Once Bitten

by Lisette Ashton

  Mel returned my grin and revealed her overlong teeth.

  I’d noticed them before but I’d always thought they were a Goth thing – something similar to coloured contact lenses or heavy eyeshadow. The idea that she might be teasing me did not seem utterly ridiculous but she spoke with so much conviction I hesitated before dismissing her claim.

  I continued to feign a casual reaction.

  ‘I didn’t know you were a vampire, sweetie. You’ve kept it very quiet.’

  ‘I don’t go boasting about it. Not everyone approves. The council of Vampire elders deal harshly with those who betray the secrets of the undead. The police aren’t overly keen on our kind. And there’s the legion of vampire hunters to watch out for.’

  More vodka.

  Another draw on the Marlboro.

  And still, I realised, I was trapped in the most bizarre conversation of my life. I gave her an understanding nod, as though I was following everything she said and not wanting to shrink from the madness of this exchange. Mel clearly believed she was a vampire but I couldn’t grasp the concept and apply it to the real world. Unable to contain my doubts I simply blurted, ‘Are you sure you’re a vampire?’

  I tried to think of an argument as to why Mel could not possibly be what she claimed but I repeatedly drew blanks. The obvious statement, ‘You can’t be a vampire, sweetie. Vampires don’t exist!’ would make it sound as though I was calling her a liar and our friendship was too important for me to spoil it with such a confrontational statement.

  I considered pointing out that I’d seen her in sunlight. Yet, the more I thought about, I realised that wasn’t true. Mel was strictly a nighttime person and never rose before sunset. I had assumed her nocturnal habits were due to her being an art student, but vampirism – if it existed – would also explain her failure to be out and about during daylight hours.

  ‘I was born in 1875,’ she said quietly. Her words barely louder than the Slipknot song but they were spoken with enough importance to make them heard. ‘My father was a parish preacher and my mother worked as a schoolteacher. We lived in a village not far from here and, with the exception of an extended holiday in America, when I was following the Beatles, I’ve lived locally for more than a hundred years.’

  She raised her head and stared at me.

  Her features were a mask of composure.

  Her eyes glinted with crimson flecks.

  ‘I was made into a vampire in 1897,’ she went on. ‘Ironically that was the same year Stoker published Dracula.’ Her tone had fallen to a sombre lilt that was not like Mel’s usual voice. ‘Prior to that the only people who had heard of vampires were occultists and the more sinister of the travelling peasants. Stoker’s book changed that for the majority of the civilised world. But I received my education from a more accurate source. I had a vampire teach me about our superhuman strengths, our embarrassing weaknesses, and our overriding thirst for blood and sex.’

  She shivered, her gaze turned to the dwindling stub of her Marlboro. The electric air that had been between us before was replaced by an icy chill.

  ‘Being the daughter of a preacher and a schoolteacher, I’d had a very strict Victorian upbringing. But I embraced the vampire credo of hedonism as wholly as any woman could. I guess you could say I’ve spent the past century acting out all my wild-child fantasies – although maybe all those fantasies weren’t my own.’

  Her frown deepened, as though she had touched on a memory that was either disturbing or unpleasant. Quickly, she went on.

  ‘Maybe that’s why I’m now ready to settle down?’ she suggested brightly. ‘And maybe it’s because of being brought up by a preacher that I find Alan so fascinating? I don’t know the answers to any of those questions. But I do know, after more than a hundred years of drinking blood and indulging every carnal appetite a creature could ever entertain, I’m fairly sure that I am a vampire.’

  Her solemn mood added weight to the argument but I couldn’t let myself believe in something so fantastic. Frantically, I tried to remember if I had ever seen her reflection in a mirror. It wasn’t something I could properly recall. My thoughts went to her jewellery and, for the first time, I noticed she was one of the few Goths I knew who didn’t wear silver or crucifixes. Her BCR and ear studs were gold. She favoured Celtic designs and obscure emblems rather than the simpler and more popular symbolism of Christianity. Every argument my doubts raised seemed to be quashed before it could make a point. I racked my brains to find some detail that would prove she was wrong.

