I posted this at the insisting of a friend of mine who would not shut up about how I NEEDED to post it.
And so here it is, page one.
The man pressed another cigarette to his lips and took a deep, long, drag. He closed his eyes and through half parted lids gazed at the ceiling above, exhaling a long plume of grey blue smoke. The hand holding the cigarette came down to caress the arm of the ancient and dirty sofa he had come to rest on, exploring it’s rough texture, some parts of the fabric worn away to smooth underlying threads. His other hand then, began tracing the figure laying across his lap, deep in slumber.
He looked down and tilted his head slightly to the side, an inquisitive gesture, yet nonetheless menacing due to his piercing grey eyes. His long and slender fingers caressed the woman’s bare knee, while his eyes moved farther up; her skirt had ridden up to just beneath her crotch. And so he followed the slender, seductive curves with one hand, watching her breathing quicken and the corners of her lips form a slight, pleasant smile of desire. His hand moved forward then, the tips of his long, smooth fingers gracing the inside of her thigh, moving upwards to that hot place between her legs, the woman uttered a slight sound of surprise, yet her eyes remained closed, and, as he had ceased moving his hand, she had fallen back asleep, his hand cool and still between her thighs. His left hand came away from the arm of the sofa to take another deep drag from his cigarette. He paused for a moment to release more smoke into the room, then crushed the cigarette out in his hands, the burning sensation making him shudder for only a moment before he casually flicked the crumpled mess away into one of the dark corners of the room and then returned his attention to the woman.
He had met her in a nightclub, as was his usual way of meeting women. She, of course, had approached him, as they always did. He was not vain, but knew that he made an imposing and attractive figure and that was why they came to him. He was not tall, just under six feet, yet had the broad shoulders and well shaped body that would make even the seemingly perfect statues of the ancient Greeks weep with envy. Even his face had the features that seemed almost to be carved from the very goddess of beauty herself. Though his skin was fair, and nearly flawless, he had eyes that seemed to hint at some Eastern ancestry, slightly almond in shape, and with long, dark lashes outlining seemingly impossibly grey eyes. Yet despite the ancestry that was held in his gaze, the rest of his features seemed almost sharp, his nose was straight and almost aquiline, seeming almost Roman, while his lips, near perfect in their fullness and smoothness, could form into smiles to melt any woman’s heart. This woman, who had undoubtedly been watching him from afar for over an hour had come to him, offered to buy him a drink. He had, of course, denied the offer, and had bought one for her instead, watching her eye his wallet, so full of twenties and fifty dollars bills as he paid the bartender. She sat with him, flirting, leaning forward as she spoke to him, flaunting her ample bosom, offering to light his cigarette, her hands carefully creeping up his thighs, trying to seduce him. He knew within the first few moments of meeting her, that she was more than likely a thief of some sort, some poor woman who seduced rich men in order to steal the money out of their wallets after a night of hot drunken passion. He let her believe she had been seducing him, meanwhile, continuously filling her drink. And as the night wore on, be gave in to her playful insisting that he join her at her place after the club had closed, swearing that she was much too drunk to drive herself home, a blatant lie, he knew, for her eyes were clear and sharp despite the slurred words and clumsiness she had put on. He allowed her to believe he was interested in her nevertheless, and walked with her to her home only a few blocks away and once inside her dirty and darkly lit apartment, she began to tease him further, running her hands in between the buttons of his dark silk shirt, feeling the muscles beneath, and as he watched, the more she looked at him, the more she was becoming actually entranced with him. He let her, and encouraged her. They had not been in her apartment for even an hour before he had pulled her to the floor, passionately making love to her. Afterwards, with the scent of sweat and sex still lingering in the air, he had taken her to the sofa, where they now both rested, she told him in a tired voice that she loved him, and he laughed softly to himself, watching her dark curls fall over her closed eyelids as she fell asleep.
Now as she lay sleeping he cradled her upper body with his left hand, his right still in place between her legs. He slowly lifted her head towards him, and as he did so her eyes opened slowly, gazing into his. His hand began gently working the area beneath her skirt and she gasped and her arms embraced him behind his neck, drawing her lips to his. They kissed, deeply, passionately, and she again told him she loved him, tears in her eyes. He kissed her tears away, and she began moan, his hand was working faster now, fingers plunging inside the warm and wet forbidden darkness. His kisses traveled down from the corners of her eyes, to her soft and moist cheeks, and then he buried his face in her hair by her throat, breathing deeply of the scent of flowers and smoke and of sweat and booze. He could hear her breathing faster now and she released her grip on his neck, her arms going down, her hands pressing his against her. Her back arched, she moaned. His lips parted against her supple neck, and as she climaxed in his arms, he plunged his fangs deep into her tender throat.
