Poetry & Blood Ch. 09

Chapter 9: Appetizing
By Trixie Adara
Edited by ALewdEditor

A week. Apparently Laura's exile from the Muse Sessions was going to last at least a week, maybe longer. Camille hadn't talked to her since she sent her away. If she had anything to say to Laura, it was through Angelica these days. Messages like:

"Miss Kontalban wants you to know that she still expects your work done promptly without excuse."

Or, "Miss Kontalban wants you to know that she will not need your services at the Muse Sessions until further notice. You are to spend the time instead here, working on her manuscript."

Or worse, "Miss Kontalban has noticed a lack of energy in your work lately. That should be remedied effective immediately." Then Angelica would smile condescendingly. "She wonders if you are worth remaining in her employ." Before she left, she'd turn around and throw out a casual, "though that last part was from me, she wouldn't let you know she was thinking of firing you until you were fired. Consider it a courtesy."

It wasn't much of a courtesy.

Worse than a lack of Muse Sessions, a lack of sex and good poetry, and the faintest taste of Marcilla, was what Laura was missing. Laura had explored as much as she dared, but once the clock struck time for the Muse Sessions, Angelica and Miss Lancaster roamed the manor. Laura could hear Miss Lancaster's heels. She could sense Angelica's smug satisfaction. She was trapped at the perfect hour to find Emma, and even when she wandered around while everyone but Camille slept, she couldn't find the girl's room.

Her mind replayed that night endlessly. It was wonderful, but it wasn't perfect. Emma was too reluctant. She was too weak. She wasn't Marcilla as Laura imagined her. She wasn't some primal huntress of darkness. She was a girl, almost a child. Laura had no idea how old she really was, but something about her was off, something was going in the wrong direction of her mind. It fascinated Laura for sure, but it didn't turn her on.

She woke the next morning bandaged and in her bed. The room was clean, no blood anywhere. Laura never found out how that happened, but she assumed it was Emma. Angelica or Camille would confront her if they knew about it. No, she was warm and safe in her bed, but in an immense amount of pain. Every inch of her body ached, and if it didn't ache, every other inch burned. It felt like she had some sort of rash but it was on the inside of her skin, running along her veins. She had a piercing migraine as well, and her vision was blurry. She needed to see a doctor, probably two or three, but she didn't want to draw attention to it. She didn't want questions.

Instead, she did what came natural to her in this house: lying. She wore clothing that covered her bandages and cuts. She ordered some online, with sleeves that covered the wrist and had a fingerless glove effect on her hand. She got back onto Jacques' magic smoothies. She took medication for her migraine, though it rarely worked. It was an eternal thing, still plaguing her after a week.

In short: Laura was pissy.

So when Claire messaged her, it was the most welcome distraction in the entire world.

Claire: U on drugs?

Laura: What?

Claire: Just tell me. I can take it.

Laura: I'm not on drugs.

Claire: Then why the hell won't u call dad?

Laura: My dad?

Claire: Yeah, he keeps messaging me asking if I heard from u. We got lunch today and apparently he hasn't talked to u in over a month?

Laura: It can't be that long.

Laura checked her phone. It had been longer. Much longer.

Laura: Shit.

Claire: See?

Laura: I should call him.

Claire: Right, and what about me?

Laura: What about you?

Claire: Am I dead meat to u? What the hell happened?

Laura: I've been sick.

Claire: Still? u been to the doctor?

Laura hesitated and ran through her mind to the last time she saw Claire. She enjoyed admiring Claire's body and the fantasies that rolled through her head. A month ago, she may have been afraid, but to want to kiss or even bite such a delicious body was nothing compared to what Laura wanted now. Fucking Claire silly was PG compared to what she wished Marcilla would do to her.

Pleasantly enough, the migrain seemed to fade as she imagined ripping off Claire's clothes with her bare hands, feeling the fabric give way and Claire's eager flesh burst out to be touched, grabbed, licked, tasted, bit ... yum.

Laura squirmed in her seat. Yes. This was it.

Laura: You're right. I've been a shitty friend. Can I make it up to you?

Claire: Go to ur dream mansion?

Laura: When was the last time we went out together?

Claire: Out out?

Laura: Dancing. A club.

Claire: I can't.

Laura: Why not?

Claire: I got fired last week. U would know if u ever asked about me.

Laura: Oh shit, Claire, I'm so sorry.

