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For my darling Helen
I watched her, as I had for several days.
I loved the way she moved. Tall and confident, but I knew better. Her lover was with her. Simon was his name. He was good-looking, I thought if you were into that sort of thing. I am not.
They did not see me; of course, I was well above them on the cornice of the roof across the street. The couple was busy looking at each other and the crowd of rioters, or rather footballers, in the pub they were entering. She looked beautiful, at least to me, I suppose others might think her pretty or better, but to me, she was beautiful.
She was wearing something simple; I liked it, but after all, it was Northern Britain, and it was early in spring, so I did not expect much in the way of skin. Her breasts were hidden from the weather, but I could see their swell under the jacket she held tight. She wore no hat so I could see her hair, shorter than I like, but fashionable. I would have her grow it out for me, which she would undoubtedly do, now that I had found her physically.
I had found her in a naughty little pool of degenerates like me on an online chat site through a mutual friend. There were a few gems there and some I kept as friends, but she was the brightest gem.
We spent hours together, falling further in love, but the realities of life had separated us–namely her husband. I understood I did, it hurt, but I understood.
The last message I got said that the wedding went well, but our time together put a strain on her new marriage, so I wished her well. We parted as friends, sincerely with all my love.
I watched her move; her tummy was not swollen, I could detect no life, she was not pregnant yet. However, I knew she wanted children badly; perhaps with Simon’s help, we might remedy that tonight.
I took one step and descended to the ground. Then, it was easy; many things were easy now.
I had been lonely and depressed after our parting, and when my hubby suggested I pursue a lifelong dream of volunteering doing archeology, I jumped at the opportunity.
My hometown had a decent university museum and a wealth of donated finds which had never been touched. So, I dove into the work with abandon.
I wish I could remember what happened; I was not trusted with ‘important’ finds, but there were some that the curators considered trash; that was what I got to ‘play’ with and most likely ruin. Initially, I felt slighted, but most of the artifacts had not had eyes on them for much of a century, so I felt privileged.
It was dusting a curio from a very dubious find. It was said that it had been discovered in what is now southern Turkey. It was found by an amateur archeologist who was considered mad as a hatter. He claimed the artifact was given to him by a beautiful young woman in the middle of the desert. That she was nude, she showed no signs of stress in the 120-degree heat, but smiled at him, gave him the fetish, and disappeared.
To finance further expeditions, he returned to display the collection in the 1904 Saint Louis World’s Fair Antiquities Exhibition Hall. Unfortunately, at least for him, he was sent to a local hospital for ‘a rest,’ and his collection was taken over by the museum, where it collected dust for a century. The consensus was he was suffering from heatstroke.
That is how I found it; my hands were the first hands to touch it in a century, the first female hands. I had no idea yet how important that was.
It was beautiful in proportion and detail. Carved of ivory, guilted in gold, and a deep red stone held in its hands over her heart. She was shapely, obviously some fertility goddess or another, but which one? No one knew.
She was considered an inconsequential piece, more than likely a forgery sold to a mentally ill amateur, hence why another novice was allowed to tend to her needs.
I was working carefully, removing layer after layer of dust and accumulated dirt. She may have been a forgery, but she was beautiful regardless of her origins.
I was on the last layer, almost completely clean now. If asked, I would have admitted I was in love with her.
Only recently had I come to accept the dark secret that I was a lesbian at heart, who had, through social pressures, learned to please men, marry and have a child. But in my heart of hearts, I love the figures of women far beyond anything a man possessed.
The small fetish possessed all I had admired about the female form.
The shape of her breasts was remarkable, not crude or rough, nor out of proportion; she looked like a sort of Barbie doll but with reasonable proportions. Further, she was fully anatomically correct; that was clear, every detail was immaculate.
Beyond her full breasts, she had nice matching thighs and a lovely round bottom, complete with little dimples that I found so erotic.
A body I would die have myself, more I would die to enjoy. After all, just touching her caused my body to respond.
All that was kurtköy escort left was to finish her face. Her face was simply remarkable; there was no other word.
Even under 10x magnification, the detail was extraordinary. There was no other word. But it was too perfect; it had to be a modern fake. Nowhere near as old as its discoverer claimed.
