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From Inside the Flap
Chapter 1 - The Party
Night had fallen, yet she had been up hours before. Her home, kept dark during the day by heavy curtains, had shielded her from the sun. Her bedroom was kept even more obscure, the windows painted black on the inside so that no accidental light might seep in. The curtains of her house were black with blood-red edging. The roses on her end table cast the perfect touch of femininity and their scent surrounded her as she made her bed, turning the black satin sheets over the red coverlet.
She was of average height compared to other American women, five foot eight to be exact. She was not so white as the dead may look, but her skin was a soft ivory, a color that the Japanese had often powdered their faces to match. Her blue eyes searched for clothing to wear for the night. She ran her fingers over the different fabrics. Artificial light was unnecessary because she could see perfectly in the darkest shadows. She caressed her leather dress, smiling at the fond memories it brought back. She ran her soft hands over t-shirts, faded jeans, her leather jacket, the silk red dress she had worn on occasion, and stopped when her eyes spotted her satin evening gown.
"Yes," she purred, "this will go nicely for tonight." She took it from the hanger and laid it across her bed. She let her sheer nightgown fall to the floor, unzipped the dress before her, and brought it up around her shapely curves with little difficulty. She walked to the mirror and turned on the light even though she didn't really need to turn it on. It was a habit, perhaps from her human days. Picking up her wooden handled brush she gently brushed out her long dark hair, the curls rebounding around her shoulders. She pulled pins from her vanity drawer and pinned up her hair, her neck bare. Her curls flowed from the pins in the back barely brushing against the nape of her neck. Her breasts pressed against the fabric; they were not too large, but ample enough for any man’s admiration. She took a soft brush and powdered the tops of her cleavage with a pink blush. With another brush she applied a dark rose color to her eyelids. "Perfect." she whispered, pleased with the results. The gown seemed like a glove, desperately clinging to every curve. As a final touch, she pressed the atomizer of her perfume bottle and the mist surrounded her, falling and touching her like only a perfume can touch a woman.
Three knocks on the front door signalled that her car was ready. She wrapped a charcoal sheer scarf around her shoulders and opened the door. The driver said nothing; he was just an employee. He had driven her before to many places. They had nothing to discuss, but she always tipped him well at the end of the night. He nodded in greeting to her, and she nodded back and smiled. He walked swiftly to the back door of the black limousine and opened it for her. She stepped inside pulling her dress up just enough for her naked ankle to show. She could remember stories of when the sight of a woman’s bare ankle was considered obscene. She often wondered if such a body part still held some fascination for men. In a way, she hoped it did. She settled inside and he closed the door behind her, moving to his driver’s seat. He had already been given the address to the night’s destination from the limousine agency. The car moved gently forward, and she looked upon the counter beside her. A crystal goblet had been set out for her, filled with chilled red wine. When she had first taken up with this driver, which was now her regular, she would pour a glass of red wine as soon as the car left her home. She was pleased that shortly afterwards he began setting out her glass, filling it with her favorite wine. He had been watching her, but then again, they all did. She smiled forward so that he would know she was pleased, and took a sip from the crystal. The wine’s cool sweetness on her lips gave her a purr of pleasure. On occasion, on longer trips, she had let her curiosity entertain itself with him. His hair was long and blonde, perhaps he dyed it that way, as was very popular with the young men. He tied it behind his head with a hair band, and covered the rest with his driver's cap. He was always clean-shaven, and handsome to look upon. He was never late in his duties, and stood by without complaint until he was no longer needed. She sometimes wondered what daylight activities he experienced as she slept. Did he use the generous money she gave him to buy pretty diamonds and gold for some fair girl? Each night she had sought his services he had never worn jewelry: no rings or golden necklaces to show his success. Perhaps it was not allowed, but a wedding ring was never seen. She took another sip from her glass as she regarded him. His name was Daniel, she knew that much, as the agency referred the drivers to their clients by name. Daniel was always available for her when she called. She often wondered if she was Daniel's only client.
The car stopped just as gently as it had started, and Daniel opened the door for her. She smiled in thanks and placed a bill into his hand as she stepped from the car. He nodded and closed the door behind her as she followed a thin pathway up to a large mansion. Many other cars drove by dropping off elegant passengers. Other cars driven by the guests themselves also pulled up to the courtyard and the drivers handed keys to the valet boys who were waiting there. Laughter and other sounds drifted from the building. She walked up the steps, taking her time as she paused to look upon the jewels of the courtyard: the luscious roses, white and red, blooming, despite the darkness of the night. A bubbling fountain cascaded water into a small goldfish pond; it was lit from below revealing the shimmering gold fins of the swimming fish.
"Ah, Melody." a man said as he hurried down the steps from the door to her. Like most of the others, he was handsome. His short black hair slicked back, and his brown eyes brightened at the sight of her. She smiled at him.
