Moonlight Meetings - Three Erotic Supernatural Stories (The three first stories from Suzy's Adventures)

by Dorian Mayfair

  “Who are you,” she whispered.

  “I have told you,” he said.

  “What are you?”

  “By day, a warden. Tonight, your lover.”

  Damn right you are. Suzy grinned and leaned forward to taste his lips again, but he placed a palm on her chest and held her back, slid his finger under her T-shirt, pulled it off over her head and threw it over his shoulder. Then he pulled Suzy’s into his embrace again.

  She could sense ever part of her bared skin that touched his, and she shivered violently. “I never said you could do that,” she murmured.

  “Would you rather that I tore it apart?”

  Lost for words, Suzy kissed him again. Her nipples made invisible sparks where they rubbed against his dusky skin. The last shreds of concern were washed clean from her mind, and lust breached in to take its place, filling every fissure of her soul. She could not get close enough; each kiss, every touch of his tongue only made her hunger stronger, until she wanted to wrap her entire self around him.

  He shifted, and Suzy felt his hardness rub against her thigh under the water. She set the foot she had around his legs down, wriggled her way out of her underwear, swore when it got tangled in her feet, finally got free and immediately pulled him close again. She wanted him. She needed him, right here and now. She was on fire; her craving burned under her skin. So her life had taken a curveball twist down a murky lane full of mysteries and strange encounters? That was all right, if it led her to this.

  As if he knew what she wanted, the man moved his hands to under her and effortlessly lifted her up in front of him as if she was weightless. Suzy gasped as their lips parted and looked down at his face, then moaned and closed her eyes as his mouth closed on one of her nipples. Her need to have him inside her was driving her insane but she could not move anywhere, least of all down, so Suzy leaned back and breathed at the sky as waves of pleasure rose and fell. There was nothing but her, the man, and the giant silver eye of the full moon, looking down at their lovemaking.

  He moved his mouth to her other breast, teasing her nipple with his cool tongue before drawing it in between his lips, and Suzy shivered and shook in his hands. She was dimly aware of him rising to stand in the water, still holding Suzy aloft, but she was never afraid that he would fall over. It was more likely that an oak tree would topple. With a final, appraising flick of his tongue, he lowered Suzy until they were face to face. Suzy felt the tip of him brush against her. Her breathing was hard and uneven.

  His eyes searched hers, and through the red fog of lust Suzy realized his look held a question. She swallowed and nodded urgently. He smiled, lowered her in a slow, ever-lasting motion, and filled her.

  Suzy’s eyes shot open at the sensation. She arched her back, moaning with unrestrained desire, and fought the urge to growl and bite through his shoulder. A moment later he lifted her up and lowered her again, lifted and lowered her, over and over, slowly, patiently. Suzy saw colours flicker in her mind every time she sank down to feel him grow in her. He was on the right side of too large, but only just. Her mouth found his again, and he nibbled and sucked at her lips while he moved her.

  After what to Suzy felt like hours, he moved her faster, sliding Suzy up and down while kissing her between her gasps. She had barely started to worry about her rough breathing and wildly beating heart when her body flew past a brink she did not know was there. A climax built in seconds to overshadow everything, rising like a storm cloud on her horizon before she plunged right into it. She cried out as her body bucked and shuddered fiercely in his firm hands. Wave after wave passed through her, clouding her vision and shattering all thoughts until she hung limp against him. When he slid out of her with a gentle shift, she wanted to protest, but all that she managed was a weak, incoherent whisper.

  Finally, she stopped shivering, and he took Suzy’s head in his hand and looked at her. She would have been annoyed that he looked so composed, if he had not had that small, wide and hopelessly sexy smile on his lips.

  “Pleased?” he asked.

  Raising her eyes to glare at him was an effort. “You’re joking, right?” Suzy asked. “That was amazing. You’re amazing. You’re – ” She drifted off. Thin wisps of memories came back to her. Where she was, and with whom. I can’t believe I just did that. I can’t believe how good that felt.

  “Not human?” the man filled in, his voice soft. “I am. Principally. In every way that matters.”

