Only the Lonely

by Susan Gabriel

“I would love to sign your Wangdangdoodle. Would you like me to sign it right here or should we step outside?” Summer flirted.

  Melody kicked her sharply on the shin. Summer impaled Melody with a ‘back off’ glare.

  “I’d really be pleased if you would sign my Wangdangdoodle right here…in front of all of these people,” he said. “Holy shit,” Melody drawled with her attention fixated on their interaction.

  Summer tried not to laugh. It was nearly impossible to appear indifferent to Lucien when she felt like melting into his arms.

  “Whatever you say, cowboy,” countered Summer, holding out her hand. Lucien slapped the dildo into her palm and her fingers closed around the shaft. It felt so realistic in her hand…firm, but slightly spongy with rigid raised veins. Her mind wandered to the unknown wonder of Lucien’s prick, and her hand tightened around the rubber cock.

  “I don’t think I caught your name,” Summer teased, caressing the Wangdangdoodle with her hands.

  “Just make it out to Matteo, like the Café Matteo on the riverfront. Do you know the place?”

  Summer’s pulse quickened at the reference to their rendezvous.

  “That cozy little café, that doesn’t open until eleven o’clock at night? Yes, I know exactly where you mean,” she conspired. How cleverly he had worked their meeting spot into the conversation.

  “There you go,” she twittered.

  The Wangdangdoodle slipped from her hand as she offered it to Lucien, launching into the air and bouncing on the carpet. “Whoops,” she cried. Lucien and Summer simultaneously dived to the floor as they followed the bouncing dildo.

  Crouching on the floor, Lucien whispered, “I’ll meet you at eleven, in front of Matteo’s.” With a wink, he recovered his autographed Wangdangdoodle and departed into the night.

  Smoothing her skirt, Summer implored, “Mel, are we almost finished here? I have to find a ladies room.”

  “Yeah, we’re done. That hottie with the loaf of French bread rising in his pants was the last in line.”

  Summer broke into a quick stride towards the rest room, in a hurry to wrap things up. Her vampire waited.

  “Wait up; I’ll go with you,” Melody called out, scurrying after her. “Jerry can clean up until I get back, can’t you, Jerry?”

  “Sure, sure…I’ll take care of things. Where do you want all of this stuff to go?”

  “Just throw it in my car, will you, Jerry?” Summer tossed her car keys at him.

  “Sure, Summer, I can do that for you.”

  ***

  “Okay, Summer, spill it - what was up between you and Frenchy out there?” Melody demanded, her voice echoing from inside the bathroom stall.

  “Nothing, just some friendly flirting.” Summer leaned towards the mirror, wiping lipstick from the corners of her mouth with the tip of her finger.

  “Fuck-me-running, Summer! That’s bullshit and you know it. I could practically feel the chemistry between you two.”

  Did it show that much? She examined her face for tell-tale signs. Her reflection stared back at her accusingly.

  “I wish,” she sighed, trying her best to sound genuine.

  “I saw him first, bitch,” Melody joked. “If anyone is going to Napoleon his Bonaparte, it’s going to be yours truly.”

  “Oh, that’s a good one, Melody - very clever.” She felt the urge to tell her; the words were on the tip of her tongue. She was dying to tell someone! The funny thing about a secret was the longer you kept it, the larger it seemed to grow, and this particular secret was ballooning so fast, she felt it might pop from her mouth like a cork from a champagne bottle. But there was no time, and this totally wasn’t the place. She decided to keep her secret for another day.

  “Well, have at it, girl, he’s all yours!”

  “Yeah, fat chance after he got a look at you.” Melody punctuated her remark with a flush of the toilet. “I’m going to meet some friends, wanna come along?”

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll just go home and watch a movie or something. I’m not really in the going out mood.”

  “Whatever works for you. See you tomorrow night at the station.”

  Summer tossed her head back, staring at the ceiling tiles and heaved a deep sigh of relief. That was a close one.

  As she swung open the rest room door, she nearly knocked Jerry unconscious.

  “I’m sorry, Summer,” he stammered. “I was just waiting to return your car keys. Do you want me to walk you to your car?”