Though, in reality, Laura was not sorry. She could only think of how she might use this to her advantage. Claire would wallow in self-pity, want a burst of attention, but then go on like a good girl and get drunk. Laura could use that.

Claire: Don't pretend u care.

Laura: Of course I care. I'm your friend.

Claire: Were

Laura: Don't be like that. Let me make it up to you.

Claire: How?

Laura: My treat. I'll cover everything.

Claire: How many drinks?

Laura: As many as you want. As many as you can handle.

Claire: I can handle a lot.

Laura: Good, cause I'm paying.

Claire: Where?

*********

The name of the club was "Moist," Claire's pick, and it seemed to be the most over-the-top place she could think of. The line to get in was around the block on a Tuesday, and row after row of beautiful, plastic college girls lined up to get in.

Laura slipped the guy at the door a thick wad of cash, and he let Claire and Laura in. Claire's eyes widened at the sight, but Laura shrugged.

"I really am sorry," she shouted over the music as it drowned out all thought and reason. Everything was bass. The lights flared when it pulsed, blinding Laura and spiking her mind with pain from her migraine. The bodies across the floor followed the bass. Claire's hips swayed to it, her gorgeous and perfect ass moving hypnotically to the beat.

If Claire was delicious last time Laura saw her, she was downright scrumptious now. She looked like an aspiring stripper, and Laura didn't mind the view in the least. She had on a dark blue crop-top that hugged her ample bust, but dangled harmlessly over her tummy. It was covered in sequins, catching the club light, and the fabric was thin. It looked as though Laura could snap it off if she simply thought about it hard enough. Beneath that was a short and tight leather micro skirt. It looked liked someone shaved ten inches off of a slutty pencil skirt in an attempt to make it even sluttier. Mission accomplished. Claire finished it off with black ankle boots that toned her calves and ass to a dangerous level. Her hair was in a loose bun with strategic strands of hair dangling over her ears.

Laura hoped she dressed to match. She wore black thigh high boots, which used to make her feel childish, but tonight she felt powerful and confident. Her mini skirt was more flared than Claire's but not much longer. She went pantiless tonight, hoping Claire would want easy access when Laura finally pushed her over the edge. That was a risk, but Laura felt much less confident about her top: a simple pink lace bralette. She kept covering and uncovering her stomach whenever she remembered all she wasn't wearing. Luckily, it didn't expose anything more than a bathing suit would, but it spoke more of what kind of woman Laura had become.

"This is great!" shouted Claire as they walked to the bar. She was going to waste no time getting her free drinks.

"Yeah," muttered Laura. She would rather have Claire in the alley, in the back of her car, in her bedroom. Anywhere more private. Anywhere quieter and less bright. Anywhere that didn't make it feel like needles were trying climb through her skull from the inside.

The bar, at least, was mercifully quieter. There were less bodies slamming into them while they walked and Laura would appreciate having something to help her relax.

"Long Island," said Claire as they approached the bar.

The bartender, a pierced, tattooed, and honestly hot woman in her late forties, turned to Laura. "And you?"

"The same," sighed Laura. She didn't care; she needed booze.

"This is fun," said Claire, looking around the club in amazement. "I've never been able to get in here before."

"Yeah."

"How much did you slip the guy at the door."

Too much. "A hundred."

"Shut. Up." Claire turned back to Laura and beamed. "For real?"

"For real for real."

"Awww," Claire wrapped Laura in a head-crushing hug into her huge tits.

"Air. Need air," groaned Laura.

"You are the bestest!" Claire released Laura. "Thank you so much."

"No problem," said Laura, coughing a little. "Seriously."

There was a soft thud behind them on the bar, and they both turned around and began drinking.

"So," said Laura after draining almost half her glass, "we have some catching up to do."

"You bet your sweet ass we do."

The next hour was spent going through Long Island iced teas (Laura had two, Claire managed four) and catching up. Laura let Claire take the lead. She wasn't sure how to phrase all she had been through. Her job was fairly normal before vampires took a central role to it. Apparently, Claire had gone through five different boyfriends in their time apart, though Claire insisted that two of them didn't count. She lost her job at the boutique. She didn't mind losing the pay, but losing the employee discount crushed her soul. She claimed it was a misunderstanding between her and a customer. She said the woman would look 'hot,' and the customer took it as she would look 'cheap' or 'slutty.' She would not be getting a recommendation, and she feared that meant she was doomed to go back to the mall.

