Val the Vamp Ch. 04

Val the Vamp, Ch. 4

The Morning Ritual Bath in a Spring

It was raining. It seemed like it was always raining. Climate change, the weather people said. The Gods are punishing me, I said. Why? Because it was almost dawn, and time for my ritual bath in Deer Creek. I was going to have to negotiate climbing down the side of the ravine to the creek, dressed only in my bright green robe, tied via a brightly colored Kenzo sash at the waist. I loved that sash. I'll be naked underneath the robe, of course, then hang the robe on a tree or a large bush, before entering the creek for my cleansing. The ritual morning cleansing must be done naked.

My ramshackle, clapboard house didn't have an attic, so I could hear the rain pounding on the roof. At least, there were no leaks in the roof. From the sound of things, the rain was quite ferocious.

All the water from what I called the monsoon rains turned normally peaceful, even sleepy, Deer Creek into a raging torrent. Yet still, I was determined. Luckily, there were some old stairs some gentle soul had long ago installed, leading down to the creek, so there was little danger of my slip-sliding down the side of the ravine.

Little danger does not mean no danger, however, as I found out via my hubris-accompanied all too casual steps, on the mud-covered stairs, causing me to slip-slide down the last bit of the ravine, right into Deer Creek and it's murderous current. Off came my green robe and my brightly colored Kenzo sash, as I desperately tried to keep my head above water. I was losing the battle for life giving oxygen, as I struggled fruitlessly to find some stability. Newspaper headlines flashed before my eyes:

Delphi oracle, locally known only as Pythia, failed to predict her own death. Her naked, bruised, and drowned body was found miles downstream from her ramshackle clapboard house in Delphi. Rumors are she was a student at Purdue, in West Lafayette, some twenty miles downstream.

When I came around, I was thoroughly drenched, naked, and in my bed in my little house, shivering, and Old Man Smithers was standing over me with smelling salts, which he must have found in my bathroom. At least I was under the covers and not flashing my naked body to him, but then I realized he must have saved me, and carried me, naked, to my own bed. No doubt he got an eyeful, as well as a grope-full.

I remembered trying to get a footing in the raging creek, getting one, and then the current pulled me down under the water and I lost my footing. I surfaced, trying to breathe, and tried to swim to the shore, but the current was just too strong, too ferocious. I panicked as I fought for air, and for my life. I lost the battle, pulled under and unable to breathe. Gasping for air, I got water mixed with the air, and as I tired from the struggle, I got more and more water and less and less air, to the point where I lost consciousness, and probably died.

Yet here I was, in my bed, under the covers, being offered some tea, and with Old Man Smithers looking down at me with a wonderful combination of affection and concern. It dawned on me, surprisingly slowly, that I was still alive!

I tried to speak to say thank you, but only Deer Creek water left my mouth, and I bent over the bed, expecting to vomit. Old Man Smithers had a put a pot o the floor for just such an occasion. What a thoughtful guy! I didn't vomit, though. All that happened was that I coughed up a lot of water, and in the process I saw Mr. Smithers' water-soaked bare feet. In fact, I realized, as my gaze rotated up, he was wearing no clothes at all. I noticed his penis hanging down, all flaccid, and I wondered what it would look like when it was hard. Too bad I was too exhausted to suck it to life, so to speak.

Is sex all that I can ever think about? Am I that trivial a person? I almost died, for Pete's sake!

"I made tea, and chicken soup," Mr. Smithers said. Okay, then, I had not hallucinated the tea.

"I know," I said, since I had just read his mind. I really have to stop doing that! "I came close to perishing. You saved my life. How can I ever thank you?" I asked.

Mr. Smithers just smiled. "Having you alive is thanks enough. You know, it's kind of thrilling to think I saved a life. I'm fine, don't worry about me" he said and then paused, reflecting, I suppose. "I was a medic during the Vietnam War; yours is not the first life I've saved. Not by a long shot. You're not even the first drowning victim whom I've saved."

I figured I should bake him a pie or something. I could bring it over to him in the morrow. I knew he was thinking we could have a bit of a romp in the bed as a way of thanking him for my life, but thank goodness he was too polite, or considerate, or scared, to suggest such a thing! I'm always amazed at how horny the men of Delphi are. At least Old Man Smithers realized now was not the time for such things. I had just died and been saved at slightly beyond the last minute!

