Hodan: Somali Lesbian Vampire

"Gotcha," I thought to myself as I spied the cute gal in the Hijab staring at me, with a mixture of fascination and disapproval in her eyes. Clad in a long-sleeved Black T-shirt over a traditional long skirt and Black sneakers, she seemed the very picture of piety and respectability, according to the norms of her Islamic faith, which I once followed quite fervently. Ah, the things you miss when you quit breathing...

Seated on the crowded bus heading to downtown Ottawa, I had to smile. When you're what I am, a student of human nature by necessity as much as by choice, an endless stream of things amuse you. It's been ages since I last saw the light of day, over a century in fact, yet I still find myself drawn to the world I left behind. The people of Africa and the Middle East draw me in. Even after all these years, it's the blood in my veins...

It had gotten dark forty five minutes earlier, and I felt safe to leave my lair in the suburb of Barrhaven, Ontario, and headed downtown. Winter had come to the Capital of Canada, and I welcomed it, for it meant longer nights and shorter days. I was bored and looking for some fun, like all of those young people in the bright shirts and short skirts, who surrounded me on the bus. They're so lively and pretty, glowing with life, the blood pounding in their veins...

"Salaam, how are you?" I said, speaking softly, and the Hijab-wearing gal, a plump, bronze-skinned, rather pretty young woman actually blinked in surprise. I smiled at her, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible. In mortal life, I certainly looked nonthreatening enough. Five-foot-nine, a bit on the curvy side, with light brown skin and long, curly dark hair, I still looked very much like the young Somali woman I once was.

"Salaam, sister, are you from East Africa?" Miss Hijab asked me, her voice soft and shy, and I nodded. I recognized her accent. If I'm not mistaken, she must be from Yemen. I'd roamed the world for ages, and wandered across Africa and the Middle east, and that's just for starters. My travels had taken me as far as Mexico, come to think of it. Mortals form attachment to lands, not my kind. We're doomed to wander the earth for all eternity, after all, Undead and homeless...

Once upon a time, the beautiful City of Hargeisa, Somalia, was my home. My father, Shaykh Maddar, the legendary Koranic teacher and Founder of Hargeisa, ruled this place long before my birth. I was born to Shaykh Maddar's wife Nagla Dagher, a lovely and headstrong Yemeni Muslim woman whose love for her African Muslim husband drove her to leave her hometown of Al Moukalla, and her close-minded family. In those days, like today, the Arabs loathed seeing foreign men, especially African men, with 'their' women.

My father Shaykh Maddar founded the City of Hargeisa, Somalia, for a reason. It was to be his family's refuge from persecution at the hands of his wife's family, the powerful Dagher clan of Yemen. I guess that given such unique parentage, one could say that I was destined for an eventful life. That's what I tell myself, when I think of how catastrophically wrong everything has gone...

I, Hodan Maddar, grew up to be tall, curvy and attractive, the product of African and Arabian bloodlines. I was a proud Muslim, the daughter of a Sheikh, and I was to marry a young man named Ali, from the Ugaar Saleeban clan, but it was not to be. The night before my wedding, a monster came to the town of Hargeisa, and I was one of those he attacked. I thought I'd die, but something far worse occurred...

The monster turned out to be a vampire, one that had made itself at home in the body of Ali Elmi, the young Somali man I was supposed to marry. Ali turned me into a vampire, and when I arose from my grave, three days after the attack, I was...changed. Now I am a soulless thing that comes out at night, eager to drink the blood of the living. It's what I do, and I can't help myself. We've all got to eat...

"Yes, I am Hodan," I replied, smiling at the lovely young woman, and that's how it all began. I began seeking my next victim. Miss Hijab introduced herself as Khadija Basha, a newcomer to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, by way of Zinjibar, Southern Yemen. I left the swivel seats, my habitual spot on the bus, and came to sit next to my new pal. The gal looked good and smelled even better, and she seemed genuinely friendly. This would make everything all too easy...

"I knew you had to be Somali, we have a lot of Somalis in my homeland of Yemen," Khadija said, smiling. I nodded, and looked into her eyes. One look into those golden brown orbs and I knew that Khadija was different. Like me. In my mortal days, I loved both men and women. I saw no reason to change my preferences when I become a blood drinker. When Khadija looked at me, I sensed that we were birds of a feather. How about that?

