This was one of my earliest attempts at a short story. It was written for an online Halloween series with multiple authors.
I turn off the tape recorder as he leaves my table. Another dead end, another useless interview, another wannabe floating around this dark establishment. Around me, around the booth I’m seated in, is the heavy bass thump of music and the smell of clove cigarettes.
My editor has given me an assignment for the Halloween Sunday supplement. There has been a lot of interest lately about the goth lifestyle, the people who reside on the fringes of society, the dangerous and mysterious denizens that walk the night. I guess that it must have sparked something deep inside of me, as well, because I find myself more than eager to dive into this project.
For the last week, I’ve been spending my nights here at the Bloodworks, a gothic club that was once a slaughterhouse in the fifties. Here, everything is black – the walls, the chairs, the clothing of the wraiths that float or stalk by me. It’s kind of reminiscent of the movie, ‘Lost Boys,’ with all that leather and pale skin.
From the first there have been many interested people who want to be interviewed. I’ve put the word out with the bartender, a gaunt young man with spiky white hair, and there has been a never ending flow of these estranged teenagers and twenty something’s arriving at my table. Most are just sad little people who have latched onto this life to give themselves some sort of personal power. Some are downright bizarre, creeping me out with their talk of being ‘real’ vampires and of drinking blood. I have found very few that are worth the time to interview.
Despite this, I’ve found a bit of material for the supplement. But it just isn’t quite what I’m looking for. The problem is, I don’t know what I’m looking for – I just know I haven’t found it. Frustrated for yet another night, I put my recorder into my bag and signal a waitress for a refill on my soda.
What arrives is a Bloody Mary.
As the waitress turns away, I grab her thin hand with its black nails. “Wait a minute!” I call to be heard over the music. “I didn’t order this.”
She turns, her green hair catching the lights from the nearby dance floor. With a grin, she shakes her head. “No. You didn’t. She did.” And she points out onto the floor.
I follow the direction of her gesture as I release her hand.
The dance floor isn’t crowded, by any means. It’s a week night and the Bloodworks isn’t very busy. There are maybe a dozen people who are writhing to the slow beat of the music. My eyes cast over them all, trying to see which has bought the drink for me. One dancer raises her head and meets my gaze.
To say that the look is electric doesn’t do it justice. The world drops away from me as those icy blue eyes seem to glow with an inner light. My mouth flies open as I stare at her, I can almost feel my jaw in my lap. God! She’s the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen!
Her ebony hair hangs about her shoulders and over her forehead, her face one of high cheekbones and full lips. Those lips pull back into a wild smile as she sees my obvious response. She wears black as most the others here, but the slacks hang low on her hips and hug her long form. The shirt catches the dance lights in waves, the material obviously silk or satin.
She is dancing in a seductive way, a redhead draped over her thigh. Despite an irrational stab of jealousy for this strange woman in her arms, I feel a heat begin in my belly as I watch them grind together, almost riding each other in synch with the music. Her hands guiding the undulating hips, her eyes never leaving mine as she lowers her head to her dance partner’s neck. There, she decorates the pale skin with kisses and nips. Her teeth and eyes glitter as she watches me, as she sees my breath picking up tempo.
When she bites down on the redhead’s neck, it is with such sudden ferocity that I gasp aloud. I watch the woman in her arms convulse with a rising orgasm, bucking against a long thigh and clutching the broad shoulders closer. The ebony beauty holds her close, supporting her there on the dance floor as she sucks on the succulent neck.
And still the icy eyes never leave mine, peering at me from under dark bangs.
As the song ends, so does their embrace. The ebony beauty pulls her mouth away from the redhead’s neck. A single drop of darkness rolls slowly down the smaller woman’s shoulder and the dark one reaches out with one finger to catch it. I watch as the finger is brought to her lips and licked clean. A feral smile crosses her face as her tongue caresses her lips.
Oh, god! I drop my gaze in shock, breaking the electric connection. Mouth so dry, I reach for my glass and down half of the drink before I remember it isn’t soda. The salty warmth assails my tongue and I can feel the slow burn of the alcohol as it makes its way down my throat. Did I just see…?
A furtive glance back at the dance floor shows nothing. A new tune begins and the people there are still hanging all over each other. The ebony woman and her partner have moved to one side, speaking to each other.
