They sure loved their bling here, thought Jennifer.
“Sweet car! When did you get this?” Jennifer marveled at the slick, metallic blue car.
Julie shrugged but Jennifer saw how pleased she was with her new toy. “Got it last week. It’s a 2012 Grand Sport.”
“Here you go.” Julie tossed a baseball cap to Jennifer. “It’s a must when riding with the top down.”
Jennifer had no sooner closed the door when the car zoomed down the street.
“Zero to sixty in 3.95 seconds, just as promised.” Julie smiled.
Jennifer began to relax and enjoy the ride. She felt the dewy air on her face. As they got closer to the Bar Harbour area, she smelled the salty scent of the ocean.
When they stepped inside the Red Market Salon, it was not at all what Jennifer had expected. The décor was understated, ultra-modern and very chic. The walls were light colored, the ceilings had recessed lighting throughout and the work stations had large oval shaped mirrors, small work tables and red chairs.
A well groomed woman welcomed them. She obviously knew Julie and greeted her warmly. “Ms. Anderson, a pleasure as always. What are we doing for you and your friend today?”
“Hmm, let’s see.” Julie looked Jennifer over and told the woman what she wanted done. “Definitely, a French mani & pedi.”
“Of course.” The woman checked off French manicure and pedicure on a piece of paper attached to a clip-board.
Jennifer looked over at Julie’s nails. They were always so perfect. Looking at her nails, some were shorter than others and although, they were always very white, they looked pretty bad in comparison. She clasped her hands behind her back.
“Foil highlights for our hair. I’ll leave the rest to you to decide. Just make us look as stunning as humanly possible.”
“Very well ladies. Step this way.”
As they walked toward one of the closed doors, Jennifer was curious about the full body waxing Julie had ordered. “What’s full body waxing?”
“They’ll wax away all the hair on your body. You’ll be sleek and smooth all over. It’s awesome!”
“What about . . . you know . . . down there?”
Julie laughed. “I do that one at home.”
“Seriously? You do that? Why?”
“Why do you think? It’s sexy as hell and guys love it. Someone may get lucky tonight, you never know.”
Jennifer blushed at the thought. She was all for the make-over but waxing there? It was just a dance. She had no intention of having sex with anyone.
Oh, really, Jennifer? What about Dorian Taylor? The thought popped into her head unbidden and she felt embarrassed as the wet dream came back to her. Oh, for Christ sakes it was just a dream. You’d never have sex with someone you just met.
That self-righteous voice was back. Now she had a face and body to go with her vocal assaults. An old-maid librarian with her hair pulled back tight, large eye glasses and a buttoned up to the chin oxford shirt. Her eyebrows turned down in disapproval and her lips formed a grim prudish line. The women held a ruler in her hand, which she tapped against her palm in a threatening way.
“I’m sorry, Julie, but I’m not waxing down there. It must hurt like hell and it’s just, well, weird.”
“No prob.”
Jennifer sighed with relief. She was glad Julie hadn’t made an issue out of it. She felt a twinge of confidence in herself.
They were at the Red Market Salon for a little over four hours before Jennifer was finally allowed to step in front of a simple, elegant, full length mirror and view the results. Her eyes widened in awe.
Her skin shone with a healthy vibrancy, her nails were perfect and the make-up they’d applied made her look like she’d just stepped off the cover of Cosmopolitan. They really hadn’t done much with her hair. In fact, the hair stylist had commented on how beautiful it was and after putting in the highlights, he’d only given it a light angled trim which softened the edges.
“You look amazing!” Julie was behind her, looking at the both of them in the mirror.
“Thanks. So do you. But then again, you always look great.”
Julie was quiet for a moment. Her voice was low and serious when she spoke. “So do you, Jen. Even without all this stuff. You underestimate how beautiful you really are. You may not see it, but others do. And you’ve got an inner warmth and charm about you that shines through. You just lack one thing, confidence.”
“I know. I’m working on it,” Jennifer said her eyes still fixated on her image in the mirror.