  Uh…No! Summer’s skin prickled. How long had he been standing outside the door? Was Creepy McCreeperson listening to their conversation? Summer just wanted rid of him so she could speed down the highway towards her vampire.

  “No, Jerry, I think I can manage. It’s parked just outside the door.”

  “Okay, Summer, I put everything on the floor in the back. I hope that’s alright.” “Perfect. Jerry, listen, I have to get going.” “Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow, Summer!”

  Down by the River

  Her shoes made a crunching sound on the loose gravel as she walked along the deserted riverfront road. Eleven o’clock on a Sunday night was not exactly prime time down by the river.

  Anxious to meet up with Lucien, she decided to take a shortcut by ducking into Clamorgan Alley, where she caught one of her heels in the cobblestones. When she stopped to check her shoe, a faint sound of footsteps echoed in the distance. She turned her ears to the night air. The only sound was the distant rumble of thunder from the threatening sky. She looked down the length of the alley behind. It was empty, save for a ginger cat padding noiselessly on the hunt.

  She could have sworn that she heard someone walking behind her.

  These old streets had a way of playing tricks on your ears, though. Sounds bounced off of the tall brick buildings like pinballs. Still, she couldn’t shake the eerie feeling as she headed toward Morgan Street.

  There it was again; someone keeping pace with her steps. When she stopped, they stopped. When her pace quickened, so did the phantom footsteps.

  She considered breaking into a run, but what or whom was she running from? Summer paused mid-stride and glanced furtively over her shoulder, where she came face to scowling face with the Vicious Ones. Dodger, Marcus, Nitro and Gaston formed a wall of vampires across the narrow alley.

  She gasped, clamping her hand to her heart to keep it from bursting through her chest. Her legs, like two logs of Jell-o quivered and quaked. A cloud of air, so cold it set her teeth to chattering, passed through her like a ghost in a graveyard.

  Shit, what is this about? Summer shot a quick glance at her surroundings. No one in sight for the entire length of the alley - she was on her own.

  The vampires maintained their distance, neither advancing nor retreating. They stood shoulder to shoulder, arms crossed and legs spread into a wide stance. Summer raced through her options. Running was futile. You can’t outrun lightning. She could scream, but who was there to hear? Only one choice left.

  “What do you boys want?” she challenged.

  “Funny, we were wondering the same thing of you,” Nitro sneered.

  “Yes, Perceiver,” growled Marcus. “We would like you to explain what you were doing in our bar playing footsies with Lucien?”

  “Now, fellas pull your fangs in,” Summer replied, with a confidence that she didn’t feel. “I’m not out to do you any harm. We just stopped in for a drink, nothing more.”

  “It looked like you two had more in mind than quenching your thirst,” sniffed Dodger, with a toss of his glossy black hair. “Tell us, do you really imagine that a vampire could even be remotely interested in you as more than a meal? I assure you, your relationship is quite impossible and ill-advised.” The rest of the gang snickered in agreement.

  Summer’s gut roiled with irritation. Anger rose in her like mercury in a thermometer on an August night. What business was it of theirs what she did? Nosey little fuckers.

  “Who said anything about a relationship?” Summe
r questioned. “We’re just having some kicks. I’m sure you know what that’s like. Now if you fellows are finished…”

  “We’re not!” bellowed Nitro, stopping her in her tracks, her shoulders jerking at the sound. “If this is just an infatuation, then end it!”

  Without detection, he had instantly, silently moved closer. His dark eyes, large and black as a crow’s, peered narrowly at her. Summer stumbled backward, gulping at the terror which clawed at her throat.

  “I suggest that you find another way to get your kicks,” he sneered. “Did he tell you that you’re special?”

  Summer’s cheeks burned with heat. She wanted to shrink inside of herself and disappear.

  “Oh, you’re special all right - this week’s special, that is - the soup du jour.” The vampires burst into a chorus of mocking laughter.

  They didn’t understand…could never understand. Fucking schoolyard bullies!

  The whole of her spine was trembling, but she set her jaw, her indignation bubbling to the surface. Enough was enough.

  “Are you finished?” she challenged.