No. Of course not! I scoff to myself. There’s no such thing as…. Shaking my head, I realize that I’ve been spending far too much time at this bar, seeing things that aren’t there. Surprised you don’t have bad dreams every night, too!
But I am unable to keep my eyes away from the woman, watching her speak with the redhead. Her partner seems a bit unstable on her feet, a large hand wrapped around her upper arm helps her to stand. Of course, nitwit! She just got fucked silly! I feel a blush rise at my next unruly thoughts. Wish I were her!
And then both of them turn to look at me! My heart freezes at their regard, my eyes widen in surprise. I even stop breathing for a moment.
The ebony beauty says something. The redhead’s eyes narrow in apparent anger, her mouth set in a thin line. She glares at me and then at the dark woman. There is a long tableau as they stare each other down. And then the redhead seems to deflate, nodding in response to something said to her. I watch as she retrieves her purse from a nearby table and walks towards the door, a final glance full of sorrow and desire.
I can feel my brow furrowing as she leaves. What is that all about? And do I really want to know?
There’s a tingling sensation down my spine and the hair on the back of my neck seems to have a life of its own. Swallowing nervously, I turn back to the dance floor, knowing what I will see.
She pads towards me, this sleek woman with eyes of ice, almost gliding past the other dancers as she makes her way to my table. Her face holds a hint of wildness, her gaze intense in its color as it pins me to the padded leather seat. Without preamble, she slides into the booth across from me, watching me.
I can feel the heat rise to my face, her hungry stare causes me to warm elsewhere. This only furthers my blush as I feel the wetness on my upper thighs. It’s all I can do not to squirm. What is wrong with me?
Uncomfortable in the silence, I stumble over a few words in an attempt to break it. “Umm…. I… uh…. Thanks for the drink,” I finally get out, waving at the half empty glass between us.
Her dark head bows in a nod, her smile gentling.
With the intensity toned down a bit, I take a deep breath and hold out my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you….?”
My vague inquiry is ignored. Instead, this beautiful woman takes my hand and pulls me closer until we are both leaning partially across the hardwood table. Her hand is cool to touch, the skin as pale as most of the other patrons of this place. But her lips are a deep red and she parts them, opening her mouth and drawing one of my fingers into it.
Regardless of her touch, the temperature in her mouth is very, very warm. My body trembles as her wet tongue tastes my skin. I feel my nipples growing firm and a twisting in my gut as she turns her oral attentions to each finger in turn. When she’s finished there, she caresses my palm with her mouth and moves along. At my wrist, her tongue darts out to thoroughly bathe the pulse point. Her brilliant gaze finally leaves mine as she closes her eyes, a whispered sigh chilling the wet skin of my wrist.
I moan lightly at her response, my thoughts in a haze. The fire in my belly grows and I can almost see my heart rate increase in the wrist that she holds.
Somehow, she’s beside me. I don’t know how she does it – I swear she hasn’t moved. But here she is, her body pressed up against mine on my side of the table. She still has my hand in hers, her other arm draped across the back of the bench. The scent of lilacs and the musky smell of sex mingles together around her.
Part of me knows I should be scared – terrified, even! It babbles that I’m in danger from this dark woman, that she is what she appears to be. But that voice is so far away when the blue gaze meets mine once again. It almost disappears as the lips loom nearer. And then it is gone with the gentle kiss on my forehead.
My eyes close at the contact, my lips slightly parted in invitation. When nothing happens, I open my eyes just a crack before they widen in surprise.
She isn’t there! Looking wildly around the club, I am unable to locate the ebony woman.
Confused, my body in an uproar of arousal, I stare down at the table as if it has the answers I seek. Half a Bloody Mary still sits there, its sweating glass leaving a puddle of water around it. I can still feel her lips on my forehead, her tongue on my fingers. I still smell her, dammit! What the fuck is up with that!?
In anger, I down the remainder of the drink and grab my bag. A whirlwind of emotions swirl about me as I make my way out of the Bloodworks – desire being foremost, with heavy doses of fear and anger. The feelings this woman has invoked in me in so short a time are absolutely terrifying. And that I have allowed her to, only makes me madder.
Outside, the air is cool against my overheated skin. I inhale deeply, enjoying the lack of smog at this hour of the night, trying to get ahold of my rampaging hormones and emotions. I stand beneath a single bulb under the bar’s marquee, the only other illumination being the lights that start at the far corner of the street. There are still a few people out at this hour, mostly bar hopping.
