Vampire Dreams

The music was loud; the place packed, yet Melissa was not having a good time. She had come to this club with her husband but less than an hour after they arrived he met a few work buddies and now they were off chatting at the bar leaving her to fend off countless jerks. This was supposed to be their night, a night of drinks, dancing and enjoyment yet so far all she managed to get was a headache.

Reaching into her pursue Melissa pulled out a tissue yet the same action caused her lipstick to flip out and roll across the floor. Her eyes followed it for a moment before her body sprang into action yet from that first motion of her body it was already too late. The lipstick rolled several feet and bumped lightly into a highly polished leather cowboy boot. Instantly a hand reached down and picked it up causing Melissa's eyes to follow, and follow they did. As her eyes moved with the hand, they took in everything; the long lean form, the dark yet striking attire, and even the weird sort of dragonish onyx ring.

The man himself was tall, dark and yes even handsome. His smile was broad and friendly but his eyes were the killer for when they looked upon her Melissa felt as though he were reading her very soul. At first she shank from it as a fan might under the scrutiny of a movie star, yet the more she looked back the more comfortable she felt. She watched as he gestured with the lipstick tube asking a sort of silent 'yours?', and suddenly she was glad it was. She nodded her head, yet already he was moving towards her, and thus she stood for the encounter. Then there he was towering head and shoulders over her yet mere inches from her body.

"Vampire Red" he said with a single raised eye brow. "A bit provocative is it not?" he continued as a contagious smile spread across his lips.

Melissa stood for a moment in silence, as each word sunk in. His voice was deep, rich and clear with just a hint of some far away accent, and then she realized that somehow he must have seen the tiny label on the lipstick cap. His sight was sharp indeed to have captured that name from such a small tube without pausing in the least, and then suddenly she realized it was a question.

"My husband likes it" came her response, and then added "because it's dark." as a sort of explanation.

"And what of you, do you like it dark?" he continued still holding that small silver tube.

"Well... Yes I suppose so" Melissa admitted "It looks pretty sexy don't you think?"

Immediately the charming stranger asked "Then would you put it on for me?" as he handed back the tube in the process.

The question or perhaps the unwavering confidence behind it stunned Melissa, and for a moment she looked towards her husband. Finding no answers there she gazed back at this sexy stranger directly into those dark sparkling eyes. It was an innocent request she reasoned; as her gaze held his own, and so slowly she looked away, pulled the cap off and rolled the lipstick out.

She started in the center of the upper lip and made a smooth stroke out to the right corner. When that was complete she repeated the process to the left and finally finished with a long slow stroke across the entire bottom lip from corner to corner. Next Melissa rolled both lips inwards and rubbed them against each other before allowing them to again come back into view with a tiny smile. Her eyes never left his though and his never left her lips through the whole process. Then without another word he brought the baby finger from his right hand to the corner of Melissa's lips. It was like a tiny caress as it stroked delicately and sent a shiver through her body yet truly Melissa had no time to even react if she'd chose to do so. She watched as he drew away that finger with the tiny smudge of deep red. Watched as he look briefly at it then brought it to his own lips, and pressed it against the center. It was as though he were sampling her kisses, and that impression was only augmented when the tip of his tongue rolled out tasted that smudge from his own lips and his eyes flashed.

"Shall we waltz?" he asked as his gaze again captured hers.

Once again Melissa paused as she tuned her senses to the din about them then chuckling lightly and shaking her head she smiled and replied "This is not a waltz."

"Don't worry it will be" came the same confident response as his hand gathered hers within it and he began escorting her to the dance floor.

Although Melissa's body followed her mind began questioning things. Why was it necessary to tune in the din? For she suddenly realized she had heard nothing but this man since he'd spoke those first words. How could he know what song might come up and perhaps what were the odds of a waltz being played in this rock club? Still though she followed for as curious as those questions might be this man was infinitely more intriguing.

