An Initiate's Fantasy, or "Help Me, Nunkies!"
                by Cousin Joni





****************************************************************************


    You are sitting at the computer, trying to write the next installment in a
series of fanfics.  You have changed it four or five times, telling
yourself that LaCroix would not do this or that he would not have handled
it that way.  By the time that you are finished, you have no idea how he
would have reacted to the situation.  Would he have been jealous and
reacted in that manner?  Or, would he have said that she was not worth his
time and trouble, cutting his losses and leaving?  You know what you would
like for him to do.  You want him to be jealous and show it.  You want to
write that he loves her so much that he  will do anything to keep her, but
would he?

    It is well into the night and you are becoming very sleepy, but you just
can't bring yourself to leave the computer screen.  There is a picture of
*him* up in the corner of your screen which you use for inspiration, but it
is not helping.  Tracing his fine, chiseled features with your finger, you
lean on your elbow and sigh.

    "Annie and Jules tell me that you're real, but I have my doubts," you say
aloud.  "Gosh, I hope so, I really hope so.  Maybe, one day, I'll find out
for sure."  After a pause, you add, "If you are real, I sure could use your
help write with this piece of fic."

    You continue to lean towards the screen, tracing his picture with your
finger.  All the others talked of meeting him, of him showing up in their
homes, in the cars -- practically everywhere.  It has been a while since
you admitted your addiction, but you have as yet to see him.  You eyelids
become heavy, signifying that sleep is about to descend.  It *is* late and
your mind is sapped, so you decide to give in to the throes of slumber.
Or, at least that is what you think.

    A dream state has begun to descend when you feel something akin to a cool
breeze on the back of your neck.  You reach back and rub your neck,
thinking that it is just the body jerk you usually feel just before falling
asleep.  You shrug and move your neck back and forth to relieve the
stiffness.  You are beginning to feel that maybe you ought to go to bed and
forget the story for the night.  You straighten up and push the chair back,
but you suddenly freeze in the chair.  *That* was not your imagination this
time, something definitely blew on the back of your neck.  Afraid to turn
around, you move your eyes from side to side to try to catch a glimpse of
the intruder.  Your hands are gripping the arm rests on chair so tight,
that the knuckles are beginning to hurt.

    "My dear, please relax," a voice whispers in your hear.  "I never harm one
of my own.  I am here to help you with your story.  You *did* call me after
all."
	
    You shake head..  "No, it can't be," you say, feeling a cool smooth hand
massaging the crick out of the back of your neck.  "You are the product of
a TV series.  You can't be real as much as I want you to be."
	
    "Oh, my pet, I *am* very real, just ask your fellow addicts," he promises
as his lips brush your cheeks.  Now, you are beginning to understand why
the Sacred Pond and the Cold Shower exist in the shrine.  He rests his chin
on your shoulder and reads the screen. "Now, shall we see where you are at
and what I can do to help you."
	
    He reads through what you have written so far, his chin still resting on
your shoulder and his hand slowly moving up and down your back.  You are
totally lost in his touch and do not care whether he actually helps you
past the impasse or not.
	
    In a few minutes, he turns his head and whispers in your hear.  "Well, you
are dealing with my jealousy.  Did not Annie warn you when you joined our
little family that I am a very jealous master?"
    	
    You can only nod her head.
	
    "When you promise yourself to me, it is to me only.  I will; however,
overlook the occasional dalliance with *the other guy.*"
	
     The other guy?  You pause for a moment.  "Oh Nick," you say quietly.
	
    "Yes, my wayward son." He confirms, placing a kiss on your cheek.  "Of
course, if you wish to pet the rat-boy and Libby does not have any
objections, I do not mind.  What have I to fear from him."
	
    "Yes, sir," you answer, thinking of Libby and her Screedy-Poo and a smile
comes to your face.  He is sort of cute in a pet sort of way.
	
    "Oh, it is apparent that you are new and have not been initiated yet. The
older addicts stopped calling me *sir* a long time ago.  Some of them,
including Bonnie, are even irreverent at times, and I have to punish them."
 He leans around and places his lips against yours, giving you a kiss like
you have never felt before.  Where is that Scared Pond?  "But, you will
never talk back to me or test my patience, will you, my sweet?" he coos,
kissing you again.
	
    Your breathe is almost gone as you stammer, "N-n-n-o, sir" again, but
punishment does sound interesting.
	
    "Good," he says, trailing kisses from your lips to the back of your neck.
I believe that you ought to forget your story for the night.  It is time I
showed you why you and the others are addicts."
	
    Your mind quickly snaps to Patt's account of what happened to Bons the
other night.  Oh my, what does he have in mind for you?  Does it really
matter?  The point is, he is real, very real, and he is here for you.
	
    He stands up and spins your chair around.  "Now, my sweet, are you ready
for a night you will never forget?"
	
    You want to say, "Are you kiddin', Nunkies?  I have been praying for this
all my life."  But, staring up at him, you answer, "Anything you say, sir."
	
    A soft smile appears on his face.  "I suppose that I will have to enjoy
that sign of respect while I am able.  You will soon be like the others and
treat me as, what is it you say?  Ah, Nunkies."  He looks at the shock on
your face.  "Yes," he whispers, pulling you to your feet.  "I know about,
*Nunkies,* but I have been called worse, much worse and usually by Nicolas."
	
    Wrapping his arms around you, he lifts you up and cradles you in his arms.
 As you stare into those icy blue eyes you have heard so much about, he
leans over and places a resounding kiss on your lips.  It is a good thing
that he is holding you, because you are in a serious meltdown.  You now
know what Bons and the others are always talking about.  No wonder they
talk about him in such affectionate terms.  You have not even experienced
the full initiation yet and you are already his -- lock, stock and barrel.
	
    Leaning over your computer, he clicks the mouse button and saves your
story.  "We cannot have you losing any of your story because of me, can we?"
	
    *sigh*  That little act of consideration just served to further your
allegiance to the master.  "Where are you taking me?" you ask.
	
    "To Ecstasy, my pet.  To ecstasy," he says, carrying you towards your
bedroom door where you see the faint glow of candle light.


Cousin Joni  joni@gte.net
*************************************************************************
Cousin with Dark Knightie tendencies/ NA/ LP#2/ TX Knight Dreamer/ NBFC
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/1134
"If you want to run with the vampires you gotta suck a little blood" 
Rupert Smedley, CEO BligeCorp, www.nembley.com