Stepping onto the sidewalk from the doorway, my feet begin to take me on the path homeward. As I pass the alley, I hear a noise and move closer to the street. Glancing into the darkened maw, two shiny points of light cause me to stop.
Eyes narrowed, I peer into the darkness, though I remain where I am. My already abused body is now pumping adrenaline into my bloodstream, my nerves becoming frayed from the constant hormonal activity of the last fifteen minutes. When the two points of light flicker off and on again, I almost jump out of my skin. It blinked! Those are eyes!
Then the lights bob and grow larger as their owner moves closer. I take a step backwards, stumbling off the curb as my heart leaps to my throat. At the mouth of the alley, a figure becomes visible.
I nearly have heart failure on the spot! Letting out an explosion of air that I’ve been holding, I drop to a crouch with one hand on my knee, bracing myself, and the other at my chest. It’s her!
A rueful smile covers her face, her icy eyes almost warming with their unspoken apology at scaring me half to death. She stands just inside the alley’s darkness, the blackness of it melting with her clothing and giving her skin an ethereal flavor in contrast. One hand extends towards me, long fingers held out in supplication.
The banked fires of my arousal burst forth, filling me with longing once again. As I straighten from my crouch, I lick my lips in anticipation. My heart rate hasn’t slowed, though its cause has changed drastically. That little voice in my head begins its incessant whining, begs me to run away to my safe little bed.
She steps from the alley, a jungle cat sure of its prey. The fingers curl inwards into her palm and she brushes her cool knuckles against my cheek.
My eyes close at the touch. I utter a soft moan as those fingers find their way into my hair. A thumb traces my lips with gentle strokes and my mouth opens, a rush of wetness flowing to my center as I take it in. Her sigh heightens my passion as I diligently stroke her thumb with my tongue, tasting her cool skin.
The throbbing between my legs a welcome ache, my breasts strain to be touched. She pulls her hand away from me, her long nails scraping tenderly along my jaw line. My eyes open at the loss of contact only to find her still standing just inside the alley, her hand held out to me. The voice in my head screams that its not possible to move so fast, so silently, tells me to run, run, run! Her icy blue eyes flash and I draw closer, the voice fading to a whimper and then into nothingness.
There’s a final moment just as I reach her, where a wiser head takes over. Do you know what you’re doing? I ask myself, fighting against the fire in my blood. Her taste is in my mouth and I can smell her again now, the lilac and musk beckoning me. No. I don’t know what I’m doing. But I have to have more!
Pushing all thoughts away, I take her hand, a tingle traveling up my arm at the contact. Her smile is brillianct as she glides backward into the darkness. As I leave the lights from the street, I leave a piece of myself.
My eyes take time to adjust to the inky depths of this alley. For now, I’m adrift in darkness, a cool hand my only connection with the world. I hear the scrape of my shoes against the concrete as I shuffle along uncertainly.
We must be nearing the back of the Bloodworks for I can feel the bass of the loud music deep in my bones. It’s here that the ebony beauty stops. I vaguely see her pale face floating above me. Her eyes are clearly visible in contrast and I become lost in them.
One song fades and another begins inside the building. She smiles with casual seduction, her hands finding my hips and turning me around.
Looking back the way we’ve come I see the alleyway entrance, watch as various pedestrians and vehicles move by it. Her hands begin to slide over my curves, I sigh and lean back against her. No one looks our way from the street and they probably wouldn’t see anything if they did. But the potential danger of being spotted heightens my arousal.
My eyes close as she begins a lazy, languid dance to the overheard music. I press against her, following the motion of her hips as they roll in a slow figure eight. One hand settles at the base of my abdomen, holding me close and guiding me as we undulate to the sound. The other trails up the length of my body. It brushes my breast as it passes and I arch into the touch with a moan. But it doesn’t stop there, continuing up to grasp my throat and tilt my head back and to one side.
I raise my hand, reaching backwards and burying my fingers into dark tresses. With insistence, I pull her head down to my bared throat. A chuckle runs through her body, I feel it as I hear it in my ear.
“Soon, sweetness,” she whispers, the first words I’ve heard from her. Then her tongue traces my ear and her fingers tickle my throat with their soft caresses.
