A Chance Encounter

He had been watching her from across the crowded bar room for some time now. Of course, he remembered to keep himself hidden from her view. The darkened corners and wooden pillars of the room lent him a hand with that little feet.

As of late he developed quite the fancy for these little games. The thrill of stalking his prey from afar and then striking just at the most tantalizing of moments. For him it was the grandest game of cat and mouse ever created, but it was only fun with the right kind of victim. He was certain that he had just that kind of specimen on his hands tonight.

It was time for the game to begin!

His quarry was heading for the door now. Probably out of boredom with this rundown little shack that somehow passed for a bar. With a sigh he muttered to himself barely above a whisper, "It is such a shame my pet... if only you hadn't caught my eye this night you would not have to know the torment that I can bring. Oh well, I guess I just might have to let it linger on longer than usual since you are such a beautiful little thing."

It always seemed that just before he started his games there was a moment of guilt for what he was about to do. Yes, "guilt" that is what called that painful feeling that tugged at him from within. Such a shame that he was liying to himself. Even he knew it was not guilt he felt... it was pity that plagued him so! Someone such as he felt pity for those damn unfortunate souls that were ravaged by his hands. Those beings that were left withered and cold upon the ground before any given night was up. To him it was almost laughable that these feelings filled him so, and yet they never once caused him to stop or hesitate his fun.

Slowly he arose from his perch amongst the shadows. His chair slowly scraping across the floor just as his shoes made that infamous "thud" on the ground. For a moment he stood there, still as a statue. The only change apparent about him were his lips. Now the corner of one side tugged upward in an egotistical fashion of confidence and pleasure. Only the tiniest slivers of his teeth were visible, except for the sight of one lengthening fang poking out.

She had already left by now. There was a slight urgency to her step, as if her only desire was to separate herself from that bar by any means possible. There was still that feeling of someone's eyes upon her. That feeling that makes your skin crawl at the thoughts of what the one watching was contemplating in their demented mind. However, that feeling seemed to lessen now as she put more and more distance between herself and that vile and putrid place.

A sigh broke out after a few moments. That feeling had left her, and soon she would be in her house. Yes, she would be in her sanctuary where none could penetrate. Those walls of her sanctum would protect her from roving eyes and less than honorable intentions. All she had to do now was turn the corner and her house would be in sight. She could almost feel its knob in her hand now.

Then there came a sound that penetrated her thoughts. It was a heavy booming step. The kind that just echoed in the streets for moment before fading away to nothingness. She tried to ignore it, but it came again and again. She could tell someone was deliberately coming for her. Then, she could feel those eyes on her again. Those damn eyes that cut clean through her and unnerved so! She wanted to screech at this feeling; to claw out those eyes that caused it and end her suffering at their gaze.

Suddenly they began to come in more rapid succession. That infernal thudding grew louder with every strike the person's feet made upon the pavement. Soon, she felt those thuds pounding away in her throat, and realized it was her heart that caused that sound to be so loud. It pounded so hard she swore it would burst in her chest if she could not calm herself. However, that was a feat she could not manage. No, not at this moment when she heard the footsteps right behind her.

Of course, just as eerily as they began they had come to a hault. Her eyes searched the street almost endlessly for a minute before telling her that no one was out but herself. And yet, she could still swear that she felt a pair of hands run up her neck and through her hair. That icy feeling of finger-tips on her skin was still there as she raised her own hands to follow the path. The skin was risen in firm goosebumps there and only there on her neck.

When she brought her hands back infront of her face, she saw a small drop of blood there. It was a deep vermilion color, almost as if had sat for some time before it was noticed. Rather curious she checked her neck again. There was a single cut or even a scratch for that matter. In disbelief she checked her finger again. Yep, the single drop was still there. Without even thinking, she placed her finger tip in her mouth.

Her little tongue lapped the drop from that tiny finger tip. Within the blink of an eye her entire body felt as if it were on fire. Her tongue saught more of it on her finger, but there was none left. Every last fiber of her being was burning with a desire fro more of this ambrosia. For that small feeling of rapture it left within her. With a violent shudder that threatened to topple her onto the ground its effect wore off.

