“You’ve no idea, love,” Sheila said, meeting Savannah’s eyes with a smile and running her hand through Savannah’s hair. “You’ve no idea.”
XIII
February 10, 2017…Chicago, Illinois
“That’s right, baby, right there,” Savannah cooed in her lover’s ear. She lowered her body on to his hard cock and allowed herself to enjoy his nails running along her spine. Her curly brunette hair was beneath a straw cowboy hat, the only stitch if clothing her perfect modelesque body had on. She wrapped her arms around him and rode.
Savannah could not quite recall, but believed the man she was currently riding called himself Vance. However, she knew better than to name prey and make it personal.
He reminded her of a character played by Ricky Gervais claimed to be a ladies man as he pulled wax from his ear with his pinky finger. Vince, or whatever his name was, truly believed he was a ladies man.
More than two months since she had met Nigel and Sheila and, so far, no sign of when Gerald might make his appearance. It had, however, taken less than 48 hours before they introduced her to The Goldmine Club.
The swingers club was in the basement of an old building beneath raised subway tracks in Chicago’s infamous Loop. The aptly named facility was a goldmine. It was perfect with promiscuous people in a place taboo enough that most never told their friends nor relatives outside the “lifestyle” where they were.
Since then, Savannah had been here every night feeding regularly on club newbies. Feeding on regulars would have sent too many red flags, but newbies and travellers were never a problem.
The room was all dark, but a single blue shaded bulb above the bed that, combined with an obscure wall paint shade, gave a slight purple haze to the room.
Lance, or whatever his name was, was here on business. No one would miss him from around these parts. The usual missing person investigation would follow his death and somehow would all go away quickly. He had found out about the swingers clubs in Chicago online and wandered in off the street. Savannah could not resist dragging him into the private room as she caught sight of old green eyes watching her from across the room.
Though uncertain, she figured the green-eyed dude had something to do with the clean ups. He always seemed to be nearby. At first she suspected he was one of the droid guardians sent to protect the humans. If he was, he had truly fucked up. Having seen him a few times with a woman on his arm, however, left Savannah with no guess as to what ole green eyes was.
The door burst open and a couple stumbled into the room in the half darkness
“Oh, sorry darling, we thought the room was free…oh, Savannah? How you doin’, love?” It was Nigel and Sheila, standing in nothing but towels. “Holy fuck, you two look good together. Mind if we watch?”
Savannah was of two minds on this. First, it had been awhile since she had been with Nigel and Sheila. Second, she was hungry and this guy was to feed her. With Nigel and Sheila watching that was not going to happen. She turned to her lover, “Up to you, Dan.”
“The name is Zeke,” he said with annoyance.
“I’d rather join in,” Sheila offered.
Zeke’s eyes glanced and gave the lawyer a quick once over. “I’m even better with that. You’d burn toast, baby.”
Sheila squinted at him in the darkness. “Thanks, I think.”
Savannah had to restrain herself from killing him on the spot. By these people’s standards, she may have been born yesterday, but she knew a player when she heard one.
Nigel winked at Savannah. “So Tom…”
“It’s Zeke.”
“Yeah, whatever.” His British accent allowed his attitude to flow. “You prefer blondes or brunettes?”
“Ummm….”
“I mean, really now, blondes are all strawberries and cream while brunettes are all blueberries and chocolate sauce.”
Sheila closed the door and moved to kneel on the bed. Her hands caressed Savannah’s back.
Zeke’s erection started to dwindle as confusion took his head. “Strawberries and blueberries?”
“Yeah, you know, under the hood.”
“The hood?”
“The clitoris. Come on, Dick, you must know that.”
“The clit…?”
“If one man describes cunnilingus and the other misses the boat, he might be a redneck.”
“I think you’re insulting me.”
“It took you this long, Harry?”
Sheila almost fell over laughing.
Savannah dismounted and actually, for the first time as a human being, grabbed her belly as laughter roared through her. She had laughed and giggled before, but never had it brought tears and convulsions. This was why she liked Nigel and Sheila. She realized they had seen her take the yahoo into the room and their bursting in was no accident. It was their attempt to protect her.
The irony in these two lesser beings trying to protect her, a predator to their race, shocked her as she sat back against the wall and watched the yahoo rise to face Nigel. A tinge of fear gripped her with thoughts of what he might do to Nigel and knowing she could not assist for fear of revealing her true nature.
“I should fuckin’ punch you in the mouth.”
“But you won’t,” Nigel retorted, not backing up a single step as the men stood close enough that, were they erect, the two would be crossing swords.
“Of course…um…why wouldn’t I?”
“Pretty face like yours? You’re a businessman.” Nigel’s thumbs came up to his own bare chest and pretended to pull on imaginary suspenders. “You’re probably seen as a pillar of the community where you come from.”
“I’m from Rockford…”
“Any chance that I get a lucky shot and blacken an eye on that pretty little face could ruin you.”
“Ummm…???”
“The fact that I would likely beat your ass from here to Manchester and leave all of you black and blue has likely not even fathomed to that thick sludge you call a brain as of yet anyway.”
