Venemous Huntings

Nostrils flaring as he breathed in the too human smells of blood, sex, sweat, and desperation mingled with stale cigarette smoke and booze, the vampire searched the crowded mass of gyrating prey. These dark little bars full of desperate people looking for affection and human contact were perfect places to hunt for victims. There! The lithe little brunette with the page boy hair cut. The girl had been coming in for the past few weeks, but always alone. As far as he could tell her status so far had remained the same when she left, usually at closing time. No boyfriend… or girlfriend… as far as he could determine. A loner; nice curves, pert breasts not overly large, long silken throat… Oh yes. Perfect, he thought.

Licking lips suddenly dry with anticipation of the hunt, the vampire looked for any sign that tonight would be different. As the ripe, sexy, goth chick in the ass hugging tight black slacks sipped her drink, he noted her pink tongue circling the rim like a succubus seeking sustenance. Silver glinted from her left nostril, revealing the presence of a stud piercing her nose. These stupid little cunts all thought that they could turn themselves into something they weren’t simply by piercing their bodies in strange places, slathering on black make up, and decking themselves out in leather and steel. They all thought that they were the exception: Looking for that fantasy world of the supernatural where they would be the one in a million that found the reality behind the myth. The current spate of supernatural fiction that had turned vampires and werewolves from bloodsucking evil monsters into romantic heroes was a God send for someone like him. All these Bella wanna-be’s were perfect victims.

The vampire shivered as he caught sight of the frilly lace of the girls brassiere. Picturing the rounded breasts, centered with perfect dark brown nipples, topped by taut little mounds of hypersensitive tissue, he drew in a sharp breath and held it. His heartbeat sped up as he recalled the last girl he had picked up here. That had been just a month ago. The gothic, wanna-be vampire, had been willing and eager to do anything he wanted. With the lure of the possibility of an eternity of blissful nights, the stupid little slut had eagerly accompanied him back to his hotel. Swallowing the lump that his pounding heart had shoved into his throat, the vampire slipped into memory mode. It was wonderful to have the ability to recall almost perfectly every single detail of any encounter he had.

As his previous victim, spread eagled under him as his rock hard manhood slammed repeatedly into the hot wetness of her eager vagina, had cried out in the throes of orgasm, he had bared his fangs. Thrusting her torso towards him, taut hardened nipples rubbing against his chest, the girl had begged: “Please turn me. Oh God, yes. Please. I can make you happy forever. I’ll do anything.” Locking her lithely muscled dancer’s legs around him, she had pushed her heels against his straining buttocks in an effort to drive his flesh deeper into her. As she arched her shapely ass, grinding her hot pussy against his thrusting groin, the girl had tilted her head back, baring her smooth skinned neck to his bite. “Turn me...” Lost in a tidal wave of sexual bliss, his testicles had tightened, pulling against his groin. Just as his cock had spasmed, the bulbous head ramming as deep as possible into the molten depths of her eager pussy, the vampire had lowered his mouth and nuzzled against her creamy skin. Feeling the rapid pulse of her blood pounding through the carotid, he had groaned. When his balls finally tensed that last bit and the shaft of his manhood had spasmed in orgasm, millions of tiny sperm shooting through the length of his manhood in penultimate release, the vampire had opened his mouth, set the gleaming tips of his fangs against the girls throat, and bit down.

-----------------------

“Hey Hazel,” drifted across the pounding music. Hearing the lame moniker her parents had saddled her with, Vixen winced. Sighing, she tore her eyes from the band and turned toward the vaguely whiny voice. Through the densely packed press of leather clad humanity gyrating to Death’s Dirty Mistress’ latest dirge she saw Annica struggling. The short heavyset peroxide blonde was just visible behind a tall guy in black with more piercings than a knife throwing dummy. As she waved at her friend, a loud bass twang from the huge speaker hanging on the wall nearby sent a vibration through her tongue ring that made her mouth itch like there was a squad of army ants marching across her tonsils. Picking up her SoCo and Coke, Vixen took a large swallow just as Annica pushed clear of the dance floor.