“You know we’re just teasing you when we say things about you being naïve and stuff, right? I hope we don’t hurt your feelings. Sometimes I can be . . .”
“A douche,” Jennifer said with a smile.
“Yeah well, you’re a double douche,” Julie chided affectionately.
The two friends walked to the various shops and chose dresses and matching accessories for the evening ahead. Julie helped Jen choose the right dress, jewelry and shoes to make up the perfect outfit. Of course, everything there was super expensive, but Jennifer insisted on buying her own dress. The price of the dress was so outrageous, her credit card screamed in pain.
When they walked to the car, the sky was black and threatening, promising the usual late afternoon thunderstorms. Quickly, they hopped in the car, put the top up and took off with their hair, make-up and shopping bags intact.
“Pick you up at 7:30, girl. Hurry inside before it starts pouring.” Jennifer watched as Julie’s Corvette sped around the corner as if on rails and hurried into the house just as the first fat drops of rain came. Within minutes, those drops became a torrential down pour.
Tonight, she would dress like a princess in her new snug, little black dress with the crisscross back and the shelf bra. Her newly highlighted hair fell softly around her face and the perfectly applied make-up held up quite well. The black and white, snake skin sling-back sandals, which Julie called “Fuck me shoes,” completed the outfit.
She’d totally ignore “Ms. Prudinsky.” That was the name she’d given to the prudish woman who’d taken up residence in her head and made those nasty self-righteous comments. She wanted to appear confident tonight, but she was nervous. A glass of wine or two might do the trick.
Chapter 5
“Everything ready for tonight, Ian?” Dorian strode into the large room, his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes swept the room at the speed of light. A wonderful gift he’d gained when he’d become a vampire. Asking Ian was merely a formality. He knew the man took painstaking efforts to ensure absolute perfection.
“Yes Mr. Taylor. You wouldn’t believe how many unique masks I found this month. Cost a pretty penny, I’ll tell you that, but I think they were worth it.”
Dorian strode over to the wall, which held many masks, some plain, some elaborate and still others had a hand-held wand attached to them. Ah, but there were the ones that must’ve been hard to come by, the ones he loved best. Victorian era masks in mint condition. Lightly, he ran his fingers over them, relishing the feel of the stitching, the embroidery and the soft silkiness of them.
“Well done, Ian.”
“Thank you, sir. I hope the guests will be pleased.”
“How many mortals are we expecting?”
“Thirty.”
“Has everyone fed already?” It was now 7:30 pm and the vampires needed to be warm-blooded for the evening ahead. They might be real vampires, but Dorian was well aware that no-one really believed that.
“Yes.”
The vampires were given warmed blood in wine glasses. No hunting was allowed before the dance. They’d get their taste of blood this evening from those who were already members and accompanied them to the private rooms where the dungeons lie.
“The profiles and pictures of those seeking membership have been uploaded to your personal computer. The monitoring cameras in this room and the dungeons have also been activated.”
Dorian nodded curtly. “Have a g
ood evening Ian.” He said softly, knowing although Ian had willingly signed the non-disclosure, he feared his employer’s. As well he should. Not that he would ever harm him. He’d grown rather fond of the man. He was incredibly brilliant and an asset to him.
Unlike Dorian, Malachi Van Ness could and would kill anyone who threatened his existence and he’d do so without mercy.
Over the past century, Dorian had learned much about Malachi. He was kind and patient with his own kind when it suited him. As far as mortals went, he had no use or compassion for any of them.
“The cruelty of humans on the whole is far more horrifying than that of a vampire. After all, they kill en masse. We do not,” Malachi explained on numerous occasions when Dorian’s guilt over what he’d done threatened to consume him.
After the fateful night upon which Dorian had been born to darkness, he began to understand the sinister smile he’d glimpsed when he’d asked him if he were a homosexual and he’d replied that he liked women.