  ‘You can’t be a vampire,’ I exploded with sudden excitement. I remembered the Blade trilogy we had watched. We had ordered pizza from the local Dominos and Mel had eaten all the free garlic bread before I could take a slice. ‘You can’t be a vampire because you eat garlic.’

  She regarded me in silence as she stabbed her cigarette onto the coffee table. For all my doubts about the truth of her claim, I couldn’t deny that a change had come over Mel since she made her confession. She remained naked, but she held herself with a confident composure that I had never noticed in my friend before. She was no longer the up-for-anything, always-ready-for-a-drink-and-a-laugh, slightly-dipsy-pal-I-mated-around-with. The presence of her long teeth added some degree of truth to her story, as did the hypnotic shape of her eyes and the lilting timbre of her voice.

  Although I wasn’t yet ready to believe Mel was a vampire, I was starting to be swayed.

  ‘I do eat garlic,’ Mel agreed. ‘But a lot of vampires eat garlic. Of all the fatuous myths and rumours that have built up around vampirism over the centuries, that one has to be the dumbest.’ She considered me through long, fluttering lashes and tested a superior smile. ‘Do I need to do something to convince you that I’m a vampire? Would you be able to accept this more easily if I gave you some cold, hard proof?’

  I glanced at her breasts again and found myself wondering how it would feel to suckle against them. I already knew what it was like to savour the sweet taste from between her legs and the memory of that experience made my stomach fold with fresh arousal. My sex grew warmer and the urge to kiss her made me tremble.

  We’ve just had sex together, I thought desperately. Wasn’t that enough of a shock for a person to accept in one day? Did I also have to deal with the disturbing idea that she was either a vampire, or someone deranged enough to believe she was a vampire?

  Forcing myself to respond to her question, I shrugged. ‘It’s a large concept to try and grasp,’ I said honestly. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, shaping my answer so the words came out without any chance of being misinterpreted, I said, ‘You’re trying to get me to accept a new facet to reality that I’ve never seriously considered before.’ I sat back on the settee, surprised I had managed to express myself so eloquently while I was halfway through my second mug of vodka. Slumping back into my less articulate self I added, ‘I guess some sort of proof would help.’

  Mel was on me in an instant.

  If I’d wanted proof it came with her speed. If I’d wanted further proof it came with her strength. In one instant she had been sitting by my side. In the next she had me squashed into the lumpy cushions of the settee. Her bare body was pressed over mine and her lips hovered perilously close to my throat. Her breasts pushed against my chest. The sensation had been erotic before. Now it was made more exciting because Mel was dominating me. We had made love as equals – each delighting in the discovery of the other’s body. But now I was subordinate to her and the thrill was something I had never expected. The idea that she could do as she wished with me, and that I would be her helpless victim, was a concept that left me quivering with excitement.

  I made no protest as she forced herself on top of me.

  She had one leg against my cleft and her thigh crushed my sex lips. We were so tightly intertwined I could feel her rubbing the wet split of her sex against my knee. She rolled her hips slowly to and fro, as though she was riding me. The sensation was delicious – it felt as if her pussy was kissi
ng my flesh. The slippery friction was enough to have me melting eagerly beneath her.

  ‘Vampires don’t walk in sunlight,’ she whispered. ‘Which is why you’ve never seen me outside before nightfall.’

  The rush of arousal was so strong I couldn’t say anything in response. I still wasn’t convinced she was a vampire. But I was furiously excited and in no mood to argue. Regardless of what she thought she was, Mel was the immediate cause of my sexual arousal and my best prospect for satisfaction. I relaxed beneath her as she continued to rub her thigh against my pussy. Waves of trembling pleasure built in my loins and I knew she could easily take me to another plateau of ecstasy. If that meant submitting to her dominance and enduring a little more of the silliness that fuelled her vampire fantasies, it was a price I was willing to pay.

  ‘Vampires can’t stand the touch of a crucifix,’ she said. ‘And vampires are never reflected in mirrors. You’ve never seen me holding a cross have you, sweetie? You’ve never seen my reflection in a mirror?’

