Chapter 3: Next Evening's Meal

Sloan lay dead, silent, and dreaming in her aged dark-wood casket near sundown. It wasn’t fancy, or had any vintage appliques to its style outside of a basic wooden carving of the previous owner’s name on the front door as: Esmerelda Hart. This was fine to Sloan, as the inside of the casket was quite cozy inside with a feathered-down black velvet interior bed–cozy to her liking as she hadn’t much time to suffer digging it out herself from a random plot in the local graveyard.

She often dreamed of the wonderful taste of her Uber driver’s neck; the very one who  picked her up at the cemetery curb and  loaded the casket into the back of his truck. The taste of his blood would stain her memory forever, as he was one of her very first dinner’s without the help of El, pretty much weeks after she’d lost the joy of sleeping in her bed from being turned. His sacrifice to her appetite had been most pleasant as she attacked him from behind like a pouncing puma at her apartment door as he’d just turned away to leave from helping her bring in her stolen casket. She could tell he was planning on reporting someone, but this matter only made her giggle in death’s embrace from time to time, as his questioning expression during their drive was one for the books in “funny-looking.” You could say her victim's faces hardly haunted her.

What could it be like to “sleep” as a vampire? Well, in her coffin, Sloan didn't toss around, or snore, or breathe. Sloan could feel her heart slow to a dead still when she’d fall into slumber, and then she could feel the blood rush into the heart, making it pump as she’d awakened. This was one of the most exhilarating jolts of feelings an immortal could experience. Like the moon pulling the tides of the ocean, the sun would pull the tides of the blood in her veins as it went up and down from her location.

Just now, Sloan’s eyes peeled open without blinking as she awakened instantly, whereas a normal human’s instinct would normally be to yawn or flutter their lashes to tired eyes. A vampire could just awaken on the departure of the sun, with instant energy and no loss of agility. Sloan compensated for these kinds of moments, laying still with her eyes wide open for another passing minute as if she needed time to adjust. She enjoyed feeling the heat of the sun slip away from her body into a luke-warm sensation, as if its rays would cradle her sleeping form alone during the day before escaping for the hunger-panged desire of the moon light. 

With her left hand, she pushed the creaking door to her casket open slowly, then smoothed her other hand over her buzz-cut hair; enjoying the sensation of the soft fuzz hugging her scalp grazed on her fingertips. She bit gently onto her bottom lip, careful not to pierce her own skin with her slowly protruding fangs in hunger. Looking around her small studio, she felt a wash of intense comfort come over her at the sight of her painting station, stack of portraits and still-lifes, and minor vintage decor. Becoming immortal was one of the best things that could have truly happened to her otherwise lonely human life.

Sloan let her mind come off of the scent of that driver’s neck hairs and springing blood in excitement at what this night could bring. There was never a knowing of whether she’d come across El, but after the previous night’s engagements, she was sure to stand her ground against his appetite for her company another few nights, as it wasn’t his usual behavior to see her so quickly whenever they’d feed together. There was no question that they had breached El’s strict boundaries, but there wasn’t a concern in her mind as satisfaction to have taken from him fueled her.

Sloan did hate her maker, not for any particular reason outside of the sheer fact that he’d introduced her to a dark and macabre life without her consent. Even though it was an honor to have been made an equal over a tasteful meal, and she relished her vampiric life, she missed the loss of her humanity often. This alone was enough to hate. She felt like she should enact as a phantom enraged, to know her killer was well and alive, but in this particular situation where a new life was granted, the only revenge she could offer would be her absence. 

Perhaps, after sexual prowess, she could hurt him by cutting him off. Even if the sparks of pure carnal arousal took her every time she’d think of him, maybe she could arrange a complete move without his knowing! Sloan felt maddened again, but excited nonetheless to roam the night for human life. 

With an instant flight in her step, and a newfound confidence Sloan decided she would try her hand in seduction. Tonight she’d feed on a club dweller, knowing the comfort of taking drunken fools from after midnight bars was easy game for newborns. She wanted to prove she too could have taste. With a flash of movement, she shed her previous outfit off and slipped over her head a silken black dress that hung short above her knees. No bra, no underwear, clean shaven forever and slim-fitted, she dashed over to her shoe rack and slipped on her black sandal heels with ease. Then just as quickly, a fast slip of cardamom colored nail polish was applied to her toenails to match her finger’s. 

For a human woman, there’d be a time to decide to put on makeup, but for the pale overlook of vampire flesh and tightened skin highlighted strategically over darkened eyelids, and sunken cheeks, she looked as if she had coverage. The only decision was, should she apply a dash of maroon lipstick, or gold-sparkle gloss? Tonight with arrogance she chose both. She glanced over herself in the mirror at her door, and stood in awe. Sloan was fucking stunning.

Without a wallet, tonight she decided to be the embodiment of pure feminine evil. Similar to Halley Berry’s slim-walk in the movie Catwoman, Sloan slightly strutted, dauntless and sensual down the sidewalk, headed straight into town. She needed no coat to cover her smooth and toned body, in the highlighted silk of her gown beneath the streetlights. Sloan was classy, living in one of the best parts of town, looking as lavish as the manicured scenery of the area. Even if she was stopped, she could cover herself in the blood of an onlooker, just with the flash of her smile and heavy-set dare darkened in her pupils. 

