Finding Helen

***

That is all how it started. And how I found myself tracking a lover I had only known on the internet.

The pub was loud with cheers and cries of anguish and not a few curses, all the sounds of a group of friends enjoying a great game. I smiled, realizing that my husband and daughter would fit in well. It occurred to me that I still could not remember what football team she cheered for, but we had all the gear.

My online love sat with her new husband; they were freshly back from their honeymoon, they both looked tanned and clearly in love. I did not wish to harm that love, but I would not be denied. Perhaps I have lost some of my soul, but I wanted my Helen, and I would have her.

'What is your fixation with this woman?' The Shahri sounded exasperated, 'Look around you! There are women aplenty!'

I knew from my experience that Shahri was not actually upset; I would have learned quickly if it had been. No, Shahri was only confused and perhaps curious.

"Because I do," was the only response I would give.

I watched her husband so intent on the game; his body language showed me he was very focused on the game, barely noticing the treasure beside him. Oh, he knew she was there, but he expected her to be. In contrast, she was closer, on occasion running her hand up his back or touching his arm.

'An affectionate little minx.' Shahri's observation was obvious, I thought, but I could not help but smile, she certainly was affectionate, and it was so sweet. The better 'older part' of me that still lived wanted to leave them, the worst' new part' of me wanted her more.

'Will you just take her and let us leave?' Shahri would not let me keep an innocent thought as usual of late.

I walked up to them, looking at the woman I had been chatting and loving for months.

The woman I had been lusting after.

"Excuse me, would you dance with me?" I asked her, but her husband turned to me at first.

"No thanks, love, we are enjoying the match." Then turned back to the television.

"I was not asking you, Simon." My response the tone of my voice was polite but not particularly friendly. "I was speaking to Helen."

With her name, Helen's head snapped around to look at me. "Oh ho, and who are you to be askin'?"

Her voice showed she was a bit testy, but I think my look intrigued her. I thought I saw a hint of recognition.

I am a terrible liar, so when I described myself to her in our online lovemaking session, I was honest, sometimes too honest. Being a woman of nearly 60, time was starting to catch up; although I worked very hard to stay fit, gravity will not be denied. She always reassured me, which made me love her more, but age is the enemy over every woman? My heart always swelled with pride that she cared for me.

However, when Helen's surveyed the woman before her, I could see she saw a woman of no more than 40; Shahri was generous with her gifts. Primarily when they benefited her.

I noticed her eyes roving up my body, so I struck a pose, one that I thought was to my advantage; she looked down at my 5" heeled boots, which meant we were not so different in height as she was wearing comfortable shoes and her 5' 9" nearly matched mine. The boots melded into my custom jeans that tightly held my upper things; they looked shrink-wrapped around my tight hips and ass. My waist, the smallest of my life, with its hills and valleys of my abs, up to the twin peaks of my rather well-endowed bust, was sheathed in my favorite silk blouse, my breasts were held in a white lace bar which struggled to keep the deep valley between my breasts, a cleavage easily seen by those who chose to look. The peaks of my breasts crowned by pierced nipples that were obvious generally, but right now, they were both engorged and pushing well against the lace and silk, and her eyes stopped there for a moment, but finally, her eyes traveled up to mine.

"Yes, Helen, it's me, Serrada; come dance with me." I looked deeply into her eyes; she hesitated a moment then started to move.

"Hey you, where are you going?" Simon's hand reached out to Helen's arm; I felt a wave of jealousy wash over me; I would give her back to him, she would never see me again, I just wanted a few hours.

"Sit, Simon. Drink your beer, watch your game; she will come back to you none the worse for a dance." My voice was soft, barely audible; it was my eyes that carried the force of my will.

'You are becoming good at that pet,' I could hear Shahri smile with her complement. But, unfortunately, the more I used her gifts, the less there was of me; I wondered if there would indeed be any Serrada left one day.

'Don't worry, my love, you will be you, just... different.' Was Shahri's reply to my thoughts.

As usual, her answers only lead to more questions.