We talked some more, and I learned that Khadija was studying business management at Carleton University. Cute and smart, I thought, wryly amused. The bus sped through Nepean, and swiftly arrived in downtown Ottawa. Khadija, who'd been on her way to the movies, didn't mind having me tag along. We went to the Scotiabank Theater in the east end, and watched Molly's Game.

"This was a fun movie," I said to Khadija, as we walked around the nearby Gloucester area, after exiting the movie theater. Khadija smiled and looked at me, checking me out in the discreet way that women who love women tend to do it. Khadija locked eyes with me, and I smiled faintly, knowing that she liked what she saw. Good, at least we're on the same page.

On that particular evening, I had on a Black leather jacket, with a red tank top and a Black leather miniskirt, with thigh-high Black leather boots. I looked like a temptress from hell, with an outfit straight out of a Marilyn Manson video, and Miss Hijab had the hots for me. We went into the Blair Mall and sat down while drinking Pepsis, having ourselves a nice little chat...

"So, how did you know about me?" Khadija asked, looking right into my eyes, and I smiled and brushed my hand against hers. She looked at my hand, smiled and did not move hers away. I took a deep breath, mostly for effect because, as I said before, breathing is not a requirement for my kind. I licked my lips, and felt Khadija tense, and watched her shift in her seat. I was getting to her without trying...

"Khadija, we just met but you must know this, girls like us can always sense each other, it's all about looking the other gal in the eye, something inside will tell you," I replied, speaking softly. Khadija smiled and nodded, then entwined her hand in mine. I took her hand and brought it to my cold lips, and kissed it. Khadija blinked, and I nodded firmly.

"Alright, Hodan, let's go home," Khadija whispered, her eyes sparkling with the promise of so many things, and I smiled triumphantly. Folks, for those of you who don't know, ladies who love ladies are as prone to one-time sexual encounters as our male counterparts among men who love men. It's all about willingness and opportunity. It's not always about romantic relationships and lasting connections. For Khadija, I was Miss-Right-Now, not Miss Right. And that was fine by me...

We caught the bus to Carleton University, and then headed to Khadija's dorm. Lucky for us, she had a single occupant room. You've got to have privacy for such encounters, seriously. We barely got inside before she grabbed me and started kissing me. I kissed her back passionately, for I craved her more than I could say. I have cravings, you see, and not just for blood. I hope this explains what happened later...

"Hodan, you're so beautiful," Khadija said, smiling faintly, and I took her lovely face in my hands, and kissed her lips. I sat on her living room couch, and she sat on my lap. My hands left her face and moved to her breasts, and I caressed that rather thick derriere of hers. I love a nice butt on a gal, and Khadija purred like a kitten as I began caressing hers.

"Right back at you, Khadija," I said, and then I rose, boldly lifting her up, and carried her to the nearby kitchen counter. Khadija laughed then squealed, marveling at my strength. I may look like an average-sized female, I still possess the strength of ten men. I propped her up there, and smiled at her. Khadija smiled nervously, and I paused for a moment.

"Hodan," Khadija said, and she reached for my face with both hands. When I get worked up, sometimes my eyes turn solid Black. It's one of a few things which give us away, my kind and I. Khadija kisses me, and if my heart still beat, it would have soared in relief. We hastily undress, and check each other out. I've been dying to know what she looks like under all that garb...

Khadija looks simply gorgeous while naked, her curvy body, perky breasts, wide hips, thick legs and hairy bush simply commanding my attention. I pull her into my arms, and we begin making love, right there on her kitchen counter. I kiss the tender flesh of her neck while massaging her breasts, rubbing her erect nipples between my thumb and index finger. Khadija moans, then opens herself up to me...

"I want you, just relax, babe," I whisper into Khadija's ear, and she nods, then kisses me. I slid my hand between Khadija's thick thighs, and begin fingering her pussy. She's already wet, but gasps a little as my fingers enter her. I kiss Khadija's lips, then press my forehead against hers. She's burning with passion, her flesh so warm against my preternaturally cool body.

