Poetry & Blood Ch. 06

"Serve me, Laura," commanded Camille.

Laura served her to completion.

That night, she served her three more times. Laura fell asleep in Camille's bed, the vampire wrapped around her. Not once did Laura cum. Not once did Camille touch or pleasure her. But it didn't matter. She wasn't supposed to become more Laura. She was supposed to become less. All good prey become less.

That was her final thought as everything became dark.

*************

Laura woke up to the familiar soreness in an unfamiliar room. She was in Camille's bed, but Camille was gone. She sat up, and looked around the room, looking for any sign of her but found nothing. The dark and heavy curtains of the room kept Laura from guessing what time it was, and she decided to stumble back to her bedroom to get food. It was a painful walk of shame to the other side of the mansion. The soreness was worse than before. Whatever sickness was taking her must be getting worse.

Though her body was getting weaker, her mind felt sharper than last night. She remembered most of it. Things were clear until she locked eyes with Camille. She knew she ate Camille out several times. She knew Camille tasted wonderfully, but she didn't remember many of the details. Other than that, her faculties were normal. As she walked, she noticed that life seemed to be going on per usual in the mansion. Angelica passed her and gave her a judgemental glare when she saw Laura's wrinkled clothes from last night. She guessed that is was late morning by the way the sun was hitting the windows.

And more importantly, she still saw no sign of Nikki. She wanted to tell her about Camille, about Marcilla, about Laura K. She wasn't sure if Nikki would think she was crazy for talking about vampires, but she didn't care. She had to process all of this with someone. She didn't know if Nikki would be jealous either. She should probably withhold the part about eating out Camille, just to be safe.

Her bedroom was empty when she entered, and she fought off the sting of disappointment. She'd buzz for Nikki after breakfast and a shower. Then, she could tell her everything.

Laura called down to Jacques to send the usual breakfast up, especially the smoothie, and hopped into the shower. She still felt like she stank of sex without the pleasure of sex. Her panties were practically stained from all the excitement last night when she took them off.

The warm water calmed her down and helped clear her mind so she could focus on what she had learned. Camille was Marcilla. Did that mean she should call her Marcilla now? No. That would be ridiculous. The rest of the staff didn't call her Marcilla. Did they know? Either they knew and still called her Camille or they didn't know and calling her Marcilla would ruin that. No matter what, Laura resolved to keep thinking of her as Camille.

Besides, Camille still didn't feel like Marcilla to Laura. Marcilla was strong, relentless, fierce. She was a force of nature. Marcilla wouldn't cry over Laura K's rejection. She would hunt Laura K down and take her. She would hunt. She would devour.

Camille was a shadow of that. Laura felt a bit of Marcilla in her when she looked into her eyes, when she tasted Camille's blood. Something clicked in Camille, something changed, and Marcilla emerged for a moment. Laura had to bring her back. She had to evoke Marcilla again. Marcilla wouldn't fail to devour Laura when she offered her neck as Camille did. Marcilla would feast.

Laura stepped out of the shower and found her breakfast waiting for her. She dried off, got dressed, and was halfway through when there was a knock on the door.

She smiled. She couldn't wait to see Nikki. "Come in," she said with her mouth full.

The door opened a crack, and Angelica peeked her head inside. "I see you've changed," she said dryly. Laura's smile died.

"What is it?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," chastised Angelica.

Laura stared at her, chewed quickly, and swallowed. "What is it?" she repeated.

"You have a visitor."

"I have a what?"

"A visitor. A human guest that would like to spend time with you for unknown and unfathomable reasons."

"Bitchy looks terrible on you," said Laura. She stood and wiped her mouth. "Who is it?"

"Someone named Claire."

Laura smiled. "Oh Claire!" Her smiled wilted. "Oh, shit. Claire."

"Should I tell her to go away?" asked Angelica.

"Uh, no. She's fine. She can stay. Just, uh ... tell her I'll be down in a minute. I need to finish breakfast."

Angelica closed the door without a word. Laura scarfed down her breakfast, while trying to figure out why Claire was here. More importantly, could she let Claire walk the grounds knowing her boss was a vampire? More important than that, how on earth could she explain to Claire all the absolutely crazy things that had been happening to her lately?