She had never been able to have sex with a mortal man as a vampire without killing him. The feeling of having fulfilling interaction with another, let alone her own maker, just fueled her hunger for blood. Though these shared intentions can seem feral and dark, the understanding must remain in the fact that she was like a living lioness free to move around the city unknown and hungry. Her instincts could take advantage of her overall senses here, especially in the comfort of El’s territory. 

Unknowing to her, El watched her saunter out her door, fresh and perfected. He smiled to himself, there in the darkness of the rooftops, wanting to attack her confidence and push himself deep into her without delay onto the sidewalk. If she were a human, and he had done this, she’d have died there in one crush, and even the thought of that thrilled him. Beyond his urges–something he’d not dealt with for a very long time, he pressed his gloved hands over his hardened erection in his suit pants to hold himself back from groaning in response to the vision of her walking past. Sloan had no idea she was one of the few of his children he’d fed from time to time, and favored for her artistic soul.

Sloan was now someone he could see ruining him, as his desire for her was even more so heightened by the sheer fact that he knew she hated him as much as she craved him. The possibility ran through his mind a few times…of her being…possibly his vampiric mate. Thinking like this drove him absolutely crazy as he never broke his stoic mind for such frivolous thoughts before. He was back in as little as one day cycle, and couldn’t even fathom the feeling of their connection binding him to hellfire. How could he have not known before? Could it just be the sex speaking for itself?

He’d been told by the maker who made him that vampires can mate, and do like doves with one eternal partner. This was a blessing and a curse, as his maker had known the harsh pains of losing her own mate which was a secret rarity among immortals that only came often from suicide or even less than that–through intentional murder. Both hardly ever took place in the underworld, but El would never know which was which as his maker vowed never to share the final fate it was that took her dove from their flight. There was no going back now. El could feel it.

He simply relished the idea that one as innocent and new to this dark life as Sloan, could be so lucky to have already found…to be undergoing, the binding now unknowingly. To walk the streets for food fueled by recent passions, unknowing of the rhythmic in-sync that could be happening to them both. El intended to follow her, but for the first time he felt himself encroached by possessive feelings, and wasn’t sure he was ready to find out what her tastes were like outside of his offerings. Though he loved the sight of her, he hoped this wasn’t a usual way for her to hunt. He’d never cared to wonder what his creations did after he made them, trained them in basic immortal life-skills, and then left. He should have realized he’d been feeding Sloan too often, too much.

Tonight El needed to fuck something, to get this swell of maddened hunger out of his brain and aching, throbbing cock. His eyes pounced on the first moving thing he saw, there in the tree was a black ragdoll cat, already hissing at him with wide green eyes. Without thought he snatched the feline and snapped it’s neck, then remorse hit him momentarily, before the sound of car keys jingling caught his scanning gaze. Before he even saw the person, he stood tall and evil over a man shorter than himself who’d fallen back in fright.

“Ah! What the actual fu–”

El threw the dead cat onto the man who stuttered in immediate fear, and to the sweat beads dripping down his forehead, and the throbbing of his cock, El bent down crooked and slow like a horror-film monster until his hands lay flat to the ground at the man’s feet. In a locked stare with the man, El hunched forward as if to stalk his new-found prey, letting his quickened heartbeat drive his instincts. 

If he wasn’t so overtaken by such newfound madness and exhilaration, he would have preferred to venture into a late-night restaurant for a proper gentleman's game of cat and mouse with one of the city’s elite. No one could refuse El, as his scent, demeanor, and violent charm won anyone’s favor, and wreaked wealth…but tonight’s meal wasn’t going to experience such a euphoric death. 

El planned to piston this man to death, and fill his mouth full of fresh blood from the crush of his prey’s screeching windpipe. This would be done so horrifically in demonic lust with the thought of Sloan in mind, that El’s mouth slowly stretched open wide with psychotic hunger to reveal rows of razor sharp teeth; a feature of which is standard to male vampires. The man choked on his spit as he tried to scream, only to be dragged away into the night. 

***

At this time of night, Sloan found herself edging in the backseat of a man’s porsche. When she saw him across the dancefloor, under beams of neon lights past a crowd of dancers, sitting in a VIP section she knew she had to have him. He spotted her among everyone else, staring intently with a dominant smolder. The scent of his expensive cologne reached her nose as they locked eyes, she played cio, walking slowly and elegantly among people to the barside. She could feel his eyes, running over her body.

In agonizingly long minutes, he found himself seated by her side, adjusting his black dress shirt by rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. He waited, and looked over her statue-like body, to see how she only glanced at him a few times before swaying to the slow-start of the song the DJ was preparing to mix live. Sloan closed her eyes as she took a deep breath beyond his now overwhelming cologne to the scent of clean sweat and aftershave on his skin. 