To be fair, Old Man Smithers lives alone, and probably he could benefit from the company of an (age appropriate!) woman, and many of the husbands of Delphi were sexually frustrated for all sorts of different reasons. One of the reasons was Erectile Dysfunction, which seemed to behave like a contagious disease among the husbands, except for those who had been cured by Dorothy. I really, really, had to meet this woman, Dorothy Elston!

I sat up, forgetting I was naked, and sitting up provoked another coughing fit. I was gradually coughing out the waters of Deer Creek. I belatedly realized I was exposing my boobs to Mr. Smithers' gaze (why hasn't he asked me to call him Leo yet?), as I sat, so I asked him if he would be so kind as to get a T shirt from my bureau drawer, second from the top?

When Leo returned with the T shirt, the answer to my previous question was clear: Leo possessed a gorgeous, hard, and erect cock. "May I touch your cock, please, Leo?" I blurted out, completely inappropriately. The fact was, I needed a fresh infusion of blood, and it seemed the need was rather urgent. Leo may have been old, but he was right there, he was naked, he was hard, and quite obviously, he had lots of blood.

It would be a rather unusual way of thanking a man for saving my life from a horrible death of drowning. Most unusual! Up to this point, I had strictly avoided sex with the men of Delphi, but Leo was single, and he had just f**king saved my life! And, I really did need blood! I had no plans to see either Darrell or Jason Jones today, it being -- well, what day was it, anyway?

**

Oh, shit! Was it really Sunday? That meant Jason was on an airplane heading back to Pasadena and Cal Tech. Why had I been such a fool? When Jason put the moves on me, as he was obviously going to do, I lectured him about it being four f**king years without even an email, text, postcard, Facebook, Instagram, nothing, and he comes here and expects me to welcome him with open arms and open legs? Just who does he think he is?

"But Pythia, your email address is top secret, nobody knew your postal address, you don't text, you're not on Facebook; and Instagram? Forget about it," Jason had said.

"If you'd have loved me, you'd have found a way," I replied.

"Seriously, Pythia?"

I had to give him credit. He was making an effort to call me Pythia. "Yes, seriously," I said. "Instead you were bopping bimbo after bimbo. First there was Amy, then Sally, then even that cold bitch Marcia, and let's not forget the very much already married Stephanie, the blonde bombshell to end all bombshells. That's not the behavior of a man pining away for my lost love."

"How do you do that, Pythia? Nobody knows about Stephanie and me, not her best friend, not her sister and certainly not her husband. How do you know everything?" Jason said. The man was clearly rattled.

"I'm an oracle, remember? We oracles know all sorts of shit," I said. I wasn't about to tell him that I looked inside his (quite filthy!) mind.

"Do me a favor, will you? Just give me a kiss, a real kiss, okay?" he asked.

"You'll just try to turn it in a passionate love session. I know you, Jason, and you know all my sexual vulnerabilities," I said. Then I answered his unasked question (I have to stop doing that!), "Yes, you do Jason. You know I'll be putty in your hands. I still love you, even if you almost forgot I even exist when you had Stephanie's long, sexy legs wrapped around you, her flowing blonde locks tickling your chest, as she welcomed your glorious cock to her most treasured spot."

"Jesus, Vampie, it's like you were there. You're freaking me out," he said.

"Call me Pythia, please," I said, as I gave him a kiss he'll never forget (I hope).

As predicted by your local oracle, Jason effortlessly seduced me. He even had me begging for him to use his cock inside me (and not just inside my mouth!). It's not what you think: I have amazing vulnerabilities behind my ears, and damn it all but Jason knew that! Boy, did he know that.

Here I was naked before him, with my luscious boobs just sitting there, pining for his attention, but he had a laser focus on the small amount of flesh behind my ears. He got me good and wet. Then, finally, just before I lost my sweet little mind, he took the plunge. Yes, he took the plunge, and what a plunge it was!

I didn't get any blood from Jason. I have to bite him at the moment I climax, and damn it to hell, but I was so angry with Jason that my body just refused to climax. The asshole was pretending I was his precious Stephanie as he fucked me. Was it because...? Yes, that's what it was: Jason was enamored of the idea of fucking someone else's wife, especially when said wife was a blonde bombshell extraordinaire.

