The woman pressed against the wall, so we could pass, and shut the door behind us. I kept waiting for her to lock it so we couldn't get away, but she didn't. I shoved Phillip's hand off my scars, and he wrapped himself around my waist and led me down a long narrow hall. The house was cool, air conditioning purring against the heat. A square archway opened into a room.

It was a living room with all that implies-a couch, love seat, two chairs, plants hanging in front of a bay window, afternoon shadows snaking across the carpeting. Homey. A man stood in the center of the room, a drink in his hand. He looked like he had just come from Leather 'R' Us. Leather bands crisscrossed his chest and arms, like Hollywood's idea of an oversexed gladiator.

I owed Phillip an apology. He'd dressed downright conservatively. The happy homemaker came up behind us in her royal purple lingerie and laid a hand on Phillip's arm. Her fingernails were painted dark purple, almost black. The nails scratched along his arm, leaving faint reddish tracks behind.

Phillip shivered beside me, his arm tightening around my waist. Was this his idea of fun? I hoped not.

A tall, black woman rose from the couch. Her rather plentiful breasts threatened to squeeze out of a black wire bra. A crimson skirt with more holes than cloth hung from the bra and moved as she walked, giving glimpses of dark flesh. I was betting she was naked under the skirt.

There were pinkish scars on one wrist and her neck. A baby junkie, new, almost fresh. She stalked around us, like we were for sale and she wanted to get a good look. Her hand brushed my back, and I stood away from Phillip, facing the woman.

“That scar on your back; what is it? It isn't vampire bites.” Her voice was low for a woman, an alto tenor maybe.

“A sharp piece of wood was slammed into my back by a human servant.” I didn't add that the sharp piece of wood had been one of the stakes I brought with me, or that I had killed the human servant later that same night.

“My name's Rochelle,” she said.

“Anita.”

The happy homemaker stepped up next to me, hand stroking over my arm. I stepped away from her, her fingers sliding over my skin. Her nails left little red lines on my arm. I resisted the urge to rub them. I was a tough-as-nails vampire slayer; scratches didn't bother me. The look in the woman's eyes did. She looked like she wondered what flavor I was and how long I'd last. I had never been looked at that way by another woman. I didn't like it much.

“I'm Madge. That's my husband Harvey,” she said, pointing to Mr. Leather, who had moved to stand beside Rochelle. “Welcome to our home. Phillip has told us so much about you, Anita.”

Harvey tried to come up behind me, but I stepped back towards the couch, so I could face him. They were trying to circle like sharks. Phillip was staring at me, hard. Right; I was supposed to be enjoying myself, not acting like they all had communicable diseases.

Which was the lesser evil? A sixty-four-thousand-dollar question if ever I heard one. Madge licked her lips, slowly, suggestively. Her eyes said she was thinking naughty things about me, and her. No way. Rochelle swished her skirt, exposing far too much thigh. I had been right. She was naked under the skirt. I'd die first.

That left Harvey. His small, blunt-fingered hands were playing with the leather-and-metal studding of the little kilt he wore. Fingers rubbing over and over the leather. Shit.

I flashed him my best professional smile, not seductive, but it was better than a frown. His eyes widened and he took a step towards me, hand reaching out towards my left arm. I took a deep breath and held it, smile freezing in place.

His fingers barely traced over the bend of my arm, tickling down the skin, until I shivered. Harvey took the shiver for an invitation and moved in closer, bodies almost touching. I put a hand on his chest to keep him from coming any closer. The hair on his chest was coarse and thick, black. I've never been a fan of hairy chests. Give me smooth any day. His arm began to encircle my back. I wasn't sure what to do. If I took a step back I was going to sit down on the couch, not a good idea. If I stepped forward I'd be stepping into him, pressed against all that leather and skin.

He smiled at me. “I've been dying to meet you.”

He said “dying” like it was a dirty word, or an inside joke. The others laughed, all except Phillip. He took my arm and pulled me away from Harvey. I leaned into Phillip, even put my arms around his waist. I had never hugged anyone in a fishnet shirt before. It was an interesting sensation.

Phillip said, “Remember what I said.”

“Sure, sure,” Madge said. “She's yours, all yours, no sharing, no halfsies.” She stalked over to him, swaying in her tight lace panties. With the heels on she could look him in the eye. “You can keep her safe from us for now, but when the big boys get here, you'll share. They'll make you share.”

He stared at her until she looked away. “I brought her here, and I'll take her home,” he said.

Madge raised an eyebrow. “You're going to fight them? Phillip, my boy, she must be a sweet piece of tail, but no bedwarmer is worth pissing off the big guys.”

