The Renfield Syndrome Ch. 04

"I know you do, and I love you more than air for worrying. I promise that I'm okay, I actually feel really good right now, not even a hangover. I think I need a shower and some real sleep more than anything else."

"Okay," Lori said, not sounding certain. "I'll leave you to it, but call me if you need anything, okay? Wait, you lost your phone, come knock on my door. Anytime for anything, I mean it." The pair of them stood and David walked her the short distance to his front door.

"I will, you can stop worrying," David said, giving her a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

"You know why women invented high heels, right?" Lori teased, turning her heart-shaped face up to him. "We were sick of being kissed on the forehead." David smiled and planted a chaste kiss on her mouth, then let her out into the hallway with a wave and a final goodnight.

As soon the door was closed, David turned and rested his back against it. He hated to lie even by omission, especially to Lori. They had a real history together, having dated for a time back when David was still trying to convince himself and the rest of the world he was straight. And then again as an open relationship thing after he had half-assedly come out of the closet. Lori had also given him support on every step and stumble on his journey to sobriety. The two of them were best friends and kind of clumsy lovers when they made it work, and neither worried much what others might think of their relationship.

There was a low warning yowl from Tish, from where she crouched under David's desk, her yellow-green eyes locked distrustfully on him. "What in the world is wrong with you, baby?" he asked, though he did not dare to try approach again. That reminded him that he was still holding a fresh bandage in his hand, so he stepped into the bathroom and set to doctoring himself up.

Except the wound was gone. A few dabs of crusted blood and a thin white scar, seemingly ages old, was all that remained. David blinked and looked again, then checked his other hand just to make sure. He ran his fingers over the spot, thinking he couldn't possibly have imagined it when a thought occurred to him. Standing on one leg, he lifted his wounded foot to examine the underside and discovered this too was scarred over as if it had been healing a long time. However, David could not question that two hours ago he had pulled a large shard of glass out of it with his own hands, the mark was obvious. He pondered this for a long moment but could not come up with a logical rationalization no matter how he tried. Then, remembering his nightmare, he shoved his jeans down and kicked them to the side so he could give his pubic region a thorough inspection. The bizarre scars around his cock and balls where the dark-haired woman had bitten him were clear to see, though these too were healed over and looked quite old.

"Oh, fuck me..." David said to himself in the mirror above the sink. "Oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, where have I been...?" Now that he got a good look at himself, he realized just how crazy he appeared. His sandy hair was tangled and matted like it hadn't been brushed in a week, and his face and chest were smeared with grime and dried blood that the rain had failed to wash off. Working on autopilot, David turned on the small shower and stepped inside, his mind working furiously to sort his tattered memories into reality and fantasy. Far too many went on the third, 'Your guess is as good as mine' pile.

Halfway through his shower was when the alcohol craving kicked in. It was like a living thing, his age-old urge to drink coming back to haunt him yet again. It was hunger, thirst, and longing all in one, bringing with it a depressive and nihilistic "why fight it?" state of mind. David was working on the assumption that he had to have relapsed badly to lose four days of time, so if he was already back to zero, he might as well go all the way and start the long journey to recovery again in the morning. By the time he'd exited the shower and dressed in fresh clothes he had mostly made up his mind to go out and sate the craving, there were bars and liquor stores all over the place. He found he didn't like the idea of putting his clothes back on at first, they felt strangely confining for some reason, but compromised with a light undershirt only. David was still feeling strangely overheated and after the hot shower his apartment was sweltering. So, he put out fresh food for Tish who still growled every time David came too close, grabbed his aging checkbook that he never used any more so he had a way of procuring money, and left the apartment on a cold, rainy night to find a way to feed his addictions.

David had always been told that alcohol cravings only lasted seven minutes, but by the time he procured himself some cash and reached the bar district, the insatiable desire had only grown more intense. He realized he was starving too and had no idea when the last time he ate was. Even though he wore no coat, he still felt as if he were broiling inside his own clothes, maintaining that strange feverish state that might be alcohol withdrawal. But rather than feeling ill, David still felt energized and alert, his senses sharpened almost to the point of overstimulation. As he passed among the club dwelling crowd populating the streets, he could hear their conversations, smell their sweat and perfume, and even his vision seemed bizarrely acute with David able to pick out even fine details in the dimmest light.