Now within the center of the dance floor the tall stranger stood with Melissa at his side. He smiled once to her looked at the band then bowed his head. As though on cue the leader stopped the music had a quick discussion with the other members and then began a haunting waltz. At first there was general confusion amongst the clientele yet as this man's arm sweep behind Melissa and they began to dance so too did others. As the dance continued Melissa found herself imagining different sceneries and times. She danced with this man through Victorian times in some grand court, through the 18th century in a castle besieged, and even through the two world wars. There was comfort in his arms, always a deep sense of peace and always ending with his soft lips upon her neck.

They danced and danced moving as though guided by the wind itself. Flowing, smooth, soft; nary a jerk or misstep occurred, and as the song finally ended the images Melissa's mind had crafted slowly vanished and were replaced by reality. All that is except his lips upon her neck, for when this did not fade as the rest Melissa realized it was a fact. She felt the deep shudder which ignited her senses as this took hold yet still she broke away.

"No I cannot" Melissa exclaimed. "I'm married"

Instead of pressing the matter though this strange man smiled, nodded his head, and said "I understand. Perhaps in another life we were meant to be. You're welcome here of course, anytime" and with that he left turning suddenly and disappearing in the crowd. For a moment Melissa considered going after him, she wasn't sure why but already she missed him, and then her husband Jason was at her side.

"Hey sweetie who was that?" he asked.

"Umm" Melissa thought, and then realized she didn't even know his name. "I'm not sure" she finally answered then told her husband all that had occurred.

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With clothes as dark as the night, a lone figure moved through the quiet residential streets. His stride was long, smooth, and silent offering an impression that he glided rather than walked. Even the very lights, which guided his path, seemed to shun this figure. Time and again, they would rise only to fade before highlighting his features.

For a moment the figure paused; under the one streetlight, which had burnt out; then with a reassuring tap of his pocket he continued. Within half a block he suddenly turned and slipped into the deeper darkness of a hedged walkway, all but disappearing from sight. Moments later the shadow of what could only be this man made its way cautiously behind the home. There in the darkness beyond the chance for prying eyes he reached out with a gloved hand to test the door. Finding it locked the hand returned from whence it came, then the figure turned and slipped again into the cowl of darkness. It only took a few seconds though for him to re-appear; now upon the wooden porch, which graced the front of this home.

As the gloved hands again tested the home's accessibility, there were no furtive glances, nor second thoughts. Once again the portal was barred, only this time he did not turn. Instead the hands explored the sill above, the mat beneath and even the flowerpots nearby. When at last a key was found the figure again approached the door. One gloved hand reached out, grasped the door handle, and tugged upon it, while the other inserted and turned the key. The action was smooth, purposeful, and practiced, for silently the lock slipped open, yet the figure did not immediately enter. Instead he turned and replaced the key before finally slipping inside.

Now within the quiet solitude of the home he stood with his back to the door. He allowed himself a moment for his senses to become accustomed to their new surroundings. Slowly his eyes scanned from right to left, then centered on the long winding staircase, and followed it up. There was no sound here. No indication of anyone being at home, yet the figure still moved as though someone were. Turning, he re-locked the door using the manual lever, and then cautiously climbed the steps. Always watching, always listening. When at last his head past the level of the second floor he stopped, and then turned to gaze at the closed double doors, of what could only be the master bedroom.

Now with the same fluidity and silence of motion the dark figure had shown so far, he slipped up to the doors and entered. Once again he closed the door behind him and stood with his back to it while he surveyed the room. Here though he was not alone, for perhaps 10 feet from where he stood, lay the sleeping form a young lady. There was a certain graceful elegance about her; perhaps it was the long sweeping lines of her body, or the way her hair fanned out in soft curls about the deep red of her pillowcase and sheets. She was blonde, extremely attractive, and for all intense and purposes nude. Her body lay on its side with one leg and her back fully exposed, while her other leg and front were obscured by the folds of a summer blanket. She was not alone though for behind her was another. A man, large graying hair and wrapped tightly in the rest of that summer blanket. Presumably this was her husband yet they slept with their backs to one another inconceivable given her beauty, yet that facts were there laid out before him.

