The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Black Diamond





The sky was clear and Michaels could easily see the flight of the crafts above, as they weaved and dodged one another.

He turned his gaze toward town, away from any thoughts of the building behind him.

Michaels had just sat his flight theory exam, a third time.

He could fly as well as any pilot in the federation, so he believed: as his Father had taught him from an early age, believing, ‘”it’ll be useful to you one day.”

But, it was the exam – he knew he’d failed, again.

He just knew it.

And, Michaels sighed deeply.

Just occasionally, he was glad his Father was dead: that meant he couldn’t see what an abject failure his son had become – a sky jockey, for a two-bit haulage firm, that just paid minimum.

He sighed again, as he paused at the entrance to Harmony’s Bar.

Now, Harmony preferred her own sex, Jan Michaels knew that. But, he tried.

He always tried: although Michaels knew that that it would never be him she left with, come the end of the night.

She would find someone though – and, Michaels wouldn’t have felt slighted, except that one or two of her partners hadn’t even of their species. Even knowing that, Michaels tried…

‘It was like… mandatory,’ he considered, pushing open the door to the crowded bar, which was exactly as he recalled from the last time he’d sat the test, heaving, smoky and noisy – and, ‘the right place to be, right now,’ he mused, bellying up to the bar which ran the whole length of the room, converted from an old container, left from the pioneer day’s.

There were two bars in town, one at either end of the street, from which led two others; one that led to the river, then the mountains; and, the other, which led to the spaceport.

Harmony’s Bar was not ‘his local’ – but, he did like the place.

He felt comfortable there… he considered slowly – as his mind drifted back to the open test paper and the little black letters on it that had blurred somewhat as he stared at the pages.

So, here he was, at Harmony’s Bar again; staring round at the lives others were leading, as they too passed time.

He glanced briefly around himself: safe.

There was no-one here from the base; no pilots, to remind him of yet another failure.

Michaels finished his drink, in one, then ordered a second.

He looked to the right and the crowd of men gathered together at the end of the bar

Above the general hubbub of sound he heard several of the men jeering, as they moved aside, so a visual delight could pass – and, walk toward him.

Michaels looked deep into the young woman’s eyes: fascinated with her smile, which he felt he knew from somewhere, sometime.

Black silken hair framed the pretty face, of a young woman of the Asian race and he couldn’t help but stare ~ she looked lovely, to him and ~ he couldn’t help but stare.

She was wearing a red and black pleated skirt, clinging to her hips, it’s hem ending mid-thigh.

And she wore boots, of what seemed to be soft leather, with zips at the side

and a sensible heel.

Beneath the calf-hugging boots she wore black, knee-length socks.

The expanse of leg exposed was toned, a natural golden colour; and most attractive to his eye.

“They no want a dance...” she expressed, as she stood at the bar, next to Michaels and ordered a drink, still muttering.

“They just want to look,” she continued with mock indignation.

A white blouse, knotted at the waist and a tie loosely tied; exposing, the flesh

of her belly ~ and, ‘the cutest,’ inward-sloping, navel, he thought.

Abruptly she turned to him and smiled broadly.

“Well ‘Hi’,” she began, proffering her right hand.

“I’m May,” she announced, adding, “they call me Black Diamond.”

“Okay,” Michaels responded, smiling, “now I’ve got to ask, ‘why do they call you Black Diamond?”

Michaels held her gaze as their eyes met.

“I’m Jan, Jan Michael,” he said, taking her right hand gently in his;

and kissed her fingertips, gazing at her knees and the toes of her boots.

May giggled, then replied, “You pay for dance, you might find out. You no do so? Well, you no find out.”

Michaels grinned, broadly, “Call me curious … but …”

But, before he could say anymore the young woman continued talking,

“Well Jan Michaels, I dance for you, you learn. So, I dance, for you?”

“Well I, er…” he stuttered.

“You want dance?”

“Er … yes.”

“You not had girl dance for you before?” She asked him, intrigued.

“Er … yes. Of course…”

“You come with me…” she told him, grasping his right hand in her left and pulling him to an alcove seat.

So they sat and talked and drank some more: and, slowly he relaxed, with May, until eventually she asked him, “I dance now?”

“Er yes,” he replied breathlessly.

She told him, ‘relax’ as she began to dance to the beat of the music.

As May teased with her eyes and body, to the music; her every expression and move, pleased him…

Then eyes cast downward, and slowly lifted back to his, she undid the blouse buttons, one-by-one.