Dorian had never made love to a woman, but Malachi had. That is, if one could call what he did with them making love. He had some rather odd methods of bedding them and he schooled Dorian in those ways.
On a small island off the coast of Miami, Florida which had only one narrow road to get in and out was an estate Malachi had named “The Dark Island.” It was there he housed what looked like a medieval torture chamber. After he’d hypnotized a woman with his looks and charm, he’d bring them there and have every kind of sex imaginable with them. Some were compliant and actually enjoyed what he did to them, while others woke up from their trance and screamed to be released. In this day and age more were likely to submit to his depravity. Malachi loved this century most of all because of it.
“Watch me Dorian and learn. Then, you shall have your pick of these human whores to do with as you wish.”
And there, in the dark room with only the light of candles casting an eerie light about the place were chains fastened to a wall attached to leather cuffs. There was a chain fastened to the floor as well with an ankle cuff connected to it. Whips, long and short hung from spikes, and of course there was a bed in the center. A lovely four poster bed complete with soft, white sheer bed curtains, above which more candles were lit.
This was where he’d lure the women in with the promise of romantic love making on the beautiful bed. He’d spread fragrant, blood red petals of roses upon it. Women sighed when they saw it. They were so fixated on it and on him they ignored the more malevolent objects in the chamber.
Dorian was instructed to watch Malachi seduce these women. Most we’re common whores from the streets, but not all. Some were total innocents and those were the ones Malachi defiled in the worst ways imaginable.
Malachi would swagger into the room with his arm around the woman he’d chosen for that night. They always giggled and made seductive gestures toward him. Dorian was embarrassed and attempted to look away, but Malachi wouldn’t allow it.
“Do not look away Dorian. She doesn’t care who is watching.” And with that, he’d crook his index finger under her chin and tilt her head up so she had to look into his eyes. They were instantly hypnotized by them. “You don’t mind if my friend watches us, do you love?” His voice was as soft as silk.
“No,” the girls would murmur breathlessly.
Their desire to have Malachi seemed to wipe out all reason. Dorian was shocked at the brazen behavior of most of them. Was there no one who could refuse him?
The ones he cuffed to the bed and mounted writhed beneath him. They moaned and were left wanting more. And that’s when he had them, when he knew they’d submit to anything he wanted to do to them.
Dorian always knew when that moment had come by the diabolical look in Malachi’s eyes.
They didn’t complain when he chained them to the wall, instead they were enraptured. He grabbed them by the hips and wrapped their legs around his buttocks. They couldn’t get enough of him. Dorian was forced to watch and listen to them scream when they climaxed; watch as Malachi threw his head back and sank his teeth in and witness their eyes grow dull as he rode them into lifeless oblivion.
One night, after he’d witnessed many of these sessions, Malachi left one of them chained to the wall. The girl was young, beautiful and seemingly insatiable.
“It’s your turn Dorian,” Malachi said. “This shall be your first taste of both the flesh and the blood. It’s a heady mix. I assure you. Go. She awaits your touch.”
“I’ve not been with a woman before Malachi. Allow me my privacy.”
Malachi paused as if pondering the request. His brow furrowed in disapproval. Yet, he said nothing.
“It’s not a request Malachi. Leave us. Now,” Dorian commanded. The time had come to start standing his ground with his maker.
“Very well. I shall take my leave. Come to me when it’s finished.”
After Malachi left the room, Dorian was alone with the lovely young girl.
He was becoming weary of Malachi’s ability to read his thoughts. Even if he’d been given his privacy physically, he had none mentally. He must figure out how to shield his thoughts from him.
He looked at the girl. Her eyes were wide with fear. She was no longer under Malachi’s enchanted spell and noticed the chains and the tight leather cuffs fastening her wrists. Dorian went to her and silently released her.
He took her in his arms and carried her to the bed and gently laid her down. She gazed at him in adoration. Surely she thought he was her savior, her hero. He was neither of those things. He was the devil himself, a creature whose nature she couldn’t begin to comprehend. He was hungry for her body and her blood.
