Maybe, just maybe ...

She jumped out of the tub and grabbed her robe. Since it was silk, it clung to her warm, damp flesh. Maybe that wasn't a bad thing. She still had a nice enough figure. Well, all right, it wasn't exactly hers ... well, yes, it was. She'd paid for it; it was hers!

So thinking, she pulled the towel from her hair, shook it out, and went hurrying down the stairs.

Thank G.o.d for the plush carpet lining! Her damp feet would have gone sliding right off marble! She could have slid down the stairs, her obsession leading straight to her demise!

Broken bones, broken neck, what a way to go!

"Hold your shorts on!" she called, rocketing to the door.

She should have looked out the little peephole, put in by the current owner, but by the time she reached the door, she was in far too much of a hurry.

She threw open the door... to a woman of medium height in costume, mask, and sweeping long cloak.

"Yes?" Tiff said, noting instantly that the clothing worn was expensive, that the mask was exquisite, lined with crystal, probably Swarovski. "Tiff?"

She recognized the rich, cultured, slightly accented voice, even though her name had been the only word spoken.

"Contessa?" she said, too surprised to hide her incredulity.

"I was in the neighborhood. I heard you had taken this palazzo. It's so rude of me to come without warning, yet..."

"No, no!" Tiff said quickly, stepping aside. "I'm delighted to see you!"

"You were expecting someone."

"No ..." She laughed a little nervously. "I guess I was a little anxious. I wanted to reach the door before the knocking stopped. I'm so glad I reached the door before you went away."

The contessa smiled slightly.

"You must forgive my appearance," Tiff said. She shouldn't have gushed so much.

"But you are busy," the contessa said, indicating Tiff's robe and damp hair.

"I was pruning, ready to go out. Please, please, come in."

"Well, I won' t stay long." The contessa stepped into the foyer, allowing her cowl to fell, and sliding off her mask.

"Here, let me take that for you," Tiff said, very carefully setting the mask on the carved oak stand by the door. "And your cape ..."

The contessa surrendered her cape, and looked around the palazzo. "Quite nice. I've actually been here before .. . years ago. The work they've done is lovely."

"It's very comfortable. Far better than a hotel, though there are many lovely hotels here," Tiff said. She was trying not to babble. Here was the contessa, visiting her. This was almost as exciting as a visit from the man she had hoped to see. Of course, she was standing there in a robe, her hair damp, clinging to her face. She was hardly dressed for a contessa.

"If you give me just a minute, I can find something-"

The contessa waved her hand, her beautiful, ageless features curling into a smile. "No, no, do nothing! I'll be but a few minutes, and you can sink back into your tub. I would leave very unhappy if I ruined your bath!"

"Then I'll get some wine. We'll sit upstairs."

"Red wine, please. May I wander?"

"Yes, of course. The bar is upstairs-"

"Wonderful."

Still feeling awkward, stunned, and complimented beyond all measure, Tiff started up the stairs. The contessa followed her. But as Tiff went to the wine cabinet, the contessa did indeed wander. With two gla.s.ses of her very best wine poured, Tiff looked around and did not see the contessa. "Contessa?"

"In here!"

She had gone into the master bedroom. She turned as Tiff came into the room, smiling and accepted a gla.s.s of wine. "Magnifico!" she said. "They've done beautiful work. The room where the bath is now was a dowdy, closed-in place. Now ... what a lovely ... lair."

Tiff flushed, wondering if the contessa could be aware of her reasons for wanting such a sumptuous suite. "I admit, I enjoy creature comforts."

"Something we share," the contessa said. She wandered to the long windows, which were open to the terrace beyond. "Quite wonderful. And this is my favorite time of day.

When the colors of sunset fade away, day is gone, and night is with us! With all its shadows and secrets!"

Standing there, she looked almost as if she were in rapture. Tiff walked over to the grand, silk-covered bed and sat, watching her.

"So much time is wasted sleeping," the contessa said. She walked over to where Tiff sat and sank down beside her, swallowing her wine. "Fruity, yet dry, rich and bold. A fine choice, thank you."

"May I get you some more?"

"No, no, just sit! Let me enjoy your company. I take my time when I savor a new taste,"

she said softly. "So! You fascinate me."

"I fascinate you?" Tiff said.

"Yes, I truly admire a woman such as you. It's a difficult world. Too many men, far too often, for too many years, have preyed upon women."

"Well, I'm not sure-"

"Ah! Think about it. The businessman with a young secretary who needs his approval to advance? The aging executive has an affair with the sweet, young thing while his trod-upon wife sits at home and can do little since her own life and livelihood depend on him. Movie stars ready to decay find young starlets for wives. While you, my smart and lovely and more mature woman, turned the tables. Here you are-a woman of substance! You needn't bow to anyone because you are your own master. And now, while you are still relatively young, you have the ways and means to do what you will, with whom you like!"

Tiff had to smile. "Well, there are those, including a few of my stepchildren, who have tended to think of me as a money-grubbing b.i.t.c.h. And I'm not so terribly young, I'm afraid."

She hadn't realized that she'd twisted, exposing the length of her legs, as she'd turned to the contessa on the bed so that they could converse. Now, she noticed the contessa looking at her exposed flesh. She felt the warmest flush envelop her. She started to close her robe, but the contessa's hand landed on her knee before she could do so.