When she was finished, Laura left her tray for Angelica to clean up - the bitch - and headed downstairs to the foyer. There, looking around the room and gawking, was Claire.

Claire was beautiful in the way that no man appreciates and every woman envies. Her beauty was effortless and the product of good genetics. She was tall, just shy of six feet, and curvy. She could be a model for Torrid or something because she had big tits, perfectly thick thighs, and hips that drove men crazy. She had almost grey eyes, and straw-blonde hair that went past her shoulders. She looked like she played professional women's basketball and did lingerie advertisements for plus sized women in her free time. But more than that, she required almost no makeup. Her complexion was perfect, her eyebrows were darker than her her hair color, her skin was flawless. She woke up like this. Laura wouldn't believe it unless she saw it, but she lived with Laura for three years, and the girl - honest to God - woke up like this.

Today, she was wearing a light blue tank top and skinny, very skinny, pale jeans. All the correct curves were highlighted. She finished the look with peach heeled sandals with straps at the toe and above the ankle. She looked gorgeous. She always looked gorgeous.

"Hey, Cla-"

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up," said Claire, still staring at the giant and beautiful building. "You live here?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"Umm ... okay."

"You live here?" she repeated.

"Yeah."

"Shut the fuck up." Claire finished her rotation and turned to face Laura. She stopped, as if noticing Laura was there for the first time. "You lucky bitch."

"Uh ... thanks?"

"You are one severely lucky bitch."

"I am."

"You going to show me around?"

"Um, why are you here?" asked Laura nervously.

"Are you kidding me?"

"No?" said Laura with an awkward shrug.

"Jesus, we set this up like a week ago. I told you I was taking today off to see how the other half lived."

"Oh," Laura blushed, "right."

"You forgot?"

"A little bit."

"Wow. Okay. Just ... wow."

"A lot's been going on this week."

"And it hasn't for me? Jesus, my new apartment reeks of cats."

"Sorry," said Laura. "I'll make it up to you. I promise."

"Oh yeah? How?"

"Indoor movie theater?" suggest Laura. Claire seemed indifferent. "Free popcorn machine?" Claire's mouth twitched. "I can make a maid go get us candy?"

Claire finally broke and smiled. "Fine."

Laura extended her arm for Claire to take, "Shall we, my lady?"

"We shall."

The next hour was severely embarrassing for Laura. She showed Claire most of the building, and everything was met with some version of "shut the fuck up," "you gotta be kidding me," "oh my god," or "you are one lucky bitch." Claire took her time going through each item of furniture, each door, each quarter, and each section to remark on what a lucky bitch Laura was.

But it was fun to have Claire back. It was good to have any familiar element back in the stuffy house. Miss Lancaster was scary. Angelica was a bitch. Nikki was missing. Camille was a vampire. It wasn't exactly a place that felt like home, and though Claire was strange, she was like a big sister to Laura.

And that made things awkward for Laura. It started when they were by the gardens and the sunroof. There was a ladder that goes up to the sunroof, and you can look out and see a beautiful view of the city. It's too small for two people to go up at the same time, so Claire climbed up first while Laura waited below.

Only, while Claire climbed the ladder, Laura couldn't take her eyes off of her best friend's ass. Claire said something, probably about how beautiful the city is from that window, but Laura couldn't hear her at all. It was like blood was rushing from her brain to her pussy. There was a roaring in her ears. Her senses dulled, the edges of her vision blurred, and she become totally preoccupied and obsessed with Claire's ass. Her whole vision locked on to it. There was nothing else. The skinny jeans showed it off perfectly. Honestly, it was a perfect ass. Laura would kill for an ass like that. She would kill for a body like that.

But she could never look like Claire. Claire's genetics made her. No, the closest Laura could ever come to having an ass like that would be to serve an ass like that. If she could kiss it, lick it, clean it, then it would almost be as good as being as beautiful like Claire.

Claire didn't notice when she got off the ladder. She didn't notice that Laura wanted to be one or two steps behind her as they climbed the stairs. She didn't noticed that Laura was always lagging behind, turning her head sideways and staring. It was worse when Claire walked. The way her best friend swung her hips? God. It was no wonder she rarely went home alone. This is what it must feel like for men at the bar. They can't help themselves. They have to stare. They have to watch. They can't look away.