Slightly pudgy and wearing a too short blue leather skirt which her thighs threatened to burst out of the sides of, Annica looked vaguely ridiculous. The skirt was topped by a mustard yellow blouse with a neckline swooping so low it looked like the winner in a limbo contest. Annica was the perpetual wannabe. She didn’t fit the gothic scene at all, but she tried hard to fit in as evidenced by her latest lip piercing, the overdone layered black mascara, and the multitude of leather and steel studded bracelets lining her forearms. Her jagged fingernails were painted with alternating skulls and sheer black polish. Sighing at the thought of the impending deluge of gossip Vixen turned to her friend. “Hey Annica. What’s up?”

Breathless, brimming excitement oozing from her pores, the heavily mascara’d girl grinned. “You’re looking especially delicious tonight Hazel,” she said.

Scrunching her nose at the smell of lilac wafting from Annica, Hazel Fleming swallowed. Too close and the heavy smell could overwhelm the cigarette and pot smoke filling the room. “Vixen. Please, Vixen. And thanks.”

“Sorry Vixen. Those pants are the absolute bomb,” Annica gushed. “Hey, Did you hear about Dominica?”

Vixen, eyes trying to pierce the smoke filled, crowded bar, turned back to the blonde. Careful not to betray the fact that Dominica had been consuming her thoughts for the past month Vixen took a mental breath. “Dominica? Haven’t seen her in a few weeks. What about her?”

“She was killed last month. They found her body dumped out in the swamp. Apparently her corpse had been there for several weeks before some guy in an airboat found her.” Leaning in to put her blubbery lips next to Vixens ear Annica imparted the news like a matron at a quilting circle. “A gator had been chewing on her.” Leaning in close the girl whispered like she was about to impart the secret of the ages. Vixen had to bite back the urge to gag as the cloying stench of her friend’s perfume and body spray clogged her nostrils. Watery pale eyes shimmering with excitement she breathlessly said “They say she was snake bit, but she was actually murdered by some serial killer according to Davey. The cops are calling the killer Venom.”

“Really? Davey, huh? You know how he exaggerates crap. You’re sure she’s not just holed up with some new guy smoking dope and getting laid?”

Looking shocked, Annica put a palm across her ample exposed bosom. “Oh no. It’s for real. I looked it up on Google before I split the house tonight. Besides, Davey should know. He works at the police station.” A patina of skin oil from greasy fingertips was left staining the edges of Annica’s blouse as she dropped her hand and wiped it on the edge of her skirt.

“In the records department. Still, I guess he’d know the real story. Damn. That sucks. Still, I always said Dominica was going to get herself killed some day. She’d screw anything with dope and a dick.” Vixen’s gaze continued roving restlessly over the mass of hysterically gyrating youths hunting for a glint of red.

Not noticing Vixen’s preoccupation, Annica giggled and blushed. The color in her cheeks only served to accent the fact that she had layered on way too much foundation make-up. “Yeah. Ain’t that the truth. Still, don’t you think it’s creepy? Just think, we were with her just last month at Delia’s party.”

“Yeah. Case in point; she left with that weird little guy in the tight pants with the fish hook piercing his lip. That guy gave me the absolute creeps.” Shuddering, Vixen swept her gaze over the crowd along the bar counter to the right. Deaths Dirty Mistress struck up another overly loud dirge playing to the swaying mass of heavily pierced leather clad Goths.

A tiny glint of red caught her gaze and drew it. Searching through the smoke and noise, Vixen spotted a guy sitting on a stool four over from her own that seemed to be just casually observing the pounding mass of people. Something about the guys smile hinted at just a bit of aloof superiority. He wore a dark brown leather jacket with steel studs creating a small skull pattern over the left breast. His shiny patent leather shoes under dark slacks just screamed money. Raising her gaze back to the young man’s face, Vixen took it in. The guy looked to be maybe three to four years older than herself, about twenty-five years old, with a hint of five o’clock shadow darkening his pale face. Catching his eyes, she noted that there was a glint of red flashing from their center. A gleam hinting at depths of knowledge unknown to the world at large seemed to swim across his darkened orbs. There was something about them that drew her.

