A Veiled Life

"Finally!" I say with more than just a little relief as I step out onto the front steps of my brownstone apartment. I hate being confined, cooped-up, tied-down; you name it, I can't stand it. I think I've always felt like that, but with what happened one year ago, to the day, the feeling had grown a lot stronger. The last rays of the sun had already bled from the sky and I could see the first night star. From a habit I've had since childhood, I closed my eyes for a moment and made a silent wish and wished for. . .

"Hey, sweetie," came a scratchy voice to my left, "Wanna ride?"

I smiled to myself before opening my eyes. What I saw was not quite what I had had in mind, but I quickly decided that he would do nicely. He was dressed in a well-worn pair of jeans and a matching jacket over a white tee with a faded Metalica emblem. Some shiny black boots completed his attire. His manner of dress, coupled with his long, wavy sandy blond hair and his slightly unkempt mustache and beard probably convinced a lot of people that he was some kind of bad-ass biker.

Dressed in my short leather skirt, knee-high boots, and a very open-necked shirt that shows off my beautiful boobs, there is little doubt in my mind as to what he's got going on in his tiny brain.

"Sounds cool," I said as I descended the steps with a provocative walk. "By the way, my name is Raven."

"Paolo," the guy grunted as he started up his bike.

As I threw my leg over the bike's seat, I flashed my boyfriend-of-the-moment a look at my crimson thong before I settled right up against him. I saw his eyebrows raise just enough to let me know that he was appreciative of the free shot I had given him and his slight smile confirmed it. I wrapped my arms snuggly around his waist and even let my hands come to rest just touching the top of his package. My date's stomach, while a bit soft, was still firm and I could already feel his growing excitement about events that would shortly be taking place. Gunning the throttle, we tore off into the night.

There were many things about Paolo (which was most definitely not his real name) that reeked of another kind of life than the one he was trying so desperately to portray. For starters, his key ring had what looked to be some kind of family portrait on it. Second, his bike was just too flashy; most real bikers I've ever met try to go somewhat low-key. Besides, most of them simply can not afford to buy a last year's model of an Indian motorcycle. I took a good glance at the odometer. Yep, just as I figured; only twelve hundred and seventy-three miles on it. His ride was not even ready for its first oil change. He probably only got to take it out for short rides after work or on the weekends when he could get out by himself for a while. Third, and most noticeably, Paolo was wearing an obviously cheap brand of cologne, a lot like what a young kid would pick out for a Christmas or birthday present.

Poor Paolo.

"Head toward the old factories," I practically yelled in his ear as his bike rumbled and raced down the street. He just lifted his chin a bit to acknowledge he had heard me just before he hung a tight left turn to get us headed in that direction. My lip curled up in a small sneer as we zoomed along. At least I would not be late for the party. While Paolo may have had some carnal plans for me, which I would more than likely enjoy, the ones I had for him were more of a practical nature. As we sped along, I allowed my mind to recall the circumstances that had led me up to this point.

It seemed appropriate that we chose All Hallows' Eve, and an old cemetery, to try and casting the spell Iris had found in one of her mom's spell books. Because Iris' mother is a true witch, by blood and over forty-nine generations, we all decided that Iris should be the one leading the rites. Luna, Drake, and I gathered around her and played our practiced parts even better than we had ever rehearsed, surprising ourselves. Upon completion of the spell, the ceremonial fire we had been chanting and dancing around suddenly glowed black. Before any of us even knew what was happening, four balls of that black fire exploded from their source and hit each one of us, knocking us to the ground.

By the time we regained our senses, dawn was just about to breach the horizon. It was instinct that took over and we ran away from the light, seeking refuge from its dreadful touch. Drake urgently called us over to a mausoleum whose door he had somehow managed to force open, allowing us sanctuary.

As we all sat looking at each other, a realization came to us: the spell had worked!

And it had done so at a terrible price for us.

We were immortal.

But to continue to enjoy the benefits of our unnatural longevity, we had to consume the blood of living creatures. Whether we emptied their bodies or just took enough for our own needs was of no consequence. Only their blood mattered.

Iris, Luna, Drake and I had become vampires.

Over the course of the last year, we had discovered that we were not alone, not the only vampires in existence. There were perhaps about a thousand of us all across the world, though most lived in cities where the populations were high so their weekly feedings would not be so easily noticed. The four of us also learned that there were two more of our kind living in Salem but they had not yet undergone the "change". (Ultimately, it would be Iris and Luna who would be the impetus for their inclusion to our little clan, much to the surprise of all of us. But I'm getting off track.)

For the most part, being a vampire is not all that different than being a mortal. We all live our lives pretty much the same way we had during our time among "the living". Because finding a nighttime job proved to be a bit difficult, the four of us put our heads together and opted to become partners for a goth/anime lovers dating website. DarkDates became a near instant hit among the late teen/early twenty-somethings and enabled us to have somewhat of a comfortable---night----lifestyle.

During all of this, we kept our secret to ourselves.

My reverie was broken when Paolo revved his bike just before hitting the kill switch.

"We're here," he said with an expectant smile, as he dismounted. "So, where do you wanna do it?"

I smiled back at him.

"Why not right here?" I asked, turning on the seat to face him. As I did, I slipped my thong down my legs then tossed it at Paolo, exposing my bald kitty to him. "I've shown you mine, why don't you show me yours?"

With that, Paolo hastily unbuckled his belt and dropped his jeans and briefs. His cock bounced rhythmically as he moved between my legs and rammed it into me. He was far from the best but he certainly was not the worst I had ever had. While he was not overly long, he was nice and thick. I seriously doubted his wife had any complaints about him as far as sex was concerned.