Until, of course, they see Claire's breasts. The tank top had a low cut. Claire thought it was a foundational rule of all fashion to show off her cleavage, and she was right. As they went down another flight of stairs, Laura looked away from Claire's ass long enough to look over Claire's shoulder and see her breasts.

Her breasts were perfect. Laura found herself licking her lips over and over. They were bigger than Laura's. Comically bigger. Laura would need implants and some kind of back surgery to have tits like those. They reminded her of Nikki's breasts, perfect mounds of flesh and energy and nerve endings and nipples and more and more and more. She wondered what Claire tasted like. What did her nipples taste like? She couldn't remember what Claire's nipples looked like. How dark were they? What did they look like stiff? Laura imagined Claire naked in her mind a dozen times. She tried different versions of Claire's breasts in her mind. Each one was better than the last. Each one stoked the flame of her hunger.

In the movie theater, Laura was looking forward to Claire's distraction. Claire would spend the whole time staring at the screen, and Laura would spend the whole time staring down Claire's shirt. It would be perfect. That was all she needed. That's all she wanted.

But when they sat down in the small private theater, Claire moved the armrest between them back. She said was more comfortable that way, and when they sat down, tits and ass were only a portion of what drove Laura crazy.

Skin. Contact. Pressure. Laura felt Claire press against her, and she had to stifle a moan. She wanted Claire against her, pressing her up against a wall, straddling her hips, riding her. She watched over and over as Claire's pleasant smile turned to a lustful grin, as Claire's eyes became hooded with hunger for Laura's body. She wanted Claire to push her back, slam her against a wall. Over and over she watched imaginary Claire slam imaginary Laura against the wall. Each time, imaginary Laura moaned louder. She started with a whimper, but she was a Vaudeville whore by the end.

Slam.

Claire would kiss her.

Slam.

Claire would grope her breasts.

Slam.

Claire would grab her pussy.

Slam.

Claire would bite her neck.

No.

Claire wasn't Marcilla. She wouldn't bite, would she? No. Not like Marcilla. Would Marcilla slam Laura up against the wall? No. She wouldn't have to. Laura would whimper and offer herself. There would be no use of force. Overkill. Force would be overkill. Laura would come willingly. She would beg Marcilla to take her. Marcilla would own her, body and soul, and teach her.

Yes. Teach her.

Claire laughed next to Laura. She looked over to see the tall woman's breasts jiggle with laughter. So much flesh.

Laura licked her lips.

Now, she could see herself pressing down on Claire. Claire would resist at first, but then she'd see Laura's hunger. She'd see the need in Laura's eyes. She'd see her teeth. She'd see and wonder. She'd see and whimper. She'd see and beg.

Slam.

Laura would kiss her.

Slam.

Laura would move down to her neck.

Slam.

Laura would nibble the tender skin.

Slam.

Laura would lick and taste the salty fear.

Slam.

Laura would sink her teeth in.

Claire would cry out in pleasure. She would cum for Laura. Laura's hands would roam Claire's body. She would be in Claire's pants. Claire would be naked and bare before her. Claire would be drizzled in chocolate and spread. Claire would be collared and strapped to a bed. Claire would bend over and kneel before Laura. Claire would cry out in pleasure. She would cry out in pain. She would cry out in fear as Laura took her last breath, as the hot blood dripped down her chin.

Laura stood up in the theater.

"What?" hissed Claire.

"I need to go," said Laura quickly.

"Where are we going?"

"Uh ... just me," stammered Laura. "I don't feel well. I'm sorry."

"Wait, what's wrong?" cried Claire after her, but Laura was already fleeing. "Was it something we ate? The popcorn?"

"I'll text you!" shouted back Laura as she ducked out of the theater.

She ran to her room. She needed to lock herself inside. Where did those thoughts come from? She wasn't a vampire. She shouldn't want ... that.

Laura bumped into a stranger in the hallway, but she didn't apologize. She didn't stop to help them up. She didn't listen to them cry after her. Laura ran because she was desperate. She ran because she was afraid. She ran because she was a danger to her best friend. She ran because she was hungry.

And soaked.