget...."
     "You never saw me like this."
     "Never...."
     "Sleep." The woman collapsed in his arms. He picked her up and
carried her back to his dressing room. 

     By the time the police arrived to take custody, Nick was dressed
and back in control. "She's all yours," he said with a measure of
relief.
     "Hey, Nick! Congratulations!" Schanke slapped his partner on the
back. "Man, what I wouldn't have given to see the performance you must
have put on to land her!"
     "Be thankful you didn't." He chuckled.
     "You're going to tell me all about it, right?"
     "In time, Schank. In time." He gathered up his costume and gym
bag. "Right now I want to go home, take a hot shower and relax. Nat's
coming over later to watch videos, and I'd like to be rested."
     He smiled knowingly. "Ah-hah. Making up time, is it?"
     Nick smiled and brushed past him without answering. Schanke nodded
his approval to his partner's retreating back.

     "Nick?" Natalie looked around the seemingly empty loft. "Anybody
home?"
     Suddenly, the lights dimmed, revealing lit candles set around the
room. Music with a low, pulsing beat issued from the stereo system.
Nick, dressed as "The Count", glided down the stairs and came to stand
in front of her. "I believe we have some unfinished business." 
     To her amazement, he started to gyrate to the music, slowly
removing the garments in a sensuous dance. She stared, feeling her body
harden in response. A warm rush of fluids dampened her panties. "That
we do."
     He ripped away the pants, revealing a red silk G-string and his
prominent arousal. His alabaster skin glowed in the candlelight.
Stepping nearer, he thrust his hips toward her. "Do what you wish with
me." His smile invited her to touch him. Reaching out, she eased the
silk past his erection, letting the garment drop to the floor. She ran
her hand up and down the length of his penis, teasing the foreskin
back, exposing the swollen glans. She stepped back to admire her
handiwork.
     Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her near, grinding
his crotch against her stomach. He could feel the hard nubs of her
nipples press through the fabric of her blouse. He began unbuttoning
it, kissing her neck and shoulder as he did. He pushed the garment off.
     Kissing the cleft between her breasts, he slid her bra straps
down, then unhooked the lingerie, letting it fall to the floor. Twin
peaks of flesh greeted him. He captured one erect nipple in his mouth,
while his hand massaged the other.
     Natalie moaned with pleasure. If this was Nick's way of making up,
she could only hope for more disagreements in the future. She felt his
strong arms lift her. Suddenly they were airborne. Before she could
react to this brief flight, she found herself lying on his bed.
     Eager hands undressed her, lips kissing every inch of her exposed
flesh. She squirmed under his touch, pushed to the brink of orgasm by
the delights of his tongue. 
     "Oh, Nick," she moaned. "I need you so badly. I want you in me."
Her hand caressed the length of his shaft, guiding the satin hardness
into her moist core.
     Her heat enveloped him. He felt a fire consume his flesh.
Thrusting with increasing tempo, he tried to release the growing ache
in his groin. "Natalie." His voice was a rough whisper. He suckled a
hardened nipple, teasing the flesh with his tongue, grazing her with
his fangs. Golden eyes met blue, and he kissed her passionately. His
thrusting became more intense as he labored to release the pressure
growing within him. 
     "Nick!" She cried out as her orgasm spilled over her.
     He felt her vagina contact around him, squeezing his aching organ.
Bloodsweat dampened his brow as he panted with effort. Natalie pulled
his head down, offering her throat to him. Twin pricks brought a
trickle of blood. Her taste exploded on his tongue, setting off
fireworks behind his eyes. He bit gently, drinking deeply as he thrust
within her, finally finding his release. 
     Feeling his penis pulse inside her, emptying cool, bloody
semen at her very core, she felt as though she were floating. Even the
candlelight dimmed.
     Nick withdrew his fangs and watched as her head fell back against
the pillow, eyes closed.
     "Natalie? Nat, are you all right?" He shook her gently. "Oh,
God ... I took too much!" Blood tears welled in his eyes, trailed down
his cheeks and dropped lightly against her face.
     She opened her eyes and smiled. "Don't cry," she whispered.
"Everything is fine. *I'm* fine. You were *so* wonderful, my Love." She
pulled his face down and kissed him gently.
     Breathing a huge sigh of relief, he rolled over to lie beside her,
gathering her in his arms. "You are so beautiful. I want to be with you
forever." He couldn't take his eyes off her.
     "Forever." She smiled and snuggled against him, laying her head
against his chest. 
     Soon, the sound of her breathing quieted and her heartbeat slowed.
Nick kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes to hold her while
she slept. "Forever."

THE END

Nancy A. Taylor  --  nat1228@home.com
http://members.home.net/nat1228/fkfanfic.htm
http://www.dictionary.com
"The investigation of the meaning of words is the beginning of 
education." -- Antisthenes