Her lips were plump and full, somehow tinted a deep red. The only fault was what looked like two indentations in the lower lip.
The nose was sexy, not cute, but sexy, and her cheekbones were high, which was unusual for the region, yet another error. On the other hand, the brows were perfect for her forehead, and the hair cascaded down her back to her waist.
Only her eyes were obscured by debris. Then, with a single flick of my wrist, a final fleck of crud and her eyes were revealed in their glory. I finished the eyes, and that is when things changed.
They were solid black, some sort of stone.
No light reflected from them; they were like two black pools deep as an ocean, like whirlpools of black going deeper and deeper, expanding to fill my vision, deeper and deeper until I found I needed to feel her, to touch her, not the neoprene gloved covered fingers but with my flesh.
I don’t recall removing my gloves; I can remember her feeling in my hands. She had become warm with my work; my pulse must have been working through her as I could sense her throbbing as my bare fingers traced up her body.
Gliding over her thighs thrilled me; I shifted in my chair as I started to moisten. Next was her breasts, which caused me to catch my breath, finally stroking her hair down her long neck and cheeks, then I touched the stone…
I woke on the floor. I had no idea how I got there; my lab stool was also lying on the floor.
‘I must have forgotten to eat again.’ As I slowly crawled first to my knees, then setting up my stool, up to my seat. I had forgotten in the past; sometimes, I get too focused, I forget, and my blood sugar drops.
‘I am so hungry!’ I felt my head swim, trying to move. I could not understand how I ended up on the floor even if I was hungry, so hungry.
I looked around franticly for the fetish, but she was gone! I searched everywhere; I could not find it or indeed any sign it had ever existed. No fragment, not even dust. Nothing.
‘Hungry!’ I needed to eat something before I passed out again.
I stumbled toward the door, that is when I saw Ben.
“Hey Doc, how are you doing?” Ben was smiling as he always seemed to be smiling. He was a wall of a man and had always been kind and watched out for me, often walking me to my car when I worked late, like tonight. “You are working late.”
I could see Ben, but more than just his face, I could see inside him. I could feel, smell, and hear the blood rushing through him.
‘Feed,’ I heard the voice for the first time; it was a woman, beautiful, sweet, and terrible.
In a moment, I was on him, pulling his head to one side, my fangs sank into his neck–all in a single heartbeat, his heartbeat.
‘What am I doing!’ My thoughts rattled through my skull; it was a very disembodied experience, almost watching my body from the inside.
‘Stop, stop, stop!’ I battered on the cage of my own body; I could not stop. I had known Ben for years, and he was a big man, over a foot taller than I, yet he was as light as a feather, and I held him tight.
‘Stop, or the food will die.’ I released it as if it was my decision; it wasn’t. I licked his neck, and somehow, I knew my saliva healed the wounds. I gently picked up the giant man and carefully carried him to the security office, laying him on the couch. How I did any of this was a complete mystery.
I checked his pulse; it was solid and slow, he snored quietly.
‘It will not die. You stopped; you took no more than a quiantin of his blood.’ The voice said a voice that caused me to shiver from the base of my neck down my back. ‘I have taken twice as much, and my pets woke in the morning, mind you; they were generally useless for a sun or two.’
‘Oh gaawwd, I am going insane, I am insane!’ I groaned, and for reasons I can not relate, I raced down the hall to the bathroom and tried to vomit. I couldn’t.
I could almost feel the voice rolling its eyes. ‘You are not mad; I simply needed a snack to rouse myself fully.’
I could almost feel her stretch and yawn as if from a long nap.
‘Your pet will sleep and will remember nothing.’ She added, ‘I am Shahri, goddess queen of Athmara.’
The voice said this as if I should immediately recognize both when I did not respond.
‘Surely you have heard of me.’ Shahri asked; I could almost taste the uncertainty in her voice.
“No, no, I have not.” I staggered to a sink, turned on the cold water, and nearly plunged my face into it but simply splashed a great deal on my pale self. “Neither Shahri or Athmara.”
I felt something roll over in my head like one might imagine aydıntepe escort a dragon rolling over on its hoard.
‘That is impossible, my followers….’ The voice seemed to become uncertain.