"Hello, Steven, am I late?"
"No, not at all. You?re just in time. There are many people here that I would like you to meet." He held out his arm to her and then ushered her forward. Melody wondered if he was always so gentlemanly, or if it was just around her. He talked away, mentioning names of guests who would never mean anything to her. He was pleased with the attendance to the gathering and wanted her to know of his success. She humored him and allowed him to lead her around on his arm from couple to couple, until all of the so-called 'important' people had been introduced to her. She played shyly in her greetings.
"How do you do, Sir." to one, or "A pleasure, Madam." She was always sure to blush slightly to the men, and nod respectfully to the women. At last, Steven was done with his rounds and found her a table to sit at while he got her some punch. She looked around, glad to let her feet have a rest. As soon as Steven returned with the punch, she could smell the berries of it approaching, the artificial sweetness overwhelming anything natural in the drink. It was a nasty beverage, even in her mortality she had hated it, but it seemed to be a common offering at gatherings. A blonde-haired girl followed Steven through the crowd holding his hand. He set the cup down in front of Melody on the table.
"I'm sorry, Melody, Silvia has someone she wishes me to meet. I hope you don't think I'm abandoning you."
"Of course not, Steven, have a good time. I think I saw someone I need to speak with anyway, so take your time." Melody lied, excusing him from her side. He smiled and darted off with the girl through the crowd. Melody looked at the punch in the cup before her. It took courage to raise it closer to her lips and drink of it. Of course, others around her drank it easily and talked and laughed amongst themselves. She was hardly noticed, just a dark shadow among the crowd. She sat back in her chair, the cup a little further away, her stomach settling a little easier now that she was further from the sweet stench of it. She kept her back straight and her head high as she traced the glass rim of the cup with her fingertip. Her mind was elsewhere. Two circles of the rim passed under her finger and she removed her hand, looking up around her to the crowd. She saw a man with silvery hair she had been introduced to earlier. He was laughing and waving his hands as he talked to a couple standing before him. He was telling a story of some kind, and they were laughing and smiling either from enjoyment or just from being polite. Thus was the way of parties and gatherings. She looked further across the room. A young, tall blonde with a dress like a silky poinsettia was laughing and nearly hanging on all the men surrounding her. There is always at least one like that at every party. Her dress was daringly whorish, clinging to her every curve, low cut to a near obscene level, and Melody was sure this was on purpose. The next day every woman would be gossiping about what a scandal the girl made, thus giving the girl the reputation as a whore or slut, which only made her more popular with the men. The blonde girl smiled and glanced over to the women without escorts who kept to their own tables or circles. They knew she was there, and they knew what she was doing. Yet in their own way they were jealous of her. The blonde girl laughed and turned back to one of the men speaking with her. The exchanged glances had been but a second, but the understanding and result was sufficient.
Melody stood up, leaving her cup behind, stepping through the crowd toward the back exit. A larger courtyard was displayed from the doors, and the night breeze flowed in, cooling the filled room. She stood beside the door, letting the breeze touch her skin as she admired the view. She watched guests slip past her as they went back inside, and it was after a couple stepped past her that she saw him. He was standing there in the crowd holding an elegant chiselled glass full of a pinkish liquid, looking at her. A man beside him was speaking to him, but he didn't seem to be following the conversation. He was looking directly past the men in front of him, looking at her. She blushed slightly, but did not turn away. Their eyes locked, neither one smiling, but it was not an unpleasant stare. He was dressed as a true gentleman. His suit was pressed well, yet instead of a jacket he wore a red vest with a black backing to it which matched his black trousers. His nearly black hair cascaded down his back and shoulders, curling ever so slightly. He had not tied it, but kept it brushed back behind him. His eyes seemed most magical of all, a hazel color like her father's although not as pale. He also held his head high. His goatee was neatly trimmed as if perfected by the gods. Melody tilted her head in interest as he regarded her. His friend spoke with him still, and took his arm in his hand to keep his attention. He looked back at him, nodding, and said something to him, patting him on the shoulder. Melody was gone from the door when he looked back, though he could see her walking down the steps to lean upon the railing outside. The sounds of the party travelled upon the breeze toward the courtyard, but it was somewhat quieter here. Sounds of chit-chat between friends circled further down the stairs, and sounds from couples sitting on benches in the courtyard could be distinguished between those echoing from inside.
"My name is Eric Mikel," he began from beside her a moment later. "And who might you be, Miss?" He asked putting out his hand in greeting. She placed her hand in his delicately, her fingers over his palm.
"Melody Chalis," she said smiling. He brought her hand up to his mouth and gently kissed it.
"Charming," he replied. He was young, but seemed trained well or rather experienced in the ways of true gentlemen. This was a rare thing nowadays with the successful often being average men with wealthy businesses. Few knew the old ways of appropriately regarding and treating a true lady such as herself. He smiled as he released her hand. She could not help looking into his eyes again. His friend walked up to them and pulled Eric’s arm, interrupting them.
