This is the Gwen/Janette piece. This is really a first draft, and needs
work on the prose, yet, but I thought I'd send it to you anyway. As a gift, 
as it were. Hope you enjoy.

A Cure for the Blues
by Jennifer Greenbury Lackey

        Blue funks are something of a specialty of mine. After 1700
years, you either outgrow them or perfect them to an art. I, unfortunately, 
have gone the latter route. I don't recall now what I was feeling depressed 
about that particular night. Probably something to do with LaCroix. At 
any rate, Janette spotted me sulking at the bar of the Raven soon after I arrived.
        "Cherie," her voice sounded in my ear, from behind me. "I cannot believe 
you really want to spend eternity in a permanent state of angst." She put an 
arm around my shoulder.
        "Oh, don't exaggerate," I replied. "I'm only like this occassionally. 
And I don't want to feel this way, believe me. It just descends on me and I 
can't seem to fend it off."
        She harumphed, and ran a light hand up my arm. "You're as bad as Nicholas."
        That forced a laugh out of me. "From advice to insult, eh, Janette? 
No matter- I probably deserve it."
        She continued to stroke my arm, which was rather pleasant to say the 
least, and leaned toward me, her lips nearly touching my neck.
        "Would you like to know how I usually cheer him up?" she whispered.
        I pivoted on the barstool to face her, smiling, and said, "Why don't 
you show me?"
        She leaned closer and kissed me, slowly, luxuriously. It took all
my will to keep from sweeping her into my arms and plunging my fangs into
her throat right there. She pulled away, and took my hand, pulling me up
off the stool. Her eyes were shining as she led me up to her private
apartments.
        Janette and I had been lovers for the first time just a few
months before, during my first visit to Toronto. We had stayed up too
late talking one night, long after Nicholas had left. Sunrise trapped me
at the Raven, which didn't upset me in the slightest. Janette is quite
beautiful, to indulge in understatement, and for many centuries I had 
been curious about making love to her. With the newly developed
friendship growing strong between us, I desired her even more. When
Nicholas claimed fatigue and made an early exit, I was delighted. I often
wondered if that exit was by accident or design, either on his part alone
or in collusion with Janette. I had never bothered to ask either of them.
There were so many more interesting things to do when we were all three
together.
        As we climbed the stairs, I watched my lover's gorgeous ass
swaying with each step, and I reflected that she would be sure to pull me
out of my mood, with these tactics.
        