His first stop was one he had hoped never to make again, a hole-in-the-wall liquor store called the Nite Owl. Don't do this, his conscience begged him. There's still time to turn around and go home. Just get some food in your stomach and some real sleep, and I bet Tish won't even be acting weird in the morning. You'll feel like shit if you give in and drink, it always makes you sick these days.

But David felt wide awake and could too easily imagine himself back in his tiny apartment, staring at the ceiling and feeling the interminable hours of the night tick by with no relief in sight. His mind was still dancing around, unwilling to directly confront the idea that something very very strange had happened to him, and in fact, was continuing to happen. If he satisfied the alcohol craving, that would be one less thing to worry about, one less discomfort so he might face the rest of this shit he had to deal with undistracted. Hell, he deserved a drink after what he'd been through. David stood arguing with himself for several more minutes, but ultimately it was no contest, and the craving chalked up yet another in a long line of victories.

Moments later, David emerged from the store with a pint of vodka, and allowed himself a swallow straight from the bottle as soon as he was on the street. If he was going to relapse, he might as well go for broke and drink in public like a good old-fashioned wino. The cheap liquor burned its way down his throat to settle in his stomach like lead, instantly making him nauseous, but David coughed and took another drink. It was an extremely guilty act, but the instant gratification was almost worth feeling like the lowest piece of shit on the planet right now. But fuck it, he was committed to the act, he would just have to quit again tomorrow.

Sticking the bottle in his back pocket, David decided to wander in search of something to sate his hunger for actual food. It was growing urgent, so his next stop was the closest fast-food joint, a local landmark called Dick's Drive-In. It was greaseburgers and fries, and David tried to avoid meat, but it was something to put in his stomach and the hunger was too great. As he stood somewhat impatiently in line, a younger woman of college age looked at him nervously and clung closer to her boyfriend, though David wasn't behaving in any way threatening that he could see. When he finally got his food, he wolfed it down like a man stranded on a desert island, but found it unsatisfying and bland. It barely seemed to stem his hunger at all, though David was no longer even sure it was the food he wanted. Another pull from the bottle and he continued his wanderings, vaguely noticing that some of his fellow pedestrians were taking pains to get out of his way.

The pint was half gone when purely by happenstance, David found himself passing by one of the two all-male strip clubs in the greater Seattle area. Mister Paddywack's was a place he was aware of but had never been inside. From the outside, it was a small and sleazy looking dive hidden down a side street like it was ashamed of itself, yet still boasting 'the hottest men in town'. As he stood there contemplating, two young men emerged hand in hand, and on an impulse David stepped through the door before it had closed behind them and pushed through the curtain beyond.

The interior of the club was smokey and extremely dark, the only well illuminated spots being the bar and the central stage where a dark-haired beefcake was on the pole doing an impressive inversion in his glittery G-string. The music was deafening in his ears to the point of being uncomfortable, the entire place seeming to vibrate along with the basslines. Couches and tables almost lost in the shadows played host to lap dances and deep, intimate conversations, where David imagined the strippers earned their real pay. Without having any real idea what the hell he was doing here in the first place, David found a vacant table and took a seat, taking one more surreptitious swig from the bottle of vodka that was looking friendlier and friendlier the more he drank.

"Evening, what can I get you?" One of the handsome young hosts made a beeline over to him. He was blonde and well-built, shirtless and flirty, giving David a smile and a wink and pouring on the charm.

"Screwdriver, I guess," David said, finding himself quite admiring the man's physique. He gave the host's ass a thorough eyeballing as he walked away and was surprised to find himself feeling somewhat randy all of a sudden.

One of the major complicating factors in David's love life was that he simply wasn't that sexual of a person. He had wondered a time or two if he might be demisexual, or even asexual. It was as if God had graced him with a mild libido to go along with his appearance and manner. It was one of the things that kept Lori and him from succeeding as a couple, her sex drive vastly outpaced his own. David barely looked at porn and he certainly didn't go to strip clubs. But as he sat in the darkened club watching beautiful, nearly naked men gyrating almost everywhere he looked, he was delighted to find his body responding in a most eager manner.