"Eric, Mr. Solice is here and wants to hear your ideas on..." the rest of his words drowned out from her ears. Her concentration was on Eric's expressions and the way he carried himself. Eric nodded and frowned slightly.
"Please excuse me Miss Chalis," he mumbled and returned to the party. She frowned also, hoping there would be time later.
"I am sure we will meet again," she whispered, knowing he couldn't hear her anymore. She stepped down the steps into the courtyard, enjoying the sweet flowered fragrance of the garden beyond. Several guesthouses lined the back wall and several groups of people were gathered nearby. Small lamps lit the area so that no one would fall along the paths. She stood with her hands clasped before her, admiring a fountain that held a statue of a mermaid pouring water from a bowl in her hands. Across from her three friends were conversing: two men and a woman. The woman held the hand of one of them; obviously they were together. They nodded and laughed in conversation and moments later the couple excused themselves. The night was growing denser and they wished to retire for the evening. Melody observed they were the only ones retiring; the majority of the groups were still deep in their conversations and activities. The man watched the couple leave, smiling. Then he took the last swallow of the punch he held in his hand and set it upon the bench beside him. He saw Melody beside the fountain and smiled, walking up to her.
"Hello, I haven?t seen you here before." He was not an ugly man, but was quite average looking compared to the rest. His hair was short and blonde, he was clean shaven and wore casual business attire. "I thought I had met all of Mr. Black's guests," Mr. Black was Steven's father or uncle, she never knew which, but it was his property. However, her invitation always came from Steven himself.
"Ah, well I suppose I am not one to be noticed often," she said, slyly glancing over at him.
"That wasn?t my intention," he stammered.
"Of course not," she smiled, looking into his eyes. He was uncomfortable under her gaze and looked into the fountain.
" I recently moved here from Oregon. I?m staying in one of the guest houses," he explained.
"I see. Why did you move?"
"For business. I finished college and Mr. Black told me there were quite a few opportunities for someone like me out here."
"Oh?" she smiled then asked, "And are there any?"
"Oh yes, many. I am having trouble sorting them all, actually. There is so much to choose from."
"Ah, and he lets you stay here?"
"Well, my uncle is a good friend of his, so I'm sure it was as a favor to him." She nodded, understanding. "Honestly though, I don't see him much...Mr. Black that is. He's a very busy man."
"Yes, I know that well," she replied. Of all the parties she had gone to, she had only met Mr. Black once, and then he was rushed off to another area. She remembered that he seemed to be a very serious and stressed man, although he dealt with his stress well. His hair, though dark, only showed a small amount of silver in his temples. He was handsome for his age also. She had wondered if that was where Steven had gotten his looks from; she was still not sure on the lineage. She turned her thoughts back to the blonde man beside her, and regarded him coolly. He continued rambling about this and that, nothing that really mattered.
"Would you like to see the guest house?" he finally asked.
"Do you have anything to drink there?"
"I have a bottle of champagne left in the cooler, would that be good enough?" She nodded. Finally something other than that terrible punch. Her adrenalin raced in anticipation, but she was sure not to let him notice. It wasn?t for the champagne.
"Yes, that would be lovely," she said, taking his arm as he lead her to one of the small cottages beyond the line of trees at the end of the garden.
Upon entering, he closed the door behind them and pulled the shade for their privacy. He poured two champagne glasses full of the bubbling golden liquid, and handed one to her. She took it gracefully between her fingertips, sitting down on the plush couch. He smiled and sat down beside her, facing her. They both sipped the champagne eagerly, smiling to one another.
"It’s rather bright in here, do you mind dimming the lights?" she asked softly, beginning the game. He looked up at the bright lights and nodded.
"I have a good idea," he stood up and turned a small lever on the wall, the lights dimming down to nothingness. He then clicked a switch next to it and the fireplace in front of the couch jumped to life. Melody jumped and giggled as if she were startled. He smiled, amused, and sat down again on the couch, a bit closer this time. She took a deep swallow from her glass and then set it upon the side table, looking at him. The firelight cast dancing shadows on the side of his face. As he placed his glass upon the other side table, she drew him closer, pressing her hand to the back of his neck. She kissed him deeply, twirling her tongue around his. He gasped quietly in surprise, but didn't complain as she pressed her body closer, her breasts crushing against him beneath the fabric. His breath quickened as he returned her kiss. Beneath her body pressing against him, she could already feel his desire quickly rising. She let her lips linger upon his with sweet little kisses, while her hands undid the buttons of his shirt. She could hear his heart pounding, like a whispering voice calling her, talking to her own blood, beckoning her to come nearer. He fumbled with her zipper, unable to release it. She tore the last three buttons of his shirt open. "Oh god," he whispered, looking down at her skilled fingers already working on his trousers. He tried to sit up straighter to help her, but she pulled his shirt down around his shoulders, neatly pinning his arms to his sides. She pushed him down on the couch.