  She hissed each word into my ear.

  The warmth of her breath was as exciting as the weight of the leg at my sex. I closed my eyes and felt her slide forcefully against me. Nervous perspiration mingled with the fresh excitement and made my body slippery against hers. Where our legs and pussies touched the liquid heat was oily. I shivered underneath her, already teetering on the brink of another orgasm. As much as I wanted to answer her questions, the only sound I could manage was a soft, encouraging groan.

  ‘Vampires don’t like silver,’ she breathed. ‘But you can only kill us by driving a wooden stake through our hearts. And, most important of all, we drink blood.’

  I almost climaxed.

  She placed one hand over my breast. Her sweated palm slid warmly over the stiff nipple. The strange blend of panic and arousal kept me helpless. Even when Mel gripped tight and squeezed her fingers into the flesh I didn’t try to escape. The moan I released had nothing to do with begging her to stop. She had excited me and I was desperate to experience more. I didn’t care if she believed herself to be a vampire. The important thing was that she was sexually domineering and that was something I had never encountered before. Now, enjoying my first taste of the pleasures of being submissive, I believed I had found a new vocation in life.

  Her strong hands grabbed me without mercy. She slipped her fingers from my breasts, clutching my sex and holding me firmly. Her strength was a compelling aphrodisiac and I wanted to whimper my way through a climax as she grappled me to the point of orgasm. Without realising I was doing it, I melted in her arms. I didn’t know if she could read my body language but I felt certain I was giving out every signal to tell her that she was in control and I was now her willing slave.

  ‘Garlic isn’t such a big issue,’ Mel admitted. She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone as she added; ‘Stoker wrote his book after talking to some vampire with a downer on French food. The whole garlic thing started from that damned book and no one seems to have let it go since.’

  I could have cared less.

  I was desperate to climax and she was still spouting lunacy about being a vampire. I nodded silent encouragement and writhed against the fingers that held my pussy. My body felt so suddenly sensitive I was aware of her cool hands rubbing seamlessly against the crushed lips of my labia. The wet flesh burst through her fingers and caused shockwaves of delight to flurry through my sex.

  ‘But I can still prove I’m a vampire if you want,’ Mel grinned.

  I was in no position to argue and no mood to complain. I was her prisoner and thrilled to be her subordinate. If she needed the vampire fantasy to add an extra dynamic to the moment I wasn’t going to deny her such innocent fun.

  That thought quickly changed when Mel scratched her nails against my chest. I was scoured by lines that burnt angrily against my flesh. I cringed from the pain and sobbed with the pleasure that followed. She continued to rub one sweat-lathered thigh against my sex. Helpless to do anything else, I could only writhe against her and push myself closer to the point of satisfaction.

  Stripping in front of Mel had been arousing.

  Kissing her, touching her and then having sex, had been such a revelation of new experiences I knew they would remain vital in my memory for years to come. But they were shallow events compared to the excitement of this moment. I was held in her commanding embrace and I basked in the dizzying delights of pleasure and pain. Unable to contain the sound, I whimpered in gratitude.

  She forced me to turn over.

  I had never known Mel show such strength before. The only possible explanation for her power was that she genuinely was a vampire. Her ability to excite me – the fact she could drag me to the point of climax with a cruel caress – suggested something unworldly was happening in my apartment. Her show of speed and strength suggested I was dealing with a genuinely paranormal event. And, if there was ever any point when I began to believe she might really be a vampire: I think it was then.

  Mel pushed two fingers between my legs.

  They easily found their mark and plunged deep into my sex. I moaned, cresting the brink of another orgasm, and amazed my responses had come so quickly with Mel’s sadistic treatment. She ploughed her hand briskly back and forth, firing an urgent need inside and shocking me with the brutality of her raw, rough passion. A part of me wanted to stop her – tell her she was taking things too fast and too vigorously. But a greater part of me wanted her to be more punishing.

  The hand was snatched away.

  I stifled a sob.

  When Mel slapped her palm stiffly across my buttocks I was thrilled by the blow. Desperate with need, excitement and arousal, I turned to glance at her.