Then finally, the knot undone, she draped the blouse over his right knee; and then stepped forward to continue; and she cast her hair over her shoulder, then looked back, to see him watching her - and her every movement.

Her back to him, buttocks just over his crotch and his arousal; May looked over her right shoulder at Michaels, as she gently caressed each breast, the nipples erect.

And, she cupped her left breast, the darker flesh of her left nipple an enticement offered, then denied: as May turned once more, a wide smile on her face.

Then, with her back to Michaels, May pulled her skirt up, to reveal a little wisp of white cotton in between her taut, proud cheeks.

He licked his lips, as she swung her hips, toying with the waist of her skirt.

And soon the red and black pleated skirt was gone the way of the shirt, to lie on the floor, where she dropped it.

And she danced and pranced before him in just boots, with zips at the side and a sensible heel. Then, as she bent forward, she ran her left middle finger between her legs, looking to him as he gazed at May reflected in the wall mirrors.

Her eyes alight with mischief; May seemed to delight in his obvious pleasure and apparent discomfort; as he stared, at her eyes and the pert shape of her derrière, as May continued to dance to the beat of the music.

He watched May, naked, except for her panties ~ his attention held by the rise and fall of her pert buttocks, as she moved.

In front of where he sat, May arched her back, rocking her hips back and forth~ her bottom almost grazing his crotch.

Then, she turned once more, to wriggle her hips before him, the crotch of her white, embroidered, cotton panties, drawn tight around her shapely mound ~ as if, to emphasise perfection, to his eyes.

And, still moving, May gyrated her hips, watching Michaels stare, as she slid the panties slowly down shapely thighs, to display her black pubic hair, cut down, almost to the skin – in the shape of a black diamond, one corner pointing to her navel, its opposite further downward.

She watched him stare at the cleft of her sex, then she stood still, a moment, with her hands on her legs, which she parted slowly, as she began to sway her hips side to side.

And, as he stared quite entranced, Michaels noticed there was a small tattoo on her inner right thigh, of a playing card, in black on white – an Ace of Diamonds.

And, Michaels felt breathless, as he gazed, squirming where he sat and she turned her back to him.

‘She looks great,’ he thought as she began to gyrate her backside, just inches before his eyes.

Laughing, May placed her hands to either side of his thighs and began to lower her buttocks toward his groin, his arousal evident through the bulge in his trousers.

She lowered further, till she ground down on him, swaying side to side.

And, Michaels closed his eyes, thrilling at the circular motion rhythm of her buttocks.









She ground down a little harder; and Michaels groaned his desire, for more.

And then, the young woman stood, knowing the record was ending.

May turned to him and said, “I want attention tonight. You want fun? You have place to go to?”

Jan Michaels thought of the empty apartment he was to return to, then replied, “Yeah, I have a place.”

“Well,” she enthused, as she began to dress; “We drink, then go. Okay?”



*



It was late in the night, or very early in the morning when Michaels returned to his small room in an apartment complex on the outskirts of the small town.

“Well,” he muttered, “I gotta see her again…”

He stumbled into the hallway, rather than walk in: ‘That was too easy,’ he thought.

Then he remembered he’d left the keys in the front door.

“Honey, I got keys for you,” Michaels heard, as he watched May close the front door

“Perfect,” was his answer.

As the young woman turned toward him, Michaels watched her stoop down to pick something up.

“What’s that?” He asked May, who had placed a letter on a small bookcase set against the wall.

“A letter,” she replied smiling.

The young woman smiled a lot Michaels noticed again, as she watched his gaze, as she removed her small jacket, throwing it casually to the floor.

She wore matching blue jeans and high heel boots.

Beneath the jacket she had worn just a small black bra, which she hardly needed.

And, Michaels smiled too, as May began to remove the bra, to reveal once more, her perfect, pert breasts.

“It’s stamped delivered by courier,” he mumbled as he retrieved the letter.

He stared at the envelope in amazement.

It was his results, already.

‘Impossible,’ he told himself, as he slid open the seal.

He removed the contents and stared at the page: then, squinted and blinked several times, to bring the words in distinct shapes his brain could understand.

He read the letter once, then again: in his drunken state his mind found it difficult to fully digest and understand its contents.

“Jan Michaels, with a pass rate of 84%you are hereby awarded a place on a 12wk course designed to familiarize you with the Federation Cadet Force. You will attend…”

He sat back against the wall, unaware of the naked woman trying to attract his attention, sighing and caressing her taut belly.