  “I’m still not sure I believe all this.”

  “You will. In time. You are an extraordinary woman without the mark, Suzy. The symbol makes you a beacon. Many will be curious. Some more than that.”

  She managed to get her breathing back under control. “Like you?”

  “Like me.” He leaned closer. His eyes filled her vision. His breath was spring sun. To her disbelief, Suzy felt herself stir. No way. She could hardly breathe, let alone move. Her whole body would ache soon. Hanging around his neck was an Olympic feat. If he let go of her, she would fall into the water like so much dead weight. Then his lips found hers again, and the stir became a rising tornado, sweeping up inside her at alarming speed. Is he trying to kill me after all? But desire marched in, cleared its throat, showed anxiety to the door and sent it packing with a rough kick, and Suzy’s half-hearted protests became groans of pleasure.

  Without warning, he walked out of the pool in a few long strides. Suzy yelped and clung to him, hard. Where was he going? He could not go yet; she wanted more.

  He stopped just outside the ring of stones around the pool and lay down in the tall, wet, soft grass, pulling Suzy down with him. She knew she should have been too exhausted to move, but he seemed to rouse a new strength in her limbs so she straddled him, ran her hands over his wide chest and rubbed her cheeks over his skin. She whisked her tongue over his dark nipples and was rewarded a deep, pleasured grunt while he stroked her legs.

  Suzy felt like laughing; she was right back where she had been only minutes before, mad with longing to have him again. How much could her body take? Her heart had taken up its heated dash again, and her breathing came in coarse sighs. She moved further down his chest and felt his erection between her legs, a large, hard warmth resting against her most sensitive parts. She closed her eyes, smiled, moved a hand down and guided him inside her.

  Once more he filled her, and once again she drew a haggard breath as she began to move along his length. The muscles on his stomach hardened as he pushed to meet her. Suzy put her hands on his chest, pushed herself upright and faced the moonlit trees as she rose and sank over him. The water on his body glistened and glittered as she thrust against him, her fingers digging into his skin. His hands moved to her breasts and he slid her nipples between his long fingers, squeezing and stroking them gently in harmony with her thrusts. Suzy groaned and bit her lip. This time, she controlled the movements, and she was determined to make it last long.

  But her body was of another mind. Without wanting to, Suzy felt herself beginning to move faster, spraying him with pearls of water and sweat. The grass began to scrape her knees, so she shifted onto her heels and continued to rise and fall, faster and faster, willing every lunge to being him deeper inside her. He grasped her hips and steadied her as her thrusts grew more frantic, pulling her down onto him quicker every time Suzy rose. Distilled pleasure thundered in her veins. Breathing had become unimportant. Nothing mattered but the wonder beneath her. This is too much. My heart will burst. My lungs will collapse.

  Her eyes flickered open, and she knew she was in trouble: She was hallucinating.

  Suzy saw people around her, faint outlines in a curtain of mist, but she could make out men and women there, some standing up, some sitting or lying down. Some slid from shadow to shadow, others drifted with the mist. They all studied Suzy and her lover. They were soundless, yet Suzy saw some whispering to each other, some laughing, some apparently asleep. She saw hints of water flowing from tall vases, stringed instruments and swords. Everyone was naked. Everyone�
�s eyes were on Suzy.

  Am I dreaming again?

  Then ecstasy took over, and Suzy closed her eyes.

  This time she was ready for the climax, but she still staggered from its momentum as it cannoned into her mind and made her vision blacken for a moment. Suzy arched back with the final thrusts and cried out, letting her lungs echo her rapture, and damn any sleeping neighbour. She fell down on top of him, and only his hands saved her from falling off – but the ecstasy did not let go. A second avalanche of raw bliss claimed her and shook her like a ragdoll, and she could sense another looming right behind it.

  Uh-oh. Suzy swallowed and tried to speak, but she could not for a single word between the exploding sensations. Before she had passed through her second climax, a third rush built up and towered above her on the verge of crashing down.

  “I can’t – ” Suzy breathed.