How can a girl climax when she sees the man imagining she's someone else? Maybe some girls can, but this girl cannot. Of course, most girls don't have the curse of seeing inside the man's mind, least of all when he's in the middle of fucking said girl. Jason had no trouble climaxing, though, and he squirted his stuff inside me; thank God I had taken the precaution of inserting my diaphragm.

"Jason, be careful," I said, in my most dramatic voice.

Jason looked at me, long and hard. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, Stephanie is married, and her husband is around 30-years-old and he collects guns, for fun and sport, right?" I replied.

"Christ almighty! How do you know all this shit?" Jason asked. He was freaked. It was the beginning of March, so I got to give my favorite oracular pronouncement:

"Beware the Ides of March."

"Very funny. I'm not Julius Caesar, Pythia."

"Jason, I'm serious. I see dark clouds that day, and I worry for your safety," I said.

"Well, let me reassure you. Stephanie's husband will be out of town that whole week! So, no worries about the jealous husband coming home and finding us in bed together. Thanks for your concern, though," Jason said.

"Stay out of her kitchen, Jason!" I said, my voice elevated with worry. I didn't mention that I knew he loved to have his way with the bombshell while she was bent over the kitchen table. It was part of his kink. Some memory, I'd guess, of his mother, or his older sister, bent over her kitchen table ... I wish I hadn't seen a visual of that! "And don't touch any beer in her house. If you have to feed your beer habit, bring your own beer over, okay?" I knew he was going to ignore me, the asshole.

"Yeah, yeah," Jason replied. I'm trying to save his life and this is the thanks I get?

**

Well, back to reality. No blood from Jason, and Darrell had to go to his mother in Evansville, who was in the hospital, so no blood from Darrell, either. At first, I thought I was lucky; I'd have no balancing act with Jason and Darrell, but instead I just have nothing, and damn it to hell, I need some blood!

There was Old Man Smithers, and I'll call him Leo, standing before me, staring at my tits under my T shirt, those same tits he must have truly enjoyed absorbing into his mind as he saved my life, from the raging torrent usually known as Deer Creek.

"Sorry, Leo, I got lost in a daydream," I said, trying to excuse the lack of my mental presence for a good minute or more, as I moodily dwelled on the issue named Jason Jones. I realized to my embarrassed surprise that my hand was still wrapped tightly around Leo's majestic cock. "Hmm. Nice cock."

Leo smiled. He was surprised I knew his given name was Leo, and that I had even addressed him as such. Maybe he had never told me his first name? Well, no matter. "So, tell me Leo, did you get a rush from saving your naked neighbor from the evils of a creek in flash flood mode?" I asked.

Surprised by my somewhat rude question, Leo just nodded.

"Would you like another rush?" I asked.

I could tell Leo did not exactly understand what I meant. I think he wondered if I was going to offer him some heroin. Heroin is famous for giving a person a big rush; not that I've ever tried it. No, not me. Except for that one time...

So, my right hand, wrapped around his cock, began to move. I fondled his cock, beginning a hand job. "I know there's just a bit of an age difference, and I don't fool around with the men of Delphi (it would get too complicated), and I never, absolutely never, mess around with my neighbors, but on the other hand you just saved my life. Also, you're thinking of your first true love Melissa right now, and comparing my tits to your memory of hers. Mine are better, don't you agree?"

I shouldn't be mean like that. It was probably residual Jason Jones hostility. Anyway, I was lucky Leo didn't faint. Instead, he just stuttered incoherently while his eyes opened so large, it made me worry. I took off my T shirt, once again exposing my boobs to Leo, and he stopped stuttering and smiled. I knew he was wondering, big time, where this was going! I decided to break the tension before I gave poor Leo a heart attack, or a stroke, or some such thing.

"There's some condoms in my top bureau drawer, Leo," I said, and Leo's smile became broader than even I could have imagined. Usually, I would have had my diaphragm inside me, but I didn't think about that while almost drowning. Since I thought I had died, but I hadn't, I felt amazingly alive. My body was tingling with life. I was truly turned on as I kicked off the covers, and sexily spread my legs. I played with my nipples to augment the effect. Nothing like overkill, right?

"One caveat, Leo. You need to drive me to a climax, please. And when you do, I bite. Okay?"

At this point, Leo would have agreed to anything, anything at all, I'm sure. He gently got on the bed, carefully placing his torso between my legs, already spread in invitation, and began to kiss my feet. My feet? Well, each to his own fetish, right? Actually, the way Leo did it, it was quite erotic. He got my toes to curl. Leo was not in a rush, but me? I was ready.