She watched him raise her arms above her head. There, he tethered her wrists to the bed posts. And she gave herself over to him completely. He saw it in her manner, her eyes and the moan that escaped her slightly parted lips. He felt a surge of power unlike any he’d ever experienced. She was his to do with what-ever he chose.
Roughly, he spread her legs apart. His erection was huge and throbbing as it touched the soft fleece covering her sex. He bent her knees so she was wide open to him. Supporting himself on his arms he entered her. He heard her gasp with pleasure. He moved slowly in and out of her warm, wet heat. She threw her head back and moaned loudly. The sound of it mingled with the the unbearable need for her blood was intoxicating.
He lost himself in her flesh, moving faster and harder as her hips gyrated under his loins. Just as she reached orgasm, he climaxed as well and swiftly moved his lips to her throat where the vein in her neck pulsed up and down. He opened his mouth and bit down, his fangs going deep into the vein. The gash in her throat poured the warm streaming blood into his mouth.
The drink brought him even more pleasure than her flesh! He never wanted the moment to end.
He had a fleeting thought of his sister who was a lady through and through. What would she think of her brother now?
Dorian abruptly stopped feeding on her. He would not, could not take her life. He left her barely conscious but very much alive.
Malachi came into the room then. “Why haven’t you finished the deed, Dorian? She cannot survive! She’s seen us both.”
“I can’t take her life, Malachi. I won’t! Let her go. I’ve had my fill and so have you.”
“No. If you can’t kill her, then I will.”
“We don’t need to, Malachi. We can blindfold her and take her from this place. No-one need know! You can erase her wounds with a simple wave of your hand.”
“I don’t wish to let her go. If you will not make use of her, I shall not waste this opportunity. Now leave the room and let me finish what you will not.” Malachi’s eyes blazed both in anger at Dorian and lust for the girl’s blood. He killed her.
Dorian understood now why Malachi had chosen the name “The Dark Island,” to describe this place.
This beautiful home set high upon a hill where the ocean lapped at the shores and there was nothing but forest and sand and water to be se
en was where he satisfied his darkest desires.
Malachi discreetly removed the girl from the dungeon. Dorian knew he’d discard her body in the Everglades, just as he had all the others.
What about the wolves? Dorian thought. Couldn’t he live off the blood of animals? After all he was made strong by their blood as well. He was forced to look deep within himself, toward a truth he’d just as soon not admit. The blood of animals didn’t quell his hunger like the girl’s had.
Malachi came back and sat across from Dorian, no longer angry. He spoke calmly. “You can live off the blood of animals for a while. However, it is in your nature to drink the blood of humans. No matter how hard you try to fight it, in the end the hunger will overcome you and you’ll need to drink the blood of a mortal.”
“How often?” Dorian whispered. He was still reeling from the pain and pleasure, the peace and torment of what he’d just done. While he hadn’t administered the killing bite, he felt responsible for the girl’s death. After all, she was meant to be his first kill, that’s why she was there.
Malachi shrugged. “It depends.”
“On what?”
“On the age and willpower of the vampire. Wipe your conscious clean my friend. What’s done is done and can’t be undone.
Dorian never really got over that young girl’s death. Now, 97 years later he drank only from humans when the temptation and hunger became unbearable. He never killed them; instead he took small drinks from many. These days there was no need to kill even an animal.
There were blood banks aplenty and they were easy pickings for the vampires. That was the source he and the others at e.Vampire.com used most. The blood was warmed and poured into wine glasses.
As far as sex went, he’d found many women willing to explore the dark side of desire with him. No one could resist him. In this, he’d become just as powerful as Malachi himself.
As the times changed, men and women became more open about their sexuality. It was in the early twenty-first century that he began to form an idea.
He remembered that night as if it had just passed. He and Malachi were still in London at the time, having witnessed everything from the horrific sinking of the Titanic to the turbulent 1960’s, the money driven 1980’s and onward to the passing of a new millennium.
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