“Cadet training and after initial training, it’s to Earth for the rest!” He muttered and smiled slowly, as realization dawned on him.

Finally Jan Michaels turned to May, who was pouting and beginning to look bored.

“By our Sainted Stars. I know why they call you Black Diamond. And, I don’t play cards! But pretty lady, you sure were lucky for me.”

May smiled, opening welcoming arms…



*

A Dragon’s Smoke



I’d entered the candle-lit room, enjoying the smell of incense and, her.

Then I’d knelt before her, as she’d finishing drawing in breath.

And I recall, those scarlet lips, which appeared so moist; and, ever so dark eyes, framed by long straight raven coloured hair.

Her hands upon my shoulders, she had drawn me toward her, slowly, until our lips met; and, mine tasted her, as they parted and she exhaled that sweet breath.



And that is how I’d enjoyed a dragon’s smoke, from those exquisite painted lips.

And then there was my imaginary friend … “he has more friends than me.”

And then there was my imaginary friend … “he doesn’t like me anymore.”

And then there was my imaginary friend … “my girlfriend left me for him.”

I was in an indoor market, which I knew somehow.

There were stalls to my left and right, which had appeared indistinct when viewed with peripheral vision. Yet when I turned my head to face them, they had gained form and substance.

This was an unreality to my very real world, which I’d found hard to accept, so facing front again, I had walked on down the aisle trying to dismiss the anomaly as I did so.



It was not to be however. For as I neared the end of the aisle, a form appeared behind the stall to my immediare left:

“Hello young man,” said a voice in pseudo-science voice.

I’d been sure that there had been no-one qhen I had first passed the stall: but, as I had turned back to look at the owner of the voice, there he was; short and rotund, wearing loose fitting slacks and top, over which he wore a leather apron.



“I said, ‘hello young man.’ Do you normally ignore a greeting?” There was a smile on the man’s face, but not in the inflection of the mans voice: it seemed as if I were being given a command.

So, expecting that this was what I was supposed to say, I said, “Hello.”



As if a halo had just appeared over my head the old stall-holder had smiled benignly, radiating the warmth of his emotion.

“Do you know why you are here?” the store-holder asked.

“Pardon?” I asked, unprepared for someone asking the ultimate question of life, death and everything.

“Do you know what you are here?” The questioner repeated.



“No,” I had replied: for both in a literal and metaphysical sense this was true.

“Then follow me and perhaps you will understand?” Huh? The stall-holder had opened a hatch in the counter as he spoke, then beconing for me tofollow, he had turned and walked a few paces, to a section of the stall that was curtained off.



Drawing aside the curtain, the stall-holder turned his head, ensured that I was following, then continued walking: and, I found myself led into a narrow, brilliantly lit corridor that had no visible means of illumination.



Onwards I had been led, until we had reached a cavernous chamber, bright white, and filled with light; and the centre of the room stood a fountain.

“Do you understand why you are here?” I was asked again, as the sytall-holder swept his arm around himself.

“I think, therefore I am.”

“Yes and no…” I was told, “that would be a truism only if one had a certain point of reference when defining reality.”

“Pardon?”

“See the fountain?” he asked.

I saw it. The fountain had at its centre a large stylised dolphin, water cascading from its mouth into a walled circular pool.

“That is you reality… the Now into the what will be.”

“Pardon?”

Listen well…” said the stall-holder fading into nothingness; “Reality,” his disembodied voice announced, “is only for those who lack an imagination.”

Lady For The Night



The night is dark and the cinema was closed about twenty minutes ago and I'm cold and it's raining.

There is a pane of perspex missing from the bus shelter and I’m getting very wet.



I'm sure that I've missed the last bus home, so I start hitching: 'surely on a night like this someone will stop?'

Yet, no-one does stop and I'm getting colder and colder and the rain is showing no signs of letting up: so, cupping my hands together I light a smoke and start watching the cars go by, counting them as they do.

One, male with a 'tache; two, a young couple; three, an elderly man, wearing

wearing a cap; four, an attractive blonde, in a light grey Escort; five, a young couple, she is driving; six, a nun; seven, a coloured couple; eight, a van, with two young men up front.

Another twelve cars pass me, and then the Escort passes me once more.

This time I am aware that the blonde is looking at me.

'Hmm,' I find myself thinking,' didn't that pass me, before?'