"Shhhhh," she said, and he moaned, watching her free his organ from the fabric. She lifted herself over him, not even undressing. She wore no underwear for a reason. She was already wet with desire and slid down his organ completely, taking him into her. He spasmed and groaned, nearly cumming. "No, not yet," she whispered, smiling down at him, her gown gathered around her hips. He could not see her nakedness beneath, but he could feel her warm wetness wrapped around him, her hot juices lubricating her tight pussy. She moaned as she rode him, slowly at first, and then quickening in a smooth rocking motion. He moved his hands, trying to hold her, trying to bring her lips down for a kiss. She held his wrists down, pinning them to each side of him with her hands. "No, no," she whispered, taking him inside deeply. She moaned as her passion grew, and her orgasm neared. She could feel him move, she could feel his energy, his passion, his want. She could read his thoughts; he was straining not to release so that he could enjoy this moment a little longer. He moaned, grimacing, trying to hold his passion. She was tight around him, stroking him, pulling him inside her. Her passion could not be bridled, her want would not let anything stand in its way. She leaned down, still pumping him inside her, and kissed her lips to his neck.
"Yes," he moaned, and she smiled, pressing her lips to his throat again, pressing them deeper as her orgasm came upon her. She held his wrists under each of her knees and locked her hands around his head, one around the back of his neck, the other to the back of his head. The waves of orgasm hit her, and she deepened her fangs into his flesh. He shook from the pain, trying to raise his hands to push her fangs out of him, but was unable to do anything but struggle under her grip. She closed her eyes now glowing red and bright. Her eyes opened again as the blood flowed into her mouth. She sucked gently, lifting her fangs from the wound ever so slightly, allowing the flow to quicken. Their hearts beat together as she fed, she could feel his heart call to her. The beat was clear, and strong like a drum. She pumped his cock again, taking hold of his desire, taking his attention away from her mouth on his skin. She fed, and took his organ deeper, pumping up and down on him harder until he screamed out. Her feeding was done; she would not kill him, but he would be left weak from this ordeal. She thrust three long thrusts, and held him deep inside her as she moved her hips from side to side, settling him deeper inside her. On the third thrust he came: moaning, shaking beneath her, nearly lifting her up off of him. He streamed into her, and he jerked with his orgasm. A second later he collapsed, weak and exhausted underneath her. She lifted herself off him, letting his passion spill out onto his abdomen. He was wet and sticky, yet so was his blood which she licked from her lips. The wound on his neck was minor, the puncture marks would not be easily found the next morning. That's how it always was. She lifted her gown around herself so as to not let the liquid touch its hem. He looked up at her as she took her glass of champagne and finished it, standing beside him.
"Who are you?" he asked almost pleading, too weak to speak in more than a whisper.
"Does it matter?" she replied, half smiling as she looked down at him. He could not answer, only let his mouth drop open. No words came out. She left the cottage then, leaving behind her victim. She had been careful not to kill him, as that would create a problem. She did not wish to be hunted, she only wished to feed.
She walked through the courtyard, taking the side gated entrance to where the cars were kept out front. Her driver leaned against the limousine half dozing when he heard her high heels on the pavement. He quickly stood upright and opened the limousine door for her. It seemed this was always how she left, swifter than she came. He drove calmly, just as before. She turned off the inside lights and raised the black barrier between them. Darkness was what she sought. Upon arriving to her home she placed another bill in Daniel's hand as she left the limousine. Daniel watched as she hurried to her door, unlocked it, and disappeared inside as she always did. He wondered what happened on the nights he drove her that would cause her to flee into her safe haven.
Inside, Melody smiled, leaning against her closed door. Another hunt well done. A white cat stepped from her couch in her living room, awaking from its night sleep. It was longhaired, with Persian looking eyes. It pressed itself against Melody's legs in a purring greeting.
"Hello Chimise, did you sleep well?" The cat meowed in response. Melody smiled and walked to the kitchen as Chimise followed leisurely behind. Opening a cupboard she took out a can of cat food and opened it, cutting it up on a plate with a fork. She laid the plate on the floor and the cat ate eagerly.
Melody walked through the kitchen and stepped into her bedroom, kicking her high heels off. The dress’s zipper worked easily in her fingers and she slipped her gown off, laying it across a chair so it wouldn?t wrinkle. She slid into bed, the black satin sheets enveloping and caressing her nude body. She pulled the pins from her hair and set them on the headboard’s shelf, her hair falling around her shoulders gently. She moaned with pleasure, smiling. The sun would be up soon, and she had much rest to obtain before the next night. She planned to feed much more deeply then.
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