Oh, how he loved this little game of his. The abilities he possessed allowed him the endless possibilities to torture and entice his victim at he same time. The stage was being set for the final act, and he would not be late to the rise of the curtains. Afterall, what kind of patron shows up late to such an enticing exhibition. A beautiful young woman that is so terrified by what cold be after her that one could almost taste it. Her entire body racked with desire for whatever could give her the pleasure that a single drop of his blood could. It was all too perfect, but he still had some preparations to attend to.

Now, he hand rested on the knob of her home. She had made it in one piece, a little unnerved, but unharmed just the same. She heard it again now, those infernal foot steps. This time she swore she would see what was causing them. She wanted to see exactly who had caused her this terror, to confront it and send it on its way. With a little start she let go of the knob and stepped down from her stoop to peer into the street and see. To her own disappointment the footsteps had stopped and there was nothing... not a damn thing!

Now a new sound filled her ears. It was the sound of a door being opened and then shut, and it was close. In fact it was her own door that she heard, and she knew it. Turning swiftly the door seemed to be unmoved. It was just as it was when she went to peer into the street. Besides, no one could move fast enough to unlock a door, open it, and close it within just a few seconds. Still... she checked her hand. Yes, she was still clasping the key. Slowly she touched the knob again. It was still locked.

"I must be hearing things. That is it, no more drinking for me. I need to go in, take a shower, and then curl up so that I can get over this little fit of paranoia." Her voice was so soft and timid it seemed almost unnatural in its own respect. To the men that were lucky enough to hear this shy little vixen speak, it was more enticing than the songs of the sirens that led countless men to their deaths on the rocky shores.

When her voice reached his ears, deep inside her house, he instinctively licked his lips in anticipation for what was soon to happen. It was such a shame really; here he was already inside her bed room and she had yet to open the door to her house. She had even dismissed the idea that he or anyone else was lurking in wait to take her... to use her as a they saw fit and then discard her like a shattered doll of porcelain.

There was a low creek as her door opened and she stepped inside. The following little slam was just another signal that his fun was soon to happen. The boards of her stair creaked with every step. It was almost becoming too much excitement for him to keep under control as he crawled his way up her bedroom wall. With every step she took he grew closer to the top of her door frame. Then, it happened. Her door slide open and in she stepped. Now she was in his web, with no possible chance to escape him. Oh, how sinfully delicious this was.

As the door drew closed, almost as if by its own accord, he slid from her wall and fell to the floor. There was a slight smirk on his face as he landed, for there was not a single sound to be heard. She was just at the door frame to her bathroom when there came a noise. It was him, letting one of his nails tap on her bedroom door in a rythmic fashion. With a start she turned and looked to the door....No one there. When she turned back to enter her bathroom, there he was standing in the frame.

How nonchalant he looked. Leant against the wall with his arms crossed rather leisurely beneath his chest. He even had his legs crossed at the ankle as his shoulder rested there. His icy eyes now locked onto her own, and of course they projected to her the image of her own death at his very hands. How she must have wanted to punch him in the face and end that gaze as well as his arrogant little smirk. Just to wipe clean any ideas he had of doing anything to her, but that all changed with in a single second. Slowly those faded pink lips parted and out came a single word, "Boo." His voice held no sign of any mortal emotion at all, and yet it still rang out with that bone chilling preternatural tone. The one that seemed to fill you completely with awe and dread at the same time.

Without even thinking her legs took flight for her door. With an unearthly strength she ripped it open sending it into the wall and the knob through the wall with a bone shattering crunch. Before any man would have even seen her move she had taken flight down the stairs. Taking them by leaps and bounds without even realizing it. Hell, she didn't even feel relief when she didn't notice him following her, all she cared about was getting away from him. She didn't even care about the pain racking her feet from how hard they were pounding into the hard wood of her stairs.