"I'm already wet, just with anticipation, my dear, sweet Leo," I said. "I need you inside me, please. Now."

I could almost hear him thinking, this is my wet dream. He thought I was beautiful and sexy, the dear man. This is going to be fun. He entered me. Oh, my goodness, but it felt nice! Leo was my first ever old man, but given how wonderful this was, he was destined not to be my last! God, I loved the way he pumped! And he wasn't Leo-one-note, either, playing with my boobs and my teats as we made love. Yes, Leo didn't fuck a sex object: It was most definitely a joint effort! I have to admit it: We were making love.

So good, so good! "Ahhh, ooh, mmmm," I uttered, at least partially involuntarily. When I did, Leo smiled, and he increased the speed of his thrusts. He had left the here and now, and he was dwelling in the land of the twenty somethings, imaging I was his Melissa, five decades ago. What is it with men? Why can't they think of me as me? I gave him a pass, though. Maybe because he was old and lonely, but more probably because a few hours ago he had fucking saved my life!

Oh, my goodness, I could feel it building. I was getting closer and closer to a climax, if only Leo could hold off his near imminent ejaculation, and my mind reading told me he was trying desperately to hold his guns, until I could climax, and oh boy, "it's coming, it's coming, it's coming, and ... Oh My God, YES!"

I clamped down on his shoulder, my teeth sinking in deeply, and his blood, his life-giving blood, flowed up from his shoulder into my eager mouth, even as the endorphins swept through my brain, raging in their intensity akin to the turmoil of the waters of Deer Creek, trying to drown me. Like Jason, Suresh, David, and Darrell before him, Leo seemed unaware I had bit him, as he twitched his cock inside me, just before he gave a little squirt.

Ahh. God, it felt so, so good to be full of fresh blood once again. I felt power flowing through me, dazzling me, scaring me a little with its intensity. I had never before felt like this, but I liked it. I knew this had been a paradigm changer! I had to explore what my new powers might be. Was it Leo himself, or was it that he was an old man, or was it the near death experience (the white light, which I now remembered I had seen while drowning in the creek)?

Whatever it was, I liked it.

What was Leo doing? He was just lying on top of me. His cock had slipped out of me, but his mind was empty. My goodness, he had fallen asleep, while lying on top of me. Shit. What do I do now?

I planted the idea in his sleeping brain to roll off the little sexpot. After all, he outweighed me by around 100 pounds. It worked! He rolled over in his sleep, and I was freed. I got up and quickly dressed. I now knew my new power: I could plant ideas in people's minds. Wow, now that is power!

I'd have to be careful how I used it. Dr. Blut Trinkhaus was going to get a new lab assistant! He would even think it was his own idea to hire me. Oh, this is going to be so much fun, and if I handle it right, so easy!

**

Three weeks later I was the new lab assistant of Dr. Trinkhaus. I was even getting paid! It doesn't get much better. I was still, however, worried about the Ides of March. March 15 came and went. Silence. False alarm, then! All good. However, a week after the Ides, I got a text from my little sister, who was still out in Southern California. She was sending me sympathy...

Sympathy for what? Why? I texted back.

Call me. This news is not for texts she wrote back.

I called her, but I felt I already knew. It was about Jason. On March 15, he was found shot dead in someone's kitchen, along with the man's wife, who was named Stephanie Wilson. They were both found naked. Who shot them was so far unknown, but of course suspicion revolves around the husband, who the police have not yet located.

I sat down on the steps to the laboratory, and I cried. A little later, I drove to a hotel out by the Interstate, because it had a bar. I got a room, and went to the bar and ordered a margarita. I put one hundred dollars on the bar, and told the barkeep to keep them coming. He could see my eyes were red from my crying, and he didn't ask, but he was kind to me the entire evening, until I had drunk myself dead inside.

Three men hit on me during my drinking binge, and that wonderful barkeep backed me up as I fended them all off. Mourning the death of my once true love was no time for one-night stands. When the bar closed I staggered to my room and to the welcoming bed.

This time, of all times, I had to be right? Rest in peace poor Jason Jones. Stephanie too, for that matter. For the first time in my entire adult life, I said a little prayer. Funny how that works, right? Then I cried myself to sleep.