"Hush Simon, it is only a dance, and besides, my pint is empty, be a love and order a fresh." Helen's words showed my influence, but her will was strong, and her words to her new husband were firm, not the vacant sounding words like the other women which with I had danced.

It was a pub, not a club, and there was a match on every screen, but we made our way.

We must have been a sight, two women dancing slowly in each other's arms, to a song only they could hear.

She was all I imagined, I suspect she was honest to the core, but her description of herself did not do justice, although she was different in some ways; however, her look, smile, and voice were all I had imagined.

I held her as we moved, her breasts pushed into mine, I pulled her head to my shoulder, and she melted into me. We danced together slowly, making love with our clothes on, as my grandmother had called a good slow dance.

"What are you doing here?" She whispered into my right ear. I could hear her heart pounding; I had to keep my mind on my business. I would have to feed sometime soon, or I would lose control, and something horrid would happen.

"I wanted to see you. I wanted to be near you, my love." I used my words in a measured way, keeping my hunger out of it, to be completely Serrada.

"While there is still any me left," I whispered back to myself, but she heard those words as well.

She stopped our dance holding me fixed in her grip, looked into my eyes with genuine concern, which melted my heart.

"Are you fit? Are you ill?" She held me at arm's length and scanned me again, this time with a look like she could somehow 'see' what was wrong. Her concern was so sweet I almost laughed... almost.

"I am fine, my love; I just am going through some things, and I don't know where they will lead, so I thought I would come to find you while I can." I could not help smiling at her concern.

"Don't worry, I will not ruin things with you and Simon, well not much, but I wanted to kiss you with my lips before we parted." I took the opportunity to move in and brush my lips along hers, just touching, a kiss within a kiss. It was electric; I felt her shudder and heard both her sharp gasp, then a soft sigh as she pushed forward for more.

"I think we should go somewhere quieter, don't you?" I whispered into my lover's ear. I felt her body shiver as another sigh left her lips.

"Let's," was her only response as she took the lead and headed back to her husband.

"We are leaving, come or stay; it is up to you." She said to him flatly, gathering her things.

"What are you on about? The match is not half done?" The mug was suspended halfway to his mouth, a look of confusion tainted with no small amount of annoyance. My anger flared. He might be a good 'bloke,' but he needed to learn a lesson, and I was in a mood to teach. He glanced at me with a look that he would regret.

"Follow us and keep silent." I held his eyes, pouring my will into them. He put down his glass, gathered his things, and followed us silently.

'This is going to be yummy.' Shahri's hungry voice flowed through my mind; she knew the thoughts that I was having about my companion and her husband. The images she returned to me were, at best, disturbing, at worst terrifying. But, what bothered me most at some deep level, I was not as disturbed by them as I might once have been, that I should have been.

"Where to, love?" Helen had me by the arm now, she was leading, and I heard Simon answering jeers of the crowd with a wave of a finger salute. After all, he followed two beautiful women, and they could always catch the recorded game later.

We walked arm in arm, my boots clicking as we walked. It was not far, I suppose; the walk did not bother me. I could feel the warmth of her body; the scent of her was driving me mad, my pussy was wet, and my arousal was growing.

We got to her house; it was lovely; one thing that I was still having trouble with was my assumptions. I loved the BBC series, and all the other British TV shows that we got in the US. But unfortunately, the biases that they projected had become a theme for me. Those shows all seemed to be apartments in London or someplace. It was an adjustment to my prejudice to find that many people lived in duplexes and joined homes or separate houses as Helen did. I thought how lucky the children would be to grow up in this home.

We had walked perhaps twenty minutes from the pub, past several shops and many homes; all seemed lovely and homey. The very sense of home was missing from so many McMansions of the US. Then again, perhaps it was the company.

I looked closely at my love; she was all I had imagined. I was drinking in her languid look, she was slipping into the pool of my eyes, and I wanted to postpone that for as long as I could. I knew she would fall under their spell, it was inevitable, something I could not resist, but I hoped to delay.

Luckily Simon provided me with the reprieve I needed as he walked in the door behind us.

