Four hours, eight sexual positions, and a can of whipped cream later and the delivery man had kindly handed over the address and name of the woman who has sent Caine the shirt.  Truthfully he would have fucked the man in every depraved way possible with or without such incentive, but if a good lay could also reap other benefits then so much the better.  The delivery boy was fawning over him in the big bed of the hotel room, clearly not caring at all that the place looked as though a tornado had run through it.  Clearing his voice and letting his tongue slowly trace his lips Caine spoke in a bored tone.

"You can go now."

He had no desire for small talk.  The aloofness of his finely sculpted face ignored whatever emotions the boy might have been feeling.  Moving like a cat he rolled his body towards the edge of the bed and let his legs swing over the edge until he was standing beside the bed, giving the boy a perfect view of his amply round backside as he moved towards the chair where he'd carelessly tossed his clothing. 

A pair of silk boxers were slid on followed by tailored black slacks and then he picked up the white button down shirt, sliding one well muscled arm into either sleeve and leaving it unbuttoned.  Crossing the room to pick up his wallet and keys from the dresser he heard when the boy finally got off the bed and scrambled into his clothes to leave.  That was the problem with one night stands.  They didn't disappear once they'd served their purpose.  Then ironically when you wanted one to stay for awhile they apparently turned into mystic smoke and vanished into the ether.  La vie était une chienne.  Before leaving the dresser his long fingers gently touched the wooden box that was the only item on top.  It held all his keepsakes of Alec's, and he hoped that one day he would have more than just those trinkets to rely on. 

Moving through the apartment he buttoned the front of his shirt, hiding the golden skinned torso, though he didn't bother to tuck the shirt in.  These days Caine's level of distraction was at an all time high.  He had brought Llidya to her goal and yet she had deserted him in his own search.  Finger brushed back through the tight curls of his wheat blonde hair as he left the apartment, his mind made up to go visit the woman from the Masquerade Ball.  Something strange had happened that night, to all of them, and he wasn't even really sure why he wanted to see her again.  Long ago Caine had mastered the art of not questioning things too deeply.  He took life as it came and since Llidya Chapman had disappeared into the rabbit hole with Ash he was seeking out the only other person in the city that he knew; intimately.

As he climbed into his Jaguar to head towards the address the delivery man had given him he let his mind wander back through time, back to the first time that he had met Alec Dresden...........

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I had left Paris to see the world, or so I put it to myself. Though perhaps it was not really the world that I wanted to see so much as I desired a chance to spread my wings and really see what I wanted in the world. My sister Aurora and I had lived a long time in the course of human history, yet among our own kind we were considered to be quite young and barely older than teenagers even though our seven hundredth year had passed. Our ancestors were of a Paleolithic French origin who were said to have guarded over the caves of leasceux though whether that is truth or rumors I cannot truly say. By the time of our own birth the French monarchy was only just beginning and when I took my leave of France that era of our kinds brightest acheivements was nearing an end. Though we hardly knew that at the time. We only knew that our race had dwindled and no new stones were being born. Aurora and myself were some of the last birth order in our clan.

Aurora had always been the stronger of the two of us, a fact which was obvious in everything from her attention to detail to her sense of duty. I had always had more joie de vivre, while she had the necessary stoic fortitude to do our stone proud. In any event I had been pulling at my leash for awhile and though she refused to help fund my venture and didn’t approve of my errand of self discovery I left Paris without a glance behind me. That was before the Moulin Rouge was built, before the great bohemian revolution that so changed the landscape of my homeland, but I am not sure of the exact date except that it was some time in the late 1800’s. I was a consummate man of the world, a deviant in a time when it took very little to earn such a title, and I was eager to experience all that the world had to offer me. What I did not expect was that the defining moment of my life would come to me before I had barely begun my journey.

I suppose that looking back it was over from the first moment I saw him. I knew, from the first moment I saw him, standing there: tall and lean and so obviously unconcerned, in his riding habit. I knew, as soon as his cool grey eyes flickered to rest on mine, I knew. I knew that I would love him, and it frightened me. Never in all my life had I loved anyone, not more than I loved myself. But something about this man consumed me from that first moment. I had been a lover of men in the past, because I had never met a pleasure that I could say no to. But not once had I ever been so immediately fascinated by a person. It was the personality in those eyes that grabbed me, and the fierceness I saw in his stature that trapped me there.

I was hardly a fan of the steeplechase, and I didn't come from a family that had been necessarily 'horsey.' But I did enjoy betting, even then the thrill of gambling was something that thrilled my heart. I had met a girl from a nice family with whom I was staying on my first weeks in town, Marion, and she had declared it a nice respite from "the rigours of your journey, Caine; do come, you'll enjoy it so!"

I was not enjoying it. I didn't honestly see the point of it: horses racing around and around, leaping over things and going through things. I sat back in my chair and abandoned my binoculars. The section in which we were sitting was packed with people of all manner and station, from the lowliest fish merchants of Cheapside, to the beautifully-dressed ladies and gentlemen of Westminster. It was a motley mixture, to be certain.

