Retro: Merry Christmas

This is an older Christmas post of mine that I always loved. It was inspired by the fact that that Christmas eve, I was in a car on a pitch-black road…I might need to revisit Polly and Colin again…

Polly was somewhere between wake and sleep, thinking to herself that Oscar did not really know her.
She did not tell him about the time that she was dressed as Little Bo Peep, she had kept it a seductive secret, and he had went along with it. But now she remembered that time, and driving with the guy that was with her.
Driving down a road that barely had any lights. All he could do was drive down the yellow line as the headlights shined on it. She was in the backseat of the car, quiet and dazed. There was a drop of blood on her white Little Bo Peep costume. Her finger kept caressing the tiny wound on the inside of her arm as she looked out of the window at the woods. She caressed where she had been opened, her flesh a tiny slice because Colin wanted to taste her. Taste her blood. The first time he told her, she thought he was joking. But when she had a paper cut, and he sucked her cut so slowly and sensually she knew otherwise.
She thought that Goth had to have a certain kind of look. But Colin did not have that. He was gentle and tender with her, but it was not her lifestyle.
But she let him cut her, and suck from her. She felt giddy that night driving with him, and it was a cute thing to do when she was young. They were young and in love and it was wonderful while it lasted.
She met him years later, an eclectic art buyer as a potential client…it was different that time when they were both adults, but she was too driven to really be committed to him, Colin accepted that of her.
He still liked to taste her, he was the only man she had ever been with who enjoyed making love when she had her period. No one else had ever liked that. But he did. His blood lust at that time was more incidental.
He was the one who loved de Lempickas, and he was still a client. But now he lived in Paris.
She was standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, and saw Colin. His intense face studying hers. When he touched her, so softly she was not even sure that he was touching her, her face got very damp. It was snowing and it felt like Christmas, but her face was moister than the falling snow would have made it. She thought she was bleeding, but he was bleeding instead when he held his hand before her and she shook in the dream then opened her eyes.
Awake again, she touched her face, and all she felt was the soft drool that was on the side of her mouth and she could smell Oscar’s warm scent. She looked at him, and he stared at her. She smiled, as he touched her face the same way that Colin had touched her face in the dream. Shivering in a way that she played off more as desire, she remembered how every time she dreamt about Colin he would return in her life. Especially if she felt him the way that she felt him in her between an actual dream state.
But she was with Oscar now, Oscar who made her feel light, and who probably would never go to that blood place with her. That vampiric desire that she felt with Colin, a dark desire that she loved incredibly but that she could never live with forever.
Blood was not forever.
Polly caressed Oscar and his warmth was so alive, so lovely. She pressed her body to him, and he held her close.
“You are pure as the driven snow,” he said to her.
Kissing him, his taste was lovely. Light. She flicked her tongue as if trying to catch snow as a child, returning his kiss.
Not quite, she thought, not quite so pure as that. But she loved that he saw her that way…now…

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