Marie By Jason Thorn Stephen walked out of the Louvre, booksack clutched in his right hand. This foreign exchange business was a lot of fun, but it was also a lot of work. And seeing Paris for the first time was incredieble, but now he was all but a native, passing sights as the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe as though they were the corner store. What he had NOT counted on was being out so late tonight. The ride by cab was not up to his liking. Besides, the apartment he was using was only about 11 blocks away. He could shag it home tonight. After all, it was not like Atlanta...nothing was very dangerous out on a weeknight like tonight... Little did he know... Marie watched as the young man made his way through the thinning evening crowd. This one was different, he appealed not only to the normal senses that tracked her food, but something deeper. She had followed him on a couple other nights, and this night was the one for a meeting. Yes, he was special. She had been saving this one for a night where not only the Thirst brought her to the streets, but a need for companionship. Why was it everything seemed intensified after the embrace... sight and smell, hunger, lust... He slipped around a corner, out of sight. As if thought itself pro- pelled her, she nearly flew through the crowd at a pace faster than mortal sight could detect. *There you are,* she thought to herself as she picked him out, now two blocks behind her. Stephen's pace picked up, imperceptibly. He was being followed. No doubt about that. He had had this feeling before but had seen no one. His police father had told him the tricks about being shadowed, and Steve had followed them faithfully. If he ran, the jig was up. He stopped near a store window, looking into the glass. By now, in the dim light of the streetlamps, it was a near perfect mirror. He would wait and see who passed by. There were still too many people to risk trying to grab him, he figured, and maybe he'd get a look at his pursuer... Marie saw the unsuspecting lad stop before a small coffee shop. What could he be up to? Surely she'd taken enough precautions. Could his deeper senses have warned him of her stalking? She shrugged to herself and prepared for a move, something subtle just to capture his attention. She pulled the small, fashionable purse in front of her, letting the strap slide from her shoulder. A deft movement of her finger released the clasp. Then she beginning moving towards him. Oh yes, he was something out of the ordinary. His chiseled features would have made the most revered sculptures mad trying to duplicate them. His eyes were keen, alert mirrors of intelligence... Mirrors! An embedded alert system went off at the base of her spine. As she drew within a half a block of her target she saw the clever little trick he was trying to play. Oh, these mortals and their sluggish intellect ...but she had to hand it to the lad, this was a cleverer little snare than he thought. Oh, she was nothing like the movie vampires that were unable to cast a reflection. No, she would show up an any reflective surface as the living would. But she had to be careful now to divert her eyes from the sparkling window. The slightest glimpse of herself in the reflection might drive her to a frenzy, causing her to lash out and shatter the glass to destroy the image that reminded her so much of what she once was. An image that only held for her a mocking semblance of the beast now within. A few more steps and the trap was laid. She was now no more than a passerby, distacted and bumping into the handsome exchange student. Oops! There went her purse...falling and spilling its contents on the ground. *Ah, there's a good boy, yes help the dazzling damsel in distress.* Stephen balked, but for only a split second. He turned to see her woebegone look, the compact, the small wallet, the lipstick, the occasional mints, cards, checkbook, all of it around his feet. "Hey! Easy..." he cautioned, as she bent down, apologizing profusely in French, and as he bent down in a crouch, he said in an American accent, "Sorry, no parlay-voo Francais. No speaka da lingo." He began to pick up the things around his feet, his hands coming into contact with her own cool fingers as he dumped the mints into her purse, and the heat of his body almost aroused the Frenzy in her in that instant. The senses kicked in involuntarily. She could her his heartbeat, feel the pulse through the brief contact of their fingers, smell the blood coursing through his strong young veins. *NO!* She told herself, *this one is more than food.* A small smile played across her lips as she chastized herself, *when was the last time you lay in the arms of somthing as fine as this? DO you want to wait another 80 years before you sleep in a bed with a man? No, this one will not be the Little Drink, enough to satisy your cravings, he is for other needs...tomorrow you may feed on the streets like moving thru a herd of cattle.* He obviously seemed to take the smile as something else, flirting perhaps? Maybe a shy thank-you? She jumped on it and played the wide eyed innocent to the hilt. . .pointing to the coffee shop and making a note to use broken English and the oh-so seductive French accent she asked, "You would like I buy you a drink, no?" He dropped the last thing from the ground into her purse, then closed it and gave it to her. "Uh, sure...I think that should be okay." He looked askance at the apartment, still two blocks away, and decided not to push it. Treat her like a lady. He smiled, the mirrors of his eyes losing their calculating glitter, becoming a warm, clear sky-blue, speaking of summer days and the clear blue sea... She followed him into the shop, purposely taking a step too many in the doorway and brushing a small, firm breast across his arm. She guided him to a table for two in a back corner, and waited for him to order. *Don't be stupid, Marie.* She chided herself. *He's gonna wonder why you aren't drinking anything.* Ever since The Kiss, her body hadn't been able to handle anything but blood for nourishment. Food and drink of any other kind cause her great discomfort and often are thrown back up. *You got yourself in here with it, you may just have to pay a little to keep this masquerade going...