After a few minutes of this face-to-face fucking, I was ready for some pounding of the serious variety. I made him pull out and take a step back as I smiled at him and turned until I was bent over his bike. A wiggle of my ass was all it took for Paolo to get the message as to what I was wanting and then he was giving it to me really hard and fast, doggy-style. Feeling his balls slap against my clit was starting to turn me on, big time, and it was not long before I was feeling a lovely orgasm building.

I almost felt sorry for Paolo.

Almost.

He lasted longer than I expected him to, but long enough for me to get off, shooting his load as I just as I was cumming (ha ha) down from my own rush.

"Ahhhhhh. .!" Paolo sighed as he pulled out of me and took a step back. "You're a good fuck, sweetie. A real good fuck." As he went to put himself back in order, I placed my hand on his to stop him.

"You might be done, but I'm still. . .hungry. . .for more of you," I told him. Before he could react or say anything, I was on my knees, with Paolo's still wet cock in my mouth. Ever since I started frigging myself, I have loved the taste of my own juices. After discovering sex, I found I also liked the taste of a guy's cream. But, when mixed, it was like ambrosia!

At the moment, however, there was another nectar I was wanting. I went from giving Paolo a blowjob to a hand job as my mouth started kissing the inner part of his thigh. He did not complain, though. Hell, he was going to get his rocks off again, so why would he? As I teasingly licked, kissed, and nipped at his hairy leg, I maneuvered my free hand behind him so I could kick the pleasure volume up a few notches.

Oh, yeah. I extended my upper canines, too.

I knew I had to be quick about this because I could smell his excitement and felt his scrotum tighten. Without warning, I jammed my index finger into Paolo's anus, pressing very firmly on his prostate, while I pumped his turgid penis even faster.

And I sank my teeth deep into his right femoral artery.

He never knew what hit him.

Paolo's prick erupted, shooting huge amounts of man juice all over my hands as I continued wanking him. He groaned in a mix of intense pleasure and slight pain at his release but uttered no other sound than that.

My senses came alive the instant the first drops of his blood sprayed into my mouth. The rush was always the same, at least for me. It was like being asleep then being instantly awake and fully aware of your surroundings, more than ready for anything or anyone headed your way. I felt more. . .alive! . .than I had ever felt when I was mortal.

It was not too long until Paolo slumped over my shoulder, drained in a way other than just having busted his nuts twice. I stayed where I was, pulling out what little more I could of his blood before his heart completely stopped, leaving only stale, dead vitae behind. When I was finished, I let his body just roll off of me.

Mmmmm. . .! What a glorious meal he had been.

I licked my lips clean of any remaining traces of his leavings. Now, all I had to do was to find a plausible spot to dispose of him. Fortunately, the old factory district was just full of opportunities. The Salem City Council was trying its best to find ways to give the local economy a boost so they opted to renovate this area to try and bring in more businesses. The plan was relatively simple: tear down the buildings that were either in too bad of shape or that could not be made to fit into their development plans, leaving the rest untouched and used as either light industrial or warehousing.

Of course, as with anything involving the government, progress was slow. Just across the street was one of the old factories in the midst of being demolished.

Perfect! I thought as I threw Paolo's corpse over my shoulder, much like I would have a duffle bag. I knew it would be several days, maybe a couple of weeks before they found his body but not if left out in the open. I needed decomposition to get a good enough hold on him to make things next to impossible for the cops and their forensic people. Sure, I would leave his wallet behind so they could notify his family but it would be empty of anything of value. I mean, if it looked like a robbery gone bad, it makes everyone's job a bit easier.

As I cleaned out his pockets, I pulled his pants back up so as not to cause any hard to explain questions come to mind. Going through his wallet, I spot his real name on his driver's license: Paul Logan. Well, at least I know where he got Paolo from. I pocketed the cash and credit cards but, of course, only the cash would be useful to me. I would burn the credit cards, later, after I got home. His iPhone, however, may have some possibilities.

I carried him over to an area that looked like it had not seen any demolition activity for a week or more and dropped Paul's body and his wallet a few feet away from a corner that was still standing. Fortunately, the wall was already unsound and not too tall so it did not take too much effort to push it over on top of the surprise I had left for an unsuspecting worker.

Let me tell you, I really love being a vampire. The powers and the freedoms it brings are quite intoxicating. Of course, there are certain downers to it as well. Daylight is a big, big no no, and there are the hunters to watch out for. Werewolves especially have no love for our kind as they see us as direct competitors for food. But their numbers are pretty much the same as ours so there is a balance.

Many mortals think they would want to be like us and try to emulate us but, when any of them are given the chance to be, they just cower in fear.

And become our evening meal.

Even before the dust from my handiwork settled, I am already heading back over to my former date's ride is waiting for me. I know some people who know some people. . .well, you get the idea. After tonight, this bike will never be seen again. Besides, with Drake's real birthday coming up next month, I had been trying to figure out what to get him. I guess that takes care of that.

Slipping the key into the ignition, I press the starter switch. The bike roars back to life and I head to where my friends, and our party, are waiting for me.

*

Tyesha,

I know that this version of your story is longer and somewhat different than the way you wrote it but you did say that I could make some changes to it. I am working on the remainder of what you wrote although I am probably going to switch over to the third-person point of view for the balance of what you wrote. I am also going to use the notes you wrote at the bottom of the last page to flesh out your work even more.

This story is yours and I would never claim it as one of my own because it was your imagination and passion that brought it forth in the first place.

Please, leave a comment and let me know what you thought of the re-write.

Dad