"Hmmm, it's been so long," Khadija said softly, and I nod, smile and thrust two fingers into her pussy. Khadija moans and shudders as I work my magic on her. I kneel before Khadija and proceed to inhale her womanly musk before burying my face between her legs. I taste her, and smile. No two women smell or taste alike down there, and I savor Khadija's uniqueness. This was going to be good...

"Feel that?" I asked, looking at Khadija's face, while my lips are firmly clamped over her pussy. Khadija nods, her eyes closed, her lovely face tense. I continue to lick and probe her, and soon I take her to cloud nine. I suck on her pussy, teasing her clitoris, and when her juices start to flow, I savor every last drop of them. Khadija squeals and squirms, shuddering violently as I make her cum, and she's a wonder to behold...

"Hmm, yes," Khadija squealed, and I pulled her on top of me, and we lay on the cool kitchen floor as we continued with our fun. With surprising boldness, Khadija kissed me, then began pleasuring me. I sighed happily as I felt her warm, so warm, and lovely lips on my nipples while her small, sleek hands caressed my breasts. When Khadija parted my legs and worked her fingers into my cold, dead pussy, I had to smile. The gal's on fire...

"Do you like the way I taste?" I asked Khadija, as she began munching on my pussy like a hungry woman. Becoming what I am changed me, and I feel cold to the touch, lack a pulse, no longer breathe, and I'm as different from mundane humanity as can be. None of those things seemed to bother Khadija much as she flicked her tongue over my clitoris, thrust two fingers into my cunt and worked me over until I cried out...

"You taste different, passionate, amazing," Khadija said, looking up from between my thighs, and I smiled and nodded. She continued pleasuring me until I cried out as I came, orgasmic for the first time in ages. I bring a lot of women to my bed, and it always ends the same way. Humanity can be nothing more than food for me. This isn't like the movies...

When all was said and done, Khadija Basha and I lay in bed together, all smiles as we basked in the warm afterglow of a stupendous fuck. I looked at the lovely young woman in my arms, and wondered about her life. Did Khadija have friends, a family? Of course. Somewhere in Yemen, her parents awaited, and when she came home from Canada with her fancy degree, they'd celebrate and then marry her off to some local man. Unless I change her fate...

"Khadija, what is this?" I asked, pointing at a small bottle on her nightstand, and Khadija took it, then launched into a rather lengthy explanation. I was just curious about the bottle, thinking it nothing more than diet pills, or perhaps cold medicine. Mortals these days seem to have pills for everything. I'm told that there are pills which can affect a woman's natural monthly blood flow. Ah, the wonders of the scientific age...

"Well, Hodan, I have something of a condition, it's called sleep apnea, I take those pills so I don't accidentally stop breathing and die in my sleep," Khadija said softly, and I nodded, as though I actually understood. I looked at her, this beautiful young mortal woman who'd just brought me so much pleasure. Such a frail, yet pretty little thing, doomed to wither away within a few decades...

"You poor thing, you go through so much," I said, feeling actual sympathy for her, and I drew Khadija's face into my hands, and looked into her eyes. She smiled at me, and we exchanged a kiss. There we were, two perfect strangers, lying in bed together, having explored our passions without fear or shame. Women who love women, that's what we are. Some women who share our passions wear the Hijab, get used to it.

Khadija Basha looks so beautiful to me, even as I marvel at her vulnerability and foolishness. This mortal female is lonely, and that loneliness has brought her to me. Looking at me, Khadija sees a tall, alluring African female, one who arouses her repressed lust for other women. Seeing right into her soul, I became what she yearned for. At the end of the day, I am a predator and must feed on her, but it doesn't have to be the end of her...

"Hold me," Khadija whispers, and I do, and don't let go. I kiss her lips, and then press my lips against her lovely neck. I can feel her blood coursing through her veins. I can't resist the urge, and sink my fangs into her neck. Khadija screams, but cannot escape from my death-like grip. I drain her, like all the other women I bring to my bed, my chosen prey. That's what it means to be a vampire, your need for food and drink, love and sex, all horribly fused together...