"Hi, I'm Eric, what's your name?" came a slightly feminine voice. David tore his eyes from the pole routine on stage and found himself looking into a young man's deep blue eyes. David guessed his age as old enough to drink but not by a hell of a lot, and unlike many of the other pumped-up specimens on display, he was fine boned and slender, with the tight physique of a professional dancer. His hair was strawberry blonde, a shade or two lighter than David's own, and fell to his shoulders in natural curls. He was wearing a pair of tight Daisy Dukes that would have made Daisy herself blush, and the view he presented was spectacular, David had to admit.

"I'm David", he said, and the young man smiled and put a hand on his arm, sitting down very close by without being asked.

"It's great to meet you, David!" Eric said, sounding surprisingly genuine for what had to be a well-rehearsed patter. "What are you doing out and about tonight?"

"I just wandered in," David admitted. "I've never been here before. I'll be honest don't even know how much you guys get tipped these days."

"Oh, that's great! I love first timers! Well, we can sit here and talk, or I could give you a table dance, or if you wanted, we could even go in the VIP room. We can get a lot closer in there than we can out here. Oh, I love this song..." Eric got up and gave David a short free show, working his hips and shoulders seductively as he bit his own lip in a somewhat shy and effeminate manner. Feeling a little like he was robbing the cradle, David ogled him as invited. Eric was a simply stunning young man, no question about it, and his moves were graceful and just a little feminine, much like Eric himself. David was unusually roused as he cast his eyes down the young man's torso to settle on the sizable bulge in his crotch which was being eagerly presented for his appraisal. The hunger that had been plaguing him was back, but it wasn't for alcohol or food, it was an intense craving for titillation and gratification. It was probably the booze talking, but David couldn't remember the last time he'd been this horny.

"The VIP room, what happens in there?" David asked. This entire evening was crazy, so once again he felt he might as well ride whatever wave he was on to the fullest.

"For someone as nice and cute as you, anything we want, love." Taking this as a cue, Eric took David by the hand and urged him to follow. Feeling dazed, David allowed himself to be led through the darkened club to a doorway near the bar. Three carpeted steps led up to a dimly lit room where threadbare sofas were arranged, separated by curtains to provide greater privacy. Several spaces were occupied by dancers grinding away on their patron's laps, all except one of which was male. Eric led him toward a darkened corner, and as he passed David caught a glimpse of one dancer on his knees between an older man's legs, his bobbing head leaving no doubt as to the kind of transactions that took place here.

"Here, we are," Eric said, finding a cozy alcove where they were shielded from casual view. "Why don't you sit down and make yourself comfortable and I'll handle everything. I'm glad you decided to come in, some of the guys in here are really gross, but you are one good looking guy." Without pausing he stripped off his Daisy Dukes, leaving himself clad in nothing but a blue G-string, and his body gleamed with a light sheen of sweat in the dark recesses of the club. Eric urged David back on the couch and straddled his lap, starting to smoothly rotate his hips in time to the music. The young man was good at what he did, obviously well practiced in his art, still playing up the shy-boy act even as he expertly presented his firm body to be admired.

David felt like this entire evening was spiraling out of his control. What was being offered to him could not be clearer, and it was the absolute last thing he had expected to happen tonight. Part of him wanted to push Eric off his lap and say, "Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking," but a much larger part was busy reacting to the young man's closeness, his unblemished skin, the heady scent of his sweat and after shave. The grace of his movements was immaculate as he turned to present his firm backside, clad only in a thong. The view was magnificent. Eric finished his routine by putting his arms around David's neck and kissing him on the cheek with a mischievous nibble at his earlobe.

David opened his mouth to say, 'that's enough', but what came out was, "How much?" Then without waiting for an answer, he shoved his hand into his pocket and grabbed the cash he had procured for himself in the absence of his wallet. He didn't count it, just held it out, and Eric gave his light tinkling laugh and accepted it.