"Young enough. Look how beautiful you are! You've kept yourself up, another point I admire very much."

The contessa's long fingers, covered with jewels, moved over Tiff's knee, slightly down her calf, slightly up her inner thigh.

Tiff didn't embarra.s.s easily, but it seemed that her blood flooded her limbs, and she felt as hot as if it steamed. She should move, withdraw ...

But now the contessa's eyes were on her, deep, languorous, sensual. Tiff found that she couldn't move; she could only stare into the contessa's eyes. The contessa smiled slowly as her fingers kept moving.

"Tell me, bella," she said, her voice a soft whisper that seemed to caress, "have you ever been with a woman?"

She should have said something witty, something in the way of denial for what was happening now, but all that came to Tiff's lips was one word, barely breathed out, "No." The contessa shrugged, her supple fingers still just stroking. "Neither had I been for many years.. .many, many years. But when I discovered that men were deceitful ... when they played about as they would ... that it was possible to seduce beautiful young things myself. And I learned that women could be seductive, appealing ... so appetizing."

Tiff managed to swallow. No, she'd never been with a woman, but. ..

"Poor Tiff! So many years with old men desperately seeking their own pleasure! Oh, the things you must have done to bring them to the point of ... possibility!"

The contessa seemed able to read her mind. Even as she spoke, Tiff felt the most unG.o.dly surge of desire sweeping through her! G.o.d, yes! The things she'd done, the patience she had needed, the pleasure she had brought . . . while finding no satisfaction herself.

"I can show you pleasure," the contessa whispered.

Her lips seemed to be so much closer. Her words, her whispers, were like swathes of silk, sweeping over and around Tiff.

She wanted the contessa to do more. So much more. Bring those artful fingers higher and higher and higher, touch the intimate place that now seemed to be throbbing, crying out to be touched.

"Allow me ..."

The contessa's hands were on her shoulder, a touch so delicate, and yet so forceful.

Tiff fell back, the silk robe completely open, the belt lost somewhere, her legs splayed.

The contessa was still over her. Her fingers now stroked Tiff's throat and moved slowly down her torso.

"Such beautiful b.r.e.a.s.t.s ..." The contessa's words were now no more than air, warm air that stirred and excited her until Tiff could barely stand it.

She'd never been with a woman ....

Why not?

This wasn't just any woman; this was the contessa . . .

And she couldn't stop now if she wanted. Those delicate, ring-laden fingers were on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, tracing the tiny patterns of veins in them. Tiff's legs were spread. She felt liquid, unable to move.

"Beautiful, beautiful ..."

"Lifted and enhanced," Tiff heard herself say.

The contessa's laughter was like the soft tinkle of bells. Tiff felt the wetness of her mouth. Tiny licks, like little drops of pure fire, darting as swiftly as the tongue of the snake, doing things as deliciously wicked . ..

The contessa's caress lowered against her. If she could have moved, Tiff would have seized the woman's head, and dragged it swiftly down between her thighs. She ached, throbbed, she could feel herself swelling ...

Licks . . . traced her veins, touched her abdomen, trickled along her inner thigh, landed.

Tiff nearly shot through the roof. Lord ... what a climax! She was faint, she nearly blacked out. Dear G.o.d, but the codgers she had married had been ... worthless. This was what the French called le pet.i.t mort. So good, it was like dying . . .

She'd never, ever, experienced anything like this, she hadn't believed it existed. She was drifting in the pleasure, her mind stunned, yet her thoughts racing, and the contessa didn't just leave it at that, she was moving lower, against her thighs, a slight stab of pain, the greatest pleasure, and again, the world fading in the ecstacy, the little death of the French ...

Nari dined slowly, taking her time.

When she was sated, she sat back, surveying the shock white body of the woman on the bed.

Amused, she stood, still surveying the remains.

There was one woman who had died happy. There were so many excellent ways to enjoy the richness of a good meal. The veins at the throat were fine, but those in the thigh could be punctured in a way that let the blood flow smoothly.

She smoothed back Tiff's hair, fondly surveying the body that had provided such pleasure. She laughed aloud then, remembering Tiff's eagerness to greet her. "Poor Tiffany ... you did rush down to your own demise, didn't you?"

She stretched, elated, as pleased as an alley cat that had just consumed an entire bowl of milk with no interruption, and without having to share a lick.

She walked to the window and looked out at the darkness that now shadowed the night.

She felt completely invigorated, powerful, wonderful.

After such a delicious meal, Nari was surprised to feel a taste of bile rising in her throat. She clenched her teeth, hating him. She had come here because ...

He'd left, her. . . hungry, so hungry, but hungry in a way that she couldn't fill, no matter how sated she should have been, no matter how sweet the seduction of her prey . . .

She looked back at Tiff. Something now, must be done with the remains. What a bother.

She looked back to the street, frowning. The carabinieri were out in large numbers, she noticed. Why?

For a moment, she thought that he might be angry. Such a feast should have been shared. And perhaps she had not chosen the right victim ...

He had his own agenda.

She tossed her head. Well, there were times when he forgot just who she was.

And now ...

Now, tonight, she felt a terrible gnawing inside. Bitterness, hatred, vengeance. Well, she was moving toward her goal. And she was filled; she surely felt her own power.

She hadn't felt quite so deliriously strong in a very long time ...

She closed the window.

The night was young.

CHAPTER 8.