The figure did not hesitate at seeing this couple; instead he approached the bed and reached into his pocket to retrieve a camera. For a moment he just stood there gazing down at this sleeping beauty, then without warning he brought the camera to his face and pressed the button. There was no click, no flash, nor sign of any kind that a picture had been taken, yet he continued. For the longest time the process repeated again and again as he moved about their bed, stopping only momentarily to bring the camera to his face adjust the focus then press the button. The pictures were only of the young lady though, and when at last the process ended the figure had returned to the exact spot he had started from.

Now slowly knelling at the lady's side he again reached into his pocket. This time his hand produced a brush used by women to feather blush upon their cheeks, yet it was immediately obvious this was not his intended use. Carefully the strokes began upon her outer exposed thigh. The strokes were small figure eights, which danced again and again upon the same spot until at last this stranger intruder mastered both pressure and location. Then as his confidence grew the brush began to slip higher and deeper upon the thigh. His eyes though watched her face and each time the slightest furl of her brow occurred he'd back off to rest a moment.

Soon the lady's body shifted, rolling onto her back exposing the delicate swell of her breasts. Her nipples were hard and dark even in this dimmed light, and her lips had parted as though expecting a lover's kiss. One leg though still lay entangled within the summer blanket which now rose up from between her legs and lay delicately across the soft fur of her mound. Even had the light been better the figure probably would have been unable to see all that he might have hoped for. Yet even though this was the case his smile cut through the gloom. It appeared as a curved beacon of white, which shone for just a moment, before slipping back into the darkness.

Once more the process of taking silent, flashless pictures began and ended with the shadowy prowler knelling at her side. Then once again he produced the tiny make-up brush and began working on the upper thigh. Now though instead of concentrating on a specific spot the brush would make tiny overlapping circles which began on the upper mid thigh and progressed ever so slowly up and inward. It seemed to take forever for the brush to finally dance in the valley of the leg and hip joints yet the very moment it occurred a soft moan came from the sleeping lady's lips. At first the sound seemed to startle this man for he stopped and withdrew the stimulation, yet when neither further sound nor even movement arose he returned to the task at hand.

This time the brush was brought to the very line of the lady's own soft fur and for a moment it seemed fight for the right to touch that skin. The circles became soft brushes against the fur directing it up and out in long slow lines until at last it seemed satisfied. Then starting from the very base of her inverted triangle the intruder resumed the tiny circles. This time they made a beeline directly down toward the closed legs. Towards the crest of her mound where the softest fur disappeared. The circles shrank in size as they approached, perhaps due to the confined space, or perhaps he simply wanted the increased intensity at this moment, at this point.

In any event the lady again moaned only this time her legs parted as the brush approached, dragging the last remnants of the blanket from her sweet fur. Her hips slowly seemed to rise as the brush neared, but instead of dipping in that tight, dark, place it dance off to the side and pleasured the inner thigh. Slowly that thigh parted further offering more place; and the brush took immediate advantage by once again dancing through the fur to the very edge of the wet lips now visible. Still though it did not touch them but jumped to the opposite thigh and began working its way down towards the knee, pushing the last of the blanket before it.

Somewhere in this process the thighs learned that if the brush touched them they should part. Gradually they parted enough to offer him full, unfettered access. Enough access in fact, that a hand or even tongue could be brought to bear. Yet even this was not sufficient for the dark figure wanted more. Now instead of torturing the thighs though he again teased the soft fur. Bringing the bristles to the very brink of the lady's lips he then rolled the tool in his hand and guided the thick smooth handle down along the outer reaches of her wet lips. Her body felt the pressure and tensed for a moment, then without asking the thighs bent and parted further.

