The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

*Contains Adult Themes





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Having read the graphic novel, I’d seen the film, ’30 Days Of Night’ with interest. Then I’d left the theatre, hyped: surprised it had ever had ever been written of, let alone made into a feature film



I’d thought those events had been suppressed. After all, they’d not set the story when they actually took place. It was plainly inaccurate. And, to my knowledge, the town of Barrow was quite literally wiped off the map. And yet somehow a film was made of it. Amazing.



Then later, I’d sat with a scotch before me a re-run pf the first series of ‘Angel’ on the box and I couldn’t help but smile with wry amusement at Josh Wheedons take on the vampire. As if his character was the only one to have a mortal soul and feel angst, for all he’s wrought: ‘The sheer damn naivety of it.



Of course there are those to whom humans are nothing but cattle, yet I’m certain they’re in the minority.



Grant you, I defer to those who write well. Yet, preferring an accurate representation of them, I find some of the stories and myths, somewhat irritating, to say the least.



I suppose that’s why I’ve put pen to paper now, to speak of that of which I understand, all of which brings me to my tale, of a night like any other, spent looking for a meal.



It was the night before last and I’d decided to eat out, out of town that is. After all, what is it they say, ‘never shit on your own doorstep.’

Well, in my case, I don’t eat in my neighbourhood, most of the time.



Although as I suggest, I do make exceptions like the girl with haunted eyes and her lower arms bandaged. I’d thought I’d do her a favour.



Not one of my better ideas really, it seems she’d wanted to live and screamed far more loudly than I’d initially expected.



Yet, I’ve gotten myself distracted already. I’d wanted to write of that particular night.



Having left the car in the garage for the night, I’d decided to use the train and take advantage of the pre-Christmas ‘eight-till-late’ shopping policy, of the season. With my lifestyle, public transport is a novelty; and a luxury for the senses.



There’s so much to see and appreciate; the people, the passing scenery, such as it is at that time of the late evening; and of course, ‘the people.’



There’d been the woman idly flicking through page after page of a gossip magazine with an occasional sniff. You could just find yourself imagining she’s just passing time, wondering why she couldn’t find a handkerchief, as the rapidity of the sniffs increased.



Then there’d been the larger woman, sitting across the aisle across from me and opposite her. She had long black hair and all long black clothing, nose ensconced in a romance novel, seemingly oblivious to the world passing by. And then, there’d been the young man, shrunken into his jacket; hands shoved into side pockets as he furtively swept the carriage with a nervous stare.



And from nowhere, well a bag to her side, the largish woman began to extricate and consume one crisp, then another, as she read; cheese ‘n onion, I’d assumed from the manufactured aroma.



The young man had glanced toward me, I recall. So of course, I’d stared back. How could I not? Needless to say, within less than a minute, the young fellow had been looking out of the window.



Yet, it was the dye-blonde, with dark streaks and shoulder-length hair that had caught my attention as we had neared the end of the journey.



She’d been wearing a leopard-print mock-fur jacket and seemed to have a mobile phone glued to her left-ear, which she used to arrange to meet her boyfriend; then with her next call, ‘score a weed’, as she phrased it, occasionally glancing at the highly manicures scarlet nails of her clenched left hand.



I’d arisen slowly, as the train juddered to a halt and stood at the doors, with the young man just to my left, a cautious look on his face.



Then I’d disembarked and found myself amidst a large crowd of people, many of them middle-aged women, armed to the gunnels with their shopping bags, and the occasional rolled umbrella, their faces made-up a little too heavily.



I’d made my way upstairs, three at a time, with a desire to be away from the throng of heavily scented bodies, smells worn to impress: the many various smells acting to irritate my heightened sense of smell.



Within five minutes I’d found my way to the town, smiling and worn faces and the shops I’d rarely seen, since the year before.



It’d been quite surreal; to do things I hadn’t for oh-so-long, like chewing gum, buying a donut, or even a coffee at Waterstones, the bookshop I used to like to frequent.



I’d even amused myself at one point, when I’d elected to help a young pregnant woman up a flight of steps with a pram.



I’m aware there are those who would be sneering at me, but this is just as it was, so er… you know the rest?



Yet, I digress. It had been after I’d helped the young mother toward the hole-in-the-wall that I seen her. And if my heart beat, it would have beat faster.



There she had been, just as I remembered her… well, almost.



She had the same almond-shaped eyes, olive complexion and height, about 5 foot, 5 inches or maybe 6 But, she looked harder, different somehow.



It’d been the crooked-smile that gave it away. Ava. It wasn’t Lita. They’d looked alike, both wide-hipped Latin lovelies, the same age. Same father’s? No.



The story is a ship came in of Venezuelan sailors and now, there’s several young women of Lita’s age in the area. Ah, Elizabeth Maria Gonzalez. Ava shared the same name and maybe a similar hard upbringing. Yet, whereas Lita did well though, at least while I knew her, Ava had not. Getting involved with one drunk after another, having several children on the way.



Thing was, when things had ended between Lita and myself, I found it hard to look at Ava. Now, here I was in town and here she was, standing just before me.

Now I could look at her with different eyes. Time hadn’t been as kind as it could have been to her. She has a few lines in her face more than I recall. Her smile was crooked.



And, I recall a bright sunny day when we’d met in town, much like recently.



She’d told me of her toothache and pointed to a hanger, growing through the gum on the left. Ava had told me she couldn’t get on dentists list, so she was going to remove it herself. She had smiled then, as she did when stood before one another, her heavily painted lips serving to highlight that crooked smile.



Ava had worn a short black leather skirt, ending thigh-thigh, dark hose and knee-high slim-fitting black boots, with a high instep and slim heel of about two or three inches. Up top, she’d worn a loose white cotton blouse and a blue-jean jacket.



She must’ve been cold, I’d mused, taking on board the passers-by, many of them wrapped up well against the weather.



“You look good,” she’d said with a smile. And maybe she’s right. I’m slim, fair-haired, a little gaunt in the face, but my green-blue eyes, beneath the ‘John Lennon’ glasses are what hold the attention. Well them and my taste in clothes: black zip-up ankle boots, with a touch of a heel; black coal black jeans, white shirt, smart waist-coat and a blue-jacket; above which I’d worn a mock leather jacket, draping loose of my ensemble. I almost forget the Ankh, worn round my neck, it’s silver; so that blows another myth; and, hangs by a black bootlace.



And, she’d smiled, a warm smile, that’d touched the lines at the corners of her eyes. ‘A sign of hard living?’ Time had passed. A lot may have happened. But, oh-boy Ava had still looked good to my eyes. Of course, she looked like Lita: after all, that was why I’d hardly been able to look at her, let alone talk to her.



That’d been way back though.

“So how are you doing?” I’d asked, trying not to stare at her thighs.

But, not too hard.



Like Lita, Ava had good legs and were certainly well worth looking at.

“I’m okay,” she had replied, as the smile had slipped from her face.

“Just okay? My query hadn’t been feigned. I had been interested.



That’d been somewhat of a surprise. But, hers had been a welcome face to run into, from a time before.

“Yeah, okay…” Ava had repeated, glancing quickly to her left, then right.

