𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒
Chapter Ten | Your Humble Hostess

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KALLIOPE HAD A COMPLICATED LOVE, HATE WITH THE CLOTHES OF THE 21ST CENTURY. Some were far too short on her, already, short frame. Stopping at the tops of her thighs was a no go for her. But then, there were tasteful, frilly dresses in a range of patterns that made her eyes dilate.

Silk blouses and trousers were easily at her disposal, whereas in the eighteen hundreds, such fabrics and concepts were harder to come by.

She shimmed on a pair of jeans as she turned to and fro in the mirror. Finding the fabric hugging every curve and dip on her body. Truth be told, Kalliope felt self-conscious in them. Dresses certainly hid more than pants could never. Her bottom lip was tucked beneath her teeth, indecisively.

"What's going on in there. Need help working the zipper?" Damon's voice called out from the other side of the curtain stall.

As soon as they made arrangements to host a dinner party, he swept her away to find some "decent" clothes, as he put it. Kalliope wasn't too sure about this dinner either. She hadn't seen Elijah in a long time and their last encounter wasn't on stable terms.

"No, but are pants supposed to look this way?" This question prompted Damon to push the curtain aside. He shut himself in, letting his crystal blue eyes drop to her legs.

He pursed his lips with a nod. "Yeah, that looks right to me. What about that dress over there," He tipped his chin to the sunflower sundress, knowing she'd like that more.

Kalliope parted her lips in a small 'O', like she just realized he handed it to her. "Okay, I'll try that. Shoo," She gestured with her hands, smiling widely as he took his sweet time to leave.

"Hurry up too. We've been here for over an hour. I've got things to do, people to kill." Damon wiggled his eyebrows as Kalliope pushed him through the curtain, exhaling in exasperation.

She confirmed with herself that this Damon was extremely different from the one she married. Same core characteristics, but much more extra nonsense. Rolling her eyes, she snapped her fingers and suddenly replaced the jeans with the sundress.

It adorned her body in all the right places. She felt delicate yet, important. Which meant she was definitely gettting this.

Damon whistled, occupying his time like a child would as he leant against the wall beside her changing room. "So, what was that back there? You know Elijah, huh?"

He tried to play off his curiousity but he was doing a poor job at it. Kalliope glared at the curtain dividing them, rubbing her lips together. "I've known him for a long time..."

"How long we talkin'?"

"Hundreds of years ago - long." She cringed at his obvious pause. The curtain screeched against the metal pole holding it up and suddenly Kalliope was facing Damon's unbelieving face.

It took him a moment to get over her outfit. She look beautiful in it, but that wasn't his main focus at the time. She was making it hard. "Flore, how old are you exactly? How is that possible?"

"Just know, I've been alive longer than Elijah. I knew Elijah and now I'm here."

His eyebrows pinched, unable to comprehend such an old age. His tongue tutted as he shook his head. "Oh, no you don't. You don't get to skip over this like when you told me Stefan loved you. You lied to me. You've been lying to me."

"Actually, I didn't say Stefan was in love with me. I said -"

"Tsk, doesn't matter, don't remind me." The harsh whisper he exchanged with her didn't sound argumentative, but it was chalked full of betrayal.

His crystal blue eyes never looked so compelling. Kalliope grew empathetic. "I have my own reasons for keeping my age and my supernaturalness a secret. I was - I am being hunted by important people. People who want to enslave me, Damon. I will not apologize for looking after myself, but I will for you finding out in this horrible way."

Her chest heaved as she stared up at him, arms crossing over her chest as a defense. Damon didn't know what to say, his mouth had ran dry. "I implore you, please, forgive me." Her delicate hand fitted to his chest just right, caressing his pectorals lightly.

Truth be told, Damon had missed her touch. She soothed a part of him that no one else could or would dare try. Like a calming balm, she leveled him out, even now. After all this time.

Falling into old habits, Damon rubbed his hands up her arms and secured a gentle palm behind her neck. His thumb ran circles up and down the column, elicting shivers across her spine. She took the embrace as his acceptance, curling into him like a cat. His arm kept her warm, made her feel safe after years of running, dodging, hiding.

"I learned long ago, being mad at you is a waste of time... and I just got you back, so." Leaning back, Kalliope shared a genuine smile with him. Her instincts told her to kiss him. She had missed his lips, his touch, his everything. But she was hesitant.

Nervous he wouldn't reciprocate the same feelings. It was a crucial time between old lovers. The intimacy had not left, but the unsure awkwardness you get when you first start a relationship was ever-present.

However, Damon seemed to be in the same headspace as she. He tightened his grip around her neck and dared to step closer. The small space between them - around them, left little to be desired. They felt the curtained room fill with a smoky haze. They could only see each other.

In a heated attempt to rekindle an old flame, Kalliope pressed on her tip toes. Her hand curled around the fabric of his shirt for leverage as she lessened the distance by a parted breath. Their lips hovered over one another. A million images and keepsakes running through their heads.

Being the risky, spontaneous man Damon was, he sealed her pouted lips in a searing kiss. The electricity ignited could not be ignored. It was passionate. A sensual dance that ebbed and flowed with enough prowess to keep them energized. If one word could describe this kiss, it would be: Nostalgia.

Her finger combed through his inky black hair, reveling in the softness against her skin. Kalliope sighed in the kiss, lashes fluttering open as they parted. Out of breath and slightly dazed, she bit her bottom lip.

Damon stared at the swollen, entrapped flesh for a couple seconds too long before shaking himself free of her hypnotizing spell. A smirk curled at his lips, one she saw coming a mile away. "You should get the dress and the jeans," He was smug and Kalliope didn't know whether to be flattered or smack him silly.