  The unbearable weight of delirium bore down on her, stole her breath and flattened her, and Suzy’s world disappeared down into a black well.

  *

  Suzy surfaced from a blank dream of nothingness to a distant, hollow banging.

  Scowling, she wished the noise to stop. She had been immersed in a cloud of bliss in which she would have liked to stay longer. A lot longer. When she managed to force her eyes open, she blinked in a harsh light of a small sun under a yellow satin lampshade. Wincing, she looked around and saw the wooden walls of the cabin.

  What? That was impossible. Had she passed out? If so, how had she gotten back here? Had he carried her? If he had, how had he gotten her inside the house?

  Questions, questions. She sat up – and fell back with a thud on the couch. She lay still while she tried to coax the muscles in her legs to co-operate. Her whole body was a dull, wonderful ache coated in layers of sweat under the white bathrobe wrapped around her.

  Had she gone absolutely mad? She looked at her tattoo. It seemed unchanged. Not that she was sure; there were many details and entwined lines to it, and she did not have a clear picture of how they all looked. She would have to find the original and compare the two. Suzy shook her head. If this was another uncanny dream, it was as good as the first one.

  The strange banging resumed. With a grunt, Suzy turned her head. What was that noise? Except for the lamp in the opposite corner, the house was dark. She wanted it to stop so that she could go back to sleep.

  “Suzy?” someone called. “Are you there? Are you all right? This isn’t funny.” The voice came from far away, outside the walls.

  Catherine! And the others! “A minute,” Suzy shouted. With a heroic effort, Suzy pushed herself off the couch and staggered towards the bathroom. She was in trouble. She flung the door open, switched on the light and looked herself in the mirror. Staring back was a mangled, flushed, red-eyed woman with her hair twisted into small corkscrews. She did not even recognize herself. Great.

  She frowned. There was something else in the mirror. No, on the mirror, wedged in between the mirror and its metal frame. A postcard? A poker card? Suzy took the card, turned it over and found an old-fashioned painting of a pale naked man standing with his arms wide against a backdrop of trees. A tarot card.

  The image was crudely drawn and the colours were muted, not unlike wall paintings Suzy had seen in churches. Behind the man stood an ornate wooden chair, its tall back reaching to the man’s head. In one hand he held a sword pointed at the grass, and in his other hand rested a golden crown with, of all things, a pair of antlers. Its edges looked sharp like knives. A charcoal-back bear and a pony-sized wolf flanked him in a peculiar, protective way, but there was no question about who dominated the picture: The majestic man was a looming, serene force. And he was more than a little familiar.

  At the bottom off the other side, Suzy spotted handwriting. ‘My blessings for you, Suzy. And do not fret. They will revert in time.’

  Suzy stared at the card. Blessings? Revert? Who? From what, and to what? What is going on?

  A new knock shook Suzy out of her open-mouthed trance. “Suzy!”

  “Coming!” She hid the card on a shelf and ran through the house, unlocked the door and swung it open.

  Catherine, Emma, Fiona and Charlize tumbled inside in a pierced, leather-clad four-woman horde, dropping bags and backpacks in the process. The women must have been leaning on the door. After bouts of laughter and cursing, they turned to look at Suzy.

  “About time,” Catherine said. “We almost called – oh my God! What happened?”

  “I slept,” Suzy suggested. “Kind of badly.”

  Eight eyes stared at Suzy in blatant disbelief. “Slept?” Catherine said. “While you tumbled-dried yourself? You’re a mess. And stop yawning! This party’s just getting started.”

  Party? Suzy wanted to groan. She could barely stay awake. She hoped her pained grimace looks like an evil grin.

  Catherine leaned closer. “Hey, I like the lenses. They look almost real.”

  Suzy blinked. “Um. Thanks.”

  While Catherine and the others busied themselves with unpacking the fridge and fighting over what music to play, Suzy slunk back to the bathroom. What did Catherine mean ‘lenses’? Suzy went to the mirror, peered at her reflection and found that her eyes, usually light brown, were a deep, radiant green.

  No way.