"Lovely one, I will never let you go," I say to Khadija, as her dying body collapses in my arms, and I gently put her on the bed. Rising, I resolutely head outside. Khadija Basha dies, the result of an unknown infection, the tiny pinpricks on her bed completely sliding past the medical examiner. The local Islamic community buries her since she has no family in Ottawa. Khadija Basha is laid to rest at the Ottawa Muslim Cemetery, a couple of days after her death.

Standing over Khadija Basha's grave, I wait patiently. Khadija claws her way out of her grave, and smile at the newbie vampire. She looks at me, curious, confused, and filled with hunger. I welcome her with open arms. I've been alive since the latter days of the nineteenth century, and this is my first time doing this, siring a new vampire. This is a big responsibility...

"What in hell am I?" Khadija asks me, and she ran her tongue over her mouthful of curving fangs. I smile at her, and gently stroke her lovely face. Khadija's eyes are solid black, and her fangs are long, sharp, and glisten. She won't be able to resume a fully human-looking appearance until she's calmed down, and fed, that's why newbie vampires are particularly vulnerable. I hand Khadija sunglasses, and tell her to keep her mouth shut, and she complies.

"You're like me, now, come along, Khadija," I reply, and I take her by the hand, and lead her to my car. We drive around, looking for...something. The nightlife in the City of Ottawa borders on nonexistent, especially during the winter months. In the summer, festivals like Blues Fest, Capital Hoe Down, Glow Fest, and major rock concerts liven the place up a little. Otherwise, Ottawa is superbly boring, uptight, conservative, and proud to be this way.

"I am hungry," Khadija says to me, and we arrive at the Rideau Shopping Center. It's deserted, of course. We cross the street, and head to the nearby McDonald's restaurant. It's after midnight, and Rideau Street is quite lively. Up and down that street we see guys and gals parading, thugs, wannabe thugs, hookers, gangsters, and the like. During the day, the place is full of businesspeople, government workers, college students, and the like. At night, they're gone, replaced by the dregs of western society...

"Plenty of food here," I say to Khadija, and we order drinks, then sit around the McDonald's. Khadija takes a sip of her drink, finds it bland and tasteless, due to her transformed taste buds, and almost throws it up. I smile, and slowly, patiently sip mine. I've built up a tolerance for human drinks like Pepsis, beer, and whiskey. I can drink and hold it down for hours. I even enjoy it sometimes. It helps me pass for human. Of course, I can't process solid foods, ever.

"I want him," Khadija says, pointing at a tall, bald-headed, tattooed and muscular white male in a Sons of Anarchy jacket and blue jeans. He stands in line and bumps his foot against that of the short, chubby Filipino customer standing in front of him. The Filipino guy turns around, and the bald guy smirks at him and the chubby guy says nothing, and shakes his head, clearly annoyed.

Mr. Bald gets his drinks and food from the servers, and heads to sit at the back of McDonald's. A young blonde woman with tattoos dressed like a Goth is waiting for him. He kisses her on the lips, then heads to the washroom. I nod at Khadija, who rises and goes after him. Before Mr. Bald can reach the washroom, Khadija grabs him, and sinks her fangs into his neck. She drains him. I head to the back, and we dispose of the body. Mission accomplished.

"Welcome to a whole new world," I say to Khadija, and she smiles and kisses me. She takes off her sunglasses, and her eyes are their normal, golden brown color. Khadija's sharp fangs have morphed into regular human teeth. We can go back and forth between our monstrous and mundane forms, it just takes focus. I clasp her hands in mine, and smile, for I'm proud of her.

"I think I'm going to like this," Khadija says and she smiles at me, her beauty transformed by her new vampire state. Gone is her Hijab, and she looks resplendent in the traditional Islamic dress they buried her in. as soon as possible, I am getting her some new clothes. Khadija Basha was a lovely mortal, a fine desert flower, and she's going to make an amazing new recruit among the Undead.

I am still musing all of those infinite possibilities when something quite unexpected happens. I gasp in shock when Khadija suddenly grabs my ass, gives it a firm squeeze, and then smiles at me innocently. Looks like my new companion is a feisty gal, I thought, amused. Impulsively I grab Khadija and kiss her, and as we walk up Parliament Hill, hand in hand, women and men passing by cast admiring glances our way.