Other than that, Claire didn't have much to report. She described her life as "tragically vanilla in all regard." Laura did her best to listen along, to nod and smile at the right moments, but Claire's body was severely distracting. Her top gave the illusion of covering her breasts from the front, but it was just a strap in the back. It was more like a highly decorative and scandalous apron, showing Laura all of Claire's breasts from the side. When she laughed, they jiggled perfectly: not too much like an older woman, and not too little like fake tits. Laura felt herself mesmerized, almost in the presence of Camille or Marcilla's words. She squirmed on her stool and was reminded of her lack of panties. That encouraged more squirming, an almost metronomic swaying, feeling the leather of the stool cover rub over her pussy while she stared at Claire's body: her full lips, her long legs, her thick thighs, her smooth tummy, and her full breasts ...

"Laura?" asked Claire, lowering herself and placing her eyes in Laura's field of vision, obscuring the sight of her tits.

"Hm?"

"I asked how things were with you."

"Me?"

"Yes. You. Jesus, you sure you're not on drugs?"

"No," said Laura vacantly. "I'm not sure."

"If you are, you're legally obligated by best friend code to share."

"I'll remember that." Laura smiled dully. Her body was relaxed from the drink, and her mind was focused from Claire's body. She wondered how hard she would have to bite to draw blood. Would Claire mind? Would Emma want to share her?

"Anyways, you. Talk. Now." Claire made a shooing motion with her hand, turned around, and ordered more drinks.

Laura started off carefully. Most people thought editing was an exciting job and that every reader should dream wet dreams of one day hunting for typos. The reality was that editing was only fun if you got to work with the writer and give input. It was being a glorified word processor otherwise. Lately, Laura had been as useful as auto-correct.

"Okay but, what about living in that mansion? Like, what is that like?" The drunker Claire got, the more she sounded like a valley girl. It was an annoying habit.

Laura tried to work carefully around the vampire and nocturnal aspects of the house. She talked about walking the estate. She talked about how lonely it was to be in such a big house with so few people. She talked about focusing on her work, not wanting to distract herself. The more she talked about it, the more depressed she became. It really did seem like a shit job once she looked at it from the outside. She spent all her time in her room or fixing Camille's typos. It was the epitome of drudgery. Why had she waited so long to go out? What kept her there?

"I guess the only good part were the Muse Sessions," said Laura to herself.

"The what?" asked Claire.

"The Muse Sessions," sighed Laura. "The best part of the day."

"What the hell are those?"

"Well, those are ..." Laura paused and ran through it in her mind. This would be weird, but if anyone would be cool with it, it would be Claire. Besides, she was drunk enough to think anything was fine right now.

"Artists are strange, right?" asked Laura.

"Sure."

"Miss Kontalban, my boss, is pretty freaking strange. Even for an artist."

"Okay."

"Artists are known for doing all sorts of things to keep themselves inspired. Weird things. Charles Dickens, for example, kept a compass with him at all times. He always slept facing north. He thought this made him more creative or whatever."

"Weird," said Claire with a shrug.

"Right, well, Miss Kontalban is weirder." It felt bizarre to hear Camille's name in that form on Laura's tongue. She wanted to say Marcilla. Only Marcilla. There were layers on layers of deceit, and all of them infuriated Laura.

"How so?" asked Claire.

"Well ... she ... and you have to understand, I was shocked when I first found out. She ... uh ... every night she has poetry read to her. And ... uh ... some of her servants feed her ... like strawberries and stuff."

"That's not weird."

"Well, no. The weird part is that she ... uh ... she then has someone service her while she eats and listens."

"Service her?"

"Yeah ... well ... like ..." It wasn't the nerves that made Laura struggle now. She knew what she was doing. She was setting the bait. She was luring Claire in. If Claire thought it made Laura uncomfortable, she would be more likely to accept it. Stretching it out increased Claire's interest as well. Laura enjoyed watching her friend lean in close enough to feel Claire's breath on her neck.

"Like eating her pussy?" asked Claire. Her smile was wild, manic, like she was on the verge of a fit of giggles.

"Yeah," said Laura, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Like that."

"Like, dudes read her poetry, feed her strawberries, and eat her out?"

"Not just dudes."

"Shut. Up." Claire bounced up and down in her seat. "That is so hot. Like, wow. I need to meet your boss. She's like, my hero. When I grow up, I want hot men to feed me strawberries and lick me while serenading me and stripteasing. Holy shit."