I stepped away from Phillip and put a hand flat against her stomach and pushed, just enough to make her back up. The heels made her balance bad, and she almost fell. “Let's get something straight,” I said. “I am not a piece of anything, nor am I a bedwarmer.”

Phillip said, “Anita …”

“My, my, she's got a temper. Wherever did you find her, Phillip?” Madge asked.

If there is anything I hate, it is being found amusing when I'm angry. I stepped up close to her, and she smiled down at me. “Did you know,” I said, “that when you smile, you get deep wrinkles on either side of your mouth? You are over forty, aren't you?”

She drew a deep, gasping breath and stepped back from me. “You little bitch.”

“Don't ever call me a piece of tail again, Madge, darling.”

Rochelle was laughing silently, her considerable bosom shaking like dark brown jello. Harvey stood straight-faced. If he had so much as smiled, I think Madge would have hurt him. His eyes were very shiny, but there was no hint of a smile.

A door opened and closed down the hall, farther into the house. A woman stepped into the room. She was around fifty, or maybe a hard forty. Very blonde hair framed a plump face. Even money the blonde came out of a bottle. Plump little hands glittered with rings, real stones. A long, black negligee swept the floor, complete with an open lace robe. The flat black of the negligee was kind to her figure, but not kind enough. She was overweight and there was no hiding it. She looked like a PTA member, a Girl Scout leader, a cookie baker, someone's mother. And there she stood in the doorway, staring at Phillip.

She let out a little squeal and came running towards him. I got out of the way before I was crushed in the stampede. Phillip had just enough time to brace himself before she flung her considerable weight into his arms. For a minute I thought he was going to fall backwards into the floor with her on top, but his back straightened, his legs tensed, and he righted them both.

Strong Phillip, able to lift overweight nymphomaniacs with both hands.

Harvey said, “This is Crystal.”

Crystal was kissing Phillip's chest, chubby, homey little hands trying to pull his shirt out of his pants so she could touch his bare flesh. She was like a cheerful little puppy in heat.

Phillip was trying to discourage her without much success. He gave me a long glance. And I remembered what he had said, that he had stopped coming to these parties. Was this why? Crystal and her like? Madge of the sharp fingernails? I had forced him to bring me, but in doing so, I had forced him to bring himself.

If you thought of it that way, it was my fault Phillip was here. Damn, I owed him.

I patted the woman's cheek, softly. She blinked at me, and I wondered if she was nearsighted. “Crystal,” I said. I smiled my best angelic smile. “Crystal, I don't mean to be rude, but you're pawing my date.”

Her mouth fell open; her pale eyes bugged out. “Date,” she squeaked. “No one has dates at a party.”

“Well, I'm new to the parties. I don't know the rules yet. But where I come from, one woman does not grope another woman's date. At least wait until I turn my back, okay?”

Crystal's lower lip trembled. Her eyes began to fill with tears. I had been gentle, kind even, and she was still going to cry. What I was she doing here with these people?

Madge came and put her arm around Crystal and led the woman away. Madge was making soothing noises and patting her black silken arms.

Rochelle said, “Very cold.” She walked away from me towards a liquor cabinet that was against one wall.

Harvey had also left, following Madge and Crystal without so much as a backwards glance.

You'd think I'd kicked a puppy. Phillip let out a long breath and set down on the couch. He clasped his hands in front of him, between his knees. I sat down next to him, tucking my skirt down over my legs.

“I don't think I can do this,” he whispered.

I touched his arm. He was trembling, a constant shaking that I didn't like at all. I hadn't realized what it would cost him to come tonight, but I was beginning to find out.

“We can go,” I said.

He turned very slowly and stared at me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we can go.”

“You'd leave now without finding out anything because I'm having problems?” he asked.

“Let's just say I like you better as the overconfident flirt. You keep acting like a real person, and you'll have me all confused. We can go if you can't handle it.”

He took a deep breath and let it out, then shook himself like a dog coming out of water. “I can do it. If I have a choice, I can do it.”

It was my turn to stare. “Why didn't you have a choice before?”

He looked away. “I just felt like I had to bring you if you wanted to come.”

“No, dammit, that wasn't what you meant at all.” I touched his face and forced him to look at me. “Someone gave you orders to come see me the other day, didn't they? It wasn't just to find out about Jean-Claude, was it?”

His eyes were wide, and I could feel his pulse under my fingers. “What are you afraid of, Phillip? Who's giving you orders?”

“Anita, please, I can't.”

My hand dropped to my lap. “What are your orders, Phillip?”

He swallowed, and I watched his throat work. “I'm to keep you safe here, that's all.” His pulse was jumping under the bruised bite in his neck. He licked his lips, not seductive, nervous. He was lying to me. The trick was, how much of a lie and what about?