Even without my cognizant awareness, I’d have realized how anxious she was. As it was, it’d been glaring to me.



“So how about coming for a quick drink, so we can talk over old times then Ava?”

Panic had flit across her beautiful face, as she’d considered my suggestion.

“No, no… sorry, I can’t,” she’d told me, using her a lot, as she spoke.



People had passed, as I’d stared at her quietly and spoke with calm assurance.

“A drink and a chat. That’s all. Just fifteen minutes out of your day.”



She’d looked over her left shoulder, anxiously and flinched a little, as I lightly caressed her cheek.

“Please, don’t?” She had said, a crack in her voice, on the verge of tears.



As a gaggle of ladies passed behind us, I’d caressed her right cheek, drawing my thumb along her lower lip, with a featherlight touch.



She’d looked up, toward me, tears welling in wide eyes.

“I can’t, I need to…”

“Need to come with me is what you want to do…” I’d said to her in a commanding low tone: and, smiled broadly, hoping it looked sincere.



Wiping the dew-drop from her nose, with the cuff of her denim top, Ava had sniffed.

“Well… maybe, for a few minutes…” she muttered, looking down and using her sleeve again.



“Good girl,” I’d pronounced, as I took her left elbow gently in my right hand and led us both to the nearest watering hole.

My choice hadn’t been the best. The décor consisted of too much chrome, plastic and ferns, for my liking.



The staff seemed to comprise of one spotty young man, an Asian teen of miniscule height, with the widest smile I’ve ever seen; and a buxom blonde, all in white shirt and black trousers.



And, of the ninety or so circular smoked glass tables either side of the central bar, only six or seven had been occupied.



Ava had sat on the padded bench seat by the window at her request.

“So, what are you having?” I’d asked, as she tucked her bag into her side.

“Vodka and coke,” Ava had answered, absently gazing out of the window



Easing my through tightly packed seating I’d made my way to the bar and called the Asians attention to me with a glance.



“Voka and coke and a double scotch, house’ll do…”

“No house,” she had apologised, with a solemn expression.

“Okay, J.D., a double,” I’d responded. My treat, to me.



She’d brightened and been all smiles once more the moment she was serving, ensuring a good service and a tip.

“Keep the change,” I’d said, leaving far more money than the drinks cost.



I’d then returned to where Ava sat and presented her with her drink, to take the seat opposite. She had smiled briefly and then I’d reached across the table and covered her right hand with my left.



“You’re edgy. Evasive…tell me, what is it? What’s the matter?” I’d asked emphatically.

“I…” She began.

“I need…”

“Go on Ava, you need what?” I queried.

“I need some money…” She said finally, looking down at her drink.

“Uh huh, what for, or is that being impolite…?”

“It’s okay,” she sniffed, on the verge of tears.

“I don’t mind telling you. I guess…”



So, I’d waited for her to expand on this great dark secret, for which she seemed… ashamed? As it seems, that’d been an astute wondering.



“It’s for Tony. He’s stringing… so, he sent me out to…” She’d said it all at once, as if that made it easier for her to say.

“So he sent you out to earn it for him?” I’d added.



Tony: the latest waster in her life. I’d known the previous one, but knew of him. As alike as two peas in a pod those two… ‘and what was it she’d said she needed?’

Not much.

“I’ll give it to you…” I’d said, recalling the money in my wallet: then offered her four times the amount, to join me for the evening and, my pleasure.



Immediately her mood had brightened.



It’s just that it’s near Christmas and no-ones out… and…” She’d exclaimed, all in a rush.



“Shush,” I’d said, squeezing her hand gently, “it’s decided then. You’ll have it and more.”



We’d left the desolate pub on the edge of the shopping precinct, to walk round the corner onto the kerbside and the taxi-rank I recalled, then got a car back to my apartment block near the waterfront.



As we journeyed, Ava had looked at me anxiously, her eyes filling once more.

“Please, can I have the money Tony needs?? He’s needing it and well…”

“You’ll suffer…”

She’d nodded.



Plans forming subconsciously, I’d thought on what she said.



“Yeah sure,” I had replied, “and we’ll drop it off on the way to mine.”

So we’d motored, sitting quietly in the back of the cab, stopping off just outside their home, where I’d waited moderately patiently, as she unlocked the front door and ran inside, to pay the money to Tony.



A net curtain in the front windows twitched, literally, so I knew someone was watching me.



Then, finally Ava ran back to the car. I’d opened the door and she had stepped in.

“He’s okay with me now,” she had said to me turning to me and smiling.

“That’s good,” I’d replied with a light smile on my face, which hardly belonged there.



I’d taken her hand.



“So where to mate?” The driver questioned, as he turned to look over his shoulder.

”A moment,” I had said, then squeezing her hand, to offer assurance I had smiled gently at Ava and then had repeated the address given when we’d first got into the car.



Although the traffic was quite heavy, it took less than ten minutes to finish our journey.



“Are you sure?” Ava had queried coyly glancing at me through the corner of her left eye, as she swept her hair from her face, as the car pulled into a turn.



For a moment, I saw this girl of my past as the little girl she had been, all dark hair and wide-eyed innocence: And, I’d seen her small, sitting there in the corner of the seat, a small frame, and bare legs…



‘Bare legs, encased in black-nylon and encased in knee-high black boots, with a narrow four-inch heels – and, here to let you partake of her’ I’d reminded myself hurriedly.



“Yes, I’m certain,” I’d replied decisively.

“I’m pleased,” she came back to me, turning her head to look out the window as she brushed at her hair with her fingers.



I’d paid the driver, leaving a reasonable tip and we’d walked across the few steps to the buildings entrance.

“Nice place,” Ava pronounced, looking at the red-brick and glass edifice where I live, the river at its rear.



My bedroom look over the view costs a lot, but there are times when it’s worth the money and that night had been one of them.



And yet again I digress from the thread, most remiss of me...



I’d keyed in the door code on the pad just to the right of the door and hearing the click of the lock opening I’d pushed the door inward.

“Come in…” I’d said to her, ushering her in with theatrical flair and gesturing for Ava to enter first, telling her the floor and flat number, telling her I’d follow.



“I’m liking the view…” I had added with a grin.

The boots heels had served to exaggerate a distinct sway of her hips and her buttocks had been a sheer delight to watch, as she’d led the way.



Then, when she had been six steps ahead of me on the stairs, I’d followed, enjoying the view.

At the top of her self-supporting, lace-edged stockings her flesh was mine to see; the shape of her full buttocks; and the succulent looking peach, split in half by the gusset of a pair of white bikini briefs.



The undulation of her backside and the inviting view of her hardly covered pussy entranced me: and aroused me highly.



Yet all too soon we’d been at my door, which I’d opened with the keys already in hand.



Once inside, I’d led us through the back hall to the main room, which like the bedroom, had a fine view of the river.



Igniting the fire I had poured myself a scotch; and Ava a stiff vodka and coke; well diet Pepsi actually. She’d taken the proffered glass with a flutter of her long dark lashes.

“My, its getting warm in here,” she’d told me, long seconds after taking a quick slug of her drink.



