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I write my recollections of the previous evening with haste, before the foggy haze of the morning strips from me my thoughts. The experience relates itself to our dear guest Carmilla, whose name fills many of my pages with her peculiar yet endearing idiosyncrasies. If this event could merely be considered as such however, I myself am not entirely sure.
It had been a usual day, almost surprisingly uneventful, I had taken breakfast with Father and til noon talked at length with him and Mademoiselle about the newest novel that had piqued my interest from his extensive collection of leather bound volumes, taking care to gently remove the fine layer of dust that had settled on its cover with a delicate wipe of my hand before I indulged myself in its pages. The afternoon meal was plain, but I was pleased to have Carmilla join us at the table, despite her uncharacteristic silence as she ate. Her distinctive look of graceful languor provided me comfort and the quick flash of her delicate teeth as she smiled and arose from her seat reassured me greatly. After dining I followed after our guest, my dear friend, to her bedchambers where we would often spend hours together gazing fondly at the distant view that lay beyond Carmilla's window. At times I would find her gaze fixed upon my face, drifting towards my neck and at times even further below the collar of my dress where my chest would rise and fall, creating an undulation that seemed to draw her closer. These careful observations of my respiration would be the catalyst for her pouring adorations, she would take up both my hands in hers and proclaim her devotion to my very being, kissing my slim fingers and blushed cheeks in shameful bursts that made my face burn with repulsion and a lingering desire to reciprocate her unwavering affection.
Yet that afternoon I would find myself dissatisfied, unable to enter on account of the lock she had placed upon her door. My knocks, sharp raps upon the wood, had little effect and I abandoned my venture, retiring listlessly to the drawing room where my novel lay upon the small table used for our coffee and chocolate. I spent a considerable number of hours seated there until the light from the window waned and the printed words seemed to swim on the page, rendering them unreadable. It was at that point that I heard the gentle creak of the drawing room door, followed by light footsteps. I knew these muffled pacings were the steps of Carmilla, and I turned to face her with an eagerness I was unaware I could muster. She approached me with arms outstretched, running her fingers through my hair with a strange melancholy about her expression.
"Won't you walk with me outside?" she whispered into my ear, the longing in her voice tempting me far more than I care to admit. She waited patiently for my response, and I took up her waist with my arm as she did mine. We stepped out into the developing twilight, the pale glimmer of the moon illuminating our faces.
How Carmilla delighted in the twilight! Releasing my waist from her embrace she took up my fingers in hers, guiding me into motions as if we were partners in an exhilarating dance of her own creation. The pallor from her skin seemed to fade with every step and when she turned to face me her cheeks were flush with a ruddy countenance that seemed to glow beneath her skin.
"Oh Carmilla, you tire me." I expressed breathlessly, "Let us sit for a moment."
It was upon that very bench that the most ardent of her desires became clear to me. It was as if we had settled as betroved lovers, the way she enamored me so.
"My dear Laura," she began, her eyes wandering as they always did, "won't you take up my hand and hold it?" I complied with her request. "Your warmth leeches into my bitter fingers. You know how bitter I can be. But this hot sweetness of yours seems to stick to me, cloying at my throat till all I can muster are hopeless serenades vying for your reciprocity. Even here, under the fair moon that men seek and strive to conquer, I claim only you."
I withdrew myself slightly but she clutched my dress at the shoulders, returning to her speech with renewed vigour. "Won't you proclaim the same? A promise to me, here beneath the galaxies that whisper your name with more love than I can exert from my hollowed soul. Oh how I adore you so! I beg of you, call me your own and I will be your only."
And there began her endless tirade of touch, first a cold palm against my cheek, caressing it tenderly as another hand planted itself amid my breast. She was irresistible. In that moment as she laid my back against the hard wood of our seat I surrendered my sensibilities and pulled her closer. I lay motionless, victim to her gentle kisses that traversed collarbone to the soft plane of my forehead. She left delicate murmurings in my ears, asking permission for unspeakable deeds. Her passion permeated through my skin. I was emboldened.
"Kiss me Carmilla." The tame touch roughened and in her eyes the flickers of a deeper desire, a thirsty hunger, fixed itself about my mouth. I brought my hands towards hers, gripping them with an unknown strength, born from my own awakened fervour. Our momentary connection served no satiation and I pulled her closer once again, pressing my lips to hers in an embrace of several seconds. Her mouth parted, inviting my tongue towards hers. I connected with her again and again, each time our bodies intertwining more deeply that the last. How different I had become!
We lay together, her head upon my shoulder, for a short while. I became aware of a fatigue within myself and I requested of Carmilla to guide me back to the schloss where I could rest upon my bed. Her encompassing embrace comforted me as we walked and when we arrived upon the door of my chambers I begged of her to stay by my side. She accepted the offer. I fell victim to the throes of slumber whilst buried beneath my bedcovers, her dark hair spread across the pillow at my head.
Yet when I awoke I found myself alone. Carmilla remained her inexplicable self and I had been abandoned.