tagErotic HorrorBitter Taste

Bitter Taste



He watched her from across the room, clothed in darkness. The music throbbed around him. It was a demanding beat, hypnotic. Eyes half lidded, head lolling he knew he was leering, but was unable to stop himself. The girl he was mesmerized by was swaying, gyrating against some invisible force. She was probably fucked up on some shit, but he didn't care. So was he. It was the smell of it, the sweat, the heightened senses. Everything accelerated, and then decelerated just as suddenly. He lurched, unable to keep up. Shifting his attention back to the girl, he barely registered that she was speaking to her friend before she was on the move.

He followed her, still keeping to the shadows. It wasn't hard. The club was barely lit. Occasionally a light skidded near him, but he was able to avoid it. He wasn't going to be seen by anyone, not tonight. Not when he was so close. His eyes never straying from his prey, he watched her slide though the crowd. She was still dancing, rhythmic. The music changed pace, and an ethnic woman's voice sung out over the sound system. She paused and whipped around, as if she could sense him watching her. He froze, even though he knew she wouldn't see him. One of the lights paused on her, illuminating her completely. Was she blonde? Brunette? He couldn't tell. He couldn't give a fuck.

"Hey Dan!" Shit. Turning, his eyes rested on the kid that had spotted him. What was his name again? He didn't have a clue.

"Yeah?" The kid bounded over. There really wasn't any other word for it. Fucking faggot. He knew he shouldn't have let him blow him when the kid was short on cash.

"Got any good shit tonight?"

"No. Go see Tony." He didn't have time for this shit.

"Aw, come on man. Help me out." The kid moved closer, grinning seductively. He rubbed his arm lazily, distracting him while he snaked his other hand down to curl around his half hard cock. He supposed... no. He was here on business tonight. He pushed the kid away from him, irritated.

"I'm busy. Go bother Tony." He turned on his heel and left. He had more important things to attend to. Now where... fuck. He'd lost her. Scanning the room in vain he cursed under his breath. That little shit. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Running his fingers though his hair he sighed and headed toward the exit. If it wasn't going to happen tonight he wasn't hanging around this shit hole.

Once outside he dug in the pocket of his jacket. Bringing out the crumpled cardboard packet he selected a cigarette and placed it between his chapped lips. As he lifted the lighter, he noticed his hands where shaking. He was coming down. Musing to himself he thought that he should have probably bothered Tony, he was nearly out of good coke, and he always needed pot. Acid too. Distracted, he didn't notice the girl approach him.

"Got a light?" He started slightly and turned to face the speaker. Holy shit. He couldn't believe his luck. It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud.

"Sure." He brought the lighter still in his hands to the cigarette dangling from her lips. She inhaled deeply and her eyes flicked up to meet his. It was dark so he couldn't decipher the colour, but he didn't care. All he cared about was the fact that she was standing before him. He had her in his grasp but he would have to tread carefully, he knew at least that much by now.

Exhaling, the smoke hung heavily between them as they studied each other. The silence drawing out, an unspoken question.

Opening her mouth she tested the waters, "Are you from around here?"

He paused, considering his options. "No."

"Funny, you look familiar."

"Hmm. I get that a lot." Cracking a grin he added, "Maybe I've got one of those faces, huh?"

One corner of her mouth quirked slightly. It was fast, but he caught it. She was cautious of him. Understandable. She might run into someone like him. At that he couldn't help smirking. She appeared unfazed though, as she tossed back her hair smiling openly now and asked, "So, you want to get a coffee or something?"

His sneer wider now he answered, "Sure."


Cold fingers wrapped around lukewarm coffee he now knew that her name was Lucy. She lived a few blocks away in a small, slightly overpriced apartment with her cat. The cat's name is Pete. He is black with white fur covering his head from the left side of his face to his chin. She works as a waitress but is an aspiring actress. She hates having to go to auditions, but loves it when she gets the work. However, the last play she was in was over nine months ago, and she is wondering whether or not she'll ever be hired again. She moved to this city eight years ago.

She now knows that his name is Daniel and that he does something in construction. He is here on business.

Outside the wind picked up and it began to rain. He watched her as she turned her head to observe the water as it ran down the glass. Her lipstick needed retouching. Her eye shadow was slightly smudged and her hair was disarranged. She was mesmerising.

She brought one hand up to tuck her hair behind her right ear. In doing so she exposed a small dark mole that resided on the nape of her neck. Her eyes never leaving the glass and the rain outside she asked him if he would like another coffee.

They really should get out of here soon. "Sure."

He reached into the pocket of his coat. Drawing out the crumpled package he offered her a cigarette. Accepting, she placed it between her lips as he lifted the flame to her face. She inhaled and fell back into her seat, dark eyes unreadable. Inhaling his own cigarette, he watched her. There was a deliberate air about her. As if everything she did had already been planned out beforehand.

Two fresh cups of coffee appeared between them, eyes flicking briefly to the waitress she murmured her thanks. She was talking again. About what, he didn't know. He didn't care. Her lips. Her lips dancing. Opening, closing, moving sensuously with each syllable. He tipped forward slightly, his body willing him to her. Fuck. He needed to taste her. Excusing himself for a moment, he barely made it to the restroom before throwing himself against the nearest wall. Panting audibly, he ran his fingers though his hair. Glancing in the mirror, he balked at the image. When did he change? What the fuck was going on? Shit. Turning on the taps he scrubbed at his face, as if a little water would return him to the person he last remembered to be. Drying himself on his sleeve, he decided that it was best not to dwell on thoughts such as these. He didn't have time for an identity crisis right now. Making sure he was alone he slid into the nearest cubicle and secured the door behind him. He needed a little something to put the spring back in his step.

When he slid back into the booth across from her she looked up at him. Eyes locking with his she simply stated, "Wanna get out of here?"

Fuck yes! "Okay."


As he slid his hand slowly up her thigh, he realised that she had anticipated the outcome from the start. She had come to him in his dreams. She had always been there, dancing for him. Turning slowly, swaying to the music that was playing just for her. Dark eyes snapped open and she gasped when he entered in one swift thrust. Now here she was, dancing under him this time. The sweet moans resonated though him and he rocked with the rhythm of life itself. As he drew out his blade he kissed her full on the lips. Those perfect cracked lips opened for him and they moaned softly to one another.

Slowly he ran the tip of the blade down the side of her face, a thin crimson line chasing after it. Her eyes flew open unseeing, confused. He smiled sadly at her before sweeping the blade across her neck. He paused, tense. Then, as the blood blossomed from the wound he exploded. She gave a strangled cry, one lone trickle of her own blood leaking from the corner of her lips. She thrashed weakly, her eyes unfocused. He ran his hand though her hair, soothing her. She paused and gazed at him. Time passed, how much, he did not know. In her eyes he saw the realisation that dwelled there. With a sigh she accepted her fate, eyes fluttering closed. Capturing her lips one last time he tasted the blood. He slipped out of her and dressed himself quietly.

Before leaving he looked back at her. She lay just as he had left her. Legs hanging open slightly, her slip pushed up past her hips. Her hair was tangled. Head tilted towards him he caught the soft smile that lay on her lips. The flesh of her neck was open and the pillow and sheets below her were stained. Fuck she was beautiful.


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