Vanished

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Vampires and Night Clubs.
1.2k words
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She walked in with a group of friends. Rowdy, half drunk, high on their own beauty, power, and grace. I'd been sitting just outside the door, the night beginning to chill, the sounds of the city all around me, the bass from within Club Liquid pounding in my chest, despite being outside its big steel doors. Liquid is in a bad part of town, but they keep coming. Old, decrepit, empty warehouses lining the Mississippi surround the club, but no one seems to mind. It just means there are plenty of places to park. And, as in my case, to hide.

Another group of girls were walking up to the doors not half a minute after the last, one of them a pretty, tall brunette, who smiled in my direction. But my sights had already been set. I nodded, uninterested, and flicked the butt of my half smoked cigarette down the river embankment. It left an arc of amber light in its descent, hissing as it hit the murky, swirling water.

I turned and went in. The music hits you as you walk in the door. It's a tangible thing, something you can feel, like a blast of air or a punch to the gut. It's solid. Relentless. Alive. Bodies sway in unison on the concrete dance floor, alone or in pairs, almost completely filling the wide open space. The fire marshal would have a field day with this place, but they never come this far out of the city unless they are called.

I singled her out pretty quickly. Her platinum blond hair picked up the myriad of lights gleaming from the rafters. As she moved right or left, the color would shift red to blue, purple to green. Strobes bounced and reflected from her silver sequined top, allowing me to spot her from just about any point within the club. Me and everyone else, more than likely. I saw Katelin on the second floor, she was definitely watching. As her eyes met mine during a scan of the crowd, I mouthed 'Mine.' She made a shrug of her shoulder and a sneer of her perfectly made up lips, then turned back to the bar.

I began to move through the writhing mass of bodies, never taking my eyes off the brilliant sparkle of the blond girl. The DJ switched to a slower tempo beat, and a good number of people left the floor, to drink, or smoke, or wait in the big, overstuffed booths for a faster song.

My girl was undeterred, and continued to sway on her patent leather heels. I finally got close, leaning up against her back and sliding a hand smoothly around the front of her waist. We bounced and swayed in time, following the beat. Only once did she make note of my presence, slipping a hand up and behind her head, running her long fingers through my dark hair and down the front of my shirt.

When the song stopped, she coolly turned within my embrace, planting her hands firmly against my chest. Her large brown eyes met mine, and she smiled. An Angel. Those eyes slid liquidly about my face, my front swept black hair, my smooth skin, green eyes, snake bite piercings. I expected her to shake her head and back off, but she did not. She smiled a huge, white grin, and spoke.

"I'm Sylvie," she reached up on tiptoes to speak into my ear, tottered on her sky high heels, caught herself upon my arm, and laughed like wind chimes.

"Dixon" I replied.

She glanced down at the arm she still clutched, running her fingers over the tattoos there. Crows danced beneath her fingertips, caught in endless flight. I had the distinct feeling her own body was unmarred. I can't imagine how I looked to her.

"Do you want a drink?" I asked, and smiled, all wolf.

"Um. Maybe a cigarette," she smiled.

Sylvie took my hand in hers, leading me away from her friends, the crowd, the booming beat and hot overhead lights. Through the door and into the night, spots dancing before our eyes in the aftermath of the strobes. I could still feel the beat in the soles of my shoes, carried out through the concrete under the door. I bet you could feel it on the whole block.

She shimmies to the music still, even though we've walked away from the high walls of the old warehouse. Another abandoned warehouse building next door speaks to her, somehow. She headed across the gravel and onto the next lot, slim fingers still entwined in mine. She rocked only slightly on those heels, I surefooted in Chuck Taylor's as we climbed a small embankment. She hesitated not at all when she came to the gaping maw of the old building, pitch black inside save for what light entered in through the broken and dirty windows emanating from the floodlights of Liquid next door.

I pull the pack of cigarettes from my pocket; light one up as I watch her move. Her top catching every tiny movement, every smattering of light, calling to me in the darkness. Finally Sylvie stops, leans against an old, filthy pillar, and poses seductively. I wonder if she'll put up a fight.

"Come here, Dixon." My name sounds amazing on her lips.

Sylvie reaches for me, before I even come to arm's length. I slide within her embrace; she smells of alcohol and peonies. I could have taken her right there, I wanted to. But I stalled. Sylvie did not.

She brought me in and kissed me hard, breathing heavy against my lips. Fingers groping for the buttons on my shirt, then the muscles of my stomach. I twine my fingers into her long, glossy hair, pull her head back and kiss the tender part of her neck. So sweet. I want to take her so bad; I can smell the sweat beginning to rise on her skin, the flush in her cheeks. I hold her head hard and she does not resist, in fact it seems to make her move with even more urgency. I slide a hand beneath that dazzling sequined top, soft flesh giving beneath my fingertips.

She's found my belt buckle and yanks it open, and I realize I'm straining underneath. I did not come for sex but she gives it, open and willingly and with enthusiasm. She allows me to lift her up against the hard stone wall, wrapping those mile long legs around me as we sway to the music once again. Finally, inside and entwined with her, I let myself take what I've come for. I hold her head with one hand, the other on the small of her back, holding her tight to me. The hollow of her neck beckons to me, and I indulge, kissing first, then nips, and finally I sink my teeth. Still I wait for her to fight, to thrash, to pull away or scream, but she does not. She moans and leans tighter into me, nails sinking into my back. I fall into my own ecstasy, taking the life from her. Her breathing quickens with mine, yet I know I grow stronger and she does not. I continue to give her what she wants, rhythmically thrusting as she gets closer to the edge.

She comes into me like a tidal wave, and I do the same, clamping hard upon her neck in the throes of passion. She's the best I ever had, and her last breath comes far too soon.

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