Ava had shrugged her jacket off, to throw it over the back of the black leather couch, sitting just to the left of the television, it’s back to the picture window and its view of the river.



Her skin looked good in the warmth, as she had looked at me with dark eyes and licked her lips.



“Now the blouse and skirt?” I’d suggested, suddenly having flashes of Lita’s face, every time I’d looked at Ava.



She had looked down to the tips of her boots for a moment, then lifted her gaze to mine.

“Now?” She had asked.



“Oh yes, now…” I’d told her, as I’d sat on the comfortable black seat, to watch.

She began to unfasten the top buttons on her blouse.



“Oh no. The skirt first,” I’d begun quickly, “stand, do it slowly. I want to enjoy watching you.”



She stood timidly and walked a few paces, to stand just in front of me.

Downing her drink and setting the glass down, Ava looked warily around the room a moment, before she reached behind herself and undid the button and zip at its back.



Ava eased the skirt over her full buttocks and wriggling her hips, it slid to the floor and she had stepped out of it. She kicked it toward the sofa then turned to face me, her hands on her hips.



“Do you like my legs?” She’d asked, with a slight frown. Thighs full, with shape, clad in laced-stockings and boots?



‘They look great,’ I’d thought.

“Nice…” I’d said.



“Some people say I’ve got fat legs.” She’d continued, as she turned her back to me.



“And my ass?” Ava questioned, running her left hand up from her thigh and the rounded swell of her buttocks: “Do you think it’s too big?”

Not a white girls bottom, or a black woman’s butt, Ava had a proper Latino ass.

“Uh-uh, I think it’s perfect,” I’d told her.



And realizing a personal preference of mine, Ava had cupped as much of her right buttock in her hand and did the same with the left.



Wearing just the white blouse, over which her long black hair fell Ava looked over her left shoulder and had smiled broadly.



“So you like my…?” She asked.

“Ass. Oh yes,” I’d replied, “I like your ass.”



I actually found this exposure of insecurities, as she tried to be seductive, very erotic and, extremely arousing. There’s no question about it, a woman in a white shirt and little or nothing else looks good.



“Do you want another drink?” I’d asked, standing and breaking the moment.

“Er, yes…” She’d answered, after moments thought.



I’d stood, hoping my arousal wasn’t too apparent, as she covered her crotch with both hands and not been able to stop smiling, as I was again reminded that she was new to this. The evening had certainly been different from my so-called normal nights.



She had stood there, looking distinctly embarrassed, as I turned the lights to dim, and then turned to the dresser and the open door to the liquor cabinet.

I’d poured my scotch, and then as I began to pour hers, spoken slowly without looking back.



“Remove your panties and sit down on the couch, and I’ll bring your drink over.”

I’d heard her answer ‘sure’ quietly, as I turned from the cabinet to the stereo.



Then, I’d found the album Sade, by the singer; and put it on, playing it from that track that’s almost guaranteed to promote romantic sex, combined with wine, hearthrug and a warming fire.



As gentle full-sound filled the room, I’d turned back to Ava, our drinks in hand.

“Part your thighs a little,” I had instructed as I’d leant forward to hand Ava her drink.



I’d walked toward where I’d sat earlier, opposite where she did, grinning as I’d stared at her, noting her self-consciously running her fingers through her hair, as she looked nervously around. It’d been the action that decided for me that it was evident Ava was still new to ‘the game.’



That thought amused me as I had taken our drinks toward her and I’d sat to her right. She had turned to look at me, as I’d begun to undo the buttons to her blouse, my gaze holding hers.



“I want to see the rest of you,” I’d murmured, using a hard voice, as I’d slipped it from her shoulders, and then helped her off with the half-cup bra, which barely contained her ample charms.

“Sit back,” I’d instructed.



She turned back to me and sat back a little obediently, so I could look at her properly, her breathing faster, arousal evidenced by the erect nipples on each dark aureole. Lowering my face to her right breast, I licked softly, eliciting a gasp of pleasure.



I drew away a little, my hands on her shoulders and I turned her a little, to kiss her shoulders and back.



That had been when I’d seen the small circular scars on her flesh, well over ten of them, on her upper back.

“What are these?” I asked, after kissing two of the white indents on her skin.



“Erm…” Silence.



“What are these?” I asked again, using the same hardened commanding tone of voice I had earlier.



“They’re burns…” Ava had answered quietly.



“I can see that,” I’d assured her, “who and where did they come from?”

“A customer, a friend of Tony’s.” She answered with her head low.

‘Tony, her husband? Nice man.’

I’d wanted to hurt the fellow, there and then, but there she was, her flesh alluring, her warm blood my nourishment.



I’d kissed her scars some more with gentle kisses, then her right shoulder.

“Turn round,” I had told her softly.



Savouring the glow of lust in each other's eyes, we had melted into a passionate and pressed together. My left hand behind her head, my right on her left shoulder I drew her lips to mine and we both leaned back onto the sofa. My tongue snaked out and opened Ava’s accepting mouth and our tongues wrestled as I pressed my lips against hers.



Then I’d drawn away a moment to look into her eyes, as I had slipped my right hand between Ava’s legs parted to allow my fingers access to her, arching her hips as my fingers sank deep into liquid warmth.



I’d brought her left hand to my lips with mine and kissed the back of her hand.

Then quicker than her eyes could follow, I’d turned it, quickly severing the veins in her wrist as I withdrew my fingers from her quivering inner muscles.



Then lifting her hand, I’d brought the open wound to my mouth and I’d drunk of her, as Ava sighed, relaxing into my arms.



I’d watched Ava as I fed. With a dazed gaze, she reached to my mouth, as I drunk her lifeblood. With a look of disbelief, her fingers traced my lips, adhered to her bloody flesh.

“What are you…?” She’d gasped through pressed lips as I grasped her left buttock, enjoying the feel; ‘her body mine. Lita was… no, not Lita, Ava.’



My mind had whirled as I drank, feeding off her. There’d been that dichotomy in my mind: one had made me, the other I’d taken to feed from.



That’d been the key…



‘Poor girl,’ I’d thought, recalling the scars I’d seen earlier.

I’d eased away from the torn flesh of her wrist, holding it gently as I held her behind her lower back to give her support.



So I’d placed my thumb down hard on her wrist and stopped the flow of blood.



I’d had an idea.



Gathering her unmoving body into my arms easily, I’d carried Ava across to the sofa and laid her down, elevating the wrist with the wound.



Her head had lolled to the side, eyes dull: breathing light and ragged.

Moving swiftly, I cut at my right wrist, which I placed to her cold lips.



“Drink,” I’d instructed.

Initially unresponsive, she had licked her lips, and then drank.



As I said earlier, that was a few nights ago. At present, Ava rests in my spare-room. Tomorrow she should be ready to go on her first hunt. I know who our prey will be, the scumbag who sent her to work the streets.

COMMENTS

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NoctusAngelusProcella
01:45 Jun 30 2011

wow great write, I love how you always leave the reader wanting more.

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POST COMMENT

Gonshu, a blue-sky; and long summer. And, it’d all begun on the way home, on a crowded train, which had ceased moving inside a tunnel, ‘due to a sudden loss of power;’ they said. She’d sat across the aisle from me and I knew she was looking, to see if I was.