  “One more thing,” Dodger leered. “If you need to save someone, Perceiver, save yourself. Consider yourself warned.” Just like that, they turned in unison, and stomped towards Washington Avenue. Summer exhaled, covering her mouth with quivering hands. A wave of exhaustion flowed over her, as the tenseness in her muscles retreated.

  She leaned against the building, trying to wrap her mind around the encounter. She wasn’t sure if it was a warning, a threat, or both. They had called her Perceiver. Was her ability that much of a menace to them? Did they assume she had some sinister motive for being with Lucien?

  Lucien. She could tell him about this but what good would it do? Either he would be angered and do God knows what to them, or he would confirm their allegations about him. She found both options unappealing.

  Still fuming from her confrontation with the Vicious Ones, Summer rounded the corner. Lucien leaned against the wall of Café Matteo, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Smoke rose in ribbons above his head, evaporating into the damp night air. He appeared healthier and less agitated than he had last night. Summer wondered if he had recently fed.

  “If it isn’t old Wangdangdoodle,” she quipped. “In the flesh, squeezable testicles and all,” Lucien spread his arms out to receive her. “You have little goose bumps all down your arms. Are you cold, mon petite?” He removed his jacket and placed it on her shoulders. “There now, better?”

  Summer nodded. She wasn’t truly cold. The episode in Clarmorgan Alley was still with her. She had been warned, but against what? If they were trying to frighten her away from Lucien, that was a warning that she had no intention of heeding.

  She was careful to shield her thoughts from Lucien. Think about something else…baseball…new shoes…the Wangdangdoodle…anything.

  “Let’s walk a while, shall we?” His arm around her waist, Lucien guided her down to the river’s edge. The wind stirred, kicking up small waves and rocking the docked boats against their moorings. A gentle rain began to fall, the drops making a plopping sound as they pinged off the surface of the water.

  “So much for our romantic stroll,” Summer shrugged. “What now?” Lucien looked to the right and the left. “There!” He pointed to a highway overpass several hundred yards away. “Let’s make a run for it.” As the rain turned from gentle to driving, it filled Summer’s shoes and plastered her white silk shirt against her skin. Chilled to the bone but with a heart lighter than air, she ran through the deluge with Lucien, jumping puddles and skipping around the rivulets that snaked down the levee on their way to the river. Breathless, their drenched bodies stumbled into the welcome refuge of the leaky overpass.

  “Hmm, I wonder how long this will last,” Summer lamented, as sheets of rain washed down onto the bricks and cascaded over the levee into the muddy waters of the Mississippi.

  “Who can tell? Only God knows such things. But at least we have this leaky roof over our heads, and …” Lucien searched the jacket around Summer’s shoulders, producing a bottle of French wine and a corkscrew. “We have wine. Sorry, no glasses, we will have to chug it from the bottle.”

  “Lucien,” she teased in her best Southern belle accent, batting her lashes with Scarlet O’Hara precision. “You take me to all the nicest places! First that lovely, rat-infested alleyway, and now this! Glory be, you do know how to turn a girl’s head!”

  “Oh!” he cried, putting his hand over his heart feigning injury. “Your sharp tongue has struck a mortal wound to my manly pride.”

  Summer laughed. She adored Lucien when he was light hearted and joking. In moments like this, Summer completely forgot that he was a vampire. It all seemed so normal. Maybe it was. It wasn’t more than a few decades ago when people thought interracial relationships were perverse; now most knew differently. But what about inter-species? That term wasn’t technically correct. Lucien wasn’t a different species. Was he?

  “Ladies first,” he put the bottle to her lips. She took a small sip. “Go on, more, more,” he urged. “It will help to warm you.”

  Lucien tilted the bottle higher, and she drank deeply of the sweet garnet liquid. It trickled down her throat, through her chest, and pooled in her empty stomach filling her with a cozy feeling.

  Lucien put his mouth on hers, licking the juice which clung to her lips. She tasted its sweet flavor on his tongue.

  “Delicious,” she declared, wiping her mouth.

  “Delightful,” he teased, cupping her breast into his hand through the sodden silk of her shirt.

