Kate worked slowly, stacking tins of peaches neatly on the shelves. Each movement made her conscious of the pull between her legs where the stranger had taken her, pushing his hard flesh deep inside.
She worked in an aisle by herself, something for which she was grateful. She had been late to work, earning a blasting from the boss's son, and had to stay on after the end of her shift to make up the time. As much as she hated the job, the hours were good and she needed the money. And working nights meant she didn't have to go home and face her alcoholic father.
She continued to work, fighting off feelings of disorientation and detachment. It was as though she were looking at everything through a thick cloud, making the world seem fuzzy and distanced.
Yet the memory of him, of feeling him on top of her, moving inside of her, only seemed to grow in intensity. Her nipples tightened against the starchy cotton shirt with its tiny row buttons down the front, and a trickle of moisture seeped between her thighs. "Stop it," she told herself, squeezing her eyes shut. Her secret place seemed to pulse with a life and energy of its own, as though the mere thought of him turned her into a shameless wanton who craved nothing more than to spread her legs for the dark stranger.
When she woke that morning, drowsy and disorientated, the scent of him enveloped her where she lay in a tangle of sheets. She had stared at herself in the mirror for an age as the horror of what had shared her dreams and bed dawned. Her shaky fingers had traced the tiny pin prick wounds on the side of her neck, over her heart and surrounding her tender nipple. Remembrance of the exquisite sensations surging through her as his teeth hand sunk into her flesh made her body clench.
He was no dream but real, and what they had done was real. No longer could she believe he was a figment of her imagination, walking through her dreams and leaving her aching and breathless when she woke. He was intangible, yet real flesh and blood. Inescapable yet unexplainable.
"Kate, stop day-dreaming, and get back to work!"
Kate jumped, a can falling from her hand to plonk on the grey lino floor. She hadn't even heard Joe approach, she was so lost in thought.
"You stupid idiot! Now we can't sell it at full price because you put a dent in it!"
Kate picked up the can and put it back in the box, tuning out his rant. Joe used the fact that he was the boss's son to his every advantage, yet Kate knew it must goad him that none of the staff treated him with a ounce of respect that his father easily commanded. Joe was barely thirty but looked closer to forty. His belly hung over the belt that rode low on his hips, and his round face was pale and fleshy like uncooked dough. He had a watchful intensity about him that creeped out most of the girls that worked there, and they all avoided him as much as possible.
She continued to pack the shelves, hoping that if she ignored him he would get the hint and go away. When she reached down to open a new carton, she realised he still stood there watching her, and her violet eyes flickered to his. A strange expression filled his face, as though he had never seen her before.
Joe gazed at Kate in awe, wondering where the tired teenager hidden beneath masses of mousy blonde hair had gone. Her porcelain skin glowed as though moonlight danced over it, and her long blonde hair caught back in a pony tail gleamed like honey streaked with gold.
Her uniform of white shirt and pleated navy skirt seemed to accentuate the curves of her bottom and hips and tiny waist as though it were cut from expensive cloth, and her perky breasts jiggled enticingly with her movements. Of their own accord, his fingers reached out, tucking a loose strand behind the shell of her ear. Unable to resist, he gently stroked the soft skin there.
Katie flinched, pushing Joe's hand away. "What are you doing?" she demanded. He simply gazed back at her, unblinking, his fleshy lips slightly curved.
Gross. "I have to go to the bathroom," she muttered, brushing past him. Fingers closed around her forearm, twisting her around to face him. She gazed at him in disbelief, her eyes lifting from her arm to his face. She tugged free of his grasp before turning and quickly making her way down the aisle.
She felt as though eyes followed her every movement as she made her way to the staff restroom. Once she glanced up and caught sight of one of the storemen staring at her intently, that same dazed look in his eyes.
When Kate reached the restroom, she closed the door behind her and took a deep, steadying breath. What was wrong with everyone? Was there a sign stuck to her forehead that read 'A stranger took my virginity, and I think he was a vampire?'
With shaky fingers she withdrew a tube of lip gloss from her top pocket and applied it to her lips as she gazed at herself in the mirror. Two large violet eyes looked back at her, seeming to dominate her pale, heart-shaped face.
Vampires didn't exist outside of books and movies, she told her reflection. He just had a fetish for blood. Some people like being tied up, others liked blood.
Her hand slid up over her collar bone and touched the tiny marks on the side of her neck she had covered liberally with concealer that morning. Kate groaned to herself. She would have to be crazy to even entertain the idea, wouldn't she? Only she didn't think she was crazy.
Unable to look at herself any longer, she capped the tube of lipgloss and turned. And with a squeak of surprise she bumped into what seemed like a brick wall. Two large hands captured her tiny waist and steadied her. A familiar heady masculine scent teased her nostrils.
Kate struggled to free herself, but the hands only tightened on her waist. She felt the hard edge of the basin nudging against her bottom as she was wedged against it by the press of his firm body.
"Good evening, Katalina," he murmured against her ear, his warm breath making her flesh goose pimple and her nipples tighten.
"Leave me alone," she whispered, pushing against his chest. He brushed back a stray tendril and gently lifted her chin with a finger. Kate found herself looking up at him helplessly, the confusion dissolving into mist as desire surged through her. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and she moistened her lips nervously. Her heart thundered in her chest, and her legs trembled.
"What do you want?" she breathed. Her nipples tingled where they brushed against his chest, and a pulse thrummed between her thighs. Her body ached for him, and she hated that he knew it.
"Do I need to remind you?" His lips brushed softly against her mouth.
"How - how did you get in here?" She asked, trying to distract herself from the memory of him surrounding her, moving inside of her.
"You smell like violets." His lips caressed her brow, her cheeks. His hands slid up to capture her breasts, molding the tiny handfuls to the shape of his palms. Her knees buckled, and her fingers clutched at the lapels of his black jacket.
"I - I don't even know your name," she choked out as his muscular thigh wedged itself between hers. She moaned as he pressed insistently against the dewy heat of her, helpless against the thrall he held her in.
"Names hold power, little one," he murmured as his lips trailed over the side of her neck. "What reward will you give to me if I gave that power to you?"