And, I had been.

It’d been the eyes that had got me… dark and deep.

The Chinese woman I’d been watching wore a smart suit, the skirt cut tight.

She’d worn dark nylons on her legs: and and fine, really fine black high heels; the arch and instep very high indeed.

I’d been watching her for awhile. Reflected in the window.

She had interested me.

Her every move had fascinated me: as she had swept a strand of hair away from her face; how she had viewed the world gaze lowered, eyes looking downward.

Abruptly, the train had started up again, with a jolt.

And, glancing to my left, the leg crossed over a knee flicked out suddenly… so that the tip of the man sitting opposite.

I’d turned at his exclamation of pain, as I’m now sure that she wanted me to do,

As she’d apologised, her eyes had met mine.

I was then that I’d considered that her actions had been intentional.

But, I digress.

I had looked, away momentarily embarrassed at being caught.

Turning my head, I had looked out of the window, as I’d heard her laugh: She’d a light musical laugh, which I’d heard as the fellow she’d kicked made light of her ever-so accidental act.

‘This train is Lime Street Station, depart here for the City Line,’ boomed from the speakers, a millisecond before the doors had opened.

And, as the passengers, myself included, departed the train, I’d lost track of her.

“Just what does a girl have to do to get noticed?” She had asked, long hair framing her face, as she’d inclined her head a little to the right.

“Kick his shin?” I had suggested half an hour later, in the station café and bar, over coffee.

She’d asked the question a second time, as I’d not answered the first time, still rendered dumbstruck, by her appearance at my side.

It’d been as if she’d appeared from nowhere; from amongst that teeming mass of people, all intent on their own lives.

“A penny for your thoughts?” She’d asked, to break the long silence that had followed, after I’d taken our drinks to the small copper top table by the window, where she’d chosen to sit.

She’d crossed her left knee over the right, her shoe dangling from the front of her foot and swung back and forth as she flicked her toes, as I recalled her doing on the train.

The blue-black sheen of nylon covering her legs fascinated me, ensuring a desire to caress them. I hadn’t though. Instead, I’d raised my eyes to meet hers.

I recall I’d smiled with a Cheshire Cat smile on my face, then said to her: “A penny. A pound? It’s a giveaway.” And that day, I’d felt like I’d won at the roulette table of life – the day I met Xu Gonshu, with whom I shared an excellent summertime.

COMMENTS

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NoctusAngelusProcella
14:28 Jun 21 2011

very astute write. leaves the reader wondering what will become of the blossoming couple after the summer's end.

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POST COMMENT

Part One Dracula’s Kiss





With a propensity toward purple and black, with white ruffled cuffs and breast, there was a lot of wannabee’s and role-players at the club, but no real-lifers.

“How would you tell the difference?” Tracie wondered, her back to the bar, as she scanned the crowd around her.



Ahead was the dance-floor with both-seating to the left and to the far right another large room that had two pool tables, which were covered tonight.



It had been billed as ‘Vampire Night’ and she came along, still uncertain as to why she was there.



Granted, she liked and admired the style of dress adopted by the night’s revellers.

“What made it Vampire Night?” She mused. ‘Was it the date, the 31st October? Was it the name of the drinks, like ‘Dracula’s Kiss’? Or, was it the posters proclaiming it as such, all garish black-neon letters, dripping with red, as if painted in blood.



She smiled momentarily. There was a common bond, with all the club-goers, of that she was sure. Then awareness struck her: ‘They’ve all bought into the film image of what a vampire is.’ It was so mind-blowingly simple.



Staring around at the poseurs, pretentious and irritating Tracie gave a distinct “Harumph” turned back to the bar, to order a much-needed drink.



For the irony of it, she ordered a ‘Dracula’s Kiss’ from the girl with light freckles across the bridge of her nose and on her cheeks; and a dash of purple to her shoulder length bleach blonde hair, worn in bunches.



The question had been just too easy to answer; and, was disappointing when found.

She frowned: ‘There are no vampires…’ though she wished there was: ‘and, if there were they wouldn’t been coming here, not to a local community centre dance.’







Part 2 French Kiss



He couldn’t help but grin as Tracie gave a distinct “Harumph” and turned back to the bar, to order a drink.



He watched her order a drink from the girl behind the bar; the one with light freckles across the bridge of her nose and on her cheeks; and a dash of purple to her shoulder length bleach blonde hair, worn in bunches.



“I can see you don’t come here often…” he said, suddenly appearing to her left.



Tracie turned her head a little to look see who’d spoken to her.



“Pardon!” she retorted, “is that a piss-poor line or something?”



It was evident he’d intruded on her space, he considered, for just a moment.



It could have been, he replied, but I in actuality, it was more of an observation.



Now, her curiosity was piqued. He could see that from the way she sought the gaze of his eyes, of a flint grey-blue.



“Go on?” She asked, in part through boredom.



He looked around.



“You’re wearing the colour of their tribe, but you’re not one of them.”



“Impressed,” she told him, adding, “you’re accent, what is it?”



“I had a French…” he paused a moment, then said, “Mother.”



“And she taught you to talk to strange ladies did she?” Tracie asked, with the hint of a smile. He’d got to her, already. And already she could feel a heat of desire, building within her loins. ‘Noway,’ she reasoned, continuing to look into his eyes.



He grinned, a warm grin that touched her immediately.



And Tracie didn’t like that, at all.



“No, some things I learn in life were self-taught,” he told her, smiling quite gently now.



“But,” he grinned again; “sometimes I like to pass on things’ now and then.”



His accent, it was magical, to her.



And, that really annoyed Tracie.

This fella had got to her, in minutes. ‘That was well out of order.’



“I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself did I?” The fellow began, leaning in toward her with his right elbow: “My name is Xavier, Xavier Martyns.”



She liked his leather coat: Expensive obviously.



And Tracie surprised herself again, by turning a little and extending her right hand toward him.



“Tracie,” she told him.



He took her hand, as she continued to stare, unknowingly, into his eyes.



“You actually look bored out of your mind.”



“I guess I am,” she admitted.



“Why?” He asked, straight-faced, knowing the answer.



“I don’t know why I came, I expected… well, something… different.”



“Like Vampires?” He asked with that pleasing grin on his face again: the one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, she noticed.



“Nah…” she told him, aware she was blushing.



He had caught her out.



“You wouldn’t get vampire’s going to a local dance,” she admitted ruefully, downing the second of the powerful cocktail’s she had decided she liked. ‘Dracula’s Kiss.



“Even the idea is so stupid,” she reminded herself, looking down, her hair falling, so her neck was exposed to her companions gaze



Xavier looked at the pretty brunette; his eyes alight with his need.



“Oh, I don’t know,” he told her, looking slowly around the dance-floor at the those before him, all with a propensity toward purple and black, with white ruffled cuffs and breast.



There was a lot of wannabee’s and role-players at the club, but only one real-lifer.



‘And there was that grin, again’ she thought.







Part 3 Last Kiss





Determined to check out the Goth’s her friend Liza had told her of, Tracie had arrived at the ‘Vampire night’, at the local Community Hall, filled with curiosity.