        She pulled the door to her room shut, and turned to face me, her
eyes running up and down the length of my body hungrily.
        "It's been too long since we did this," she breathed. I pulled
her toward me by the hand, and took her into my arms. She kissed me, with
growing fire, and I touched her hair and ran my hands over the smooth,
alabaster skin of her bare shoulders. I love strapless gowns on Janette.
        I felt her hands unzipping the back of my own dress, a low cut,
slinky black number. I shivered in anticipation, and pulled her over
toward the bedroom.
        We fell onto the bed, and I began to wriggle out of my clothes,
and simultaneously try to get Janette out of hers.
        "Turn around," I told her. "I can't get your dress undone."
        She laughed, and did as I requested. Now we were both down to
bras, stockings and underwear, all black.  I looked down at our attire
and laughed.
        "We look like a couple of bookends," I giggled. "The tall
brunette and the short redhead versions of the vampire bookend. $29.95 a
piece."
        She raised an eyebrow, archly. "Surely we're worth more than
that." I laughed. My mood, as she had promised, had completely lifted.
        "You'd think there was some kind of vampire dress code, to look
at us," I added, still laughing.
        "Great minds think alike, cherie. We both simply know style when
we see it." Her voiced dropped to a murmur and she began kissing my neck.
        "Hm," I moaned, "that must be it." I began to remove the rest of
my clothing, but she caught my wrist and stopped me.
        "Wait," she commanded into my ear. "I want to look at you a while
longer." She snorted delicately. "You *are* like Nicholas; always in a
hurry."
        This broke me up again. "You can't blame me for that, cherie." I
asserted. "I only had him for a year, and I did my best to train him, but
he's just so ... enthusiastic. You had him for much longer. The burden of
his training fell to you."  I kissed her along her jawline.
        She giggled, so prettily. When she was relaxed, Janette's
laughter always sounded silvery to me, ringing and clear. Such a lovely
woman, I thought, and ran my free hand over her thighs and ass.
        "I did try," she giggled in my ear, "and I must confess that he's
improved with age."
        "Haven't we all?" I commented dryly.
        "Mm, I don't know. Shall we see?" She moved the lace of my bra
away and took my left nipple into her mouth.  I gasped and arched my back
as she circled it with her tongue.
        She pulled back a moment, and commented in a scientific tone,
"Yes, I believe that this nipple has improved. Let's test the other one,
shall we?" She let go of my wrist, and unfastened my bra and removed it
deftly. She licked my right nipple, then began to suck it. Quiet moans
began to escape me despite my best efforts.
        Soon, she pulled away again, and pronounced, "Yes, this one has
improved as well.  Two months has made all the difference."
        "Very funny," I whispered in her ear. " But you're not fair. I
demand an equitable removal of clothing." I reached around her to remove
her bra, and this time she allowed it.
        I caressed her bare breasts, and then bent down and took one of
her nipples into my mouth. I pricked it gently with a fang, and heard her
sharp intake of breath, and then a low moan as I licked the blood away. I
was growing almost uncontrollably aroused, and her blood tingled on my
tongue.
        I slid a hand into the front of her underwear, and found the
center of her pleasure. I moved my finger over it slowly, with increasing
pressure, as she arched her back and pressed herself into my hand. Then,
abruptly, she reached down and pulled my hand away.
        "Let's not go too quickly, eh, my love? This mood of yours
requires some serious time spent in remedy." With these words, she rolled
me over onto my back, and straddled my thighs. She slid my own underwear
past my knees, not bothering to remove it completely. Then she began
running her hands lightly along my body, from my neck to my thighs,
carefully avoiding my breasts and mons. This only excited me more, as she
intended, of course. Janette had "gotten my number" as they say, quickly
and knew many sure ways of bringing me to the rapturous knife's edge of
pleasure. It seemed that she was carrying out her duties as my physician
most dilligently.
        My lover leaned down, and began to lick and nip at my neck,
working her way equisitely slowly down the length of my body. I could
only hope that she would take pity on me, and stop about halfway down.
        She did. When I felt her tongue on my clitoris, I thought I would
explode. I was trembling on the edge of climax, and she knew it. But
rather than allow me release, she pulled away, and then rose from the bed.
        "Where are you going?" I tried not to shriek.
        She laughed. "Just stay there, and be a good girl for a moment.
I'll be right back, never fear." She padded into the other room and a few
seconds later returned with two glasses and a wine bottle with the cork
already removed. "I thought we could use some refreshment," she declared,
with a mischievious look in her eye.
        "You're evil," I responded, but took the glass she filled for me
willingly. It was pure blood, and tasted delicious. Actually, I had
worked up quite a thirst. I downed the glass and held it out with a smile
for a refill. She poured it full again, and I sipped the renewed
contents. "You seem to be anticipating all my needs this evening, before
I'm even aware of them," I observed.
        She shrugged, in an exaggeratedly non-chalant way. Janette has
made an art of the nuances of non-chalance. "It is my duty as your
hostess, is it not?" she returned.
        I laughed. "I hope not all your patrons get such intimate service."
        She finished her drink, as I finished mine, and she gazed at me
with a feral gleam in her eye. "Only the ones I like the looks of," she
replied. She took my now-empty glass from my hand, and filled it half
full, then she pushed me back onto the bed. I went willingly.
        She ran a hand lightly along my body, between my breasts and
circling playfully around my navel. Then she poured a bit of the blood
onto my left breast. The thick liquid ran down my nipple and along the
side of my breast, onto the curve along my breastbone, and down toward my
stomach. My lover leaned down, and licked the blood away, starting at the
farthest point and ending lovingly on the nipple itself. I moaned loudly,
and balled the sheet up in my fist, trying to maintain some semblance of
control. She repeated this treatment with the other breast, with similiar
results. I was on fire, and I longed to feel her tongue inside me, to
gain release, but the denial was also pleasureable. I wanted both to go
on forever as we were, and to reach the climax that seemed unbearably close.
        Janette poured the rest of the glass into my open mouth, licking
a stray bead from the corner of my mouth, and stopping to kiss me deeply.
I wound my fingers into her hair, and left them there as she slid down my
body. As she made her way down, she bit me sharply in neat little rows,
and licked the blood away as the tiny holes healed. Each movement of her
tongue across the slightly torn flesh sent new thrills of pleasure
through me, and I cried out softly in rhythm with her piercing teeth.
        Finally, she wound her way down again to my mons, and I felt her
tongue teasing my clitoris, flicking it lightly. Suddenly, a sensation
wholly mixing pleasure and pain stabbed through me. She pierced my clit
with a fang, and was sucking the blood from the wound. I arched my back,
and shouted. I called her name, I think, as the combined effect of the
taking of blood and the sucking itself pushed me across into orgasm. I
came for what seemed like years, and finally lay quiescent for a moment.
Janette rested her head on my hipbone, and I stroked her hair.
        "Oh, cherie," I sighed. "You've cured me."
        She laughed, and raised herself up to kiss my mouth. I wrapped my
arms around her, and kissed back.
        "You know," I commented. "I suddenly don't feel the slightest bit
sleepy. Do you think we could come up with another game to play?"
        "Oh, I imagine so," she replied. "Considering our vast experience."
        I laughed. "I believe it's my turn," I murmured, taking a nipple
into my mouth.
        The sun rose that day, I'm sure, as it always does. But we were
much too occupied to notice.

lackeyj@indiana.edu    "Just watching the dark" - Richard Thompson
   Any resemblance between graduate students and the living dead
                     is purely coincidental
******************************************************************