  She slapped my backside twice more. The pain was sudden but quickly replaced by a deep, simmering warmth. The excitement of being struck was intense and I knew, this time, my climax would be devastating. Eager for more, I raised my backside higher in readiness for her next slap.

  ‘You really like being my bitch, don’t you, sweetie?’

  Her almond eyes were wide.

  They glinted with dark red flecks I had never noticed before.

  Her mouth was open, displaying her teeth in a terrifying gape that said she was ready to bite. Her lithe body had been transformed into something varnished by perspiration. I could see the definition of every taut muscle, as well as the shadow of the pulsing blue veins at her throat and wrists.

  And, in that moment, I knew she was a vampire.

  Mel’s face loomed in front of mine.

  She stroked her tongue over my cheek and lapped away the tears of sweat. The intimacy of her dark kiss was as arousing as when her fingers had plunged into my pussy. Her nails continued to rake over my buttocks, sparking fire beneath the spanked skin and exciting levels of desire I had never thought possible. I swallowed, shook my head as I tried to refuse the pleasure, and then gave into it with the knowledge that Mel would satisfy every need she had awoken.

  ‘I could bite your throat and drain you dry,’ she growled. ‘Or we could drink from each other and I could make you into a vampire.’ She caught my earlobe between her teeth and nibbled.

  The pain was excruciating.

  I shivered on the verge of climax.

  ‘Which of those options would you prefer?’ Mel asked. ‘Which of those would best prove to you that I’m truly a vampire?’

  I was panting and in no mood to make a choice. All the light-hearted fun had been bleached from the day. The raunchy pleasure of getting drunk and naked with my best friend had been replaced by barbed-wire passion and the choice of death or immortality. I was desperate for the release of satisfaction and beyond caring how it was administered.

  ‘Which do you want, sweetie?’

  Her tongue stroked my throat. This time, instead of trying to tease me, I got the impression Mel was tasting the flesh. Her fingers continued to explore my back, buttocks, breasts and cleft. Her talon-like nails scratched blissful lines of agony across my skin. Her legs rubbed ag
ainst mine in the silkiest caresses I had ever endured. The split of her sex repeatedly kissed at my body wherever she rested her groin.

  ‘You could be my dark companion for all eternity,’ Mel murmured. ‘I could give you the sweet gift of immortality and prove what I’m saying. How would you like that, Tessa? Sweetie? Wouldn’t that be a blast?’

  I was in no position to make a decision.

  She had me scared and excited in equal measures. Part of me wanted to scream from the horror that she could genuinely be a vampire. And another part of me wanted to melt against her and allow her to do all those wicked things that would excite me beyond control.

  Mel continued to claw at my body; igniting scarlet lines; pushing her fingers into my sex; teasing me to the brink of climax. I was dizzied by the endless torrent of stimulation and close to coming from the delicious torment.

  ‘Which is it to be?’ she asked again. ‘Which do you really want?’

  I forced myself to turn and face her.

  The alien features did not make her look pretty: yet they somehow enhanced her beauty. The overlong teeth and the glossy, vivid eyes were not attractive – yet they remained strangely appealing.

  ‘It’s your choice, sweetie,’ Mel assured me.

  Her face had moved back to my throat. The pressure of her teeth rested against the throbbing pulse of a vein. I cringed from the idea of the pain she suggested but a part of me wanted all that she was offering.

  ‘Make a choice,’ Mel pressed. ‘You’re a good friend, and I wouldn’t want to drain you dry. But I’ll do it now if you tell me that’s what you prefer. If you become a vampire, you could help me win back Alan. If I simply drain you, I’ll have to find another best friend who stores cheap vodka. I know which I’d rather you chose. But which do you want, Tessa? Do I feed from you now? Or do we drink together?’

  I made my decision without worrying about the consequences. I’d been given the choice of being a meal or playing cupid. Even though my own love life had always been a shambles, I could never resist the chance to help bring two people together. I stared at her with as much dignity as I could muster and nodded to show I had made up my mind.