So, she took him to a party at that Exchange place he seemed to like so much. The owners weren't there, it seemed, off on a business trip of some sort, but there were plenty people to socialize. It was a Kindred party, and a scene party, and there were a lot of different sorts. She let him introduce her as his ghoul to some of them. He seemed to be acquainted with a few. He was uncomfortable though; she'd had him dress up quite a bit more than usual, and wear leather wrist manacles with clip on latches for accessories. Not only that, but he had on a necktie. Drake was definitely not the necktie sort.
Then the moment arrived that she'd been awaiting: one of the gentlemen at the party began to flirt with her. She gave him her full attention, reserving only an unnoticeable fraction to keeping an eye on Drake. Claire purposely neglected him as she and her admirer exchanged witticisms. Drake bore through it for several minutes, but when Claire moved to go off with the man for a dance, without a word to him, he softly said, "ahem?" That was Claire's signal for the next step of her plan.
She wrapped her hand in Drake's necktie and tugged, pulling him to a chair in the middle of the club. He followed obediently, a bit awkwardly, and sat down in the seat as she bade him with a single word command, "Sit". "Fold your hands behind your neck," she said once he was seated, and she clipped both wrists onto the necktie. Then she slid the tongue of the tie around a bar of the chair and put the end in his mouth. "Hold it in your teeth." Arms akimbo behind his head, leashed to the chair by the tie in his teeth, he watched her turn and give a small wave to her admirer. "Now Stay," she said, and turned and strode away.
Claire danced with that man, and he whispered many admiring words into her ear. She encouraged him, and it progressed past words, to subtle and then not so subtle groping. It had been a long time since she'd allowed anyone such an approach, and she found it invigorating, exciting. She didn't hesitate to go with him when he invited her back to his room for further exploration. It was a risk, but she needed this risk, and Drake needed to see her take it. She did not even look to see if he were still where she'd placed him. That was not the point of tonight.
While Claire was enjoying her adventure with the admiring stranger, Drake sat. He watched his ghoul at first with a rising sense of impossibility. This couldn't be happening. He tried not to meet anyone's eyes, but when he did, he felt a strange sense of arousal. Certainly most did not care what was happening between him and Claire at the moment, but equally certainly, quite a few had noticed and made judgment in their minds. It wasn't just that people were making disparaging judgments about his ability to control his ghoul. Frustration, anxiety, warred with some other feeling within him. Hunger. He wanted blood - this humiliating abandonment aroused him. His fangs extended, tearing holes in the tie still clenched in his teeth.
One of the girls noticed. She came over, carrying a glass of bloodwyne, and sat on the table in front of him. With a grin she teased the Beast out of Drake, dribbling the blood out of the glass onto her lips, her neck. Leaned up close to him to see if she could provoke a lunge, even a bite. Drake knew he'd get them both in trouble with the owner if he did, though. He did open his mouth, the tie clinging by a thread to one fang, and she dribbled a little of the bloodwyne into his mouth. Even the foul taste of the cold blood mixed with liquor did not calm his thirst though. It dribbled down his face and the tie, and she teasingly dabbed at his face with the tie's tongue before replacing it in his mouth.
He wanted Claire, now, so strongly. The longing shocked him with its intensity. The man Claire had gone off with returned a little over an hour later, without her. She had fallen asleep in his bed. Anxiety and fear rose in Drake nearly uncontrollably. What had the man done with his ghoul? He nearly stood to go question the man, but just then, the owners walked in: Elegrea Whitebird, that strange and powerful little man, and his property and chatelains, the vampires Catherine and Mikal. Mikal and Whitebird were arm in arm, and Catherine walked just ahead of them. As they went through the club room to their quarters, they noted Drake. Elegrea merely quirked a brow, taking in the scene and comprehending it with a glance. Mikal winked flirtatiously. And Catherine, ever empathetic, waved them onward to their rest, while she sat down across from Drake at the table.
"How is it going?" she asked him, as though his appearance were utterly normal. It was, in a way; far more drastic things happened here every night, and probably in the daytime too, though no vampire could attest to that.
"Claire," he said. It wasn't exactly an answer, and yet it was. "She went off with," Drake looked around for the man, but he had gone, "someone. A man with a room here at the Exchange. He came back but she didn't."
"And who is Claire?"
"My ghoul."
Catherine's mouth quirked a smile. "Your ghoul went off with someone you did not know, and you remained here?"
"Er." Drake paused, shrugging, tugging at the clips that held his wrists manacled to his necktie. "You know how it is."
"I do, indeed." Catherine nodded, looking at him sympathetically. "Drake. You must trust her." She held up a hand to forestall his protest. "Do not forget where you are. If something has been done to her that violates the rules of the Exchange... well. You know how _he_ handles such things." She ran her fingers along the 'ESW' on her collar. "You should not be worried."
Yes, he knew quite well the stringencies of Elegrea Whitebird's rule. Drake nodded to Catherine, unable to assemble any coherent dispute. She stood gracefully and took her leave.
The room had cleared out before Claire returned for him. Looking flush and rumpled, she cheerfully but briskly unfastened his wrists and told him, "Follow me." They returned home, he falling asleep as the airplane passed into daytime. Apparently she managed to transport him home safely, since he awoke the next nightfall on the floor of the kitchen.
Drake opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He heard Claire's footsteps. "Well, get up," she said with mild impatience. He stood and looked at her. "I had such fun at that party last night," she told him. He did not answer. "Didn't you have fun too, Drake?" Her voice had a knowing, teasing tone.
He didn't answer directly. "Why did you do that? Didn't you think... after what Cassi..."
She interrupted him immediately. "That's why. I'm tired of hearing you whine about Cassi. Mention it again, and we'll do this again. Next time I'll sleep over with him, and you can get yourself home. Okay Drake?" She was not really giving him an option. Or rather - she was - but if he took it - it would begin to destroy what he'd made for himself with her.
He could not let himself take it. That was part of the system, part of his happiness. Part of his drug. "Okay, Claire." He looked down. He couldn't say this, though he thought maybe she knew. But he had in a way enjoyed it, as he enjoyed almost all of her torments. He knew that some time, some place, he'd "ask" for this again; she had told him how; all it would take would be to dredge up Cassi's many abandonments, and he'd be given. Be careful what you wish for, he thought, you might get it. And have I ever got it. He looked up, then into Claire's eyes, and gave her a big smile.