I count a further seven cars passing me then the Escort stops, virtually in front of me and the nearside passenger-door opens outward and the blonde leans toward me: she is wearing a white blouse and a black skirt that ends two inches above the knees.

"Hi," she says, then asks, "do you want a lift someplace?" to which I nod dumbly, for I find that I cannot tear my eyes away from her shapely legs.



"Well then," she continues, swiftly appraising me the young man looking at her and sees someone in their early thirties, tall, with fair hair and sporting a slight 'tache, "why don't you get in the car and dry."

So I sit, still not able to draw my eyes away from her stocking-clad legs.

I gaze downward and following the contours of those exquisite legs, I admire the shape of the thighs and calves, then find myself beginning to wonder how she can possibly drive in a pair of black heels so divinely high.

"Do you like them?" the question pulls me from my musings on the beauty of her legs and I have to be asked again before I answer 'yes,' quietly and she smiles as if in response to a private joke.

Starting the cars engine, the blonde looks in the mirrors, smoothes her hair down at the left side, then turns her head a little toward me: "Do you think my legs are very feminine? Very attractive?" I am asked to which I gasp a little in embarrassment, as my manhood begins to stir. "Oh yes," I tell her, "I think that they're lovely."

"You really think so?" I am asked and I nod.

The air is charged and I feel heady as she says to me, " If you could, would you like to see more than you do now?"

There is a smile on the blondes face and all I can do is mutter 'yes' with my dry mouth.

"Well," She says mischievously, "you never know what may happen in this life. True?"

And all that I can do is nod dumbly again, the rain and the dampness of my clothes forgotten as I watch her legs moving, as she engages the clutch, brake and accelerator; as her left hand, whilst free from driving plays with the hem of her skirt and the darker band at the top of her stocking is slowly exposed, inch by inch.

She drives fast, taking risks on roads that she obviously knows well and I rapidly find myself admiring her driving skills, as she tackles the oily surface of the dock road.

As the blonde negotiates the road her eyes are fixed ahead, constantly alert, as we face the busy traffic ahead of us and I take the opportunity to look at her once: she seems to be in her late thirties, as I had presumed earlier and hardly needs the little make-up that she wears.

Although what make-up she does wear, she wears well, serving to define her prominent cheek-bones, eye-brows, almond-shaped eyes and her full lips.

Her blonde hair is worn in a loose shaggy, shoulder length cut, which leaves most of the drivers long, slender neck exposed ...

"Well," she says, looking at me from the corner of her eye, "at least someone seems to like me tonight."

There seems to be a hint of sadness to the tone of the blondes voice, so I tell her with enthusiasm, "I think you look very pretty," then add, "and the names Kevin. It's nice to meetcha."

" Why thank you kind sir," the driver says, turning to flash me a really bright smile, that fades from her face as she as she turns her attention wholly to the road ahead and she says distantly, "Pity others weren't so nice...."

"After you've said that, I've got to ask ..." I begin and she stops me, saying to me, "A fella. I got all dressed up for him, as he wants. And then, the rat doesn't even turn up. Hell, I even drove round looking for him ..."

"And?" I prompt after several second of a very uncomfortable silence.

"And I saw you, Kevin ... and I thought you needed a lift."

She turns to face me for a few seconds, flashing that bright smile again, saying to me, "well, I'm Toni, it's short for Antoinette."

Still smiling, she turns her eyes back to the road and says, "So, the question is, where do you want to go?"

And her left hand sits gently on my knee a moment, before moving, to rest on my thigh, as she says to me, "Because it does seem that I've got plenty of time free now, so where to?"

"I don't want to go home yet," I tell her and add quickly, "It's too early to go home ... S'pose I want to go with the flow and see where it takes me."

Her hand has now reached the inside of my thigh, "So tell me," she says, pulling the car into the kerb and stopping; "Just what do you mean by that?"

"Well," I begin, "I mean ... I mean that ... I don't want to go home yet."

"Go on ... and ... ?" the blonde asks, as fingers press gently on my right inner thigh and I gulp a little, before somewhat nervously asking her, " and ... well, you do want company, don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose I do," the driver replies, almost to herself, her voice distant, as the rain falls outside.

The blonde, Toni, turns round in her seat and smiling, says to me decisively, "Okay then Kevin, where shall I drive?"

I look at her legs and the hand resting between both my thighs and I look into the blondes eyes and say, "How about Southport?"

"S'okay," she says, turning the ignition on, looks into the rear view mirror and steers the car into traffic once more, before continuing speaking, "Southport it is."

