It must be Goth night. Dark clothing, metal glinting on crests, the sea waves beneath the violet fog. Within the swelling darkness, a couple stands out like a beacon with their neon bracelets and preppy clothes glowing in the black light. They appear to be enjoying themselves dancing to the thunder.
Club Necropolis sells vampire lore feeding the addiction for an escape from dreary lives. Some gawk at the show, and others revel in the fantasy like the Goth girls and boys. Rumors claim vampires run the club, but true believers know better. Itoril hide behind the legend.
I love Goth night, the thrill of the dance and inspiring fantasies.
Listening to the electronic beat, I stride onto the dance floor, my crimson dress piercing the dark sea. The stomping groove climbs my legs. The moist air kisses my face and caresses my bare arms. I inhale the liquor, the sweat, the perfume, and spin around losing myself to it all.
The vocalist on the stage describes the end of times; the dead rising from the flames of life to rule the world. Beautiful poetry.
Squeezing against writhing bodies, I groove my way to the center of the storm. My slinking hips break the current, and my breasts brush warm bodies electrifying men, their excitement spilling into the air.
Running my hand from firm chest to soft backside, I sample the selection as forbidden thoughts dance in my head. The risk of getting caught doing naughty things electrifies my flesh. Trying my best innocent expression, I offer a young woman a reassuring smile. Spotting a scratch on her arm, a love slice, I breathe in the intoxicating sweetness and find my tongue running over my lips. The woman’s face sours. I move on.
Following a new current, I come face-to-face with a big, stupid grin; innocence. The man tugs the collar of his white shirt glowing purple in the black light. Neon bracelets slide down his arm. His eyes feast on my exposed cleavage, and his date scowls at him.
A beacon in the night.
Taking the lead, I clasp the young woman’s arm and pull her close. Surprise melts onto her face. As her gaze meets mine, her expression softens. She dances, but her body defies the beat. Slipping my right leg between her soft thighs and grasping her waist, I hold her against me. Her lavender scented hair tickles my nose. Melting into the groove, I work her hips into motion as I slide my hands up her sides guiding her into the dance. I stroke her arms up over head and lean in close, my lips grazing her cheek. Shivers cascade against me. She finds the groove.
Glancing to the side, I spy her man watching us. Excitement bursts across his face, and his scent soils the air. I never understand, but men love watching me seduce their girlfriends. It almost spoils the challenge.
Feeling the woman’s heart pounding against me, chills erupt on my flesh. A crash of drums sends a shiver down my spine. The thrill of getting caught overcomes me. I push my fingers through the woman’s hair, lavender rising. Keeping the beat, swooning to the groove, I brush my lips against her neck. Her gasping breath tickles my ear. Just a nibble, a taste is all I need.
Biting down, I release my poison into her vein freezing her in place. And then it comes. Heat floods inside, sweet nectar of life brightening the darkness within. Just a taste! I pull back, blood splashing my chin. Spotting the red oozing down her breast, disappearing beneath blouse, I dive in slurping the wound. I work my way down lapping my treat from the young woman’s chest.
Rolling my head to the side, I search the crowd. None of the them notice. No gaze crosses mine, except for one. The boyfriend’s bewildered expression twists into fear.
Instincts on fire, I work fast blurring time in on itself, sound fading into the background. Clenching the man’s arm, I tug. His body slams against mine, and the dazed woman tumbles over. Music returns in a crash. The man’s arm grows tense and jerks within my grasp. I lock his arm under mine and twist his lower arm against his elbow. A howl and his body slackens. I bite down on his wrist.
As the cool toxins flow out, warmth floods inside. I nearly choke on the rush, blood spitting onto my hands. Squeezing the arm tight, I control the flow drinking him in. The heat pulsing inside me weakens my legs, and I lean against him reveling in the glow.
The crowd chants. Out of the corner of vision, I see their shadowy shapes writhing about, their fists pumping in the air. They cheer. As the music builds into a torrent, the howls grow louder, and fists pump faster. A tear blurs them into a monster splashing out of the dark sea.
The thrill washes away twisting my insides into knots. A coolness slicks over my forehead and saturates my hair. My secret is no more. As I contemplate my misstep in the dance, I continue drinking, no longer caring about the mess sliding down my arm and dripping onto my leg.
My sin pools on the floor between my black flats. The crowd cheers on.
I try to pull away to meet the terrible faces, but the weight of it all holds me down. Embarrassment, regret, but most of all, blood holds me prisoner. Stop before this man surrenders his life to me. The howling grows in my ears sickening my insides.
Breaking free, I cry out spitting blood.
Looking around, I find the faces gazing up at the stage where the vocalist pronounces his love for the dead. Pumping their fists, the crowd cheers the music on. At the center of the dark storm, the preppy woman stands beside her man. Both of them appear intoxicated, oblivious of the crimson trail on the man’s arm dripping onto the floor.
Lifting my dress, I wipe the blood from my face as a look around at all their faces. Tingles race over my arms. Relief. Cold descends and sparks inside. A piece of me, down in my gut, wishes one of them would witness my mess.
Thrill waning, I slink through the dark sea, my crimson dress flowing about me.