Lipstick Lesbian Vampire Tales #3: Daughters in Darkness (Excerpt)

Leanna, a rich aristocrat and painter, observed the young Japanese woman waiting in her rock garden. Her guest was gorgeous, with jet-black hair carrying an undertone of purple and lips so pale they were almost ivory. Wide silvery-white eyes, a result of her condition, stared off into space. Her skin was so smooth and clear it glowed, as if lit by an inner power. The youthful female wore a white dress with lace trimming at the sleeves and throat, which contrasted with her ebony-violet hair, but blended in with her skin and eyes. A lavender flower was tucked behind her ear, and it matched the ones on her dress. She resembled a yuki-onna, a fabled Japanese ghost associated with winter. Emiko had come to Leanna’s minka, a traditional Japanese house, to pose for a portrait that night.

“Pleased to meet you,” Emiko said shyly.

“I don’t mean to pry, but how long have you been blind?” Leanna asked without acknowledging pleasantries.

Emiko shrugged and explained her story. “I lost my sight because of a terrible incident when I was almost twenty. I didn’t know what had happened until some months later when I recovered from my injuries. At first, I thought I had fallen down the stairs or hit my head. But then I remembered feeling the sunlight streaming through a window and being overcome by an intense joy. I stared into the light until I couldn’t see anymore. It was as if someone had opened a door into paradise, and I had rushed out to see it. I always loved the sun.”

“It must have been awful. It’s unfathomable how something you obsess over can strip away your ability to experience it.”

“It’s hard to imagine living with my eyes. It’s been so long,” Emiko replied.

This response surprised Leanna. She had expected Emiko to say that she could not bear the torment of blindness. She expected regret. But she had heard no one express such an open acceptance of their own handicap before.

“You don’t mind?” Leanna asked.

“No, I don’t. I’ve grown used to it. I have other miseries to manage.”

Leanna took a deep breath. She wanted to ask more questions, but she felt reluctance. They were standing together in the garden’s center, surrounded by rocks, flowers, and trees. If they stayed there too long, Leanna’s husband would notice them and interrupt the sitting. And they had not even started yet.

“Shall we begin? Let’s move over to a more discreet area. Over there,” Leanna suggested.

“Yep. Sure,” Emiko answered.

Leanna aided her to move to the location. Then Emiko turned around to face the easel. Leanna noted the miraculous way the blind woman knew where everything was situated. Emiko stood still while Leanna sketched her outline. Then Leanna undercoated the background, working quickly and carefully, so that the colors would blend smoothly. When she finished, she stepped back and admired her work.

Emiko was as Leanna had imagined her: stunning. Leanna had always adored portraits of women. She enjoyed the challenge of capturing the essence of a woman’s spirit in a single image. This was especially true with Emiko. She was a mystery, and it excited Leanna to learn more about her.

“You are extraordinary,” Leanna admitted as she delivered a few more brush strokes.

“Understand that I’m very shy,” said Emiko. “I don’t like when people stare at me. And you’re staring at me.” She smiled knowingly, then continued in a rush of words. “It’s funny to work as a model, but I hate the attention. I do this for the experience, not the pay. My father was so obsessed with his work that he never noticed me. One day he left for the office with my mother, and they never came back. They died in a car crash. I inherited their wealth.”

“That’s horrible. I’m so sorry. Your misfortune and then theirs. You’ve had a rough life,” Leanna said.

The younger woman shrugged as she felt the contour of a flower near her.

Emiko’s honesty inspired Leanna to be candid. “As you know, I come from nobility. I was the only child of my father’s first marriage. My mother died when I was very young, so I grew up without a mother figure. My father was an eccentric man who spent his time building elaborate models in which he would place figures from history. He also collected art objects and antiques. As a result, I learned how to appreciate beauty. At age fifteen, I became infatuated with the paintings of Gustav Klimt, especially his work ‘Hygeia.’ It filled me with sensuality. In my eyes, she was the perfect fantasy. I guess women have always attracted me. How do you feel about the fairer sex?”

To Be Continued…

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If you want to read more lipstick lesbian stories, please check out Lipstick Lesbian Tales or for a print collection see Lipstick Lesbian Tales: The Collection.

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