"That'll cover it, lover," he purred. He resumed grinding on David's lap in earnest, rubbing eagerly against the bulge in his pants. His touch was exquisite, with David's nerves uncharacteristically lighting up in response to sexual stimuli. The hunger threatened to overwhelm him, but he forced himself to hold still and allow Eric to work his magic on his lap. For the duration of the song, the young man writhed with masterful technique, his hands running over David's body and setting his skin to tingling. The music switched over to a new song and he leaned forward to whisper in David's ear, "Do you want to see my cock?" David nodded mutely, and so with that same mischievous, almost-shy demeanor he had, Eric stripped off his scanty underwear. He was impressively endowed, smooth shaven, and neatly circumcised, and he ran one hand seductively down his own chest to take himself in hand and stroke for David's immense viewing pleasure. David suddenly longed to feel the young man's bare skin, and instinctively reached out before Eric caught his arm and pushed it down onto the back of the sofa.

"You can't touch me, but for what you paid, I can touch you. You just keep your hands to yourself and let me do all the work." The young man resumed grinding, this time shamelessly adding his hands into the mix, letting them drift below David's belt to rub through his jeans. David felt mesmerized by his own desire, he had a raging hard on and he couldn't recall a time he had ever wanted sex so badly in his life. That this young man was a prostitute and this was what one would call "high risk behavior" hammered at the back of his mind, but David couldn't bring himself to tell Eric to stop. He exhaled in a low groan as he was expertly masturbated through his pants, a groan that came out sounding much like a growl.

"I... want... more..." David said, his voice low and husky. The hunger he felt was like nothing he had ever experienced. This is crazy, he thought to himself, but the desire was pushing the thought away. The young man's scent was in his nostrils and David inhaled deeply over his teeth, tasting lust and sweat and beneath it all, the unmistakable tinge of blood. It awoke his animal brain which began to lash against the confines of acceptable behavior, demanding it be let free to ravage this delicious morsel it had been presented.

"I can give you my very best dance for two hundred," Eric breathed in his ear, giving him a small nip that made David's hair stand on end. "I guarantee you'll like it, and I would love to show it to you. It's the hottest." David hesitated a moment longer, but his own lust was screaming to be sated. He dug into his pocket and came up with the last of his cash, dropping it on the sofa next to him. Eric picked it up and glanced at it, then smiled down at David and started unfastening his jeans for him. "You don't move now, just sit back and enjoy the show."

David inhaled sharply as his cock sprang free from his pants. It was much like the rest of him, painfully average, but so engorged it was almost throbbing. Eric licked each of his hands and set to lubing him up, rubbing his saliva all around his shaft from base to tip, and then as the next song kicked in, he straddled David and took both their cocks in his delicate hands and began to thrust with his hips, rubbing their slippery shafts together in the most exquisite frotting David had ever gotten. He wanted to reach out and take Eric by his slender hips, to run his hands over his chest and bury them in his long luxurious hair, and it was frustrating to be denied. It was only by the sheerest force of will that he obeyed orders and kept his hands resting on the back of the sofa and away from the object of his desire as Eric expertly stroked him. The impromptu lube was refreshed, and Eric worked one hand between them to caress David's balls as he rubbed his magnificent cock along the length of David's own with gradually increasing rhythm.

David tried hard to hold still as possible, but it was becoming harder as he started to feel the delicious, building pressure of his oncoming orgasm. Eric's youthful hands were those of a professional and David could feel himself racing toward climax. Determined to hold back and prolong the sensation as long as he could, David thrashed his head against the couch, his breath coming hot and heavy. His every nerve was lit up like a Christmas tree and the smell of blood was thicker in the air than ever. The scent was familiar and intensely tantalizing, and as he looked at Eric, David could practically see the blood flowing just beneath his fair skin. It was so close to the surface, pulsing visibly at his slender throat, and David's animal mind crafted a fantasy of seeing it flow. The thought was alien and terrifying, and yet horribly intimate at the same time. To sink his teeth into Eric's tender flesh, what purer and more primal expression of lust could exist?