Toni turns the car onto New Chester Road and guns the engine. We drive through the tunnel toll on the Birkenhead side of the Mersey Tunnel and I find my heart is pounding: "What next?" I wonder to myself, as the blonde manoeuvres the car back into the main stream of traffic on the Liverpool side of the Mersey Tunnel where we follow the road signs to Southport.

Smiling Toni drives, eyes alert for somewhere we can stop.

Once in Southport, the blonde takes the coast road and drives us toward the sand dunes, where she parks the car, away from the hustle and bustle of the traffic and where we can be alone to ‘talk.'



- Fini –





*

Trembles



Jeff Parkes had noticed ‘the shakes’ occur late one night.

He had just put it down to the seven pints of best bitter; the two double scotches; and the three spliff’s he’d consumed earlier.

‘Anyway,’ he’d told himself, ‘after some rest I’ll be fine.’

Jeff was seventeen, nearly eighteen; and he worked as a shelf-stacker at the local Kwix, where he been since he’d left the care home, which it was laughingly called:

Jeff Parkes hadn’t thought the home, or its staff very caring, at all.

The work at the store wasn’t particularly arduous, but the shakes didn’t make life easy.



The fourth time it had happened Jeff had been placing a can of baked beans on top of a pile of others.

Then it had begun and the carefully constructed pyramid of baked bean tins had fallen around his feet, in a clatter.

And then, little by little, it had got worse.

The contents of a pint that should have found his mouth had been thrown over his right shoulder after ‘the shakes’ had begun: and found the man standing behind him.

He lay on his bed, hands clasped loosely behind his head.

Jeff smiled, in retrospect it was quite funny really.

The fellow had been almost a foot taller than him, with well-built shoulders, that had led Jeff to wonder how he could get through the doorway straight on.

“That got me,” he’d said, stating the obvious.

And Jeff had just said, “How much for the drink? Not the jacket being cleaned?!”

He’d intended a moment’s levity – which hadn’t worked, as his black eye had testified.

But, Jeff had been worried, very worried: not only were the shakes becoming more severe, they were happening more often.

He was scared ~ really scared.

So, the doctors and specialists tested him: and, he’d had a brain scan, eventually ~ Jeff hadn’t wanted to admit he had needed help, but he had.

Yet even when the shakes had taken place in front a room full of white-coats, nothing conclusive came forth.

He smiled a moment, thinking ‘well it should have given them something to work with.’ Yet it didn’t help. They didn’t have an answer.

“It wasn’t epilepsy,” they told him, “or, anything like it!”

“It isn’t a tumour,” he’d been assured; then told, “but, don’t worry Mr Parkes, we have not given up on this. We’ll find an answer yet! We’re thinking of contacting …”

But, he hadn’t heard the rest.

Jeff didn’t want more tests and before the fellow had finished speaking Jeff had left the examination room.

Then, that night as her lay on his bed, Jeff pulled his right hand from beneath his head, to stare at it.

He’d felt it begin.

His hand had begun to shake.

It scared Jeff, yet intrigued nonetheless.

Jeff watched his hand tremble, at first, then shake; and then, seemingly disappear.

He stared with incredulity, at what wasn’t at the end of his right wrist, held before his eyes. And then the tremours began throughout his whole body.

Finally Jeff awoke, feeling disorientated.

He was alive, he thought.

But, overhead was a very white light, just like he’d always imagined you would see when you were…

“See it is possible…”

He heard the voice, and then blinking, looked up, at several faces staring down, at him.

Jeff wanted to ask, ‘what is possible?’ But, his mouth was too dry and his tongue too large.

But, Jeff had no need to worry: information was soon forthcoming.

“It’s always been our travellers recall that has proven difficult.”

Jeff blinked, twitching his fingertips.

‘If its some sort of anaesthetic?’ he mused, ‘then maybe it’s wearing off?’

“So, we found these host, ugly as they are…”

There were murmurs of agreement from the faces looking down at the last remark.

“And by sending them through the dimension warp, in bodies that can develop, we’re able to learn more: before colonization.”

Jeff licked dry lips, listening intently, as the voice droned on.

“But, sometimes we lose a comrade, like our friend here…”

Jeff realized immediately that it was him that was being referred to.

“But, a little modification from one our top surgeons and he will realize once more that he is part of The Entity.”



Knowing the operation was soon to take place Jeff blanked out, mercifully: as his mind could take no more and he had faded into unconsciousness…