She had stood at the bar and watched the reveller’s, dismayed by what she saw: a lot of wannabee’s and role-players, wearing a lot of purple and black and white lace; ‘and just waaay too much pretension,’ she thought as continued to people-watch.



Tracie had soon become bored and drank at least two ‘Dracula’s kiss’ to her knowledge, ordered from the overworked girl behind the bar; the one with light freckles across the bridge of her nose and on her cheeks; and a dash of purple to her shoulder length bleach blonde hair, worn in bunches.



And, she had even contemplated yet another early night, with a bad book, until he had arrived to her left, as if from nowhere.



His eyes had fascinated her, even more than his accent: French.



‘Je’adore.. the French accent,’ she had thought dreamily, as he had continued to talk to her. And, it had mattered not what he said after awhile, just that it was her he was saying it to. And, saying whatever it was he was saying to her.



“Boy, doesn’t he look dreamy,” something had said to her loins, because she’d got warm between her thigh’s, in a way she wouldn’t normally allow, not like that.



After all, she was drinking. She needed control.

Yet, at that moment, Tracie realised she was drunk, not just slightly, but very drunk.



Perhaps it had been the ‘Dracula’s Kiss,’ or even the lack of a meal inside her before she came out? But either way, Tracie had soon felt the heat of so many bodies close to, augmented by the music’s thump-thump, thumping. And, she needed air.



Xavier, as she had learnt he was called, had offered to take her home, telling her, “I have a car, just round the block from here…”



And with glazed eyes, she had said to him, “Yes, thanks.”



Tracie had let him take her by the arm and guide her through the crowded dance-floor and out the fire escape, past where a young couple stood kissing and then, out onto the street, then he had led her to his car, a large black sedan.



“Where to?” He had asked, helping her stand, as he held open the passenger door.

“Mine,” she answered, and then hiccupped.



“Where’s that?” He asked, as she fell into her seat.

“Not far from here…” She told him and gave him her address.



It was wrong, she knew: taking him home like this. But this young Frenchman was the most interesting man Tracie had encountered, all week. Perhaps even this month, and there was noway she was letting him out of her sight; ‘till morning, at least,’ she thought with a grin, as he started up the engine.



Xavier drove into town, and then took the ‘B’ road, off the main-road, that led into the hills, where the houses were mainly of a single-floor and generally painted white.

“So where is your car?” he asked.

“I came with a friend…” she replied, feeling quite languorous, as she revelled in the car’s warmth, the seats comfort and Xavier’s voice.



“And will your friend miss you?” He asked, with that grin on his face, which pleased irritated Tracie, in equal measure.



“On a full moon? That nutter will be out prowling the streets, if I know her!” She exclaimed, and then went quiet, as if she had said the wrong thing.



A pause followed that lasted for well over half a mile of dark highway, interrupted by the occasional neon-lit sign, advertising the next point at which a driver could fill up his motor, before hitting the desert.



“So the drink? What’s in it?” Xavier asked, to break the silence.



“Dracula’s Kiss?” Tracie asked between giggles; ashamed momentarily, that she had begun to giggle and that she found it difficult to stop.



“Yes, that drink,” he responded, almost laughing himself, though he managed to retain his stoic façade.



“One part Drambuie, One part Cherry Brandy, one shot of Vodka, served in a pint glass, topped up with lemonade. An, the girl behind the bar had smiled when she said ‘a dash of port is optional,’ which I thought was funny, as there’s enough in there already an…” She was rambling: she knew she was rambling.



“I take it you liked it?” He asked, with a surprisingly amiable smile.



“I did,” she answered with a light voice, “best part of the evening… till..”



“Until what?” He asked, aware of the lorry bearing down on the, it’s lights glaring.



“Until I met you,” Tracie admitted, as the lorry passed by and she hoped the noise of it’s passing would drown out what she had said. It had not.



He grinned. He grinned that damned grin that drove her ‘nutso, with the insufferable smugness of it. Then he placed his hand gently on her thigh: and, Tracie melted.



“Mais qui mon amore, that is good to hear.” He responded, much to her chagrin, as it was obvious that the lorry hadn’t done her the favour she had hoped that it might.



‘French? What was it he’d said??’ She mused, aware that he hadn’t moved his hand, nor did she want him to. She liked his hand, just where it was.



“Ah nevermind,” Tracie thought looking up, into the rearview mirror.

Xavier Martyns had no refection, she noticed.

She smiled and the warmth between her thighs increased, further still.

The night had suddenly become more, so much more than had been expected.



Tracie glanced to her right, at her intended lover, with the lightest of smiles.



‘There are vampires…’ she thought and, she was glad there was: ‘and, who’d have believed she’d meet one at Vampire Night, at a local community centre dance.’



And, Xavier bared his fangs, embracing the night, as he gunned the engine and the black sedan continued down the highway, into the night.





*





Epilogue:



In town, an alleyway had become home to four very bloody cadaver; young men who had accosted the wrong young bleach-blonde, hair worn in pig-tails, wearing a short tartan skirt and abbreviated black tee-shirt.



It had become her time of the month, to change, as she wanted: and Liza so-wanted to change, to lose her freckles, as the fur grew and nails extended.



She had so-wanted Tracie to join her, but she had denied her own calling; so till she decided to join her, Liza would run alone…

COMMENTS

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Vidiana
00:56 Jun 04 2011

Your writing always entertains and intrigues me. Good work!

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Oceanne
00:44 Jun 05 2011

Nice reading.:)

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DestroyingAngel
09:07 Jun 18 2011

Absolutley freaking AWSOME!

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POST COMMENT

Pauline's Trip To England







Part One





The plane landed and she got off, following the rest of the people, trying to connect her Iphone, knowing he should be waiting for her, as had said he would.



When she could get a signal she dialled the number he'd given her and waited. On the third ring a males deep voice answered. He was waiting for her, as agreed.



It was her first trip to England and although she was looking forward to their meeting, she was nervous.



Never had she been outside her country and, nor did she think she would. Granted, compared to many, her salary as a translator at the American Embassy was good, but even so. Here she was, thanks to a few numbers, coming up in sequence, just for her.



She eased her way through the crowded airport, to the cafeteria he had named and, she smiled when she saw him, dressed in a wonderful suit, white shirt and yellow tie and, she looked him up and down, liking what she saw.



For a moment she thought about her own outfit, her skirt a bit to tight in the hips, and the jacket didn't cover her much at the back; her trench coat hanging on her arm with her purse. Maybe the blouse was also tight on her breasts she mused, but it was too late to do anything about it, he was right there, in front of her...



She smiled, her sensible shoes in her suitcase and, the black high-heels arching her calf's as she walked toward him. The pain was worth the effect, she had thought earlier, as she had changed into them, once more.



"So good to see you, at last" she said with a broad smile, as she wrapped her arms around his neck.



They stood for a long moment, his right cheek against hers as she stood on tip-toes, as his mouth found her ear.



"It's good to see you Nicholas," he told her in sibilant tones.



Pauline did so like his voice, it was measured, cultured and pleasant to her ear.



She kissed his cheek, leaving a lip-stick imprint.



"'Really is good to see you..." he whispered.