Now one leg lay almost on the very edge of the bed yet, it was the other, which produced a second smile. The other thigh had risen and touched that of the lady's husband, who with a deep snort rolled unceremoniously away. That was it, the one small concession he offered them. The one chance for either to awaken and defend her honor. Having past that point the dark figure now removed one glove and stuffed it along with the make-up brush into his pocket. Then leaning in, his lips parted and hovered a mere fraction of an inch from the closest hard nipple.

With a long slow exhale as though fogging glasses before a cleaning he breathed down and around the tiny bud. The lady felt the heat and soft wind as this occurred, he knew this, for her back arched offering the seemingly virginal bud for his lips. Instead he breathed in deeply once more, and then as he exhaled a second time his bare finger slipped between the wanton, wet lips of her pussy. He heard the gasp as the tip pushed inside, felt how her hips began to grind upon it, yet all the while his lips continued to heat the ultra sensitive nipple. He never allowed a single touch upon it though, as the lady's passion mounted. Concentrating instead on the pleasure and sensation his finger provided. As the tip delicately worked in and out between the hungry lips, the lady's moans grew louder. Even now as her hips became more forceful, striving for more, he wondered if and when they might rouse her sleeping lout of a husband. It was not enough though for still he lay oblivious, and thus the dark figure pressed onward.

His mouth left the aching bud of her nipple and centered over her clit. Once again he breathed hotly down on her body, only now he could feel the muscles within her legs rippling with excitement. Again and again he breathed over the clit's hood until the body started to sense the next wave and the hips rolled up to meet it. As this occurred the dark figure slipped his finger, along with a second, all the way inside, and held it there. At first the lady's body seemed to tense again, but this only lasted a second before her hips started driving those fingers in and out. They rolled up and down in a constant paced action, and the figure watched as the lady's own hands began cupping, squeezing, and teasing her own breasts. She was ready.

Now a third finger joined the others in long deep strokes, then his mouth left its post for the final assault. This time moving back up her body, past the hard, hot nipples, past the gasping, waiting lips, to the lady's ear. Then the fingers pulled out and slowly began the process of gliding up between the wet lips towards her clit. The lady could feel this, for her body responded to each tiny pressure as the outer two fingers parted the slick lips while the third trailed along the center inevitably towards the waiting clit. As though it were a tiny sprout breaking through the soil of spring her clit slipped effortlessly past the parting hood, which shielded it. Anxious it seemed for this pending contact. Then as the finger just barely brushed it the dark figure's lips offered these whispered words... "Soon I shall leave you Breathless." The lady suddenly screamed out....

Sitting bolt upright Melissa screamed out, the very sound was filled with sexual excitement but the suddenness of it caused her sleeping husband to literally jump from bed. She was on the very brink of a wonderful orgasm yet there was nobody there, and now Jason was questioning her. What could she do? She told him of her dream and the shadowy figure. Told him how he teased her body, yet with each word Melissa became aware of the passion, which still raged inside her. There was more to it though, for as she continued the telling, Jason began caressing her body; teasing it until her moans broke up the very words. Soon the story was left far behind and together they made love.

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The next morning as Melissa sat at the kitchen table drinking her coffee she reflected on the previous evening. Jason had long since left for work, yet the smile and spring in his step all but outright declared what he had been up to just hours before. What had truly happened? She knew quite well that she had awoken from an erotic dream. A dream, which had at the time seemed so real, and which had affected her so profoundly that, she had been on the verge of an orgasm. But why had it occurred in the first place? Who was that man of her dreams? It was as far as she could remember her first ever, erotic dream, but even now as she thought about the details she became excited. Even Jason seemed to fall under its spell, for as she had begun to relate it to him, his passion grew, and they ended up making love until the first light of dawn broke through their curtains. He had been like a wild man, or even teenager for his passion seemed tireless, until that first light.