Pushing him playfully, she rolled her cocoa eyes.

"Wait," Damon broached, causing Kalliope to groan at the subject being reopened. He wrapped his arm around her waist nonetheless, securing her close to his muscular frame. "You didn't sleep with Elijah did you? Old husband... old lover? I won't be your mistress." He squinted his blue eyes, creating that smolder Kalliope knew full well. She almost started giggling at his absurdity.

"No, no! Nothing like that. We just knew each other through an acquaintance for a few years. Are you happy now? Sated?"

The amount of sass and attitude she was giving him with single eyebrow raised was enough to make Damon red in the face. But he didn't do that anymore. He wasn't the same lovesick puppy from the eighteen hundreds. However, he wasn't opposed to feeling some of those good emotions again.

"Happy? Yes. Sated? Mm, I don't think so," He smirked and tugged her tighter to himself, capturing her lips in a languid kiss that made her see stars. She was breathless. A moan slipping free as he ran a hand through her warm brown tresses.

It might take them another hour before they officially left the store with something useful.

...

"Get out of the kitchen!" Kalliope exclaimed as she smacked Damon's pinching fingers from her baked chicken beasts. She narrowed her eyes, threatening to hit him with a spatula.

"Alright, fine. But if you need a taste tester -"

"I'll find someone with actual taste," She smirked towards him, blissfully closing her eyes when he pressed a hearty kiss to her cheek. Kalliope saw his fake out from a mile away. With her eyes still closed she caught him slyly dipping his finger into the potato dish. "No mash potatoes!"

"Why don't you do something useful and set the table?" Damon rolled his eyes and snatched the silverware, finally leaving out of the kitchen. It was certainly a new twist on their dynamic but the core principles were still there.

Damon still had no idea how to cook for himself.

"How do you do that?" Jenna joked as she came around the corner. She leant against the island counter with an amused smile on her face.

Kalliope arched a brow, "Do what?"

"Make him listen." They laughed lightly together and Kalliope shook her head.

"Blackmail. No one knew him in the eighteen hundreds better than I did. I imagine his tough reputation would deteriorate by the seams." Of course, she was joking about the blackmail, but it supplied conversation. Kalliope was still working on her people skills.

She turned back to the oven and slid on some mits. The wave of heat that hit her when the oven door open always felt homely to her. She pulled out the green beans and set them on the counter.

"So Jenna, have you thought of your wish yet?"

Jenna shook her ginger head, as if the notion was still lost on her. Understanding the supernatural world was something she was just getting the hang of. She didn't necessarily want a monkey's paw situation. "I don't have anything to wish for yet. Things are rough, but I wouldn't change it for the world."

"Take your time. I'm sure you'll think of something." That was probably the first time Kalliope ever told someone to think through their wish. The gravity of it was not lost on her.

"Tell me, what happens if I don't make a wish?" Jenna was intrigued, moving to sit at one of the bar stools with her head in palm.

The Genie paused, biting her lower lip in contemplation. She liked Jenna, trusted her no matter how short of time they knew each other. Jenna could've wished for anything with greed in mind and done away with Kalliope. But she chose to feed her, introduced her to her realitives and friends. It was more than most had done.

"Well I - I would stay your servant for however long it takes. You sort of own me right now and no one else can make a wish as long as you are in possession of an unfinished exchange. One wish and I'm free game again... I suppose."

A shadow cast over the brunette's face and Jenna notice the tinge of saddness in the air. "That's happened before, hasn't it?"

Kalliope sent her a small smile, grabbing a few dishes from the counter. One in her hands, one floating behind her telepathically. "Like you wouldn't believe. Now, come on. Let's get this meal on the table before the men come back and lose their hands."

"I'm not opposed to cutting limbs. They didn't help." In wonder, Jenna followed behind. Her mind was swirling with what Kalliope had told her. She was stumped, not only by the handless act of Kalliope levitating a large pot of chicken, but by the simple concept of a wish getting out of hand. She contemplated just how long Kalliope had to wait for a wish before.

Surely, no one would enjoy being held prisoner - left waiting - until someone made up their mind.

Another strange accurance that Jenna was having a hard time wrapping her head around was why Andie Star, one of her girl friends, was here.

"Andie?" Jenna jumped at seeing her, rushing to grab the floating chicken dish before her human friend saw some incredibly unnatural. A huff slipped past her lips as it plopped in her arms, mittens at the ready. "What are you doing here?"

The journalist grinned as she spun to greet Jenna. Her notebook and pen in hand. Kalliope didn't necessarily know why she was here either, but she made plenty of food. She supposed Andie was another one of Damon's friends. Or, she could be helping Damon with whatever he had scheming tonight. She had a bad feeling he was keeping something from her.

"Jenna, hey! Isn't this place great? I was invited."

What was his plan? She didn't know that quite yet.

Furrowing her brows, the Genie sent her a tight lipped smile. All means polite and cordial, but with a hint of confusion. It was starting to become a running theme with Kalliope and frankly, she was growing a little impatient.

Instead of discouraging Andie's presence, Kalliope nodded towards the long dinner table. "Well, we have a lot food and a chair to spare. I'm Kalliope, let's set this on the table shall we?"

The ladies nodded in sync, following Kalliope like she was the main lady of the house. She held herself with such grace and ease, confident in an atmosphere so new to her. Kalliope may not have been in the 21st century long but she knew how to run a house. And she certainly knew how make guests feel more than comfortable within it.

It was something Damon noted and admired from the dining room as he set the table. His eyes lingering on her figure with a rose tinted point of view. If there was one thing that remain true above all else is that Kalliope was still and will forever-more be a phenomenon for all ages.

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Unedited. 4/14/21

Kalliope is too good for everyone, honestly. A true angel.

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