Like Crimson Droplets
Click on image to enlarge.
by Cecilia Tan, Gina Russom
Category: Erotica/Paranormal Erotica/Dark Fantasy
Description: Veteran authors Jason Rubis, Genieveve Eldredge, and Thomas Roche along with newcomer Cari Z. come together to bring you four new erotic vampire stories in Like Crimson Droplets. Each story offers a different outlook on the myth of the vampire and the pleasurable consequences for the humans who cross their paths. Ranging from light to dark, this new eBook traverses the spectrum of vampiric possibilities: between the peace of death and the salvation of eternal life, vampiric power to enslave or submit, a halloween nightmare turned wet dream, and a bond built of blood and love. Through sex and blood each character is altered, breaking out of the world they know into something spectacular.
eBook Publisher: Circlet Press, 2008 2008
eBookwise Release Date: September 2008
4 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [91 KB]
Reading time: 55-78 min.
After nearly an hour of eating up gas, Meems found herself back in the parking lot. She got out of the car, telling herself she wanted ice cream, that braving the after-work crowds would be good for her. But she had parked at the lot's far end, near the waste area the girls had disappeared into, and instead of starting towards the supermarket's doors she stood staring into the weeds.
Eventually she got out her cell-phone and called the number that had been inscribed on her car's hood. She hung up nervously when a girl answered, but the phone rang back almost as soon as she broke the connection. Whoever it was had Caller ID, apparently. Now they had her number. She couldn't get away from them now.
"You were that woman. In the parking lot by the Safeway." It was the pretty girl, Meems was sure of it. She was chewing something, or sucking it. It made what she said sound wet. Words made of slurps. Meems imagined the girl's wet lips working on her throat. It made her antsy. She stood with one hand pressed on the chassis of her car, for support.
"I'm sorry again. For this morning. We get a little crazy sometimes. It's just so fun to play with you guys, you know?"
"Uh, uh-huh," Meems said carefully. "It's okay. I mean..."
"And you looked so like cute, right? Standing there like you did with your bags and stuff. But we shouldn't have scared you. Nessa said it was mean. She was right."
Pause. More slurping. "You should come over. Maybe. Want to?"
"I..." The invitation had been half-expected, but now that it was voiced it caught her by surprise. Did she want to see the girl again? Where? And for what? A slumber party, with popcorn and pillow-fights? For wet slurpy kisses? Nothing flirtatious in the girl's voice, but Meems's belly tightened.
"But I'm old," the girl said quickly. "You should know that before we do anything. Way older than you. Like, how old are you?"
"Thirty-two," Meems said. "But you're not..."
"Well . died in like 1823."
"Uh. You don't talk like someone dead. Or that old."
The girl laughed. "I know, right? I just try to keep up with the times. You know?"
Meems let the silence go on for a while. Then, laughing herself, unable to help it, she said, "Come on. You didn't die."
"I did. Honey, I'm gonna tell you something wild, can you deal?"
"I ... sure. Yeah, I can deal."
"I'm a vampire." Two syllables pronounced with such gloating relish--the relish was what surprised Meems, not the word. For a long moment, as the girl talked on, she actually struggled to remember what a vampire was.
"We all are, the ones you saw today. And lots more. We have a place out here. Just like temporary ... a place to roost for a while before we move on."
"Vampires don't use phones..."
"Sure we do. Why wouldn't we? I got this one off some pimp I took in an alley in Baton Rouge. His cell phone. It's still got a bunch of hours left on it. So you want to come or not? Are you afraid?" The girl wasn't slurping anymore; neither did she sound challenging or sneery. She seemed breathless, waiting for Meems's reply.
"I'm not scared," Meems said, though she was.
"Cool. Come on, then."
Meems blinked into the empty air. "Come on..." Come on where?"
"Look behind you..."
A small black shape emerged from the vacant lot, padding onto the asphalt towards Meems, a cell phone pressed to its ear. When the girl got close enough for Meems to see her grin, she stretched out her free hand, wriggling her fingers and chanting, "Whoo-ooo." * * * *
Meems hadn't been expecting a hug, but that's what she got; she stepped into it, actually, unaware until it was too late that the girl's arms were snaking round her. She fought an urge to break away and run. Too close--like in the lot that morning, but for some unaccountable reason the instinct to pull back and cry out did not kick in so strongly. The girl (who had died in 1823, she reminded herself wryly) smelled of warm, unbathed skin, unwashed hair and clothes. She had peppermint on her breath. The human smells, the careless intimacy in her hands, the little grunt when she hugged her--all of these startled Meems. She could have dealt with a pretty zombie. A horny one even, you could run from that if you had to. But when the girl took her hand and tugged her towards the vacant area, Meems felt her feet start to move. Her heart was thudding, but her feet didn't stop.
Just for a minute. There are cars right there, those guys talking over there, I can yell if I have to.
There was a hill in the middle of the lot beside the supermarket, still within sight of the lights and the sounds of cars, a little hummock where higher ground began. Meems struggled through the weeds, following the girl. When they were both beside the hill, the girl said, "So here you are. And now I get to ask you, finally: What the hell's your name?"
"Well ... Meems. Marianne, really, or Mimi. But everybody always..."
"I'm Kassandra. With a K?"
"They named girls Kassandra with a K at the beginning of the nineteenth century?"
Kassandra wrinkled her nose. "Smart-ass." Something flashed in her hand, a small knife with a rounded blade that made Meems think of a pizza-cutter. The thought was so absurd that suddenly she wasn't afraid at all, or even nervous. She's just playing around. She won't really...
"Want to?" Kassandra sounded out of breath again, from excitement or something else. The little knife twirled in her fingers. "Open your shirt." Her fingers made a bird's mouth that pecked Meems's nipple, so fast she barely had time to squeak.
"Uhm. Aren't you supposed to bite me or like that?"
"Uh-huh. But not yet. Come on, open up. Do you want me to do it?"
"You are scared."
"No, but I don't ... I'm not really ... into girls?" Meems felt her face heating up as she said it. She didn't really know why she said it. It was true, but here it seemed somehow irrelevant.
"Oh Christ ... you are such a retard!"
A tussle followed, the good kind. Against all odds, Meems didn't freak. She screamed, but it was full of broken, hilarious laughter, matching Kassandra shriek for squeal as her shirt was tugged open and her bra tugged down. She's going to. Oh God, she really is. I should run. I should get the hell out of here. But after weeks and weeks her old self felt like it was finally back in reach, and somehow she didn't run.
Her nipple was a little freezing stone. Kassandra pressed it with a fingertip, as though she could steady Meems's whole body that way. Their eyes met. Each made a single questioning noise.