Preliminary note:
Just wanted to say, this is a work of fiction! I do not approve of incest which in real life is usually base for abuse, family members are there to be loved not fucked (unless it´s a willing cousin or something of the same age with real mutual consent and at your own risk if you don't use a condom). Another small comment in the same line: my characters are all adults, it's perfectly normal to be eighteen in Senior year (or at least this is how I see it).
This said hope you enjoy it!
*****
I appear out of nowhere and here I am. Who am I in this story? "The circle". Am I the author? No probably not. Judging by my clothes I must the narrator, unless this is theatre in which case I should be the chorus. But can you judge a book by his cover? A book! This is a book, well maybe not a book but a story nonetheless and in this case I am definitely the narrator. Now let us have a look at the setting. Is it Paris or Vienna? No it doesn't look like Paris or Vienna; it looks like a city, an American city probably. Judging by the cars I would say sometime between the end of the century and the beginning of the next. Is it today? It's hard to tell but it's likely to be today.
Setting the set, it´s important! A set, but this is no theatre... It´s a circle you see, we always come back to the point of origin, but the circle never stops so I guess it´s like a Carrousel. You can always catch it on the go, ride it for as long as you want and jump off when you tire and want to retire. It goes round and round just like the planet, and we follow it or we don't. Now what is the subject of this circle? Let's see, it's spring, and here comes the night. Is the subject of this circle love? It does taste like love, but it´s not quite love. It smells a bit weird for love, but the smell is not unpleasant so it must be sex! A circle of sex. But there's still something more, something hidden, something dark, but I'll stop bragging around and I will let you discover what kind of darkness lurks in the shadows...
The first character to enter the circle is the Salesgirl; she's a bit sad and lonely. But don't worry for her; she'll soon feel much much better.
The Salesgirl
Thursday evening, the salesgirl is closing shop. It's been a really slow month and she's afraid her boss will fire her by the end of the following week. The last client has left half an hour ago and she counting the minutes. Her boyfriend and her sister are at this small bar on the other side of town and she's looking forward to have a beer with them.
Seven minutes left, she walks to the door thinking that anyway no one will notice if she closes a bit early. She's about to flip the sign and call it a night when she sees a tall woman on the other side of the glass door. The woman is going for the door handle. The key is in the key hole, if she dared, the salesgirl could close the door before the woman could get in. But she doesn't, if the client doesn't get in tonight she will come back tomorrow and tomorrow, Cassie will be working and if the woman complains, Cassie will make sure that their boss knows about it and the Salesgirl will most certainly lose her job next week. She opens the door.
"Good evening madam, welcome to Vicky's Prêt à Porter, how can I help you?"
The woman is tall, she looks strict, dominant. The salesgirl steps to a side to let her in. The woman walks to the counter. She walks as if she owned the place, actually judging by the way she walks she seems as if he owned the world. The salesgirl feels uncomfortable in her presence.
"You can show me the lingerie."
The phrase is spat out, unpleasant. The voice is cold, mature, threatening. It feels like the woman is not used to be denied of her requests. The salesgirl takes the woman to the lingerie section and stands by. The woman browses through the bras and the tongs, the lace and the fabric. She takes her time. Sometimes she picks up a piece and sets it a side, she goes back to browsing. After a while and with a large pile of various undergarments she turns to the girl. It's already twenty past; the sales girl should already be on her way.
"Take me to changing room."
"I'm sorry but we don't usually allow our clients to try on the lingerie."
The woman doesn't answer. The salesgirl tries to stand her ground but there something in the woman's look that tells her that this wasn't a request. She turns around.
"It's this way, please follow me."
The woman enters the changing room and closes the curtain behind her. The salesgirl looks at her watch.
"Salesgirl? I need a hand, step in."
The salesgirl pushes the curtain and enters the narrow booth. The woman's clothes are perfectly folded on the small bench. She stands tall, towering over the girl, magnificent. Her skin is pearly white; she hasn't seen the sun in a long while. She has tried on a small black tong. The price tag has been ripped off. The price tags have been ripped off all the pieces. They lay on a pathetic pile by the mirror. The woman's bare breasts are firm and pointing under the salesgirl's nose. The dark aureole around her nipples contrasts with her skin. Her look has changed. It's still intense but it's not severe anymore, it's more voracious. For the first time the woman smiles.
"I'll take them all and I'll take you too."
The salesgirl tries to step back but the woman's hands extend to trap her. Like two strong pliers on her elbows she's drawn back to the woman. The salesgirl would love to scream but no sound crosses her lips. All she can do is submit to the creature hidden under the appearances of the woman. The woman's tongue runs against the salesgirl cheek, tasting her skin, her sweat, tasting the filth cumulated during the day, tasting the life that will soon be no more. The salesgirl is frozen in terror by the freezing wetness on her cheeks. The monster's mouth lingers on the edge of the salesgirl shoulder delaying as much as possible the inevitable outcome. The fangs finally pierce through the thin layers of skin protecting the jugular vein. The blood explodes all over the woman's breasts, all over the salesgirl's back, deep down the monster's throat. The salesgirl lets a small cry of happiness past her lips. Her intimacy is wet. She's not scared anymore; she's overwhelmed by the pleasure of the darkness. She drifts away.
