Shimmer

"Jesus!" She smiled, not realizing, he guessed, that he could see. "That good?" She didn't know. Jayna and Gabe hadn't seen the woman's skin and eyes glow. They hadn't seen, even when she followed them back to the first hotel. Their father had been throwing up in the bathroom. He was sweating constantly. His shirt was soaked with it, though he was cold to the touch. There was blood in the sweat, staining his shirt.

"Remember the rest stop?" Gabe said. "Is that what daddy has?"

"I don't know." Paul told him. Then she had showed up. He had let her in, begging her to make it stop. She had laughed at him.

"You see," she said. "You need me." She laughed, scooping Jayna up into her arms. "You're the cutest little thing I've ever seen!" She was glowing. Paul could see it, but no one else seemed to. Maybe he imagined it. Maybe he didn't. And you! She reached out for Gabe and he came to her as if entranced. Gabe, who never willingly came to anyone. It was like he was under a spell. When she put a glowing hand on his arm, it left a print that glowed faintly and spread out across his arm as it faded. Paul shrank back in horror. "Who is this handsome little man?" She said sweetly, looking at Paul. "Please don't touch them." He begged. She kissed Gabe's cheek. "But they're so cute." Something changed in his father's face, and Paul knew that he could see her the way he did. "What are you?" He asked her. "What do you mean?" She replied. "You already know. I'm what you've always wanted. What you are looking for when you go through these women like different flavors of ice cream. I'm intoxicating. You're addicted to me and you don't have to feel guilty about it because you truly need me. You will never have to drink again. Never have to cheat, because I will be all you need." He swallowed hard. He was going to be sick again. He backed away from her. "You're lying." He said. "It isn't you. I'm just sick. That's all." She laughed, "Oh, but see how I can make all that go away." She stepped toward him and put her arms around him. "We could be a little family. You, me, and our little angels here." He pulled the knife from his pocket so quickly that Paul didn't even see him reach for it. "I'll kill you first." He told her.

Suddenly, there was no woman standing in front of him. Simply a little bird, which their father went after in a fit of rage.

"Daddy, don't kill the little bird!" Jayna shouted, throwing open the door. The bird escaped and their father sank to his knees, crying, mumbling something about the devil.

"Are you okay?" Claire. He had kissed her already. She had only kissed Gabe on the cheek and it had killed him. Only put her arms around Jayna and she too had died. There was no hope for him. He was facing the very thing that had killed his family and still he could not fight his arousal.

"It's okay." He told her, "I can see you for what you are. I've seen your like before. I'm not afraid." He was terrified. She kissed him, pressing herself against his growing erection. "You couldn't. I am the only one. There are no others. Only me. Perhaps it was me you saw. I can change." She closed her eyes and when she opened them, they were brown. Another blink and they were the deep blue they had been before. Jayna's blue. Her hair, once short and blond, fell down suddenly to her waist and darkened to a deep brown. The waitress.

She laughed. "No. Only me. But I look like her, don't I? I've been following you, Paul. Waiting for you." She reached behind her back and untied the strings on her bikini top. He couldn't resist reaching out to touch her soft breasts.

"How did you know I was coming?" He asked, though he was pulling her closer to him.

He felt no fear, only a strange fascination and a need. He needed her now more than he could remember needing anyone or anything.

"I don't know. I saw you at the rest stop. The little girl with the dog, remember? Sometimes I see people. Then I watch them. I've been watching you, waiting for you to come to me. We could love each other, Paul. I love you already." She began to unbutton his jeans, her fingers trailing delicious fire across his skin. He stopped her and held her at arms length.

"How?" He gripped her arms tightly, wondering if he was bruising her but not caring, "How can you love me? You don't even know me!" Her smile turned wistful. "Know you? I am you. Neither of us have anything. Anyone. No one to love, nothing to want. You don't feel anything anymore, do you Paul? You can only feel me." She slipped her small hand beneath his jeans and boxers and wrapped her fingers around his cock. Her hands were cool like ice and yet they burned. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She was right, he didn't feel anything. Only loneliness and need. Only her. He had to have her. He allowed her to pull down the zipper on his jeans before he pulled her to the bed. He kissed her skin, feeling the glow brush against him that was somehow warm and cool all at the same time. He pulled her bikini bottoms down and rid himself of his boxers. Enough with the teasing, he thought, though they had truly only just begun. He held her to the bed and claimed her with one quick thrust. "You okay," he asked. She could see the fire in his eyes, mirroring his own. How strange, this mortal that burned as she did. He growled softly waiting for her answer.

"I'm fine." She whispered. She realized his need to be brutal and let him thrust away, pounding at her soft skin. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled his tongue into her mouth. She began to take his energy, such warm, sweet energy. She had never felt anything quite like this, never tasted anyone quite like him. He came quickly and fell to her side, pulling her to him roughly. "You're wonderful." He told her. She was the thing he had been looking for all of his life. He had thought he would hate her when he found her, but he was wrong. He loved her.

He fell asleep in her arms. When he woke, she was gone.

He ambled around her hotel room, looking for her things. Looking for an answer to what she was. He found nothing. Only clothes. The same clothes any other girl would have. He stretched out on her bed and breathed in the scent of her.

A while later, he awoke. Something was wrong. He noticed it gradually. His skin was on fire and he felt as if he might be sick. No. He was going to be sick. He knelt in the bathroom, throwing up. The world was spinning and he wondered if he would die like his father. She could save him, he knew, but what if she didn't come back. He shivered in fear. She would come back. She had to come back.

She returned by nightfall. She found him still in the bathroom, throwing up the contents of his stomach like a virus. A virus that burned him all over. He had been sweating, showering constantly to wash away the blood and sweat.