"Simon, put things away; Helen and I will go get more acquainted." I took Helen's hand and started toward what I thought was the bedroom; when she giggled, I realized I was wrong, and she pulled me in a different direction, and I followed. It was upstairs, and believe me, and I enjoyed following her up the stairs.

When we reached the bedroom, I was just barely within control. It was simple but tasteful, the bed was the main piece of furniture, and it called to me. I was about to defile their marital bed, and I felt a moment of regret at that, but only a moment. Across the room, there was a chair and a small table, and down the hall was the bathroom.

I took her hand, pulling her to me with my right hand and my left wrapped around the small of her back, pulling her closer. I planted my lips directly on hers. Kissing her hard, breathing into her mouth because I had not realized I had been holding my breath. I closed my eyes to shield her, to keep her a bit longer, and my tongue drove between her lips to find hers open, giving me access to her tongue. I kissed, and our tongues roved over each other in their dance.

She kissed me back with passion, a passion I had only known with my husband; not even my recent thralls had returned my need as much as this woman was returning mine. Her hands roved over me; she was always aggressive in our lovemaking but always allowing me to love her if I needed to, but not today; she was almost tearing at my clothing. I was happy to oblige her by disrobing, but I wanted to see her body first, the breasts I had imagined and dreamed of for so long.

Reaching down to the hem of her shirt, I pulled it free and up along her back; it caught for a moment on her breasts but then came free, her hair pulled up then cascaded down as the collar cleared her head. She shook her head as her brown curls rolled free, framing the face I had imagined a thousand times in the dark hours of the night.

Her breasts were encased in a sexy thin bra; they held those mounds together to show the cleavage through which I would run my tongue. I was held mesmerized by them until I noticed the blush working its way down her chest.

I helped her from her jeans, she was hungry to be nude for me, and in a heartbeat, she was in her panties and bra only; they matched, which I thought adorable.

My first impulse was to tear them from her, but I restrained myself; perhaps they were a gift? I could replace the material but not the sentiment; besides, there was something very sexy about undressing a woman.

I turned her gently, admiring her lovely back, my eyes following the curves that led to her silk-covered ass, then I drew her hair away to the right; she was looking over her shoulder as I kissed her neck directly on her spine. Then around and along her shoulder, I could sense her blood flowing under her skin, it's pounding through the arteries and veins in her lovely throat. Thankfully, I had fed earlier on a couple of young men looking for a good time, I had disappointed them, but they had not disappointed me; they did slake my thirst.

I kissed my way along her shoulder, feeling the silk of her skin, my hands finding her bra strap; I unhooked her band, allowing it to free; I felt her right arm instinctively move to support her breasts and hold the cups in place. All while her left hand rose to entwine her fingers in my hair, pulling my head closer and driving her shoulder and neck into me. I felt her shudder as I kissed and gently nipped with my front teeth.

My need was the trigger for my fangs. If I desired someone, they appeared, just as if my hunger drove them. Both needs seemed to be the same.

My fangs pressed against her skin, and she shivered and moaned, so loud I think it alerted her husband as moments later he was standing by the door, his mouth working, trying to say something.

"Simon, strip to your skin, get a towel from the bathroom and sit on the chair. You are to wank yourself, but you may not cum without permission." I never took my lips from Helen should, as I whispered her husband his instructions. "Now go."

He went; as I moved down my Helens back, my hands gave her silent instructions to hold still as I worked my way down her back, licking my way down. My tongue was not the soft and smooth surface it once had been but was covered by small scales more like a cat than a human, the scales ensured I could savor every drop of blood, but it also meant my tongue was as rough as sandpaper.

As I worked my way down, my razor-sharp nails traced the sides of her body. The outlines of their journey were clearly shown on her skin. No blood, not yet that would come later, but now I just wanted her body to know I was there, to surrender to my control, to my desire, and my Helen was.

My knees hit the floor, and I felt her silk-covered cheeks and the thin material stretched across them; my nails worked under the ribbon of elastic and slowly began to draw the fabric down over her bottom. Down and down until they finally dropped free, leaving that lovely full moon so close to my eye I could not resist my desire to drive between those hemispheres. She shivered and shook again as I kissed first one, then the other, then began to nip those same cheeks; she moaned deeply with that.