‘Is it possible? For so long?’ I could almost hear the fear in the voice; she must be able to see my thoughts, my memories. I was no scholar of antiquity, I enjoyed helping and reading as much as I could, but no, I was no great store of ancient history locked away in the cluttered spaces of my mind.
‘You do not know my empire? My cities, my songs?’ The voice almost broke my heart. But she returned to the sterner side, the voice of a woman used to obedience. ‘No matter, I will begin again… we will begin again.’
I glanced into the mirror for the first time. I realized my eyes were different, yes, the same steel-blue they had always been but now what they had not been in years, but the pupils were more prominent and blacker, a swirling black.
They looked clearer; the openings around them were a bit larger and smoother, no crow’s feet or wrinkles — younger.
‘One of my gifts to my host,’ The voice responded to my unasked question.
“Host?” I heard my voice ask the question that I did not want to answer.
‘Yes, my host, darling, you,’ I could almost see the voice’s owner sitting down on a reclining couch somewhere in my own body. ‘I require a host, and you are now her.’
“How do you speak English?” I asked; that was the next thought. That was my second question?
I could almost hear the laughter in the answer, ‘Because you do. Silly cow. Are you always this stupid?’
“No, I am simply in shock!” My response sounded somewhat sad, but honestly, I tried to keep the pouting out of my voice.
‘Well, that is understandable,’ I could feel something roll-over inside, as if she, yes it was definitely a she, was shifting on a couch, ‘I am rather glorious, and so a certain level of awe is to be expected.’
“Humble too.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. No sooner had the words left my lips than I felt a terrible pain that ran up my spine from my ass up to my head, and it burst in my skull a blooming flower of sparks and fire on July fourth. I was now on the floor, on my knees, holding my head, trying yet again not to wretch.
‘Now, now, none of that.’ The voice became somewhat distant and cold.
‘I suppose it is time to show you that I can give you boons, for obedience’ and in my mind’s eye, I could see images as explicit as any HD video, of wealth, and importance, with food and comforts that I somehow knew, were the best each culture had, of lovers? Oh, there were lots and lots and lots of lovers, all shapes and colors; Shahri definitely had broad tastes.
‘Or I can exact a terrible cost for disobedience.’ With equal clarity, I saw women being forced to do terrible things, pleading with the voice, but still doing horrid things to the people they loved. They were chasing, catching, and feeding on their loved ones until there was no hope. The anguish of the hosts tore at my heart.
I did vomit then.
“Stop, stop, stop!” I was on my knees. “I will do what you want; just stop.”
‘Very wise my pet, I am not cruel by nature, but I will have my will obeyed, one way or another.’ Again, the feeling she was reclining in relaxation.
I needed to escape, to get away, to get home.
I checked Ben, who was mumbling quietly and giggling. I have never seen a 6′ 6″ 250-pound black man giggle; he was so cute. I covered him with his jacket, put a water bottle near him, and then left.
I went to my office, gathered my things, and almost ran to my car.
I have no idea why, but I rushed, almost as if it were mid-day, but it was not; it was late. Although I usually called security or Ben to walk me to my car, I had not tonight. Most might think it was as dark as midnight, but it was as bright as high noon to me. However, this is not a city for a woman to be walking alone.
My car just chirped its open locks when I heard it–a scream.
“Help! Please, someone, help!” It was a woman’s cry.
I knew the cry came from my right, perhaps two hundred yards no less, but how could I hear it?
I was moving; the parking lot flew past me like it was not there. I am no athlete, I started developing at 12, and my breasts were in a hurry; by 16, my tits were growing into D territory, and with boobs like that, anything involving bouncing up and down, like running, is not something one does.
But I was running! I was running faster than I could imagine possible — and in heels!
“Please stop! Stop, please!” Her scream was no longer for help but anguish and terror.
Much closer now, yards perhaps; it was just a matter of finding.
‘Below us!’ The voice responded in exhaustion. ‘Have you never hunted?’
“No!” I shouted my response to the voice, but I glanced to the right; there was a stairwell down, ‘Of course!’
Bounding to it tuzla içmeler escort in a single leap, I cleared the wall and dropped the bottom where a man was obviously in mid-stroke while raping a girl. Who was desperately trying to defend what little she could still protect. Her jeans were down around her ankles, her blouse torn open, exposing young breasts, which I would have admired under any other conditions. Now they were shaking with sobs.
