“A & D’s B & B” (Abel and Deborah’s Bed and Breakfast)A and Ds BB

Episode 1 – “Carolyn, Michael, Avery & John”

Gracious! These things are heavy. Maybe I should have waited ‘til Abel came back, let him move ‘em for me. I struggle into the kitchen with my load, reminding myself not to frown. I remain straight-faced instead. Facelifts are not for me, so I’m in energy saving mode until Abel gets back. Hes’ been gone two weeks, and we don’t admit guests when he’s on one of his missions. Abel keeps me young in appearance and at heart, literally, but I am over 200 years old. Well, this body is, anyway. Suppose I’ll have to get another one eventually, but Abel and I really like this one. Thank goodness he’s due back today.

We have a wall-to-wall mirror as our kitchen backsplash. Not that we need it to keep an eye on everybody. Abel and I both have eyes in the back of our head, but that mirror comes in handy at times as a portal. Today, it’s just a mirror.

After I set the heavy ass plant down by the window to get some sun, I lean against the bar and take a long hard look at myself. Almond-shaped, nutmeg brown eyes, unruly dark brown hair with no highlights because, well, it sucks up the light, never to be seen again. I hate my hair. If it were up to me, I’d change it, but wouldn’t you know – Abel doesn’t want me changing anything about myself, so here I am.

Hellion, our stereotypical black cat, a big grumpy girl with green eyes, stands on her hind legs and paws my calf lightly. Meow! Darkly, yet another stereotype, is a giant Rottweiler. He’s suddenly awake from his stupor and barking loudly. This is their way of heralding Abel’s return. I’m frankly a little miffed with him so instead of his usual greeting at the door, I stay right where I am.

I mean, how hard is it to message me when he’s able to speak directly into my mind from wherever. His deep voice usually just blossoms from nowhere, filling my head, but he was gone an entire week and I didn’t hear a peep. I got a phone call the first week, second week nothing. I huff. He can forget about me being all wet and willing this time. Who am I kidding. With Abel, I’m always wet and willing.

Before I see him, he’s in my head. He assures me he can’t read my mind, but sometimes I wonder. “I didn’t share with you because I didn’t have anything good to tell you, and I don’t like it when you worry.”

I tilt my head and glance at the French door, kind of Linda Blair in “The Exorcist” style. There he is. Instead of opening the door, ignoring the door, or just popping into the room as he often does, he’s standing there in the doorway, a pensive expression on his inhumanly handsome face, his light green eyes shuttered.

“You know your anger won’t allow me inside, Sugar.” Is he pouting? Does he actually have the nerve to pout? Of course he does. This is Abel.

He still doesn’t look at me, apparently staring at the doorknob. He’s stomping his boot heel on the wooden porch outside.

I sigh, exasperated. Dammit, this is so unfair. I can’t even be angry without feeling guilty. I take a deep breath and exhale, forcing the anger out. One strong emotion is immediately replaced by another. My traitorous body chooses to heat with desire and before I can move a smidgen, Abel’s muscular arms are wrapped around my waist, pulling me to him. I refuse to return the hug, my arms hanging limp at my sides.

“I missed you even more than usual this time, Sugar,” he whispers, ignoring my childish behavior and leaning back to search my eyes.

I cross my arms and glare at him. “So what happened you couldn’t call or message me.” Honestly, I think he calls me that idiotic nick name to try and brainwash me. I chuckle inwardly. Guess somebody needs to tell him if it ain’t worked in all this time, it ain’t gonna.

“I wasn’t on the surface, Sugar. I thought I told you I had to go above and below. Always puts me in a time warp. I had no idea how much time passed, reception is impossible down below, and just a few hours there feels like years. Above is just the opposite, reception is excellent, but days feel like seconds.”

He taps my chin, tilts his head to the side, and smiles, altercation over. “Dinner?” He lifts a brow. “Tell me what you want and I’ll make it for you.”

I wave my hand in the air. “Hmm. Better make something like soup or spaghetti. Our guests have reservations for tomorrow – four of them. I’m sensing a whole lot of negative energy and they’re not even here yet.”

I watch him moving around in the kitchen and lift my eyes to heaven in gratitude. Not that all my thoughts are so saintly as I stare at his tight ass, long slightly bowed legs, and the muscles in his back. Oh, the muscles in his back. I could write an homage to the muscles in his broad back. Unbidden thoughts of gliding my hands along his hills and plains, his firm skin giving beneath my fingertips, and…


I blink, returning to the present, my index finger in my mouth. “Yeah, Babe?”

He continues cooking. I decide to pitch in and cut a few celery stalks or so. Watching us in the kitchen, it’s obvious to anyone that we’ve been together a very long time. Like enjoying a choreographed dance.

“Want me to tell you a bit about them now or wait until they get here this time?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Challenge me. Let’s see which of us figures out what needs to be done first.”

Abel offers me a dark grin, turns the fire on “low,” and sets the top on the pot. He saunters over to me, arms outstretched, all sexy swagger. His bass voice is molasses to my soul.  “How about we let that simmer while we burn? I really missed you, Sugar.”