  Summer didn’t care—vampire or man—she desired Lucien more than she desired anyone she had ever known. She unbuttoned her blouse, peeling it away from her body, and urged his mouth to her breast.

  He pounced on her, his lips warm against her rain-soaked flesh, and his tongue traced scorching circles around her puckered nipple. She swooned, her body wilting like a daisy in the noonday sun.

  Taking him by the hair, she yanked his head back and hungrily fixed her eyes on his. “That feels so fucking good,” she snarled from between clenched teeth.

  He grabbed her wrists, imprisoning her arms against the wall. She squealed with delight, reveling in the sensation of his domination as he ravaged her tits, panting and growling like a jackal.

  The sky continued to shower torrents. Jagged bolts of lightning lit up the black sky, illuminating the tunnel with ghostly green flashes.

  Summer heard the low rumble of thunder, but was it in the atmosphere or pounding in her veins?

  He pressed his cheek to hers. Shivers tickled the back of her neck as his breath blew across her ear. “What do you want?” he whispered.

  Summer knew with the utmost certainty what she wanted. She wanted this half-man, half-monster to fuck her like the beast he was. She wanted to experience the ravages of his passion, unbridled and without restraint. She wanted him to pound her against the wall of the leaking tunnel until her body was bruised and wracked.

  Summer grabbed his belt buckle and yanked him against her, feeling the jolt of their bodies colliding all the way down her spine.

  “I want you to fuck me, Lucien. Fuck me like an animal!”

  Summer ripped open his belt, the clang of the metal buckle echoing in the tunnel. Then she unzipped his trousers. The vampire’s sizeable prick stretched his boxer briefs to the seams.

  Hooking her pinky onto the waistband, she tugged it away from his skin, while snaking her other hand down Lucien’s abdomen and inside of his briefs, where her manicured fingers closed around his quivering cock.

  A sharp intake of breath hissed between Lucien’s teeth as she savored the steely hardness in her hand.

  “See, I still have all the parts that I was born with,” he said, sliding his cock through her fist.

  He certainly did, and she wanted to feel this particular part ramming her very wet pussy. It didn’t matter that they were soaked from the downpour. It didn’t matter that they we
re in a polluted city underpass. Consumed with lust for the vampire, she cared only about the relentless hunger of her body for him.

  Summer released his straining cock from its confines. It appeared much the same as any phallus, but there were aspects about it that she felt were far superior. The skin of Lucien’s prick was as smooth and solid as a slab of marble—no wrinkles or folds—just taut, silky skin stretched over rigid blue veins, as if it had been chiseled from alabaster by a Renaissance master.

  Lucien hiked her skirt above her hips and ran his hands up her inner thigh. Welcoming his touch, she opened her legs inviting him to come inside. When he grasped at her cunt through her panties, it was a long-awaited answer to her prayer. Even though it had only been a few days, she felt she had yearned an eternity for his touch on her sex. Summer shuddered and gasped as his hand dipped inside of her panties, spearing her with two fingers.

  She rode his digits, the clink-clink of her silver bracelets bouncing off the walls of the tunnel as her hand stroked his shaft with a matching pace.

  Craving, hot and demanding, raged through her body and brain as his fingers worked their wicked magic on her willing cunt. His fingers dipped in and out of her, smearing her clit with her own juices. She had never wanted a fucking so badly in her whole life.

  “Do you have protection?” she panted. Lucien laughed, his fangs flashing in the light of the violent storm that surged around them. “Summer, I am not alive; nothing can live inside of me.”

  The idea of his unsheathed, unholy cock inside of her was almost more than she could bear. It was as if she was no longer flesh and blood. She was nothing but a swirling mass of white-hot desire.

  “Take them off, then,” she demanded. “Take them off - my panties - take them off.” “May I tear them?” he asked. His eyes locked onto hers, his chest panting with anticipation.

  “To shreds, Lucien. Tear them to shreds.”

  Lucien ripped the satin from her skin like a Band-Aid. Summer felt like a moth bursting free of a cocoon. Lucien’s hand shot between her thighs, grasping at her pussy, his fingers gliding over her folds and clitoris, spreading silky lubrication over her sex.