Suddenly though her flight was cut short and her body filled with panic anew. She didn't want to believe it.... No she couldn't believe it. There he was leaning against the banister of her stairs. That same leisurely pose and lethargic attitude apparent in his stance. With a trembling voice that threatened to crack and break with every syllable she muttered out, "I-i-i-it can't...be. He w-w-was upstairs be-bef-before I took off. H-h-hhhhow is..how is this...possible!"

Before even waiting for any kind of reply or thought to come back to her, she was bolting back up the stairs. She reached her door and flung it closed with an earthshattering slam. Followed by the locks being set and anything she could get her hands on being piled in front of it. With a heavy sigh of relief she spoke, "Atleast now he can't get to me. I am saf..."

Tragically her words were cut short by the sight of that same man. He was now standing with those alabaster hands clapping that slow clap of the opera houses. Just that slow rythmic beating. Who knows maybe he was mocking her heart beat, which at this point was so fierce and loud there was no doubt that it echoed off the walls of the room. But that didn't matter now. No, now his little puppet was trapped with him in this place. There was no where she could get to and no where to hide from him. She was his now, and there was no two ways about it.

Sobbing uncontrollably, she crumpled to the floor. Her voice low and deep. It wrought out unintelligible and garbled mutterings. The sounds of her sobs and few understandable curses the only noises in the room. She had given up now, for she knew that she couldn't get away from him and would have to bow to his wishes if she had a hope of living. Hell, that was even if he had, had any intent on letting her live through this affair from the beginning.

Sadly though her little break down was interrupted by a cold hand wrapping around her chin and raising her up to her feet. When she opened those tear filled eyes she finally realized what had her now. That pale skin that was nearly translucent in the moon light... those emotionless ice blue eyes...the cat like slits that were his pupils...and those lengthening teeth. It was a vampire that she was now in the presence of. She felt her heart skip a beat in that moment as she tried to scream for help. However, that attempt was foiled by a hand pressing her head to the wall by the mouth.

Now, it was his turn to have fun with her.

His lips lightly touched the skin of her ear as he whispered to her, "Relax, we are going to take this nice and slow..."

Slowly his hand released her mouth. Her screams were such a trivial matter at this point. She could call out until she was blue in the face, and he knew no one would call the police or even give a rat's ass. A part of him even wanted to hear that shrill wailing sound filled with fear. Oh, what a blessed symphony it would be to hear it all, but he had a feeling she knew better than to do that. Afterall, what would stop him draining her dry or breaking her neck at the first sign of any problems. Not a damn thing!

With a delighted smile on his face, his hands began to gently run down her sides. They were slithering over the shapely curves of her form. Momentarily they would linger just above her navel before continuing the short distance to the waist of her pants. In a simple gesture he let his fingertips curl under the bottom her shirt and touch the warm flesh and tight muscles of her stomach.

Slowly he let his thumbs rub in small tracing circles the sloping line of muscles on her abs. His other fingers caressing the small of her back. He could feel the lines in the muscles as they swayed and rolled under the pressure of his fingers. Every once in a while when his fingers touched just that right spot between the muscles he could feel them clench and relax in a rapid pace.

He first gasp at his touch was too enticing for him to resist his other impulsive manipulations. Now her sighs of relief and contentment with his massage were filling his ears and eliciting his other urges to rise forth. Those dark and twisted thoughts that would make her scream out into the night with an anguishing mix of pleasure and sheer pain. That would be her final gift to him before being dispatched to meet the grand maker.

While she was lost in the pleasure and drunken haze his hands stopped their massage and slid over to her arms. His nails slowly traced over her forearms. The sharp nails making shallow gashes. The kind that bled for only a moment and not even that much. Then his hands firmly wrapped around her slim little wrists and slid them up the wall to rest above her head.

The cuts he had made left her blood smeared over the walls in gentle arches to her head. Her delirium was beginning to fade as she felt the stinging sensation of the walls on her open flesh. However, she had no time to respond to this before she felt a single hand clasping her wrists to the wall with enough force to let her know that she was trapped there.