"And you..." Pauline told him, as they parted a little and she found her feet, still holding hands with him.



Briefly he grinned.



"And, all the better, I can now hand back the mobile phone to my mate..."



Pauline looked at Nicholas blankly.



"I try not to use them. I try to avoid the damn things... like the plague," he told her emphatically.



"But, you're using one now?" she asked, one eyebrow arched and, yet another larg group of people surged passed where they stood.



"It's so I could be here, for you," Nicholas told her, amused to watch Pauline blush profusely. He decided to change the subject, quickly.



"Looks busy," he told her blithely.



"Airports usually are," she responded, with a grin.



"So are those your bags" Nicholas asked, ignoring the retort and, indicating the two small suitcases by her feet with a brief nod of his head, as he still held her hands.



"Uh-huh, yes."



"And, that's all you have?" He quizzed.



"Well, it is my break," she informed him, "And I think that if I really need something else I can purchase it. Besides, it'll give me a chance to go clothes shopping..."



He blanched at the idea of traipsing round a myriad of shops in town, yet smiled as sweetly as possible, before telling her, "Sounds fun."



"I have a car outside, so we can get to mine, so you can unwind a little after your flight, before we doing anything else..."



"A car..."



"A limousine," he added, "Remember, I told you I don't drive?"



Again, the arched eyebrow: "So how do you manage?"



Nicholas smiled, "I walk a lot and use public transport."



"Really?" Pauline asked him, bemusement on her face and in her voice.



He looked round, momentarily anxious, 'where was the exit?'



"We have to be going y'know?" He told Pauline, drawing his left hand from hers and, picking up her bags in one hand: "The limo costs and, I want to relax on the ride and not worry bout the cost, too much."



Then, as they walked toward the terminals main exit, Pauline turned to him and asked what seemed to her an obvious question, "If it costs so much, then why hire a limo?"



"How many miles have you travelled to see me?" Nicholas asked in turn.



"A few," she admitted, with a smile.



"Well then, he told her, as electronic doors opened for them, with a distinct swish: "Why should the last few miles be anything more than what they will be, memorable?"



They stepped across the pavement, with Nicholas carrying her bags, through the crowds there and, toward the waiting limousine.



A large man, with a bald head and a very smart maroon uniform, opened the rear door nearest the kerbside and Pauline entered, entering with in such a fashion that Nicholas saw that her stocking-top, suspender and a flash of flesh.



She noticed where he was staring, yet did finish drawing her legs into the car, before moving to the left side of the seat, providing access, for him.



"I like stockings," Nicholas said to her, with a smile.



"Do you find the clasp bites?" She said to him with a wry smile, as the driver turned round to look at Nicholas.



"The bags are in the boot, are you ready Sir?" The driver 'Big Leon' asked, with his gravely tones, as Nicholas sought smart answer.



"Aye Leon, please!" He felt flustered twice over; he had been caught out watching her brief display and, then that he couldn't find a suitable response to her question.



Leon started up the engine of the big car as Nicholas and Pauline sat back, his left hand finding her right and looking at her, with his eyes downcast



He looked at her hand holding his and at her knee, interested to note that the skirt had drawn up somewhat.



Nicholas lifted his eyes for his gaze to meet Pauline's, "It's about a good half hour to mine and, I hope you like the view on the way, I will." There, he thought, feeling pleased, that he had made a remark, suitable to the moment.



Pauline blushed, squeezing his hand a little, quietly pleased to have the attention.



Leaving Liverpool John Lennon Airport, the big black limousine swept majestically through the road that took it round the city centre, then toward the Birkenhead tunnel.



Once through to the other side, Leon took the main road toward Chester, then took the bypass, leading back onto the New Chester Road. A few miles down the road Leo went through two sets of traffic lights, where he took a right turn onto Allport Road and, the avenue of trees, with the two block of shops, then the station on the right, leading down to the road on which Nicholas lived; in a small bungalow with a small well kept lawn with borders and a rose bush at the front; a drive-way, a green wrought-iron gate and a green glass-frosted panel front door, with a number ten on the top spar.



Leon parked the car and they left the backseat, with Nicholas looking over his shoulder as he did so, just the enjoy the leg-show.



Then, with Leon paid and, a handsome top shoved in his top pocket, the big man drove away, as Nicholas opened the front door.

Nicholas ignored the half drawn sliding door to the kitchen and, turned left, into the lounge, to set Pauline's bags down, by the sofa.



Pauline still stood by the door, looking at the welsh dresser of dark wood, crossed halberd's behind it, with a large wood model of the Victory on the top to the left and a small wooden chest on the right of it, of a slightly darker coloured wood.



And then, she turned her head and gazed round the front room, bug-eyed, convinced she had stepped back four hundred years, or so.



"You like the room?" He asked, gesturing around with his arm. She nodded.



The were crossed swords over the hearth, built of Yorkshire stone, with a thick mantle, built from an old railway sleep, cut and polished to fit, with pillars od more stone holding it up, over the gas fire, which looked out of place, in a room with beams, on which an arrow was pinned.



"The arrow heads real," he explained, "thousand years old, with a shaft that we had put together..." He went onto to explain that the beams weren't real, but had been sold at a knock-down price, so had to be bought.



Nicholas took great delight in showing thr room off, taking pleasure in illustrating panelling that had been tooled to match another piece here, whilst over there, a unit held the TV, beneath a door that lfted up and swung inward.



Then, as she sat, Nicholas thought to ask, "Would you like to use the bathroom, while I make us a cup of tea?"







Part Two





"Thanks," Pauline said smiling at Nicholas as she then made her way to the bathroom, which he had pointed out to her. She looked at herself in the mirror once again... she looked tired.



"I'll feel better tomorrow, after some rest," she needed this break, that much was obvious; after all, there's been so much to cope with these last few months.



Flushing the toilet and straightening her skirt, Pauline made her way back to the lounge, where she sat on the sofa, 'settee?' he'd called it.



She took off her jacket and sat down.



And, crossing her legs she looked up as Nicholas re-entered the room, carrying a small jug of milk. He had already laid out the dark-wood table with the cups and the teapot.



Beneath the table was a tan and white toy dog, almost life-sized and quite lifelike, sitting on a circular poof, covered in a rich-looking red material, a cord of a matching color going round its middle, with s swirl at the front.



"And for how long are you planning to stay?" he asked her, while pouring milk in her cup, then having assured himself the tea had brewed, he poured into their cups.

.

"Well, that's what I wanted to tell you, there's an NGO that I contacted before coming here: and maybe they will interview me this week, if everything goes well, I will work for them. Of course I will have time to go back to Chile and resign to my position at the Embassy... you know... I like to do things correctly..." she said sipping her tea.



Confusion showed on his face and, he asked what was to him, a natural question: "What's NGO mean?"



"Non-governmental Organization," she explained to him patiently.



"Oh," his brow was furrowed, which amused Pauline, "never was no good with acronyms."



"That's a double-negative," Pauline informed him, a light grin playing at the corners of her mouth.



"What is?" He queried.



"Never was no good..." she told him, resting her left hand on his left knee, as she sipped at her tea.