"Oh, Caine, do watch the races... you'll enjoy it so!" Marion twittered at my elbow, a vision in ruched blue velvet and the largest hat I'd ever seen. I wondered how her neck could possibly hold it up: a gigantic confection of ribbons and tulle, topped with a monstrous collection of berries and flowers. Smiling was the last thing I felt like. What I wanted most was to creep away by myself, to sit in some cosy pub and take a sup of ale without Marion's giant hat smashing me in the shoulder every time I turned. As usual, in need of a place to reside I had found this girl and her family to serve my purposes, charmed them all, and having won the war I immediately tired of the company. I knew that it would not be long before I would need to find other arrangements.

I sighed, gently, just under my breath. Would that something might appear to take me out of this... of course, that was like praying for a miracle, and I didn't believe in such things. There was a great commotion in the stands; the race had just ended. Marion had risen and was clapping and whistling in a most unladylike manner--but then, she had never been entirely as reserved. I secretly admired her for it, truth be told.

"I'm going down to the track," I told her with a silken smile that made her turn blush and hide behind that ridiculous hat. Anxious to be away I felt suddenly heavy and weighted in the midst of all this cheerful glee; I didn't belong here.

"But whatever for, Caine?" Marion's pretty face was downcast; she looked like a weeping doll.

"Oh, you know I’m a wicked gambling man cherie.... I'm going down to talk to the jockeys, I won't be but a few moments. You won’t even know that I’m gone." I hastily made my exit, hoping fervently that she wouldn't begin to weep right then and there. But she merely nodded and sat back in her seat, lifting her glasses to peruse the crowds, and thereby effectively dismissing me.

When I reached the track level, most of the jockeys had gone into the stables, leading their tired mounts, who no doubt anticipated the ministrations of the groom. The track was churned and muddy, dappled with manure and discarded betting stubs. I was dismayed to find myself virtually alone--alone, that is, except for a tall figure standing at the periphery of the track, and gazing out into the middle distance as if it contained all the secrets of the known universe.

He turned, as if sensing me; turned his cool grey eyes on me and flickered an assessing glance. I'd never seen anything like him; tall and lean, his muscled torso pressing against his tweed jacket; long, muscular legs encased in jodhpurs, shiny black riding boots. I'd never seen such a man... grey eyes, long-lashed and keenly intelligent, gazing out of a calm, slender face of such perfect bone structure, such aesthetic symmetry ... an aquiline nose, straight and true; sculpted lips that hovered just on the edge of being sensual. Yet the strangest part was that there was almost no sexuality to his gaze whatever. It was not the type of glance I was used to getting from anyone. And my heart began to beat madly in my chest... I wondered what in hell was happening to me...

I opened my cigarette case and offered him one; he took it, his smile a shade beyond mockery. "You are far too kind, sir." His voice was richly-accented, perfectly articulated, positively genteel. He leaned forward to allow me to light it, flickered a smile at me. "And you are...?"

"Caine Valmont." I drew deeply on my cigarette, nodded towards the track. "So you go in for this sort of thing, do you, Mr...?"

"Dresden. Alec Dresden." He shrugged, his gaze sliding over me like water. "My business here today has nothing to do with amusement, I assure you." His eyes narrowed, and his body shifted inside his clothes, his hard shoulders straining against the tweed. "There has been a murder, and I intend to find the culprit."

"Ah! So you're a police officer, then?" I wondered if we ought to move back into the grandstand; my boots were sinking slowly into the mud. In addition to which I had never much cared for the police. They had a nagging tendency to disapprove of my actions.

He threw back his head and laughed as if I'd just made a most uproarious joke. "A police officer? Oh my dear, no--absolutely anything but that!" He gazed at me keenly for a moment. "I am a consultant. I tidy up what the police have so often bungled. I have certain….abilities….that commend me to the job. I am certain you understand." He glanced down at his feet, as if suddenly realising that we were standing in mud. "Well! Shall we move back into the grandstand? I fear that I am sinking in this morass."

I hid a smile that did nothing to stop the twinkling in my eyes. His manner of speech was affected, to say the least, taking advantage of what I assumed was a vast and intricate vocabulary. But it suited him-- the little I knew of him, after such a brief acquaintance. My gaze rose and met his own, and I found that he was staring at me, and I found that his grey eyes were large, reflective pools into which I could fall, and it shook me to the marrow of my bones. At once I felt an otherness to him, that when he said ‘abilities’ he knew I was something other as well and was communicating that understanding to me.

"Caine! Are you coming? Mother says you must come to tea!" Marion's voice beckoned me, snapping me back to reality.

My thumping pulse slowly subsided to a flicker, a wing-beat in my throat. "I suppose I ought to go now, Mr..."

"Dresden." He extended his hand, and I took it. His hand was wonderfully dry and slightly rough, and at once I noticed the scars and marks there that looked as if they had a story behind them. "We shall meet again."

I wondered how he could possibly know this, but I decided not to ask. Nothing about him was even remotely like anything else I'd ever known. If he said that we would meet again, then I believed him ... inexplicably, I believed him. "Goodbye Dresden." But he had already turned and vanished into the shadowed grandstand, trailing the smoke of his cigarette behind him.

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The black 1956 Jaguar Roadster pulled up outside Lexie's residence and Caine didn't have the energy to get out and go through all the front doorstep awkward introductions.  Instead he laid on the horn with his hand, honking several times until he was sure she had heard.  The idea that she might not come out to see what was going on never occurred to him.  One arm was draped casually out the drivers side window and he looked wind blown, golden tan, and absolutely edible in the classic convertible.