2 – You Can’t Touch This

Were you taught to greet someone with a firm handshake when meeting them? Do you dole out hugs to those you already know, like the Hare Krishna used to dole out Jesus pamphlets at the airport before they all gave up and got jobs with the TSA?

Well then, I have some bad news for you.

One of the more basic rules of vampire etiquette is quite simple. And while it’s one of the five senses, you need to use some common sense and treat them like a germaphobe, then you’ll be ahead of the game.

Because touch.

That one is simple.

Just don’t.

Sookie was feeling – among other things – ridiculous sitting next to Eric on the dais. As payback for the last time she’d been up there with him, Pam had replaced her normal chair with one that was Eric-sized, so her feet didn’t even reach the floor.

Sookie suspected it was her penance for making a spectacle of both her and Eric before up and leaving the other night, when the bar was still in full swing.

And she may have been swinging her legs like she was Don Quixote’s prop in Shreveport’s Playhouse production of The Man of La Mancha, hoping to gain enough nonexistent momentum to propel her body across the room.

She really had to tinkle, but the bar was packed.

So she did the only thing she could do and was getting quite good at.

She signaled for Ginger to bring her another gin and tonic.

Sookie liked her curves, but she secretly envied the woman’s stick thin body and her ability to slip through the crowd, like sand through a sieve.

Still, giving her shins and upper thighs an excellent workout wasn’t a bad way to spend the night, so Sookie accepted the cold tumbler from Ginger’s grasp with a smile and took a healthy swig of her fourth or maybe fifth drink. She was starting to lose track because she’d been knocking them back that night, hoping to drown out the hateful thoughts of the bar crowd.

It wasn’t working.

The drowning out of their thoughts or the ability to Mary Lou Retton herself over to the ladies.

Then hearing a particularly nasty thought aimed her way – didn’t she just say that she liked her curves and screw all y’all because Eric would be screwing her at the end of the night, thank you very much – she glared at the redheaded woman on the dance floor.

Then squinting through the space she’d made in between her thumb and index finger – a space the nasty twat could probably fit through up close too – Sookie squashed the woman’s head in her own mind’s eye to shut her up, while she growled lowly, “I am crushing your head!”

She also wished she was one of the Kids in the Hall. Literally.

If she had been then she could jet into the ladies and relieve her overtaxed bladder.

Amused at his lover’s drunken antics – he’d been ready to get out of there hours ago, but she never failed to put on a good show whenever he asked her to sit beside him on the dais, so he’d stayed longer than necessary – Eric only acknowledged her outburst with his patented side-eyed arched brow ™.

But telepathy wasn’t her only gift –Sookie had excellent peripheral vision – so her head whipped his way a second later, while she admitted in an accusatory tone, “I am crushing your head too!”

There was no point in lying about it and she had enough gin in her system to make it scientifically impossible to lie about it. Blood bonds be damned.

But really, his face was glorious, so what was there to not crush on?

But crushin’ on her beau’s beautiful face or not, Sookie was mad at him – frustrated, really – because she was tired of sitting there on display for all of the drunken riff raff. What she really wanted to do was get out of there, so Eric could touch her in all of her unmentionable places.

Maybe even have his pretty little face all up in her places that would muffle any mentions of it he tried to make.

She’d been so frustrated with him earlier, Sookie had even gone so far in a moment of pure insanity to pull up that dating app on her phone she had yet to delete. But thirty minutes in she’d gotten tired of clearing out her inbox of the ungodly amount of dick pics – and a sketchy offer for a pedicure – an offer she was pretty sure came from the new vamp tending bar, so her reputation where Fangtasia’s new bartenders were concerned must not have reached his ears – so she gave up and just deleted the whole damn thing.

It had been more than enough to remind her of what she had.

And the fact of the matter was she had agreed to sit beside him for the dog and pony show he insisted on putting on for the other vamps and their whatnots because she understood – on a much more mature much less inebriated level – that her vampire sheriff had responsibilities.