"Erm, is it?" He asked stammering, very aware of his hand and, what he'd intended to say after their tea.



And, her hand on his knee made it seem all the harder; and 'it' was getting harder.



Pauline lowered her gaze a little, to look at her hand on his knee, and then she lifted it, to look to his face, as she fluttered her lashes.



'He's blushing and, looks o-so-cute!' She thought, idly wondering whether his interest in her could be as more than 'just an internet friend.'



'This isn't the time, this isn't the time...' Nicholas told himself, again and, again.



"No it's not. It's not considered good English, grammatically speaking, that is."



Nicholas looked into her beautiful eyes; 'She'd said she was tired,' he mused, 'but boy, does she sparkle.' He was enamored and, nervous and tongue-tied, all of a moment.



'And now was the time?' he wondered.



"Do you want to see where you'll be sleeping? Your bags are waiting for you there..." there it was, he'd said it and, had not used the word 'bed'. That had been important.



"Yes, I'd like that," she told him, smiling gently.



Nicholas stood, allowing her hand to fall from his knee, slowly sliding down his leg as he reached out with his right hand, "Your cup?"



He took the cup and saucer from her, placed them on the tray then turned back with a smile, as he offered her his hand, "Milady?"



Pauline uncrossed her legs, watching his eyes follow her action, as she took his hand then stood, allowing him to lead the way, as he took her through to the back hall.



"There's just three bedrooms and the bathroom, you've seen, obviously..." he explained: "My rooms the double," he told her, opening the door of the room opposite the bathroom, showing her a light airy room, dominated by its bed, with lockers and headboard all built-in-one. "The box-room is my old room and the room at the back's the spare room, and, as I'm told, the bed is quite comfortable..."



'Damn!' He thought, 'I said bed, I didn't want to say bed.'



"So, show me this comfortable bed," Pauline encouraged teasingly.



Again he blushed, much to her amusement.



"This way then," Nicholas told her, taking her hand once more and, leading her through to the backroom, where an old crt monitor and tower greeted them, as he opened the door. It was seated on an old office table, the mouse sitting on a small pad of wood attached to the table, with an external harddrive and external diskdrive sitting on a dark-wood foldaway table.



"Aye, I forgot to tell you, this is where I have my main computer," he explained.



"Well you like your comfort," Pauline observed, noting the armchair before the machine, an old fifties style piece of utilitarian furniture, on which he'd placed a large cushion, the sort that would have gone on a sun-lounger.



"Yes, guess I do," he thought idly, looking at her curves, barely restrained by the A-line skirt she wore.



Pauline looked at the small rabbits in a circle on a coaster, next to the spider plant and, the crystal pyramid and then she lowered her gaze to the light colored wooden locker, with a series of draws and, lifted her gaze to the many shelves, all filled with object d'art of some sort of another, including several teddies, some small throwaway ceramic and some well-made toys in some sort of outfit. The books and there were a few, next to some papers and letter, sat over the bed-head.



'And yes,' she thought, sitting down on the single bed, that felt so-soft beneath her derriere, 'the bed was indeed comfortable.'







Part Three





"The bed is very comfortable," she said, looking around... and then into his eyes... "Come and sit here with me" she invited him with a smile.

The sun fell into the room and, Nicholas looked to where she’d patted the bed to her left.



Although nervous himself, Nicholas, or Nicky as his Mother had called him, knew in his gut that Pauline felt much as he did. And, he was curious, ‘was her mouth as dry?’



‘Heck’, he mused, ‘she’s come so far and, taken the initiative.’

Nicholas elected to follow her lead.



He sat by her side and looking at her he asked... "Why’d you decide to come to see me all of a sudden? I never imagined you could just do it..."

"Because I needed a vacation, desperately... and the only way to get away from my job was traveling abroad... " She said.

"And why you contacted that NGO?” He quizzed, “you want to leave the embassy? What happened with you there?" he wanted to know...

"I am tired... tired of being mistreated and I suppose that it's time to change. The NGO thing was just accidental,” she answered, crossing her legs again, letting the skirt rise up a little...

With a quick glance in her direction, it was something that Nicholas did not miss. And briefly, he wondered whether Pauline would object, if he slid his hand up her skirt.



Yet, he sat with his hands on his knees, and then turned to look at her; her lips looked good, full and inviting and, he wanted to kiss her.



They had shared much; email, audio messages and, of late, short video’s, from one to the other, some of a most intimate nature and Pauline blushed easily, now that she could match the sweet face to the guy in the videos she received.



Pauline wanted something, but didn’t know how to get it... and she doesn't want to intimidate her fellow so... she hoped he would realize and…



"For a while, I thought that you were running away from something... or somebody" he said to her with a grin.

"Well, smarty pants...” she retorted with a light grin of her own, “part of my decision was made because of that... my boss was the worst..." she told him emphatically.

There was quiet a moment, then Pauline added, "So if I get the other job, I will leave the embassy with no regrets..."

“Really?” He asked curiously. There was so much said and, so much left unsaid.

He looked at her, almost trembling with need and gently caressed her left cheek with his right hand, as Pauline watched his hand, thankful he’d finally reached out.



There was a moment of shared need felt between them. Yet, Nicholas didn’t want to disappoint her: She had come so far and, they knew each other so well… And, looking deep into her eyes, he brought his left hand to her right cheek and holding her face, he leant in toward her and, their lips met.



And, Pauline melted in his arms, as Nicholas drew her to him, her lips opening to accept his tongue, as his hands roamed from her face to her shoulders, then down her back to her full buttocks, that he ached to see naked.



Momentarily they parted, and he held her face once more, his eyes looking to see if her need met his. Concluding that that it did, Nicholas looked into her eyes, while Pauline looked down as he rested his right hand on her right knee.



She watched as she hand drifted up, beneath her skirt and between her warm thighs. And, Pauline sighed, this was what she’d sought, his touch.



She trembled a little, as he held her and kissed her, his right hand now where her heated sex told him what he wanted to know, Pauline wanted him.



Her lips parted for his tongue, as her thigh’s parted, to ensure he had access, to ease the gusset of her panties aside.



She was moist with need and, closed her eyes, as eager fingers entered her liquid warmth and their tongues dueled together, as their restrained passions came to the fore.



And, Pauline clasped him in her arms, holding him tight, as his fingers slid back and forth, her heart rate increasing, to match her lust for the moment; a moment that she had wanted for so-long.



Suddenly, he pulled himself from her embrace, his fingers still deep inside her. And, she opened her eyes, as Nicholas looked at her, with a smile playing on his lips.



“This what you want Pau?” He teased, the tip of his middle-finger wriggling a little, finding a place within, that sent ripples through her body.



“Oh God yes!” she snapped, “I do want this. I want this and, more much more…”



And, she did.



Nicholas had awakened that which she had kept hidden since they had met at the airport; she wanted him, badly.



“Then stand,” he instructed, drawing his fingers from her, leaving her feeling empty and with a need, to be filled once more, with more than just his fingers.



“Stand?” She queried, an eyebrow arched.



“Uh huh,” he muttered, “the skirts too tight.”



He meant, to add ‘for me to get my fingers deeper inside you’, but didn’t need to.