I grabbed the beast by the hair, ripped his head back, exposing his throat, and I bit down hard upon his neck and felt the gush of arterial blood, and I drank. I did not stop drinking; I fed and fed, my rage only matched by my thirst. I drank and drank until there was nothing left to drink; the beast’s heart had stopped, and he slumped to the ground — dead.
It was only then that my rage subsided, with my thirst quenched, that I realized what I had done.
I had taken a life, and not because of the… whatever it was within me, driving it on.
I wanted to take his life.
‘You fed upon a beast; there is no shame. Help the girl if you wish; perhaps it will assuage your guilt. You have the ability.’ I suddenly realized I did, yet another gift.
“Are you alright, child?” I turned to the girl, wiping the residual blood from my lips on my wrist then licking it off.
Her eyes were locked on mine. She was shaking more than during the attack. She seemed to realize her nudity and tried to cover herself while hurrying away from the corpse.
“What are you? Vampires are not real!” She squealed; she tried to gather herself. She was holding her torn blouse together with one hand while desperately trying to pull up her trousers, all while still lying on the ground.
I stuck my hands through her armpits, grasped her by the torso, and picked her up, putting her on her feet. She was taller than my 5′ 3″ and slimmer, with pert breasts, maybe 34B, which bounced as I set her down. I am ashamed that I licked my lips thinking of them, my tongue stroking my fangs.
“Look at me, girl!” I started louder than I desired, then mellowed down to a gentle whisper holding her eyes, willing her to listen, to obey. “Did he enter you?”
“Nnnno I don’t think so. He was trying,” she had been shaking, but now she seemed to be almost drowsy, eyes half-lidded, “had just got it out when you appeared.”
“Good, now listen to me” I fixed her blouse as I could, then finished pulling up her trousers, fastening them, doing up her belt. “Go home, take a long shower. Tomorrow go to your doctor and have tests for STDs. Then, you will remember nothing about what happened, and you will not be so stupid as to go out after dark alone.” I ended with a whisper.
“Yes, Mistress,” the girl responded, a sweet, intoxicated smile crossing her lips. I realized she was rather attractive. A thought that I had not often entertained; after all, I am nearly 60, my best years were behind me.
I finished fixing her collar and running my fingers through her wild hair. She shivered as my nails touched her scalp; she moaned and moved into me. Trying to keep my voice level, keeping the new hunger out of my voice. “What is your name, child?”
‘She is lovely….’ A darkly chuckling Shahri added, my pussy would have agreed if it could speak.
“Susan, Mistress, Susan Carter, I am a nursing student at the university.” Her voice was low and slow, dreamy, she stood straight, forcing her back to arch, and her breasts pressed out to me. She turned her head, exposing her throat. I might have been tempted if I had not fed well.
I was happy to see that this was indeed her building; she had just the misfortune of running into this bastard.
I walked her to her floor then her door; I took note of both. She opened the door and stepped in, and I followed without a word. The dorm room was private, and she would be alone and safe, safe except, of course, for me.
It was only then that I realized I had broken a rule from every vampire movie I had ever seen. I had walked into her room without her invitation.
‘Where do you get such notions?’ That thought was followed by a howl of laughter only I could hear. The laughter continued for several moments.
I watched Susan disrobe; she made no effort to cover her nudity but seemed to flaunt it. Her body was lovely, but I chose not to take advantage, at least not yet anyway. So instead, I took out my phone and took her information and a photo of the girl’s blissfully lovely face.
We kissed, told her to sleep well, and call me with the medical results. Then I left, feeling fantastic. Besides, I had a body to hide.
Thus began my career.
My husband noticed the changes!
His face showed surprise when I returned earlier than usual, more than the fact I was not tired like I should have been, but buoyant and energetic. Nevertheless, he was no less stunned when I ravaged him for several hours.
The morning brought further changes; my breasts were fuller, firmer, and more importantly, as high as they ever were, bras were now wholly optional. My face seemed to have lost twenty years as well. I felt better than I could remember, and my husband was not complaining, but as much as I enjoyed him, I wanted more.
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