Now we get it, the monster under the bed has come into the light and it has a name. It´s Nosferatu, Vampyr or more casually as it is know today a vampire. The vampire is the perfect creature for the circle, it spreads like a plague, but this plague is full of perks. It´s a pleasurable plague, a plague of dark delights that corrupts the ones it infects. And what is corruption in this case if not the release from the moral boundaries that our mortality imposes to us? Let's go back to the Salesgirl because she has just entered the waltz of the circle.
Josie blinks, she's in the changing booth. She feels light, light as the air. A heavy weight has been lifted from her shoulders, a burden she seems to have carried with her all her life. She stands and walks to the counter. A persistent buzzing sound is coming from her bag. It´s her phone. She has six missed calls: two from Krissy, her little sister, two from Tom, her boyfriend, one from mom and one from a number she doesn't know. Krissy and Tom have been waiting for two hours at the bar. The last call was twenty minutes ago. They both sound pretty drunk. Mom just wants to say hi and remind her of Aunt Nicole's birthday next Saturday.
Josie should worry about being so late, about not having bought a present yet for aunt Nicole but she doesn't. She doesn't care anymore, she has new priorities. She opens the register and empties it, she opens the safe and empties it too. She counts the money: twenty two hundred dollars. It will make a decent severance package. She grabs one of Cassie's cigarettes and lights it. She doesn't smoke normally but tonight she feels wild. Her look falls on a beautiful black dress. She takes it. It's a long sheath dress. She undresses and throws her stained uniform over the counter. Her old bra and panties follow it. She likes the feeling of the cold breeze of the night caressing her naked body, her pale naked body. She smiles to herself. She's horny as hell and thirsty too. She slips into the dress, throws the still burning cigarette into the waste paper basket and leaves the store.
The night is fresh outside but the cold doesn't bother her. A car drives by before stopping at the traffic lights. She tilts her head looking at it. What are those red figures in the front seats? Why does she feel so attracted to them? The light changes back to the green but the car doesn't drive away. Josie approaches it. The couple in it seems pretty busy. The man has both hands grasping the wheel, leaning back on the headrest, eyes closed. The slutty blonde on the passenger's seat is giving him a blowjob. Josie looks at them. There's envy in her mind, she would like to be in the girls place, she would like to put the man's dick between her lips, between her teeth, deep down her throat, to suck on it, to swallow it, to drink it.
Suddenly Josie realizes that the man is looking at her. He looks surprised and embarrassed. She grabs the handle and rips the door off the car sending it fly on the other side of the street. The man is not surprised anymore, he is just terrified. She grabs him, seats him on the roof of the car and resumes the girl's interrupted operation. In the distance Josie hears her running away, screaming terrified. She'll catch her later because she needs her, because she wants her. She wants to fuck her and suck her and swallow her and drink her. But for now all her attention is concentrated on what is happening under her lips. After just a few movements, her mouth fills with a strong flow of warm semen. And she sucks it, she swallows it, she drinks it. But it´s all over too soon, so she sinks her teeth in the man's dick and she's rewarded with a new flood of warm liquid, delicious nectar, blood. The man leans on the car roof, completely dedicated to his pleasure, oblivious to the fact that he is dying.
Josie wipes the blood off her face. She feels horny and she regrets for a moment not having taken advantage of the man's delicious rod. But regrets aren't her biggest concern anymore so she smells the air looking for the girls scent. She picks something up but it's a bit far away so she decides to get in the car and drive to the bar where her drunken sister and her drunken boyfriend are waiting for her.
And there she goes, away in the night, dragging the movement of the circle in her wake. She's happy, without a care in the world. But let's pull back a little and come back to the girl who ran off in the night. When she's not abandoning her boyfriend to the curved clutches of the circle, she's the secretary of an important businesswoman. She prefers the term personal assistant of course but who wouldn't.
Night after night we cast away the darkness; we refuse the endless sea of obscurity; creating havens, islands of light and we travel between them in small boats of brightness, never stopping in the shadow, always running away from it. But the secretary will soon learn, thanks to the circle, that darkness, when you embrace it, can be as welcoming as light.
The Secretary
The night is cold and the secretary is lost. The lingering taste of her man's dick hovering on her lips and the sticky wetness between aren't as pleasant as they were anymore. The secretary was on her way home, she had to get up early in the morning to go to work, like the thousands of other ants that suffer the same fate every day. Her boyfriend, her now dead boyfriend had taken her out to dinner to celebrate their first year together. She was about to dump him, but the restaurant was delicious and he had been so full of attentions... She didn't find the guts to do it tonight and that was why she had rewarded him with that small present on the way home.
But now she's panicked. She doesn't know where to run, this is not her neighborhood. The more she runs the creepier her surroundings become, the streetlights are further apart and the light casted by the full moon makes the shadows more threatening. Unbeknownst to her, the real threat does not lie in the shadows but in an ambulance that is rushing in her direction, an ambulance carrying the very monstrosity that she is trying to flee. The circle is catching up with her.
Suddenly, in the aforementioned shadows, an innocent household cat is taking his nightly stroll around the dumpsters of the neighborhood. The secretary, still terrified by the gruesome murder she just witnessed, is submerged by an irrational fear that throws her in the path of the howling ambulance. Appearing in the lights of the vehicle, its occupants are only saved by the twenty years of experience of the driver, who dodges the secretary before slamming on the brakes a few yards away. The secretary jumps into the passenger seat.