"Yeah," said Laura. "It's pretty wild."

"Wait?" Claire suddenly got serious and pulled away from Laura. "How did you find out about these? Gossip?"

"Well ... no."

"Laura ..." she said, her voice raising at the end as though about to chastise a child.

"What? It's my job. I'm the one that reads to her!" Laura did her best to fake blushing. She was tired of acting coy. She wanted to bend over and give Claire's top the simplest tug, freeing her breasts for Laura's teeth. She wanted to take Claire into the bathroom, raise up one leg, and feel her slutty friend's tongue slither through her pussy.

"You read her filthy poetry and watch?! Ohmygosh, you're such a slut!"

"It's just sex, jeeze." Laura looked away and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She had set the bait. Now would Claire take it?

"This is not the little Laura I know."

"Well, yeah. The new job has opened me up to a few things."

"A few?!" she teased incredulously.

"Yeah. I guess." Laura smiled, pretending to be embarrassed but slightly proud of herself.

"Do you ... participate in these orgies?"

"It's not an orgy!"

"It has multiple people and sex parts, sounds like an orgy."

"Only Ca - Miss Kontalban has any sex or orgasm. Everyone else just serves her."

"Okay, one? Shivers. Literal shivers." Claire grabbed Laura's hand and ran it over her arms. It was covered in goosebumps. "And two? You didn't answer my question."

"I do not participate in the sexual component of the Muse Sessions," sighed Laura.

"Just reading?"

"Yes. It's not a big deal."

"Oh it is. I cannot name anyone on the planet I know or have heard of that participate in sex poetry readings with their boss. It's a big deal. Very big deal."

"I thought you of all people would be cool with it."

"Oh, I'm more than cool with it," said Claire. "In fact, I'm wondering if your job is hiring, but my point is this: not everyone is as cool with the sex parts as me."

"I know."

"I mean, what would a potential boyfriend say when he heard what your job was like?"

"Well ..." Laura fake blushed again. Claire was toying with the bait, but she hadn't quite taken it yet. "I think my job has had some influence on me ..."

"Such as?" Claire stared at Laura, waiting for her to finish, but Laura kept her eyes locked on Claire's chest and bit her lips. She didn't need to pretend much anymore.

"Oh my gosh!" squeaked Claire as realization hit her. "Shut. Up! Oh my gosh! Ohmygosh!" She bounced up and down on her seat, her tits bouncing along with her, almost flopping out of her top. "You're bi?!"

Laura shook her head and placed her hand on Claire's thigh.

Claire's body went through a quick range of emotions: she smiled widely, she closed her eyes, she almost moaned, she arched her back, and she went into hug Laura all at the same time.

"My little lesbo Laura!" she cheered as she pressed Laura into her. Laura didn't try to hug back. Instead, she savored the feeling of Claire's tits pressed against her, and let her hands roam further up Claire's thigh.

"Uh ... thanks?"

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

Laura's mind flashed to Nikki: her first kiss with her, feeling compelled to taste her, feeling pressed up against the wall. She never found out where she went. She guessed it had to do with Emma. Nikki found out about her and was fired, but Laura could find her somewhere outside the manor. She should look her up. She missed the feeling of Nikki's flesh against her, the teasing, the forceful kisses. Now she wondered would things still be that way? Would she press Nikki up against the wall? Force Nikki to her knees, grab the back of her head, and shove it into her wet pussy? She imagined doing that to Claire, right now, in a crowded club of mindless dancers.

She needed to stop playing around.

"Not currently," said Laura. "Just a fling, I think. Nothing serious. It's confusing, you know?"

"Oh, I know. You call me when you're ready to come out to your dad. My parents lost their shit when I told them I was bi."

"Yeah. I hadn't thought of that. Right now it's just this new thing. It's kind of private, but it's new and exciting and terrifying all at once. Like an addiction."

"Addicted to pussy," teased Claire.

"I guess." Laura leaned closer to Claire and lifted her hand from Claire's thigh up her tummy, dangerously close to her breasts. "But it's more like tits."

"Mmm," moaned Claire, and then she pulled away from Laura. "Wait. Is this a date? Are you, like, hitting on me?"

"What do you think?" Laura leaned towards Claire and slid her hands between Claire's clenched thighs, gripping the flesh tightly as she moved in to kiss Claire's throat.