Priestess in the Dark

Black leather, white hair, gray eyes, 5'4, ruby lips. Blue crescent. That damn clue crescent. It had been on her chest right between her beautiful breasts. He had seen it, and it had been ethereal. Glowing brighter than the light or color should've allowed. He was having dreams about the damn thing. Damn it! Who, what and where was she?

Another night and he was doing what had become a ritual, turning around in his covers unable to find comfort. He had drawn that haunting blue symbol on so many sheets of paper, and yet it was unwilling to let go of his mind. He would go insane before that thing gave him any peace. He ran his hand across his chest trying to calm himself. For one reason or another, it gave him joy to feel the muscle under his hand. It had never been there before, but in the last few weeks he did everything he could think to make himself more attractive to his mystery woman.

For that's what she was nothing more than a haunting apparition that should've faded into the cellar of his memory already. Here she was, however, moving him under the sheets, not even being present but refusing to let him sleep none the less.

Throwing back the covers, he needed release, he needed to be free of his phantom. Pulling on his only pair of blue jeans and a brown sweater that had grown taut over his newly formed muscles, he headed towards the door. Grabbing the key ring and slipping on a pair of jogging shoes, he headed across the street to a place he had never visited before in his life. The liquor store.

This is what men do, right? When women refuse to give them any peace, they headed to the nearest liquor store or pub and had it out with a bottle of whiskey, rum or whatever they drink. He didn't know.

He'd tried getting drunk once in college, because he was tired of being the only one without anything to do on a Friday night. Ultimately, however he didn't remember much about that night except waking up in a dumpster outside of the West side Pizza Hut. It goes without saying that drinking never happened again. Up until now.

Stepping in he heard the small bell above the door giving away his entrance. The portly man behind the bar looked like he hadn't waited till work had finished to start his drinking. The man was nearly falling out of his office chair as he leaned in towards hi computer screen. The fun was pressed up against his ear and pudgy cheek and he spook languidly into the receiver. Looking around, John realized there was more of a selection of intoxicants than any man could've ever asked for. He had no idea where to start, so headed for the displays.

Picking up a bottle of Whiskey with silhouettes of naked women, he imagined it sold well amongst college guys. Passing it by, he saw a display with tropical islands. It promised an enjoyable getaway from all your modern day problems. The rum on the display was cheap and seemed like with the right additives could do the trick of erasing his woman from his mind. Walking to the front of the store, he placed the rum on the counter. The grotesque man who should've been running this place was still wrapped up in his phone call in the back office. He could hear the man's slightly inebriated words as it echoed through the store. Apparently he was making excuses to someone he had recently offended. Shifting his weight, Matt took a look around the store. It was a shit hole. The shelves looked dilapidated and bent under the weight of the alcohol bottles. The lights in the back coolers seemed to have stopped working some years ago, and the cash register was older than God. Matt doubted that if this place sold anything else that it would've stayed open for very long. People will go anywhere for a little relief, even if it looks like it should've been condemned. He was here, wasn't he?

He felt his frustration growing that the clerk had not once looked in his direction, and didn't appear to be winding down his conversation. Matt pulled out his wallet and placed a twenty on the counter. Grabbing his hooch he headed out the front door, the little bell declaring his exit.

The night was cold. It pierced through the brown sweater and raised the hairs on his chest. He sped up towards home. For a few seconds he listened to the sound his shoes made through the slush and snow. That blue crescent was there again, as if it was tattooed on the back of his eyes. Looking to his right he saw the moon. It wasn't a crescent, but full, barely reaching above the horizon, an intense yellow-gold. A harvest moon. Somewhere he imagined she was standing under it, doing whatever it is she does that leaves blood on her clothes in the middle of the night. He knew that her hair would be slightly golden from the light of the moon. Her eyes would be piercing, haunting and unforgettable. He could imagine her lithe body sliding underneath the leather that fit as if she were born with it on. She would be beautiful right now, all stealth and sex.

Shaking his head free for a moment, he picked up the pace and started jogging towards his apartment. He needed to get away from the moon.

After three hours of drinking rum and playing fighting games, sleep had finally claimed him. He looked pathetic as he lay on his black silk sheets clutching his rum bottle. His clothes were still mostly on, he'd managed to get his shirt over his head and out of one arm but had collapsed before he could get it off the other. She had watched periodically through the night until he fell asleep. Now she sat crouched outside the picture window looking right into his room. His chest rose and fell with his breathe, and his mind refused to clear of the images he had of her and him tangled in his sheets. She smirked at the amount of discomfort he was feeling, and the yearning he could not get rid of.

She slid her body through the windowpane, and quietly up to his side. The sparse decorating was what she expected. Black curtains were draped on the windows, they matched the black silk sheets and the headboard. It was beautifully dark and secluded. The only thing that astounded her was the picture frame sitting on the side of the bed. It was made of macaroni painted many different colors. In the center was a picture of a little girl with red braids. She had a toothy grin and dark brown eyes. Whoever she was, she had to be related to him. Her eyes had the same brightness and love she had seen in his.

Closing her eyes, she enhanced the intensity of his horny dream. He groaned in his sleep and shifted under the covers until he was flat on his back. She saw what she had caused. He was hard. She couldn't help the giggle that escaped her. It was all too delightful. He was in such discomfort, and so incredibly craving her. Slowly she peeled off her leathers and made sure that he was seeing it in his mind. She slid the material off her arms, but held it against her chest as to not reveal herself quite yet. He started grinding against the sheets that covered him, moving his hips in circles. Slowly she took the midnight leather away from her chest revealing two perfectly round breasts with pale pink nipples. As the cold air hit them, they grew hard.

She ran her hands over her nipples feeling the pleasure and giving him a show. She knew her hair was amazing as it fell over her shoulders like rain. It was her pride and joy. She threw her head back, making the pure white tendrils glitter in the moonlight. Moaning in pleasure and she tilted her head slightly to the side so she could see the effect her little performance was having on him. He was almost uncontrollable as he moved under the black silk. His hand had crept under the covers and into his pants while he still slept. Now he was working his length.

Drawing her hands down her stomach she slid them to her pants. Moving her hips sensually back and forth she began to lower the clinging material. She knew he was already imagining what he would see when she had them completely off because he began to move his hand faster.

As the leather finally fell to her ankles she stepped out of them towards the bed where he slept. Closing her eyes she evaporated the clothing he had managed to keep on. She pulled back the thin layer of blanket that kept her from seeing all of him. There he was long, hard and ready beneath the moonlight that was streaming in through the window. His chest and stomach were tense from longing and his hand had fallen away from between his legs and lay grasping at the sheets next to him. He was so ready for her, and she surprised herself at how excited she had gotten in the process. She could feel a little wetness drip down her thighs.

Suddenly, she felt his hands grasp her hips. He pulled her body towards him and flipped her onto the bed. She lay on her back in surprise as he kneed her thighs apart and climbed on top of her. Because he was still technically asleep, he fumbled a little before he slammed himself into her core. With a need she had never experienced, he pumped in and out of her body. Even though he seemed to be still a sleep, he kissed her neck and ran his hands up the sides of her body. When he reached her hair, he roughly pulled it back exposing the white flesh of her neck and bit hard. She cried out and began to writhe underneath him reaching for her own climax.

Rocking together, they both rode the waves in near silence. She closed her eyes and tapped into his mind. Feeling his pleasure and intensifying his with her own, they both sped up. They came slamming their bodies together in a frantic urge to give and receive pleasure. As he filled her she felt his mind slip away from her grasp. Looking up into his face his eyes opened and stared right back at her.

Then she was gone.