Pauline had thought earlier that the skirt was tight, but knew that from the back, she looked good in it. ‘But, if he wants me to remove it, then we’re going further…” Pauline considered, as she did exactly as he had instructed.



She stood before him, reaching behind, to unzip the unclasp the skirt, prior to easing it over her hips and derriere, watching the smile widen on Nicholas’s face, as she did so.



Finally, she stood before him, both hands held nervously over the front of her burgundy panties, thigh flesh heightened by the suspender straps that hung down to her rear-seam stockings and Nicholas gulped a little, as he reached out.



“Oh yes,” he murmured, “That’s nice Pau… Now, turn round.”



She turned as bid and, didn’t mind being told what to do, for a change.



“Oh they look good on you,” he told her Pauline, as held her hips and placed his face against the soft burgundy material; her soft buttock-flesh surrounding his face.



He briefly kissed her skin then sat back onto his haunches and told Pauline, “Turn back round.” Again, she did as instructed, tremulous with desire for his further touch.



And, her anticipation was confirmed, as his fingers idly traced her belly, then idled very slowly downward.



Nicholas looked up, while she watched what he did.



He took hold of the sides of her panties: “They’ll looks much better lying on the floor…” Nicholas added with a grin, as he edged them over her hips, then down her thighs.



As he eased them down her shapely legs, he knelt, to help her out of them, with his face inches from her trimmed pubis.

And, as Pauline rested her hand on his shoulders for balance, Nicholas lifted one leg then the other, as he helped her from her dampened panties.



She kept her hands there for balance, as he pressed his face between her thighs, his tongue licking up and through her lips, as he tasted her, liking what he’d found.



She groaned, eyes closing, as he held her thigh flesh, lapping at her, as if she were the finest ice-cream at the bottom of the bowl: and to him, it was.



“Oh yes,” she murmured as his teeth gently eased by her clitoral hood and his avid tongue flicked at the nubbin of blood-engorged flesh, “don’t… don’t stop.”



Yet… he did.



Nicholas looked up, as se stared down, her disappointment evident on her face.



“You taste good,” he told her. “But…” He stood: “I want more than the taste of you…”



“Then what to do you want?” Pauline asked teasingly, quite sure that knew what his answer might be.



“What do I want?” He quizzed, standing and taking her hands.



“I want all of you…” Nicholas told her, drawing her back down to the bed, his fight hand already between her thighs, that she raised and opened, in open invitation.



“All of me?” Pauline asked unnecessarily, as his fingers easily entered her once more and, they kissed, conscious of the fact that she was able to taste herself on his lips.



His long fingers moving inside her gave the most incredible pleasure; and with fluttering lashes Pauline looked at him while her fumbling hands dealt with the buttons on her blouse, then played with her bra cups, folding them to reveal her round and firm breasts, her nipples erect and her fingers toying with them, as he bent over to kiss her lips once more and she returned the kiss eagerly...



Her left hand was now looking for her sex, she needed to finger herself a bit, in front of him, knowing that he was watching every move. She closed her eyes when her finger found her clitoris. Having teased back her clitoral hood, Pauline started rubbing her nubbin of flesh, while enjoying Nicholas' fingers penetrating her...

Her back arched when she felt it coming; the wave of pleasure made her moan loudly, her head tossing back and forth.

Nicholas kept on moving his fingers inside her while his other hand fought his zipper... his hardness was fighting to come out... soon his hand was replaced by his firm penis which she received more than willingly, still feeling those waves pf pleasure, as they receding slowly and, he penetrated her deep and hard.

The head of the shaft slowly parting her well-lubricated petals, she gasped as he eased into her welcoming warmth.

"Oh yes, Nick... yes... " She whispered in his ear... 'More... harder... "

Nicholas lay over her his hands either side of her, supporting himself, as she took hold of his tumescent flesh, directing it where she wanted him.



Once half the length was inside her, he paused a moment, allowing Pauline to get used to the sensation, then lowered himself to his lower arms, leaving his lips mere inches from hers.



He slowly eased his way into her, those last few inches and, Pauline wrapped her arms round his neck, drawing his face to hers and, their lips met.



His hips slowly rose and fell and, their tongues dueled together, as their lust rose further still. Then he lifted himself on his arms once more, to look down, as Pauline as she closed her eyes, a wide smile on her face as she accommodated his full length.



With each thrust into her, Pauline grunted, her pleasure evident to Nicholas; and she clasped each of his buttocks, in an effort to draw him further into her, as the sound of their love-making filled the small room.



And their kisses continued, as his thrusts became faster, her hands roving over his flesh, fingers teasing, between his buttocks.



Soon he found a rhythm that suited them both, as he continued to thrust in and out of her heated sex and her eyes suddenly opened wide, as Pauline clutched him tight with her thighs, wrapped her legs round his lower back, crossing her ankles, the heels of her shoes digging into his back.



Nicholas didn’t mind a little pain and quite liked it, this time.



And as his hips rose and fell, with a trembling in his thigh’s announcing the onset of his climax, Nicholas found her lips once more and, they kissed, long and hard.



She knew he would climax, soon.



His pubic bone ground ‘gainst hers, as Nicholas held her, reveling in the feel of her body, her remaining clothes an accompaniment, rather than a hindrance.



There was a grunt from Nicholas, as the trembling of his thighs announced the onset of his orgasm.



Pauline suddenly opened her eyes wide, hanging onto his shoulders, as he gave one final thrust, as Pauline used her muscles down below, clutching his hard shaft tight.



“Oh my,” he cried, enjoying the sensation, as she continued to hold him, whispering in his ear, “Just let go, I want to enjoy this…”



And, they continued to kiss, as Nicholas delivered his gift, shooting his gift deep within.



His orgasm found through physical fulfillment, triggered Pauline’s own satisfaction.



And, from within, a ball of electricity blew up and expanded fast, through her limbs,



Her legs fell from his back, as Pauline sagged beneath Nicholas, lying sated, her head upon the pillow, tousled her all around damped from their exertions.



And, as she relaxed, a faint smile appeared on her lips.



“’kay?” Nicholas whispered, stroking her forehead with his right hand. Then he leant forward and briefly kissed her lower lip,



“Oh yes,” she sighed, as he began to suckle her left nipple. “I feel good.”



And she did feel good, Pauline considered, wrapping her hand in his hair, as Nicholas lathed her nipple-flesh with an eager tongue; his breathe and touch so tender on her flesh, causing Goosebumps to rise and little waves of pleasure to ripple within her breasts.



Finally, much to her disappointment, he stopped.



He tilted her face to his with gentle fingers and kissed her lips softly.



Then drawing away, Nicholas rolled onto his left side.



“So, how long are you staying again?” He queried, running his right hand over her sweat shined belly.



Pauline turned to look at Nicholas, her left hand idly playing with his now-flaccid manhood, leaking the remains of his emission.



“Long enough for you to go again…” Pauline teased.



Nicholas grinned.



“I didn’t mean, stay in this room, I meant England…” He responded.

She grinned in return, fingers already teasing his shaft back into hardness: “Oh, I know what you meant Nicholas,” she told him with a smile, “but, I do know what I want.”