‘Responsibilities other than unmentionable ones,’ Sookie silently nodded to herself and added ‘Because she was a good girlfriend and good girlfriends offered their beaus their oral support.’

Moral support.

Christ on the crapper…she really was turning into a hussy if even her brain was choking on the thought of Eric’s…well, chokable parts.

Something Mr. Smirky McSmirkerson seemed to be fully aware of because he chose that moment to send a heated leer her way and flicked his gaze down to her places she shouldn’t mention in a crowded vampire bar.

Stupid bat-like hearing.

A throb of want echoed through their bond from both sides, but through the haze of lust that had settled over her brain, something else rang out.

An internal alarm that blared, WEEE EEEWW! WEEE EEEWW! Code red! Code red!

As in the redheaded bitch who’d been sniping her with well-aimed bitchy thoughts all night long from the dance floor, and who was now right in front of them, with her hand hovering inches above Eric’s outstretched legs.

But before she could lay a pinky on him, Sookie swore under her breath. Not just from the woman’s audacity, but from what could potentially happen next.

The last thing she wanted was for Eric to kick the woman – even if she kinda sorta thought she would deserve it – because if she ended up getting snacked on in the bathroom, causing yet another raid on the bar, it would only delay the inevitable.

Sookie had plans, dammit.

Unmentionable ones.

So she used what little momentum her still windmilling legs had gathered to vault off of the too big chair and landed right in Eric’s lap, fruitlessly trying to cover up his long legs with her much shorter ones, as she stared the woman down and carelessly flicked her hand in a Jedi mind-wipe, saying, “This is not the vampire you’re looking for.”

But the look on the woman’s face said the power of the force wasn’t strong in Sookie and recalling a time when she didn’t know any better either, she thought she would be the bigger person and school her fellow hussy about the Do’s and Don’ts of vampire etiquette.

It takes a village.

So she did a more wide sweeping Vanna White move with her arms, indicating the surrounding area, before jutting her thumb back at her vampire chaise lounge – really, if he sprawled out any further, he could be a rug – she explained, “Ya see, this here’s like the Louvre and he’s the equivalent of the Mona Lisa. You can look. You can admire.”

Then calling on her inner M.C. Hammer, she did some sort of hip hop head toss neck roll that only the drunkest of drunk white girls could ever hope to achieve, as she rapped out, “But you can’t touch this.”

Because seriously.

Nuh uh!

You’re touching,” the woman snarled back.

Eric was so amused, Sookie nearly toppled from his lap from the silent shudders wracking through his body as he tried to keep his laughter contained. But she didn’t let that dissuade her and merely emulated another M. c. by wrapping her legs around his, like he was a bull named Foo Manchu.

Tim McGraw might be a novice, but Sookie knew from experience she could ride Eric for longer than two point seven seconds.

Using her leg hold to keep her in place, she ignored her burning leg muscles and leaned forward to get her point across, stating as primly as one could while straddling a Viking vampire sheriff, “Consider me the curator. His Mona’s are all mine.”

Unbeknownst to Sookie, Pam had taken up the spot just behind Eric’s left on the dais and she bared her fangs at the stupid vermin to scare her away before her little telepathic friend did something she would regret.

More, that is.

That she would regret more.

Because Pam had every intention of using the security camera footage later on to make gifs and memes of Sookie’s spectacular show on the dais that she would then share with everyone.

Everyone being the internet.

Once the woman wisely skulked away, Eric pulled Sookie towards him until her back rested against his front. Then leaning down, he skimmed his lips across the outer shell of her ear and smiled at the slight shiver down her spine his actions caused, while he whispered into her ear, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” she giggled.

But once again thinking of things that shouldn’t be mentioned, when his hands skimmed over her hips and then held on, pulling her ass over the noticeable bulge in his pants, she turned towards him and whispered, “On second thought…”

They were merely a blur streaking back to Eric’s office where not only did he touch all of her unmentionable places, but she got to touch his too.

You could even say at one point she was all choked up.