The helpless maiden she was. A poor girl trapped in the grasp of this monster. All thoughts of survival had left her mind by now, and a sense of apathy filled her. She no longer cared about living or dieing, all she wanted now was to know and experience what pleasures he had in store for her. A part of her still resisted the idea of being his plaything, but a larger part of her enjoyed her submissive role as victim.

To her own surprise her heard a voice that was her own, and yet seemed completely alien to her speak out.

"Do whatever you want to me...I am you victim. Use me as you see fit... please..." He voice trailed off before she could finish her statement, which was "Please, do not hurt or kill me."

In a rare moment of humanity, he was actually taken back by her little comment. It had been ages since someone had uttered anything even remotely similar to him. The pleading tone of need and urgency of that last word damn near drove him mad. He wanted her now. To take her and ravage her so completely in a world of rapture and blessed pain, but he did manage to control himself. He had to remember that he was going to have her even if she had objected.

With a reborn desire he pressed his lips to her own. In all honesty, he damn near crushed her lips with his own. There was no hesitation on his part about slipping his tongue through the part of his lips to enter her own mouth. First though, he let the tip of his tongue prick the edge of a fang. It was a small wound that would allow a small trickle of his own blood to flow.

She seemed to be enveloped by the same passion and longing as he. Her lips eagerly parted to allow his tongue passage, just as her own slid out to enter his mouth. In a moment of carelessness her tongue slid across a fang and was cut open across its tip. The sharp pain did not even register in her mind now. Hell, she probably would not have acred even if she had noticed it.

Slowly their tongues danced over one anothers. Gently massaging the other one moment, and then lashing out as if two leviathans in the throws of battle the next. These passionate exchanges grew in a massive fervor as the taste of one another's blood filled the other's mouths. He could taste the precious essence of life staining his lips and beginning to fill him with each passing second. She felt the power that lay within him. Her senses sharpened with each drop, and left her body feeling the raging inferno of her body awakening to the world as if for the first time.

With a throaty groan he managed to tear himself from her. He had other pleasures to attend to now, and even he had to heed the demands for release that ushered through him. Those he would attend to shorty, but for now he wanted to see her form. He wanted to see its true form. To hell with the fabrics and designs that covered it from his ravaging gaze. Damned be those that would force a delectable morsel such as she to know the modesty of dress and the anguishing tortures of concealing such seeming perfection from the world! May they all burn in hell for such a sin!

Chuckling softly, he pealed her from the wall. His form cradled her's in what seemed an innocent embrace. However, he had his reason's for this and they were rather crafty at that. The sharp nail of his index finger ran itself down her back. It started at the top of her shirt and slid clean down the fabric until he had sliced it clean through. That delicate touch seemed nothing more than a feather touch on her skin. He was even certain that their would not be a single scratch mark on her from his little deed.

Now, he let his hands rest on her shoulders. With a mortal firmness he shoved her back into the wall. Of course, his hands slid to catch the sleeves of her shirt and pull the damned thing clean from her. Before she would have time to react, he had flung it clear across the room.

Oh, how delectable her realization was. Her hands feebly tried to cover her ample, and rather perky, bosom. There was never a better example of the twentieth centuries conception of modesty. She could proudly show them to all the world's eyes as long as there was that thin fabric casing over them, but once it was removed and the bare flesh allowed to freely feel the night's breeze upon it, she had to be ashamed and hide them. Even the little mock scoff of surprise and disgust amused him. Such an innocent little exhibitionist... yes, it had been a long time since he had found one such as her.

Fighting back a hysterical bout of laughter at her, his hands slid over her own. His fingers enlacing with her own atop her breasts. Then, with that boyish smile of innocence and devilishly perverse look in his preternatural eyes, he slid her hands from them. He relished in that feeling of the goose flesh on her breasts rising up under the delicate grazes of his finer tips. Of course there was an even bigger thrill coming from the fact that there was no resistance from her as he revealed that tender flesh.