Val the Vamp, Ch. 3
The Oracle of Delphi
My senior year in college saw some changes. I had exhausted all the courses offered on blood and related issues. I had aced biochemistry, calculus, and physics. For some reason I had trouble with statistics, but I still managed a B+ average in my stats classes.
In short, I was doing well in college, at least from an academic standpoint.
As for my love life, well, things were complicated. My love life had ground to a halt, but my sex life had not. Darrell and I had split, and he was pursuing, and seducing, other women for his pleasure. I didn't care, but I needed sex, because I needed blood. Experience had shown that I needed to bite a man in the shoulder, and during an orgasm, to boot. If I did that, I was good for a week to ten days.
Darrell and I would meet for secret liaisons, so that his girlfriend du jour would not know, and get jealous. Even though nobody was married, I was serving as Darrell's mistress. It worked well for me, because Darrell would drive me to an orgasm about 90% of the time, and I would feast on his blood, and he never minded, which still puzzled me. Also, his shoulder wound would heal completely (ie, without a trace!) within an hour.
I had tried out David and Steve, Darrell's two best buddies, and while David drove me to orgasms, no problem, my bites hurt him, and they didn't heal quickly. In addition, David's blood was not as tasty as I was used to, with Darrell.
Steve was a different story. Steve took his time. He ate me out to begin, and when he fucked me, he started out with a sweet fuck, but then it morphed into truly rough fucking. I thought of Lady Gaga and her famous line, "And baby when it's love, if it's not rough it isn't fun." Well, I'm no Lady Gaga, but I'll be damned: Steve drove me to the biggest orgasm of my life. I bit him hard during the orgasm, he screamed, and I sucked out a ton of his blood. He needed stiches to heal. Not good.
I took him to the hospital's ER, and the admitting doctor asked him what had happened, and Steve just pointed at me. Steve had these two huge gashes in his shoulder, and I truthfully said, "I bit him during an orgasm."
The doctor laughed at me, and said, "Tell me the truth."
"A decorative heavy paperweight, with sharp, pointy corners, fell on poor Steve. We were, uh, engaged in an activity, you might say, on the floor, and not paying attention to other things," I said, making up a story, since the truth hadn't worked.
"Lead crystal, metal, or porcelain? What was the paperweight made of?" the admitting doctor asked.
I shrugged.
Steve never tried again to have sex with me. Neither did David. I only had Darrell, only when his girlfriend du jour wasn't looking. I needed a change.
**
Delphi, Indiana, is a tiny town of around 3,000 souls, about 20 minutes by car, northeast of Lafayette. Nobody associated with Purdue lived in Delphi. It was as if it was a world apart from Lafayette, with all of its professors, doctors, dentists, lawyers, and students. Delphi, in contrast, was the real, backwoods America. For some reason, I fit in there.
As I aged, my ability to read the minds of other people around me, improved. For two or three days after I had drunk some fresh blood, almost always from Darrell, my mind reading ability became extraordinary. You'd think it would be a blessing, but if you're me, doing some banal thing like going to a market for food supplies, you can "overhear" what's going on in the minds of other shoppers and employees of the market. It's not pretty.
The number of men who fantasized seeing me naked, for example, surprised me. Of course, I could use my mind reading ability to advantage, but I never did that, except ...
Well, since I was in Delphi, I hung a sign over the door of my small, cedar clapboard house. Yes, in Delphi I could afford to rent an entire house, just for myself. The sign announced, in carefully printed block letters, "ORACLE." Below the word ORACLE, and in smaller letters, "Call for an appointment." I added the phone number of my landline.
I decided to call myself Pythia, and soon everyone I knew in Delphi knew me as Pythia. People had become accustomed to strange, unusual names, as it was the fashion, so nobody paid any mind to my exotic name.
No, I didn't use a QR code. This was Delphi, remember?
A week later I had my first call. It was a woman. She had a problem and wanted me to help her to solve it. I rooted around in her mind while she sat there in front of me and my crystal ball, and I found an unused memory which allowed me to forecast how her problem would end.
She called a few days later and thanked me, since everything I had forecast, came true.
Word spread. Word about me and my talents spread like wildfire. I was getting booked for almost every day. I decided I should charge for my time. Not too much, so as not to exploit these good people, but enough so that they'd take me seriously. I felt bad, since they could barely afford my fee. These were poor, but proud people.
I told them I could not predict lottery numbers, which made most of the visits about sex. Was my husband cheating? That was the most common question. Second place was: Is my husband cheating with Dorothy Elston? After the third woman asked me that question, I figured I had to meet this woman named Dorothy!
It was some nice comic relief one time when a woman came to me in distress. She could not, for the life of her, find her reading glasses. It was child's play to enter her mind and find the last place she put then down. They were well hidden, on a bookshelf, squeezed on top of a box the same color as the glasses. When I told her, she was so excited she returned the next day wearing them, and kissed me! I had refused payment for such a trivial matter.
Some women like fat men. Some women like skinny men, or muscular men, or dominant men, or smart men, or prosperous men. Some women like other women. Some women enjoy both men and women. Dorothy, as it turned out, had a taste in men that ran to married men. Dorothy was young and pretty. She dressed like her peer group; it was how she acted, what she said, the double entendres, the way she licked her upper lip as she spoke, it even included how she held her coffee cup and how she sipped from it. It was in her eyes. Her sexual lust, her desire, was easily communicated to the married men, without ever being spoken.
I realized that the women's fears about their husbands were, in the large, true. Some husbands are loyal and strong, while others are weak, and if a young woman comes onto them often enough, well, what are they going to do? You never know, everyone is different, but some of them, yes some of them, well, it's human nature, after all.
I saw it all, in their eyes, and in the unspoken thoughts in their heads. I amazed them by telling them yes, their husband had cheated with Dorothy, and where and when he had done it. It was, after all, in their heads. They had the knowledge their brain refused to see. It was too awful to see; and yet, they came to me. I helped them to see what they already knew. I got paid to do it.
I decided it was time to meet Dorothy.
Before I could meet Dorothy, however, I received a shocking surprise. Really, I almost fainted. Despite my low profile and near obscurity, a man showed up at my door one day. He was tall, handsome, and the one true love of my life. He had taken my virginity back in high school, and I still loved the man with all my heart.
"Jason!" I screamed.
"Hello, my little Vamp. How have you been?" Jason had not changed.
"How'd you find me?" I asked.
"It wasn't easy; you've hidden your very existence quite well. Should I call you Pythia, my love? Anyway, I went to Purdue and asked around, until I finally met a guy named Darrell Owens. He's addicted to you, you know. I must say, I'm a bit jealous."
"It took long enough to get Darrell to spill the beans in how to find you. Eventually he told me you live in Delphi, and earned money as a fortune teller. Once in Delphi, it was easy. Everyone knows you, or knows of you. All the men want to jump your bones, and all the women are in awe of you," Jason Jones said.