This man was very attractive, fair-skinned with toned muscles flexed beneath strategically placed tattoos and hazelnut eyes, shimmering almost golden to her beneath the right lighting. They locked eyes again, and he gulped before salivating. Others tried to dance to her side he had seen, but she turned them down before calling him with the pull of her hands to the dancefloor. He had ordered her the most expensive drink on the menu, but she slipped away as the tender delivered her glass; pulling her chosen suitor from his seat with hypnotic control.

Without question he ran his large veined hands over her silken backside and roughly turned her body around to the first drop of the remix’s beat. This action was of course so gentle for her, and to his amazement she pulled him quick and tight to her frame which gave him momentary embarrassment as she was quite strong. She lifted his arms up by running her hands up his torso, past his armpits to elbows, to wrists, before her hands slipped up into his in the air without breaking a gaze. Sloan’s eyes creased slightly as she moaned as if in complete ecstasy, and he felt his cock grow thick in his pants. 

She slipped out from his body with her arm extended out to the floor among the crowd, while her other hand kept hold of his. Sloan looked at the glint of his large gold Rolex watch on his wrist, and took note of the large studs of diamonds placed into a brilliant circle around the clock hands. This gave the man a little confidence from his momentary embarrassment of pressing himself against the woman without even saying hello. 

“Uh- w-what’s your name? I’m Daren–”

Sloan swirled back into his body until both of his arms were wrapped around her to the music, and she pressed her backside right up against his erection. In the condensed crowd, and loud music, she rubbed up against his body in a tantric rhythm and then bent forward to shimmy up against another woman who was breathtaking in a shimmer of pink sparkles and pearl studded heels. All it took was one dance, and then he found himself making out with her aggressively through the crowd, some-what dancing, and dry-humping until she pressed him firmly to the front club wall in front of others waiting in a line. No one, not even him, realized she’d nipped his wrist. His neck, his arm, and his chest displayed from his open shirt. In fact, they were watched with joyful onlookers, as the crowd waited impatiently to move into the club. 

Sloan led this man to the lot before placing her hands to her crotch and suggesting it was time to take her for a drive home. He compiled without question, trying to fix his black shirt and pants over without noticing the leaking of blood staining his clothes. He was going to have her in the side passenger seat but she went into the back seat of his car.

“Take me to your home…” Sloan said before licking her fingers and running it down to her open legs. The man couldn’t believe they had not exchanged names or personals, but was happy to oblige her commands, even ready to ask for her hand in marriage for the next day. He’d never experienced such a hypnotic connection. Sloan began to moan like an echo of feminine music to his heart, and he bit his lip from groaning, sweating bullets as he tried to focus on the road. Not even thinking of his friend group left back in the VIP section. He was sure to tell them of his new fling tomorrow!

This man’s clean-shaven haircut was now wild in slick ringlets on his head as he tried to speed hom through the city lights. He looked back at Sloan moaning and fingering herself in the backseat of his car in the rearview mirror, then looked back to the road. In an instant flash, Sloan moved her soaked fingers over the side of his cheek to fill his mouth with the taste of her nectar. He closed his eyes and groaned, not able to push her overwhelming and intoxicating scent off of him. Thankfully the traffic seemed to dissipate a light back.

“My God,” Sloan moaned under her breath as if her mouth was full, “You taste of complete…ecstasy…”

He opened his eyes to the loss of her fingers to his mouth, and looked in the rearview mirror again at first with complete passion. In his immediate horror, Sloan sat legs wide open in the middle of the leather stitched back seats with her dress hiked up over her hips. Her head was tossed back as she fingered herself aggressively and moaned in echoes, while thick crimson blood bubbled over her lips and ran down her dress, past her stomach, down onto her exposed vulva. The man shook his head and yelped, immediately dizzied by the now striking pain on his neck and swerved the porsche into a light-post. 

In a blast of metal and smoke, Sloan sat statue-still over her own fingers deep within her with a wicked smile of hysterical joy spreading over her face. In the midst of the crash the man lost his vision in near-faint. His breathing went on ragged and his forehead was bleeding, as he hung over the wide air-bag now crushing his chest and propping him up to his seat. Sloan was overtaken by the smell of gasoline and blood, and began to convulse in her seat and fingering at the sight of this man’s blood spurting from his neck over the airbag. As he began to lose consciousness she began to cum. She could swear…he was the best she ever had, now in the throws of what she could only consider making true love to herself. Ecstasy was an understatement, and now it was her weakened, as she leaned forward once more to lap at his neck and shallow breathing.

In the last gulps of his life, Sloan could hear shallow breathing in her mind, horse and ragged as if there was another among them. She was overwhelmed by this even further, mistaking it as her mind playing demonic tricks on her, as if she could feel a man pressed against her back, filling himself into her rectum. Sloan moaned out against the corpse's neck, and felt possessed in sexual intensity. She found herself near cumming again, shocked as she posed over in the dark to the sound of faraway sirens. 

Fuck, I feel you Sloan thought she heard in the back of her head, and then in the throws of a phantom orgasm, Sloan’s eyes rolled back into her head. Soon she’d need to flee the scene…