Meant to Be Press


New Flash Fiction: First and Last

Enjoy this original work of flash fiction from M. M. Genet and check out all her works on her Author Central page.

Photo by krystina rogers on Unsplash

First and Last

by M. M. Genet

Maybe it was the taste of her; like blackberries steeped in honey and rosewater.  Maybe it was her scent that lingered on his clothes long after they’d spent time walking and talking away the evenings.  No and yes.  Both of those things were a piece of the puzzle. When George thought about it, the truth lay in her skin. In her skin was their beginning and their end.

George stared up at the coved, plaster ceiling of his Paris hotel room.  Abbey’s favorite flowers sat in a huge vase beside the bed; yellow roses tipped in red.  There was an agonizing irony to it.  As he stared at the ceiling, the phrase tumbled over and over in his head like a sick, broken record, tipped in red, tipped in red, tipped in red.

Matthew had warned George about his first time.  Becoming immortal had its advantages but it certainly had its drawbacks as well.  George had been a guardian of his own defenses for nearly a century. He’d learned to deny himself so many things.  He’d become accustom  to restraint. He had set himself against temptation. He was a soldier, he reminded himself. He dealt out death in the name of justice.  All other indulges could be repressed. 

Then, he ran into Abbey.  Or rather, she’d quite literally ran into him.  In her attempt to swerve through a throng of students, she’d crashed into him.  Any other man would have fallen from such a hit from a girl on a solid steel mountain bike.  Instead, the folds of his sweater had barely been crumpled.  Meanwhile, Abbey had flipped over her handlebars and taken a good hit to the head. He’s carried her to the hospital.

He knew he was in trouble the first moment his eyes had met hers.  For weeks, he told himself he would just stay away, switch classes at the university, change his schedule, avoid the library and never step foot into a cafe within a twenty mile radius of campus.  The first and most important rule of keeping temptation at bay was to avoid it thoroughly. 

His heart, fueled by an ever-growing angst thought the contrary.  He sat all night, every night loathing himself for weeks.  He could admit he had feelings for Abbey.  He fantasized about what it might be like to hold her hand, to brush her unruly hair from her face and only a few times did he dare let himself imagine what it might be like to kiss her lips.  He could almost feel the warmth of her human, mortal skin on his.  The ache inside him grew worse.  It made the rest of his body ache. 

George begged Matthew for a teaching transfer.  He’d leave.  He’d go somewhere, anywhere.  The farther the better.  His mentor denied him the request.  Falling in love with a mortal woman was dangerous and reckless and yet, Matthew had lived enough lifetimes to know all too well that the heart wants what it wants.  If George truly loved this girl, he’d have to find his way.

With each tiny step, George told himself he was the model of restraint.  He invited Abbey to a cafe he enjoyed. He spent a month talking with her as he watched her drink strong coffee and laugh at his stories. One night, as he walked her home, she reached out and touched his hand. He held his breath, waiting for the urge to pass, controlling his breathing.  If Abbey noticed his strange reaction, she didn’t say anything.

A month later, George stared out at the stars from his apartment window.  The aching was unbearable. He wanted more and he hated himself for it.  He convinced himself he’d go for a run and he wouldn’t stop until the feeling passed.  Instead, he’d ended up just outside of Abbey’s apartment door at three in the morning.  The next night, he discovered her apartment had a balcony.  For weeks, he sat under the moon and watched her through the glass door as she slept.  To stare at her angelic face, George told himself, to watch over her, to protect her by night and discuss books and traveling by day was enough.  It was enough, he repeated.  It had to be.

George met Matthew for cocktails the next evening.  George explained his oath of platonic friend by day and guardian by night and how satisfied he was with it.  “How does Abbey feel about a life of abstinence?” Matthew asked.  George took a long drink from his Cabernet.  A modern woman’s perspective on relationships hadn’t played into George’s calculations.  Leave it to Matthew to drop a fly in his ointment.  Matthew teased, “I realize it’s been a while since I, myself have taken up with a lover but I think I remember that it does take a minimum of two people.  Am I remembering that correctly?”