It was then that Simon chose to reappear; he was silent in his entry, he had removed his clothing, and I could easily see what Helen saw in him; he was rather well equipped. Further, he was entirely at attention; our play had gotten him harder than ever in his life; of that, I was confident. He sat down and began to follow instructions, but I could see him struggling as I kissed her ass.

"You must stay seated; you may move as you need to try and cum, but you may not cum, and you must stay seated, and remember, you may not cum. You are not required to be silent, but you may not speak." He immediately began to groan as his hands found his impressive shaft. His hands were working away, but his eyes were locked on Helen, whose head was turned to him.

The tip of my tongue traced along her spine as I rose again. Simon was nude, Helen nearly so, but I still was completely dressed, and there was something sexually arousing about that. So I decided to keep it that way, at least for a few moments.

"Helen, watch your husband; keep your eyes on him," I whispered into her ear as my hands drew around her, finding her hand still holding her bra in place.

I wrapped my arms around her body, tracing my nails from just above her mound, along her tummy up over the hills of her abs, hugging her ribs to the swell of her breasts. Peering over her shoulder,

I knew her husband could see only my eyes; his eyes danced back and forth between my eyes to my hands as they roamed over his new wife's willing body.

The helplessness that filled his gaze kindled my hunger, and I bit down on her shoulder, my fangs piercing her skin. The sweet tang coated my tongue and filled my mouth; the sweet scent of copper filled the air.

A moan escaped her lips; more erotic than any song of love, it was beyond belief. My need grew with the scent of her body; the taste of her blood and the sound of her desire lit my inner fire, which burst into a conflagration, causing my loins to fully flood. Knees failing her, my arm was positioned for it she would have fallen; I allowed her to drift back onto her marital bed, her head turned toward her husband. Open eyes, but unfocused, only desire showed there. The wounds of my taste were healed already, and Shahri purred in my mind.

'She tastes so lovely; I see now why we are here.' The wounds of my taste were healed already, yet another gift; Shahri purred her approval, 'Perhaps we should drain the buck and keep her for ourselves.'

'No Shahri, we will leave them to their lives, but I wish to be with her, then we leave her to her life.' Shahri's willingness to end a life put a damper on my ardor.

Thankfully Helen ended the debate.

"Make love to me" the desire within her words was all I needed to hear.

"Yes, my love," I moved down between those lovely legs. I started kissing from the top of her feet, first one then the other, as I climbed her body. I had spent many a happy hour, between her thighs, in our virtual garden of delights where we imagine the perfection of lovers. But here, I could feel the reality and imperfect perfection in her body, the silky skin, the shape of her calves, and the curve of her breasts. All the ideals of our imaginations were being wiped away by the much more meaningful texture of reality. Now I could feel the roughness of the growing stubble on her legs, the minor lines of ancient scars from skinned knees or hurried shaving. All the things that give a woman's body character.

Her thighs parted as I reached her knees and found a ticklish spot behind the right one that was not reflected in the left. So on and on, I traveled up to the oasis I wanted more than the parched lips of dying man sought water.

Finally, with a few more kisses and traces of my nails on her inner thighs, I found my lips kissing the mound I had dreamed of for so long. I moved her legs high, and she held them wide and lewdly, all while smiling into her husband's anguish eyes.

Glancing at Simon, his eyes showed emotionally painful uncertainty but more lust, lots and lots of desire. His cock was iron-hard, straining to reach the sky. It wore a sheen of juices, and with each lazy stroke of his hand, a fresh quantity of precum would burst out the tip then slowly drip down the head be added to the rest that coated the town under his constantly moving ass.

'Do not worry, the buck will be content; they always convince themselves that it is all an illusion or that they were dreaming.' Shahri read my fears and answered yet another unasked question. 'She will want him more after we are done; he will be content.'

She rolled over on her imaginary couch and signed as if she had fed well for days.