“…and Tom is such a drag, don’t you know.”

Turning back to her friend, Vixen focused back for a second. Tom? Oh yeah, Annica’s ex boyfriend. “Yeah, I know. Hey, Annica. You see that guy over there in the nice brown jacket.” Vixen nodded in the direction of the intense stranger.

“You mean the cute one with the pointy chin? Kind of pale skin?”

“Yeah. Have you ever seen him before?”

“Nope. Just some trawler I guess. Why?”

“I don’t know. There’s just something about him. Did you catch those eyes?”

“Hmm. I guess. Hey, did you see Angel’s new guitar? It’s awesome.”

“No. Excuse me a minute, okay? Gotta go to the pisser and powder my nose.”

“Okay. I’ll catch up with you later.” As Vixen turned toward the bathroom, Annica was already waving down the next victim for her gossip parade.

Exiting the stall, Vixen headed to the sink. Applying a squirt of perfumed liquid soap to her hands she rinsed them under the automatic faucet. Looking around to verify nobody was paying attention, Vixen dug out her mascara kit and lipstick from the large vinyl clutch purse her mom had bought for her last birthday. Vixen looked in the mirror. Emerald green eyes looked striking surrounded by their god given gift of full eyelashes. A cutely pert nose with just a slight upturn that her dad said reminded him of Elizabeth Montgomery from that old t.v. show Bewitched offset her slightly too large mouth. Applying a fresh layer of blood red lipstick Vixen moistened her lips, then dabbed them lightly with a paper towel. At 5’5”, 113 pounds, and 36”, 25”, 35” measurements Vixen was fairly happy with what she saw in the mirror. Giving her jet black, page boy cut hair a quick brush and adjusting her deep purple, silk blouse to expose more tanned throat, she headed out.

When the cute girl in the purple blouse headed to the bathroom, Armando sauntered over to her seat and nonchalantly picked up the girls drink and sniffed it. Southern Comfort and Coke. He smiled. Looking at the harried, brown haired, thirty something bartender, he pulled out a folded twenty and placed it on the bar. “The girl who was just here…, you know her?”

“SoCo and Coke; purple blouse? Only in passing. Comes in every week or so. Why?”

Fingering the $20 bill and moving it around on the wooden surface Armando said “Name?”

Eying the bill the bartender shrugged and said “Her friend called her Vixen.”

Pushing the bill forward and removing his finger from it, Armando said “Thanks.”

Pocketing the bill the bartender said “Good luck” and turned to the approaching waitress.

Exiting the bathroom, Vixen was physically assaulted by the noise and smell of two hundred or more smoking, drinking, sweating people – most of whom were wearing clothes way too heavy for the hot weather. Appearance over practicality, she thought, as she swept her gaze back toward the bar. A twinge of disappointment caused her to release pent up breath in a small sigh. The guy with the eyes was gone. Oh well, she thought, probably for the best. Probably wasn’t him anyway. A hand lighted softly on Vixen’s right shoulder causing her heart to lurch into her throat. Turning, she found herself face to face with the stranger she had been looking for. Up close, the red glint in the man’s eyes was even more obvious. The swirling blackness of the rest of his large eyes sucked her in and she felt disoriented for a moment. Smooth, overly pale skin stood in stark contrast to the dark stubble marking the man’s strong cheekbones. A slight smile turned up the right corner of his thin mouth as he removed his hand and bowed.

“Sorry my little Vixen. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Vixen’s scattered thoughts tried to find a point on which to focus. How did he know my name? she wondered. “That’s okay. Uhm, can I help you with something?”

“I couldn’t help but notice you sitting there earlier. Your beauty shone through the crowd like a beacon of hope piercing a storm tossed ocean.” She couldn’t quite place the accent but thought it was maybe European. French maybe.

Vixen blushed and swallowed. The man was handsome with a strong cast to his features that reminded her of Tom Cruise when he was in Top Gun…, or maybe The Vampire Lestat with that pale skin.

“But then I turned away for a moment and you disappeared. I was afraid that I had squandered the one chance at happiness my wandering soul has felt tugging at its lonely edges in many years.”