  Suzy buried her face in her hands and took a deep breath. She could still imagine the man, what his skin felt like, how he felt moving inside her. She knew she would for a long time.

  Catherine peeked in through the door. “There you are. Want some cheese? We’re starving. Emma’s already finished the grapes. We plan to stuff her full before she gets into her head to go looking for guys. As if there were any around. What are you laughing about?”

  “Nothing,” Suzy said, her shoulders still shaking. “Cheese sounds good.” She followed Catherine and joined them at the veranda, where she talked and laughed the night away, her eyes constantly drifting to the dark woods and the silver disc in the sky.

  *

  Midnight in Brooklyn

  Since coming back to central New York two hours earlier, Suzy had made five new friends: Three cups of sugar with hot coffee, a pizza the size of a small moon, and the mother of all dilemmas.

  She was hiding in a small and brightly lit twenty four-seven cafe on the corner of East 25th and Bedford Avenue. Outside, heavy rain did its best to turn Brooklyn into a delta, if deltas were crawling with taxis and soaked pedestrians instead of crocs and piranhas. Just past ten in the evening and Friday madness was in full swing, bars and clubs brimming with people eager to burn their last days of freedom before the summer vacations were over. The flight back to New York’s Newark Airport had taken about thirty seconds, or however long Suzy had been awake before the Sandman stepped in and knocked her out cold. The airport had been a blur of hugs and see-you-soon-agains as Suzy’s friends scattered to taxis and trains. Suzy had opted for the bus; it was cheaper, and it would dump her right on her doorstep in central Brooklyn and its espresso-smelling jungle of cafes. Another long nap later, she’d stumbled off the bus, dropped off her bag at home, and then wandered into the nearest cafe. She had needed a proper coffee, so she had ploughed through the rain, ignoring people staring at her black leather coat, her knee-high boots and her messy dark hair, by then as tangled as her thoughts.

  And here she sat, restless and moody while her thoughts became more and more snarled. Part of her longed to get out of the cafe’s thick atmosphere of perfume, espresso and wet partygoers, but she stayed indoors. There was coffee within reaching distance, and the place was safe. Only lunatics stayed outside in this weather. She saw through the window a few shadows ambling down the streets, and given the probable nature of a New Yorker staying outside in this Biblical downpour, she would prefer mixing with real piranhas. In fact, she would choose any djunglish horror over another strange encounter. Piranhas were more reliable; you knew where you had them from square one. After the past weeks, she needed a healthy dose of the ordinary. Cheap drinks, dark clubs, p
ale men with make-up and smelling of Black No. 1. She wanted the familiar kind of strange.

  Except, of course, that the recent mind-bending and possibly supernatural events, both of them etched deep into her sleep-depraved mind, had included equally mind-bending and most-likely-supernatural sex. And that counted for something. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the afterglow.

  For a while, she had wondered if she had been cursed for her chronic lack of ashamedness. Suzy had never felt guilty for her desires – she couldn’t and wouldn’t apologize for how she was wired. And, besides, life was too short for taking the high road. Armed with that mindset, she had spent years brushing through the New York club Goth scene, every now and then waking up in the company of some particularly intriguing or just hands-down irresistible man. On a few occasions, she had woken up in the company of more than one person. A few times, she had found herself blinking at the daylight while squeezed in naked between both men and women. She leaned towards men, but she gladly swung any way imaginable when she was in the mood. Pigeonholing preferences and appetites were for morons, especially when there were so many black-clad goddesses out there who blipped on Suzy’s radar. But even though she thought herself uninhibited, free and ready for anything, her dates of late had been extraordinary in every way.

  First, that madness in New Orleans: Sex as she had never known it with an invisible lover. All evidence pointed to the ghost of a dead – Ick! Make that ‘disappeared’ – man who had run a cult in the mansion where she had stayed. She would had written the night off as an unusually good dream, were it not for that her Emily Strange-doll had vanished from her room and re-appeared inside a painting. She had stared for minutes at the portrait of the former cult leader, depicted half-hiding the doll behind his back while grinning like a sinister playboy.