Dark greetings, readers. The face of my works is going to change a wee bit over the next couple of months. Certain titles will be- shall we say- retired. Since my list here is going to shrink, I thought I'd treat you all to some of my old or previously restricted writings. Many of them have a certain paranormal paramour archetype in common. Others will be continuations of some my most popular works. I certainly hope you'll enjoy!
This series of shorts (Under the "Love Bites" heading) was originally written for exclusive release, and now I can bring them to you. <3
Fangs for Last Night
"
Shaaawwwwwts
!"
A pack of boisterous (and foxily dressed) women barreled up to a bar at their fourth stop of the night, quickly drawing the attention of the bartender as well as the patrons. They stuck out from the usual crowd because they were the only ones not wearing a lot of black, leather, pleather, vinyl, or ruffles. Five women, one wearing a strapless white sheath dress with a sash and prop veil, cheered while a round of "Blow Job" shots were speedily poured.
At the far end of the bar, a man chuckled, witnessing the raucous chaos and the consternation it caused. The whirlwind of color and noise drowned out the comedic (yet strangely soulful) notes of Voltaire on the sound system. He watched the women down their shots with squeals of excitement, inspiring several eye-rolls from the heavily pierced and made-up clientele.
"Seriously, all of you, this isn't that kind of place." The low hiss caught his ears. Raul perked up. There was a
sixth
woman, holding an empty shot glass, a bit of cream still on her lip. He hadn't noticed her before- she blended in much better than the others. She wore a cherry-red corset and frilly black top over a short leather mini-skirt, and red stockings with black faux snake (or gator skin) combat boots. No rings on her hands. A pendant necklace kissed the top of some very generous cleavage. Ass and thighs for days,
looooong
dark hair with a bit of wave and a sexy Cupid's bow pout... The onlooker had to stop himself licking his lips over the remains of his port.
"C'mon, Bethany, I asked everyone for their fave club and this was your pick! You knew how tonight was gonna go," the obviously soon-to-be-bride playfully scolded, elbowing the curvaceous vixen. "We're rowdy, loudy and proudy!"
Raul smiled even while the bar's other drinkers scowled. He saw Bethany weakly grin.
"Yeah, we are that."
"Besides, we're gonna stay for a couple drinks, a couple songs, and then we'll be out of their dyed, spiked hair. We still have two more bars before we hit the strip cluuuub!" The passel of women cheered again and ordered more drinks. The "...dirtiest drink you can think of!" To which the bartender laughed, saying.
"Alright, six Tight Snatches, coming up." There was another round of hoots and applause, and the smoldering blond behind the bar- Drake- began to mix and pour. When he finished, the wild ladies toasted the bride just as the opening of Soft Cell's "Tainted Love" began blaring. Most of the party quickly sucked down half their drinks before charging out onto the dance floor, whooping it up.
The usual patrons gave them a wide birth as they began dancing suggestively in a pack. Only one remained at the bar proper, sipping her cocktail.
"Hey Drake," she murmured apologetically.
"Hey Bethany. So these are your friends?" The barback raised a pierced blond eyebrow, snickering.
"I know, I wound up stuck in a crowd of preps," the woman replied with mock horror. "Like a cuckoo bird, I have made them believe I am one of their own."
Amusing conversation aside, without the others around her, Raul took the chance to become more attuned to the lovely, thick,
scrumptious
woman clearly friendly with Drake and the establishment at large. Her clothes and makeup were far more aligned with the club than her friends'.
Clearly she was a regular. His own visits to this particular club were sparse, or he'd have remembered that tasty morsel. Now that she was alone, her scent stood out starkly. Eucalyptus, berry and citrus- utterly tantalizing. Raul's mouth watered, and he had to drop his chin lest his fangs emerge and betray him. Standing at 5'11", with thick, straight, raven-black hair braided neatly past his shoulders, numerous piercings that were understated but striking, leather pants, and boots with a tight black tee, Raul was perfectly inconspicuous among the mortals. A few of his kind hunted here now and again, as "goth" humans were often already amenable to their needs, and Bethany might just be one...
Casually Raul finished his port and left cash on the gleaming bar, sauntering down to where the tempting creature stood, now facing the dance floor. The synthesized sounds of "Tainted Love" were still pounding through the club, but with a gentle pressing on his mind, the DJ got the sudden urge to play something more... up-tempo when it was over.
Bethany sipped her drink, almost finishing it as she tapped her foot to the music. On an ordinary visit to "Hexed", Bethany would have had a drink or two and gotten out on the floor, maybe indulged some cravat-wearing dude with a waxed mustache in a little grinding. On her sister's bachelorette night, however, she felt like watching their half-drunk cocktails had become her job. They'd already been to two seedier places, and none of the girls were inclined to more than having a damn good time.
Here, it was a low-key scene and the staff was good at keeping out shady predators looking to spike drinks or 'score' inebriated hook-ups. Bethany always felt safe at Hexed. She just wasn't certain of having her party-girl friends and sister at her favorite place. Being the only alternative-metal-goth chick in her circle was often frustrating, and sometimes isolating. But still... they were having fun, and had actually attracted a couple to guys in frock coats and leather to dance with now that most of their bacchanal energy was out on the dance floor. They might be too pastel and too modern in their cocktail dresses, heels and obnoxious penis accessories, but it was just for a little while.
"Three o'clock, Bethany," Drake whispered, his breath tickling her exposed neck. He bartended most nights at the club and was a hell of a kisser and dancer. The hot blond (hair spiked, vee-neck, tattoos) pulled back before she could even process his message. Barely had the woman looked over (the song changing to "Paralyzer" by Finger Eleven) than she practically came nose-to-chest with a very snug black tee. Bethany gulped at the body defined beneath it.
"Evening," the stranger said, drawing back so his intended had room to straighten up from her relaxed slouch. "Doesn't look like much fun babysitting the bridal bunch."
Bethany blushed, wondering if the penis straw sticking out of her cleavage as a gag was too comically noticeable from his angle. She gestured to the drinks.
"Just keeping an eye out for my sister and her friends," she replied in a blasé tone. Quickly adding "Not that Drake would let anything happen, I just got into the habit tonight." The guy nodded.
"Smart," he said, "and courteous of you. Bethany, was it? I happened to overhear. I'm Raul." Offering a hand, the hottie gave her a look that make her want to melt into a puddle right there, but she sucked it up and stayed firm.
"Nice to meet you. Sorry if the crew disturbed your evening. I know how chill this place usually is."
"Not at all. You just seemed lonely." Raul flashed her a beaming grin, and Bethany felt her temperature rise. "I hope you don't find me forward, but... would you care to dance?"
The chorus of the song hit, and Bethany stared, mouth dropping open. His hand hovered before her, palm up, and there was something about him. She couldn't resist.
Forgetting the drinks, Bethany took the offer.
Raul swept his woman into his arms and spun off to the dance floor, proving to be very adept at the art. He led Bethany in an energetic flurry of hips and footwork, matching the beat of the song and keeping his moves suggestive but playful. The rest of the bridal party caught sight of them and hooted their glee.
"That's my girl!" Her sister called, pumping her fist upward. Bethany was secretly thankful for the dark, atmospheric lighting that surely kept this dreamboat from seeing her blush.
Obviously, she was clueless that her paramour not only had excellent night vision, but he could practically
taste
the rise of blood in her cheeks. Her fragrance had strengthened; pulse quickened as they gyrated together, not quite grinding, but close. A tasty morsel she would be. The eldritch creature just had to introduce himself fully and get her to agree to a little donation.
First, the seduction.