“It can’t be that many years. You can’t be over twenty-five Mr…”

“Armando. Just Armando. And I’m older than I look,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His voice was rich and deep, each syllable stroking her skin with a feathery caress that caused her to shudder. A flash from the stage lights refracted a glint of crimson red from his luminous eyes.

Flustered, she replied “I’m Hazel. I mean Vixen. Vixen Fleming. Pleased to meet you.”

Bowing once more, Armando took Vixen’s right hand in a gentle grip and brushed dry lips lightly across the skin on the back of her hand. “Charmed, I’m sure. Vixen - the name suits you. You are as lovely as a long tailed red fox and richly endowed with emerald eyes undoubtedly worth a fortune.” Smiling impishly, he tilted his head back to expose a line of soft white skin along his throat. His pulse was visible as the skin twitched ever so slightly with each beat of his heart. “And with a definite animal attraction,” he added with a grin that caused crinkles to soften the harsh edges of his eyes. A glint of pure white teeth sparkling behind crimson lips, the only dark skin on the handsome face, caused Vixen’s own pulse to speed up. She felt herself drawn to this enigmatic man. “Can I buy you a drink perhaps?” he queried, pointing to two vacant stools at the bar.

“Sure.”

Stepping up to the bar and perching half on and half off the left stool, Armando asked the harried looking bartender for a SoCo with Coke, and a water. “How did you know I like Southern Comfort?” Vixen asked as she settled onto the next stool.

With a warm smile showing only the barest hint of pearly white teeth, Armando placed one cool hand on hers. “I have my ways,” he replied mysteriously.

Squeezing her fingers momentarily, Armando released them and picked up his glass of water. Holding it between his palms he slowly twisted the wet glass around in a circle, seemingly enjoying the coolness of the precipitation. Picking up her own drink, Vixen took a sip. Nodding at his glass of water she said “You don’t drink?”

“Doesn’t agree with my …, constitution.”

Nodding, she looked at his face. “So, how old are you? You said you were older than you looked.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. That’s a lovely stud you have in your nose.”

“Thanks. I mainly got that one to piss off my parents. That and the tongue bar.” Opening her mouth she extruded her tongue slightly to show off the metallic glint of a tongue bar.

“Interesting. What’s that made of?”

“Zircon gold. It’s 14 guage, 7/8 inches long with a 4 mm ball on the end. Cost my old man $45 for the piercing and another $40 for the bar.”

Lifting an index finger to her chin he gently tilted her face up. “Bet you could do something interesting with that,” he said. The bare tip of his tongue extruded from between his dark lips to moisten the dry skin there. There was something sensual about the motion.

As his tongue completed a quick circle and disappeared back into his mouth, Vixen felt a warm tingle between her thighs. Blushing, she dropped her gaze and squeezed suddenly clammy palms between her knees. The warmth building in the vee of her thighs was spreading up to her stomach, causing little flutters like a swarm of butterflies causing a susurrus as they sought the nectar of her garden.

Too easy, Armando thought. A little innuendo and some clever leading…

Settling her tumultuous thoughts, Vixen raised her gaze once more. “So, Armando, you don’t get out much? Your skin is so pale.”

Smiling mysteriously, his eyes twinkling with a glint of crimson, he said “The sun doesn’t agree with my constitution either.” Chuckling he added, “I work nights and mostly sleep in the daytime.”

Strange thoughts began to coalesce in Vixen’s brain. Pale skin…, reddish tint to the eyes…, doesn’t drink…, stays out of the sun…, older than he looks… Could it be true? What type of name is Armando? Certainly not a modern one… “Where are you from Armando? I don’t really recall seeing you around here before.”

“Originally I’m from Europe. Spent most of my real life in Paris.” He trailed off as a far away look overtook his features. Staring through her like he was reliving an event out of a distant past he said “That was a long time ago…” Shaking his head he looked back at her. “Since then I’ve been kind of wandering here and there. England, Italy, Germany. Been in the new country for about ten years now.”

New country? “Ten years? But you said you spent most of your life in Paris and then around Europe… How old did you say you were?”