“That’s another insult…”
“Yeah, mate, it was.”
“You’re Nigel!”
Nigel found himself speechless for a moment. “Yeah.”
“Nigel on the radio!”
The voice registered on Nigel that the redneck had gone from anger to adoration in just seconds. “Yes, sir, that is I.”
“It is an honor, sir!” A hand was stuck out.
Nigel, surprising himself, shook it. “Nice to meet you, John.”
“Zeke.”
“Well, Eugene, if you don’t mind, we have to have a meeting of the minds in here.”
“No, of course, I’ll be on my way. Thank you.” With a slight urging of Nigel pulling on his hand, Zeke stepped to the door, opened it and stepped out. Nigel quickly shut it behind him and sat on the bed.
“You’re such an asshole,” Sheila said, kneeling up behind him and kissing his neck, “but a lovely asshole that I’ll have to fuck later with my strap-on.”
Outside the door, redneck’s voice arose, “Fuck! Do you guys know who that was?”
Savannah fell to her side on the bed, still laughing lightly. “What the hell are you two doing?”
Sheila turned to her. “Bringing idiots like that in here, love…”
“Idiots like good ole’ Cletus, there,” Nigel offered.
“I don’t name my prey, Nigel,” Savannah joked and felt the shock rip through her that she actually said that out loud to him.
Sheila and Nigel both went into hysterical laughter. Savannah could not resist but joining in.
Shaking her head, Sheila finally broke through, “Savannah, darling, you’ll be the death of us.
Savannah’s laughter died.
XIV
February 14, 2017, Chicago, IL
Savannah listened to the thumping music as she picked her locker. Nigel and Sheila were here tonight, so she had to be very careful and not feed until she got her prey home later.
Just las
t week, Nigel and Sheila thought they were saving Savannah from an idiot that she had pulled into one of the private rooms. They, obviously, did not realize that they actually saved the idiot.
She loved these swingers clubs.
It was easy prey as most here were considered normal in their “real lives” and no one would expect them to be here at all.
She hung her black sweater in her locker and walked back out to the lounge area. Her red mini-skirt matched her stiletto pumps and bra that could be seen beneath a sheer white blouse.
The lounge was dark but full. Fridays were always full as the single guys were allowed in.
Her eyes began to search for whom she would feed on tonight. She caught sight of Nigel with a blonde’s head bobbing in his lap. The blonde was likely some groupie from his radio show. Sheila was beside them, on her knees and just about to go down on...
Savannah felt the blood drain from her face as she recognized him. “Gerald,” she whispered and began to walk over without really thinking. She circled the group, knowing Gerald had not yet seen her.
Sheila looked up from Gerald’s cock and said something that caused Gerald to look at Nigel and the two shook hands.
Stepping up behind, Savannah faked a slight southern lilt in her voice. “I’m sorry, but do I know you?”
Gerald’s eyes popped open as he saw her.
At first, Savannah thought it was recognition, but then realized that with the bruises she had when she left him…four weeks ago…he would never recognize her now. “Oh, I’m sorry, hun. I thought you were someone else. I’ll leave ya be.” She tapped his shoulder lightly and clipped away.
XV
November 1, 2017…Chicago, IL
“Hail to the queen of the masquerade ball,” Savannah said to the wind and raised the beer can to her lips. “I hate this job.”
The wind licked at her…all of her. Brunette curls stood out behind her like a dark flag. Coolness of the breeze also brought about goose bumps across her naked body from her shoulders all the way down her long legs and to her feet that were flat on the cement of the ledge. Then fireworks began popping in the sky, lighting her up in different colours.
The beer can was raised again in a mock toast to the dark skies. “Just prey, they said…they were supposed to be just prey.”
Forty-two floors below, cars on streets were like lines of ants moving through tunnels meant for rats and cheese. More reds, blues, and orange bursts gave strange coloured shadows as the cars moved on to their inevitable end of the journey. The colour blasts also competed with the Moon, hanging full and proud above. The Moon, however, had stamina that these human created explosions did not. The humans below were, as Savannah termed in her initial report, megalomaniac noisemakers and a potential virus if allowed to actually explore further into space.
Savannah stood tall, looking up at the Moon past the bursts. Beer can in left hand while right played between her legs stroking her bald pussy. The pussy had become a reason for tolerating this job, as it brought her such pleasure to the point of addiction…addiction at such a level that she was concerned of being released from the job.
The image of Gerald skipped through her mind.
“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” she near sobbed at one of the explosions. “I wasn’t supposed to like them.” Beer can raised; she guzzled and finally crushed the can. As though her task incomplete, she tossed it off the side of the building to its inevitable end on the pavement below.
Her brown eyes returned to the Moon, but her focus went to her fingers inside of her. Lightly stroking at first, pushing in one finger…two fingers…three…until her clitoris play lay waste to her mind’s pleasure centre. Fingers in and out, getting soaked as they danced until she began to howl through her orgasm.