"My poor, sweet Paul." She sighed, "Come to me and I will take the pain away." He struggled to his feet and came to her. She kissed him, despite the drops of blood still lingering on his lips. Suddenly, the pain was gone. He felt better then, than ever before. Stronger, happier. Harder. "It's wonderful, isn't it?" She asked him, Claire again. Claire, beautiful for her flaws. Made even more lovely because she was so tragic. So lonely like him. He pulled her onto the bed, kissing her. "I love you," he told her, meaning it. Was she so intoxicating that she made him love her? No, he simply did. And she was right. He needed her.

He wasn't so sick the next day. Only a little nauseous. He didn't eat, but he didn't need to. He drank large amounts of water and was content with that. Aside from his constant hard on, he was fine. Her pretty blue eyes burned in his mind.

She came to him by nightfall, as exhilarating as before. She dragged the blanket away from his naked body and pressed her lips to his cock. He had been sleeping. "I thought I'd surprise you." She giggled.

"I'm surprised," he laughed. She took his cock in her mouth completely, letting it rub against the back of her throat. He moaned. She sucked him until he was completely hard, stroking the head with little circular movements of her tongue.

"That didn't take long at all," she laughed, licking the head of his cock. "I've been ready all day." He laughed. "Me too." She climbed on top of him, forcing him inside of her. She wasn't lying. She was so wet. He stroked her soft little clit, making her toss her head back and moan.

Slowly, she began to rock back and forth, keeping constant pressure on the head of his cock. Finally, when he could take no more, he pulled her down and onto the bed. "My turn." He laughed. He rubbed against her pussy, teasing her as she had been teasing him. "Put it in," she begged, laughing, "I need it." He gave it to her an inch at a time until her legs were shaking and she was practically begging for him to put it all the way in. He pulled out.

"I want you to beg." He growled.

"Please." She moaned, "give it to me, please." He pressed into her slowly. "No," she moaned, "hard, like the first time." He growled again and complied, ravenous for her. He felt the tension building. It was almost as if he could never go fast enough to be satisfied. Never hard enough. Never rough enough. He held her down, hoping that he wouldn't be able to bruise her, hoping she wasn't the fragile thing she looked. Or maybe he hoped that she was. How nice it would be to make her gasp a little in pain. But not too much pain. He would never hurt her.

"Hurt me." She laughed, "You can't hurt me." Once again he had underestimated her. Twice really. He growled at her and came finally, the orgasm flooding over him in wonderful waves of heat and color, leaving him breathless in a state of perfect happiness. She sighed, "I may not be able to get up in the morning."

"Why would you?" He asked. "Why do you leave me?"

"I must." She said, "but I am here now. We have all night, you and I, and you don't need so much sleep now."

She was right. He didn't need sleep. By the third night, he did not sleep at all, and felt all the better for it. He did not eat either. He needed only an occasional drink of water and her.

She appeared at his door the next night with a large paper bag. "It's a surprise." She told him with a smile. He laughed and pulled her to him.

"Ready, so soon?" She giggled, but something was wrong. He didn't look sick at all. Maybe he was just strong. That had to be it. There hadn't been another like her in hundreds of years. At least none that she had heard of. He relaxed on the bed, letting her be on top for even longer than the night before. He felt the magic of her fully that night, drinking it in through his mouth, his pores. She gasped a bit painfully. "I'm suddenly so tired. Let me up, we can have the surprise early." She climbed from the bed, pulling his robe around her and tying it. He frowned. How was she tired? Wasn't this what she needed to survive. She emptied the contents of the bag in the little hotel table. The bag was full of groceries. "There's no stove," she told him, "but I can make you something nice without it."

"What, food?" He asked laughing. "I don't need food. I only need you." She laughed. "You still need to eat."

"No." He told her. "I haven't been eating at all." A look of horror passed over her face. It was the first time, in all of her life that she was truly scared. "Oh, no! You've changed. I should have known when you could see me for what I was. You have become what I am."

"Even more wonderful." He told her, with a grin. "We are alike now more than ever."

"No!" She sobbed. "It wasn't supposed to happen!" She collapsed onto the bed, crying. He put his arms around her, but she jerked away. "Have there been other girls?"

"No!" He laughed, "Only you my dear."

"That's why I have been so tired. Why I've been sleeping all day. Why I've felt so sick. I have to go. I'll be back." She pulled her clothes on and slipped out the door. He watched silently, then followed her. Thinking only of her. He lost her, but continued walking, as if he were being pulled. He found her, almost an hour later, coming out of a hotel room. He caught the door before she had time to stop him and pushed past her. There was a man in there, standing naked, watching her leave. His expression changed to one of alarm as he saw Paul. "What is this?" Paul asked. "What are you doing here, Claire?"

A little boy came out of the adjoining bedroom, "Daddy?" There was a mark on his cheek. Glowing slightly and fading. "Did the nice lady leave?"

Paul ran from the room, tears streaming down his face. Gabe had been that age. She had put her arm around him and kissed him and then he had died. He had curled up on the floor, throwing up and choking on it, his eyes filling with bloody tears. Jayna had clung to Paul, begging for her father. Crying the same blood tears as her brother. Gasping for air to fill her tiny eight year old lungs. He had forgotten. He had forgotten everything.

He was waiting for her when she got to the hotel room. The knife was under the pillow. It would be easy to reach. He only had to hold onto her so that she could not change, could not get away. He didn't know if he could live without her. Maybe he would end up like his father, crying in agony on the bathroom floor, dying. Maybe he didn't need her anymore at all. He no longer got sick when she left him.

He only knew that he was going to kill her. Going to end all this. She turned the key that he had gotten for her in the lock. She opened the door. "Paul? Paul, I'm so sorry. I should have explained. I should have told you everything." He held his arms out to her.

"It's okay." He told her, "None of that matters anymore."