“I didn’t. But, if you really must know...” he leaned toward her.

Leaning in to meet his advance she noted the musky smell of his cologne. “Yes?”

“I am two hundred and thirty nine years old.”

“So, …, the eyes, the skin, the problem with sunlight…, this all means…”

“Yes my little Vixen. It’s true.” Leaning in close to her he placed his lips a hairsbreadth from her ear and whispered “I’m a vampire.” Vixen could feel the gentle caress of his breath as it wafted across her earlobe. A crescendo of excitement shot through her followed by a wave of heat that kindled her entire body. At last! Finally I can fulfill my destiny! she thought with a shiver of dread longing. Pulling back from him, Vixen looked the self proclaimed vampire in the eyes. An errant beam of light from a strobe flashed off the crimson depths of his orbs. Shuddering, the girl broke the vampires mesmerizing gaze and pulled back.

Mistaking Vixen’s shudder for fear, Armando raised one long fingered hand and gently stroked the jet black hair that just reached the base of her neck. “Not to worry. You’re in no danger from me.”

“So you don’t feed off of human blood?”

“I do. However, I only truly need the plasma and I have a… supply conduit that gets me what I need with no harm to anyone.”

“I see. You work at a hospital or blood bank? Something like that?”

So easy, the vampire thought. They can convince themselves so much better than I can. Lips parting just enough to show a brief glimpse of brilliant white descending from pink gum tissue, Armando smiled. “Something like that.” One dexterous index finger began twirling a lock of hair by Vixen’s flushed neckline.

The music of Death’s Dirty Mistress and the loud demanding press of drunken, stoned, and horny people seemed to have receded to a place beyond the immediate where it no longer intruded. It was like the two of them, goth girl and vampire, were in a private dimension of their own. “So, uhm, have you ever killed anyone? I mean, when you were newborn…, maybe.”

“Initially I had to. In order to survive at all. My … creator I guess you’d say, provided my first victim. It was a convicted child murderer that he broke out of prison. The man was evil to the core… You could see the waves of putrid evil washing off the man. He spit in my face when I approached him.” Armando’s eyes had taken on that distant glaze again that meant he was reliving a powerfully absorbing memory. The vampire’s voice fell to a bare wafting of breath that seemed to carry directly to Vixen’s cerebral cortex. Every word seared its way into her brain. “I remember the overwhelming urge to tear out his throat and drink his blood. What remained of my human side was screaming with horror, but the vampire nature was so powerful…” Armando’s eyes were misted over with a sheen of unshed tears as the power of the memory overtook him.

Vixen reached up and lightly caressed the vampire’s cool cheek with the tip of her index finger. “It’s okay,” she whispered.

“It was years before I developed the emotional control I needed to obtain in order to maintain control over my hunger. My master kept me with him for the first ten years after he turned me. He taught me what I needed to know. Since then I’ve only taken the criminal or the terminally ill. I always strove to lessen the guilt I felt whenever I was forced to take human life.” Armando’s eyes returned from their entranced visit to the past as he once more focused on Vixen’s gaze. There was a sadness pooled in their depths that touched Vixen’s soul. “Of course, with today’s strides in the field of medicine I no longer have to kill at all.”

“Okay. I guess I can understand that… at least to a point. Still, what if you were to want to… could you, uhm,… turn a human into a vampire?”

Armando took a quick breath to still his racing heart. There it is. The desire: the lust for life eternal. It always gets them. “Yes. I have that power. But, it’s not something to take lightly you know. You have to realize: Once you’re a vampire you’re not human anymore and there’s no going back. Not ever.” A hitch in his voice betrayed a surge of powerful emotion. “No more basking in the sunlight. To stay eternally young while everyone you care for ages and dies around you. To be forced to live with the knowledge that you have to kill to survive…”

As the vampire’s voice faded away Vixen took his hands in her own. “Would you like to get out of here?”

******************************************

For more in this continue to the next 2 chapters

https://vocal.media/filthy/venemous-huntings-chp-2

https://vocal.media/filthy/venemous-huntings-chp-3