As if Matthew had been scrying into a crystal ball, George found a note on the balcony two nights later.  The note read, “The door’s unlocked, just in case you get cold.”

In case I get cold, thought George.  If he’d wanted to, he could have walked through the shattered glass of her door.

“Damn,” George had muttered under his breath.  As he thought about it now, it had turned out to be a wonderful night.  He’d found the strength as well as the balance.  He’d been able to kiss Abbey twice that night without even the slightest urge…”

Remembering brought a pain in his chest as if a stake were being driven into his heart. He finished the thought as he lay in the hotel room, he was able to subdue the urge to take her life that magical night.

The days and weeks that followed the kiss could only be defined as bliss.  They spent all their time outside of work and class together.  Abbey’s fingers graduated from holding his hand to exploring his body.  George reciprocated with extreme caution.  He fed more often. He practiced his breathing and meditation.  He searched for control in every moment with her. Finally, he suggested a weekend in Paris.

“Paris!” Abbey had squealed.  George winced at the memory her excitement.

“I want our first time to be memorable,” he’d told her.  As he recalled, she swooned. From that moment, George had planned everything down to the smallest detail.  He reserved a suite in a Paris hotel that Matthew had recommended.  Upon their arrival, there was chilled champagne and strawberries.  While George preferred red wine, the champagne Matthew had reserved was so good, George ordered a second bottle. 

While the alcohol content would have had to have been incredibly high for George to feel the effects, Abbey on the other hand felt the effects quickly.  She was drunk on Paris, the city with its lights and history, the romantic suite and most of all the smoldering look from the man with whom she was hopelessly in love.

Abbey was sipping on her fifth glass when she took George by surprise and kissed him, hard.  Her hands ran the length of her muscular arms, his broad chest.  Her fingers ran through his longish brown hair.  George was caught off guard.  He hadn’t expected her passion.  He hadn’t expected her to initiate their first night together.  Most of all, he hadn’t expected his reaction.  As he pulled both of their bodies to the king sized bed, he was swallowed up with a thought he’d never considered.  He could turn her.  If she were like him, there was never a chance he could harm her.

If Abbey became immortal, they could be together forever.  They could spend every night like this one, their bodies entwined, her lips slightly swollen from his kiss.  He could wake up every night and take her dancing. As he thought of forever, his loneliness evaporated.  He wanted for ever.  He wanted Abbey forever.  Forever needed to start as soon as possible.  Forever could begin tonight. 

He considered the carnal aching inside his core.  He told himself he could control it.  Look how well he’d done so far. His mind, filled with images of Abbey’s perfect body on top of his, Abbey’s hands in his as Matthew performed their hand fasting. He hesitated for only a moment. Could she forgive him the drawbacks of an immortal life?  In that moment, she pulled his body deeper into her own.  All hesitation fled from George as he heard Abbey call his name. His teeth elongated.  They protruded from his lips and found the pulsing artery of her neck.

Just one bite.  This will only hurt for a moment.  I’ll spend the rest of forever making you happy.  My love.  My life. 

Now, as the morning sun threatened to rise, George felt sick at the thought.  George pulled back the sheets from his body.  He wrapped them lovingly around the bloodstained corpse beside him and walked to the window.  He picked up his phone and dialed robotically. 

“Matthew,” George said, his voice shaking.  “I’m going to need a cemetery plot and an alibi.”  There was a pause that seemed to take eternity from the other end of the phone. 

“I’m so sorry George.  Of course, I’ll take care of it,” said Matthew.  Another pause.  “George, you must forgive yourself.  Abbey was a lovely girl but this was your first time.”

Tears ran down George’s cheek. “My first and my last time.”

About authormmgenet

M. M. Genet writes stories with fresh, new plot lines and strong, female characters. Her erotica and romance are steamy and original. She writes other genres of fiction under a pen name but her work retains a similar theme throughout. Strong yet flawed female characters trying to make their way through the world, inviting adventure as well as sexy companions to come along for the ride.

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This entry was posted on March 18, 2022 by in Short Fiction and tagged , , , , , .

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