It Sure Had Been A Unique First Date (lock)

Connie entered the lobby, hair mussed, baggy pink exercise bottoms dirty, aiming directly for the elevator. Thankfully, the desk attendant didn't see her, or if the girl did, cared not to pay attention. Then again, if the phone receiver and vapid expression glued to her face was any indication, she probably wouldn't even respond to a knock upon the desk top in front of her.

The elevator ride was quick and quiet; She'd discovered the elevator music was shut off after four a.m. She leaned against the wall, allowing herself to slide down a bit, as she remembered the night...


***************


After she had left Nyra's - cripes, the ardor the woman had provoked inside her - Connie found she was too aroused, too hungry, too tired to force her fangs to retract fully, not to mention she had to go to work in an hour. The night shouldn't prove busy, she hoped, so after deciding to forego feeding again until after her shift ended, she jumped into her little blue Saturn and headed into "the office."

And her hopes were pleasantly appeased, which was a nice change of pace... She got all of her work done and just before her shift ended, received a smaller packet to complete for the next night. She didn't remember much of what she'd done, though; her thoughts drifted over the eight hours continuously back to the fetching smile and delectable body - and uniquely attractive personality - of her new neighbor.

4 a.m. comes too quickly at times, and though the pre-dawn hours are usually welcome, they usually have a horrible selection of feeding opportunities.

The trunk of the Saturn contained at all times one of two sets of dark camoflauge outfits that Connie picked up years ago at an Army/Navy surplus store, as well as an out-of-style pink and yellow exercise suit. Tossing her work clothes onto the back floor, she caught a whiff of the hint of arousal she'd pushed herself into during her eight hours at her desk. Enveloping herself in the baggy exercise suit, she dressed in the parking garage, behind a support pillar, darkness enshrouding her as her co-workers left for the morning.

Four thirty saw the Saturn parked back outside her new home; four thirty-five watched quietly as she vanished into the trees of the exercise park a block over and up. She'd run until joined by another jogger, then when they sat down for a drink - usually water or gatorade (faugh that stuff was gross) - Connie'd avail herself of a little bottled neckjuice too.

She estimated she'd only need three runners today, but she'd go easy; her thrice-weekly feedings generally had her availing herself of two people. She tried to avoid folks she rememebered she'd feasted from within the last four or five weeks, but she knew she'd either need to find a second hunting ground or start hunting before work. ("Simply unacceptible.")

Heart racing as she pounded the rubber-coated pavement next to a tall, slim black man, she flirted unabashedly, and yet restrainedly, until they sat. When they occupied the bench, she saw a wedding ring flash on his finger, and decided to go easy on him so that she wouldn't make too-visible a mark. She offered him a massage; most runners were quite happy to indulge themselves in Connie's sensuously expert hands.

Her lighter bite had been likened to a mosquito bite that erupts into pleasure: not quite orgasmic, but more of a pleasing lassitude, depending on how much she ingested. Her mark had reacted as she expected; he assented to her massage, and gasped quietly as her fangs pierced the side of his neck. She swallowed hungrily, but stopped after a few moments, then lavished her tongue across his skin to clean it. She continued massaging as the holes began to close and virtually disappear. Licking her lips so as not to leave any delectable treat behind, she hopped lithely over the back of the bench and sat next to him. Glazed eyes turned to her; he mumbled his thanks, guzzled of his Evian commenting he was more tired than he thought, and they stood back up together.

She let him outpace her as they bid each other good day, and four fifty eight saw her running alongside her second course.


***************

Slacks tossed, panties and blouse followed, exercise suit arcing through the air... and Connie noticed the bloodstain on the collar. "Dammit. Shit. Da-gummit. Grrrr." "Well," she thought to herself, "it was really out of style anyway."

She dug into her purse for a pair of scissors and cut the offending stain out carefully, trying not to spread it. It would be tossed into a dumpster on her way out and about later that day. To buy a new exercise suit.

Sighing, she swung a leg into the shower, testing the water - almost scaldingly hot; steamy, the way she liked it - and washed office grime, exercise sweat, and a couple spatters of blood on her chest down the drain. Hands slid unabashedly familiar across her curves, and she found herself thinking of Nyra. Desire blossomed again in her belly as the peaks of her breasts tightened. The driving heat of the shower pelted almost painfully against her turgid nips as her right hand slid down, down, to cup the now molten folds between her legs. Left rose to her chest, tugging gently, caressing, slippery on the clean silk of her skin as the middle finger of the right dipped between those folds, searching delicately, intimately.

In her mind was a scene she'd occasionally mentally replayed for two hundred years; her seduction of her co-captor, Emily, all those years, all those miles ago in the Carribbean. Their tryst hadn't been - that first time - for pure lust or for sex' sake, rather, it was a mutual comforting of two souls unsure of their future, of their very lives.

But this time was the first that, when the slickness-covered face that peered up from between her legs wasn't the plump, tanned face of a Cuban noblewoman. This time it was the almost-too pale cheeks, smiling hazel eyes of Nyra McGurn, and the sensations Connie wished her neighbor could eventually bestow upon her that catapulted her into the knee-weakening, heart-stomping, body-wracking throes of orgasm.

**

She slid into bed naked, hair still damp. She'd noted in the mirror when brushing it and scrubbing her teeth with the special peroxide-listerine mixture she'd come up with (to help alleviate blood-breath) that her blonder roots were starting to come back in. She decided to leave it for a few days, and maybe, just maybe, ask Nyra what she thought...