I lift my leg high enough to wrap around his waist and feel the undeniable evidence of his desire before I pull him the last step. I’ve always been rather athletic. I clasp the back of his head with my hands, silky black hair overlapping my fingers, brushing the middle of his back. “Missed you too, Babe,” I whisper into his mouth before latching onto his talented tongue. I wonder what adventres lie in wait for an immortal and his mate for the next few hours or so?


The next morning I’m still lounging around high on memories. I enjoy reminiscing about how Abel and I met, how he taught me to love. Although he doesn’t sleep, I always sleep so much better when he’s home. I stretch languidly. After two weeks apart, we fucked like wild animals last night. Now, I’m deliciously sore, even after all these years – another of his many special gifts.

The bell chimes and even from our bedroom, I hear Abel moving to the door. Our spirits are so in tune, I always hear him, feel him. Guests are arriving. Sometimes they come because they know they’re broken, in need of our extremely rare expertise, and other times they’re led to us, completely oblivious. Humans never cease to fascinate and entertain me. If only they knew how blessed they really are. Then again, guess that’s why they need us.

I join Abel in the great room. It’s actually more of a great room/solarium. The kitchen opens to the great room, and Abel installed floor to ceiling blinds to protect our guests during storm season.

I park my ample hips on a bar stool, gaze adoringly at Abel, and rest my elbows on the bar, assessing each guest as he or she arrives. I always enjoy this part – getting to see who I’ll be working with this time. Abel’s laying on the charm as always, and they barely notice me, as usual. Gives me a chance to size them up without the distractions of civility. I get to just be who and what I am.

I’m looking at a middle-aged woman, maybe late fifties or so, blonde from a bottle, natural color brown, and she’s wearing one of those travel pantsuits. You know, the ones made with the wrinkle-free material. Traditional navy with navy pumps. Don’t let the conservative look fool you. She’s ultra-thin and she’s dating a gold-digging man half her age. Carolyn Westry.

Guess you’re wondering how I know all this. Problem is, there’s actually no word/name/title in the human language for exactly what I am. You have quite a few words that partially describe me, but my original name is Deborah, I’ve been around since the Bible days, and God’s given me a pretty eclectic variety of powers.

This is going to be fun. Carolyn brought her boy toy with her. Thought I smelled him when I saw her. Michael Houston.

Waiting for a couple more guests, but Carolyn and Michael have just noticed me and they’re heading for the bar. Known mainly for wisdom, I’ve been known to be a psychic witch, voodoo priestess, even an angel. Abel thinks that last title’s really funny.

Long story short, don’t waste time trying to figure out “what” I am. By the time you wrap your mind around it, the Goddess upstairs will bestow me with yet another ability anyway. Yep, She does that whenever She sees fit. I’ve taken many forms and played many roles over the centuries, but I’ve experienced so much more joy since Abel found me. Just relax and get to know me for who I am.

“Welcome to Abel’s. How was your trip?”

As they blabber about the usual, I fix each of them a drink before they ask. They glance down, surprise registering for a few seconds, then start consuming their libations without one question. Funny how they almost never comment on how I knew what they wanted before they asked. Their chatter gives me a chance to size them up. Nothing in-depth, mind you, just an initial assessment if you will. I almost always act as the antenna or lightning rod for Abel’s powers, and they’re infinite. He channels through me to keep things in balance. Guess you could say I temper his power to protect humans from a voltage overload.

Mmm. Here come the other two guests. Oh, yes, the couple with the crazy ass families. She’s petite. I know. We hate her already. LOL Exotic brown skin, flawless, but her dark eyes are sad – an old sadness that comes with time and trials. He’s tall and really nice looking too. Blonde hair and blue eyes at their best, with great classic features. Unfortunately, he has the same age-old sadness. Yep, the light is dim in those eyes. What a waste of beautiful blue. Avery and John Worthington.

Avery flounces over to the bar. That’s right – flounces, and pops onto a barstool with her finger in the air. Okay, maybe I can still hate her a little bit. “I’d like a—“

I slide a drink over to her and give her my Deborah look – slightly narrowed eyes, lips drawn in an emotionless “You-don’t-want-to-fuck-with-me” line. She smiles nervously, picks up her drink, frowns, and takes a few sips.

John dumps the bags, and I’m absolutely sure most of them are Avery’s, and lumbers over to sit on the opposite end of the bar. He’s frowning and glancing at Avery so I slide him a double scotch.

He mumbles “thank you” and downs it, a veil shadowing those beautiful blue eyes again.

I tilt my head to the side, starting to read behind the veil, then glance up and beam at Abel. Speaking of eyes. Oh, how I love his eyes. There’s fire in them, and he’s grinning at me. Devil. He’s thinking of our afternoon in the boudoir. Soft green just enhances the flames, but everybody can’t see that. We speak into one another’s minds simultaneously – “Let the games begin.”


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