The fingers were not a tongue…and she loved tongue…but even that was secondary to cock. That feeling of fullness she had when a hard cock was thrusting into her, completely filling her, was not one she had been able to replicate. Savannah had tried everything, from dildos to another woman with a strap-on, but none quite simulated the feeling of that warm hard good cock. Qualification was always necessary, she felt, as there were some really bad cocks out there. Savannah was quite proud that she had dispatched their owners after they had disappointed her…certain advantage of not succumbing to such things as guilt. Unfortunately, even the owners of the good cocks were now all dead…except one.
It had been a few months, however since she found the greatest cock...had ridden it even…and flashed out before she allowed herself to feed on its owner, Gerald. She would go back to him but not yet. Though there was some feeling of debt for his helping her, she felt more for this particular human than any other. This reason, alone, was why she could not see him again.
Earlier this evening, she had been sitting in her tiny apartment and watching actors, pretending to be aliens, on television squawking a father-son-ish conversation as they considered Halloween costumes on an old television show. It was little things like this that showed how little these humans understood what was going on around them. How the Earth was in its own little bubble of existence that had very little interest in what was going on in actual contact with the rest of the universe.
Her fingers hit another good note in the key of clitoris, dragging her back from the memory.
More flashes and explosions lighted up distant clouds, too far off to cover much yet. The cloud returned signal with a bolt of lightning of its own.
“Storm is coming,” she whispered.
Thunder laughed in agreement. An encore of further lightning suggested it was coming fast. Above, the first cloud wisps began to pass in front of the proud Moon.
Her mind returned to Gerald. “They were supposed to be just fucking prey.” Digging deeper between her legs, she howled again as the first drops of rain fell, cooling her even further. The intensity increased quickly, helping the rest of her body catch up with the already drenched right hand. “Just prey, that’s all.”
There were no further human explosions of light, as the rain became a downpour. Lightning and thunder took over the show with their own flash-clap dance across the sky.
An orgasm ripped through Savannah, her own storm. A lightning flash had Savannah screaming in near daylight.
The storm kept moving, allowing the Moon to be revealed once again after only ten minutes. Its work had been quick, merciless, and strong.
Savannah envied that it could move on and wished she could do the same.
“Miss? Would you please step away from the ledge?”
The voice was unexpected, male, deep and nervous. Savannah turned to face it. Knowing it was a man; she placed hands on her hips and kept her legs spread apart for a show. It was a look that Savannah was unaware that most men of a certain age would relate to Linda Carter playing the part of Wonder Woman.
The man was the concierge security desk clerk for the evening. With drop cloth of blue security uniform and frizzy brown curls for hair, he looked a bit like Officer Don from the show she had been watching earlier. He looked around nervously and held his flashlight on her. “Would you please come down from the ledge?” he asked with a wavering voice that was likely nerves but could have been lust on seeing her.
Using a female body had been a good choice. The sex addiction was hard enough learning the female side, but there was no way she could have handled a male libido.
“Please,” he said again.
“No,” Savannah answered calmly and took a step back further towards the edge. “Let’s party.”
Luckily, and Savannah had guessed this, the concierge had not recognized her as a resident living in the building. Then again, how could he have as she had simply killed the apartment’s resident after a less than stellar fuck and just assumed the place as her own.
“Please don’t…”
She stepped back again, and right off the side.
She allowed her fall to go half way before she began to glow and flashed out of
sight…
…to reappear sitting on the couch in her 14th-floor condo.
She went to the refrigerator and pulled a new beer can that she gulped, finished, squashed and tossed quickly causing the corner pile of empties to collapse and crash on the floor below.
“Dammit,” she said to the pile. At some point, she would have to clean that up. At her stature, however, she felt she should not be doing such menial tasks. Being this deep in recon left her no room to bring along slave workers.
Regardless, it was time to get dressed. The late opening of the swingers clubs left her plenty of time to get ready. Even for this, however, she was behind schedule.
Her eyes found the kitchenette counter littered with liquor bottles and more beer cans and caused a grimace. Another can was found in the refrigerator and tab was pulled. This one, however, she took with her.
The frat boy’s after-party living room and kitchenette led into the bedroom of a princess. The bed was done in a gold Egyptian cotton duvet. The dresser was organized between jewelry, makeup, and toiletries. The closet was equally as organized with hundreds of outfits.
With her ability to flash, it was not as though Savannah needed to buy any of it. One thing she did like about this human experience, especially the female part of it, was how she got to dress up and decorate. Being a warrior did not usually lend itself to sexuality, but it was a side of herself that she had discovered on this mission.
Flipping through a few hangers she quickly squeaked past professional and casual. This evening required slutty. Then again, with her feeding methods, about three-quarters of her wardrobe qualified as slutty.
Slut was a concept that her race could not quite grasp. Being born in laboratories left no requirement for procreation through mating. In fact, by human standards, all the Emmis did was masturbate while watching each other. The partner was not required to be even in the same room, simply in visual contact.
Again, something Savannah liked about this experience was the intimacy of sharing physical mating with another of the race. The fact that she usually was fucking with the intent of feeding and killing them, however, left her still not quite understanding the human emotions around the act.
Just Prey: Savannah - Book One Page 6