Mouth open, I breathe in heavy pants as she continues her attentions. I’m holding her hand tight against my belly and it burns where she touches me, holds me, leads me. She’s nipping at my lobe, sucking it into that warm mouth and lavishing it with attention. Her other hand has moved to my upheld arm, kneading the tender flesh beneath my shirt, drifting downwards.
Somewhere in the distance the music has changed again, a slightly different beat assailing my already overloaded senses. My dark lover smoothly makes the transition to this new sound and I find myself being drawn into a tighter hold, her hips thrusting in gentle movements now, pushing my hips forward and back in response.
There are no more thoughts, only raging fire in my blood. No more voices, only the harsh echo of my breathing. Again her hand brushes past my breast and I grind backwards against her in frustration as it fails to stop. Again the soft chuckle whispers against my ear.
The throbbing at my center intensifies and my engorged clit is rubbing gently against my clothing as we move. I push at the hand on my belly, urging it along. To my delight, the ebony woman follows my lead and cups my sex.
“Oh, God!” I gasp at the contact. Again I moan aloud as her other hand slides against the skin beneath my shirt. A third time I cry out, my ragged voice ringing off the walls of this dark haven as she squeezes my aching breast and begins to massage the area between my legs.
I’m bucking now against her hand, unable to stop the flow of words and grunts that emerge from my throat. It’s not enough! I need more! “Please…” I beg. “Oh, God, please….”
In response to my pleas, she pulls her hands away from their activity and I nearly swoon with their sudden loss. I’m unable to speak, to find the words, to apologize for speaking, to promise her anything – even my very soul – to finish me. Her hands are at the waistband of my slacks, unfastening the snap and zipper, and a wave of relief rolls over me.
My dark lover takes my hand and delves inside, pushing aside the panties at my thigh and guiding my own fingers through my wetness. I hear her deep groan at the amount we find, happy to be the cause of her enjoyment.
Widening my legs, she continues to thrust against me from behind, a parody of fucking me as she pushes my fingers deeper inside. Her other hand has pushed my bra up and out of the way, returning to my breast. She pinches the nipple between long fingers.
I am oblivious to anything but the exquisite movement around and inside me. My breasts are being massaged roughly, the nipples pulled and twisted. I’ve got four fingers buried in my warmth and two thumbs rubbing the bundle of nerves, mingling with my juices and picking up the pace as our excitement grows. I ride my impending orgasm as it grows deep in my belly.
When she bites down on my neck, it is with such sudden ferocity that I gasp aloud. I buck against her in surprise and a further rush of passion. Our fingers pump into me with abandon. And I can hear her in my mind.
Come for me. The voice is low and deep and full of need. As much need as my own.
As if on command, I reach the crest and fall over. Wave upon wave of pleasure roll through me and I cry out in ecstasy. I can feel her hot breath on my neck, can feel her coming as she rides along with me on my orgasm.
Then it’s over. Despite my best efforts, I become limp, the only thing holding me up are her hands between my legs and on my chest. I’m a rag doll held in the hungry embrace of a beautiful beast of prey.
With a gentleness that belies our animalistic rutting, she disengages from my neck. A warm tongue caresses the marks there, cleaning away the last vestiges of my blood. She pulls away from me, allowing me time to adjust to her lack of support.
I feel a bit weak, my knees a little wobbly as I turn to face her. Her skin glows with warmth now and I look up into icy blue eyes that have thawed somewhat. She helps me adjust my clothing, locates my bag that’s lying discarded nearby.
When she leans close, I can smell the lilac and musky odor of sex on her. And I know that its my smell on her now. I’ve marked her just as she’s marked me. My hand reaches up to caress her face but she intercepts it, grasping it gently and pushing it down. With a slight smile and a shake of her head, she bends down.
My head tilts back and my mouth opens slightly. As her lips touch mine, I sigh and close my eyes. I can taste a salty, coppery essence on her tongue as it delves into my mouth. Another rush of arousal causes my heart to pump in excitement. The kiss ends.
Opening my eyes, I find myself at my table inside the Bloodworks. The taste of blood is on my lips, the smell of lilacs and sex in the air around me. Before me lies a half full Bloody Mary. I search the bar in confusion, my gaze finding an ebony beauty alone on the dance floor.
She beckons me.