* She ordered a spiced coffee, making a note to nurse it as slow as she could, and also looking for the shortest route to the ladies room in case she couldn't keep it down. "You are schooling here, no?" She decided to break the nervous silence while waiting for the waitress's return. This sounded like a good question, mortals had a bad habit of liking to talk too much about themselves. "Uh...I'll have...oh hell, I'll take a cappucino." He looked at her again, and for some reason, shivered. Must be a draft. "Yes, actually...I'm majoring in Archaeology, and I am working on a dig site outside of Paris. Boring stuff, really." He chuckled. "You don't want to hear about that kind of stuff, I guess." He placed a hand down on the check they left behind, intending to pick it up for them. "My papa was in Archaeology." She took the chance he had laid open for her. "I have many things he found on shelves at my apartment. You might like to see them?" Chuckling to herself, she wondered why she hadn't just used the old 'Would you like to come up and see my etchings' line. She also took a bold step and used one of the favorite moves her loving sire had taught her in her early years after crossing over. She looked deep into his eyes, using them as windows to his mind and soul. Inviting herself into the area of his dreams and wishes, she painted a picture there. A picture of the two of them engaged in sensuous lovemaking. He would see himself laid back on the carpet before those shelves of curious artifacts. He would see as well as feel as mortals do in the dreams, her thighs straddling his hips, her bucking against his groin, her breasts rubbing his chest as she rode him. That should do it, plant the seed and see if this wonderful creature won't do the rest. She sat back, holding his stare and licked her lips in the most erotic fashion. "Would you like to walk me home? Maybe see the items I told you about?" Oops! In her haste she used a bit of correct English. Oh well--in his fantasizing he probably wouldn't notice. Then she saw his eyes narrow, slightly. His body had responded to her mental suggestion, but his mind, still controlled by his own rules, refused to gulp the bait down whole. She felt his mental mutterings, laced with wariness... "Sure," he said with his voice, "I'd like to take a look at them." He looked up, then said, "I have to use the restroom. I'll meet you out front in a minute, after I take care of the bill." He got up, then walked towards the door marked Monsieur. She giggled silently to herself as she watched him walk across the room. Silly little man, you really think you're still in control, don't you. 'Don't use this woman...' She couldn't hold it in and a little laugh escaped her lips. Funny how mortals can be so egotistical, they think they're the absolute top of the food chain. That they actually think they're the only real things to prey on each other. She slipped outside and waited for him. Moving to a corner where she could watch the passers-by without catching her reflection in those horrid windows. Closing her eyes just briefly, she cast out with extra-sensory feelers for his thoughts. Looking through whatever surface images she might pick up. This is going to be most enjoyable. If he's a good companion I might even let him leave with one of the little trinkets I've gathered over the many years, somthing to give him some kudos from a college professor...yes, I'll treat this one well. Then something cut into her thoughts, as she cruised his... It was a sound. A familiar, but yet strange sound. +Slik-CHAK!+ A sound of oil and steel, sliding, then a quick thrust of metal. Then, <...got to be careful. Someone's on the prod for you, and she might be the bait...> *Hmmmmm. . .he's a tricky one, ma cherie. . .a little more work on this one before he goes falling into your arms.* She cast about for some other little tool to push him over the edge. Ah yes. . .a young black gentleman was making his way towards her. He seemed to scream attitude with every step. "Yes, this one will do nicely." Reaching out again with mental fingers, she slipped through his eyes and into the most animalistic corners of his mind. There she planted pictures and suggestions that would drag the deepest anger out of her. "Yes. . .yes, that's it," she whispered to him. He fell so easy to the tricks, must have already weakened his resistance with a drug or other foreign substance. "Yes. . .come over her and teach your disobedient bitch a lesson. Show her what happens when they spend too much time with a trick. Yes, slap her around for not setting him up like you were wanting." The man moved, no longer under his on control and grabbed her. Throwing her down before the window, he began his physical discipline. The patrons inside begin screaming for someone to help her. Then she sensed Stephen coming, silently, moving around the other patrons... The other man was suddenly jerked back, whipped around to face Stephen. "Let her alone, big man." The man, reflexively, pulled out a small .38 and pointed it at Stephen. "Not bad..." Steve replied, then pulled out a large .50-caliber Desert Eagle. The yawning opening looked out into the man, and he blanched white. "...but mine's bigger!" The man's hand went limp, and Stephen grabbed the .38. "C'mon, we're getting out of here..." He grabbed her hand, his large hand enveloping hers in its heat, and pulled her out into the night. She clung to him. "Thank-you, you are very kind," She nestled under his arm and pulled it around her. After a harsh glare over her shoulder at the confused and innocent black, she followed her knight down the street. *Good call, cherie. He now feels you're less than a threat, and he'll feel that over-protective need to stay at your side 'til you've calmed down. Plus there's an added bonus in not having to explain the paleness in your cheeks when you get into the light. You're panicked, what else need you say?* She guided him around a corner and down to blocks to her little haven, aa third floor two-bedroom on the north side...of course, not much sun from tthat direction. Stephen let her lead him inside, noticing how dim the lighting was. There were no mirrors here. An old, primitive alarm system went off. *Something is wrong, keep an eye oout. Is it all natural coincidence, or...* His father's voice. "Coincidence is just like the Easter Bunny. There ain't no such animal." So why wasn't he letting go of her and running like hell? *Because you want to believe she is interested in you...just stay as long aas you can, and if it goes bad, she doesn't look that tough.* She motioned him to the couch, kneeling before him and sliding his shoes off. "You get comfortable, I get you a drink, no?" She started out of the room without awating his repsonse. She stopped just briefly, looking to the fireplace...*WAIT!* She screamed in her head. *Sure you can start him a cozy fire with a simple thought, but wouldn't that be hard to explain?* She then turned, blowing him a kiss and bounced out of the living room, kicking her heels off to a corner as she went. Returning a few minutes later she had him a glass of wine. Wine like no other he'd probably ever tasted. Some of her sire's favorite, from Napolean's cellars. Centuries aged and nearly unresistable. She was also clad in a black satin robe that barely covered her ass. She curled up next to him, legs tucked under her. Pulling an arm around her, she placed the glass in his other hand. He looked at her, suddenly aware that this wasn't the woman that had bumped into him on the street. He had been coerced, maneuvered. This was an accomplished seductress, not some innocent waif on the wrong side of town. And where were the pieces she talked about? Everything in the open were trash artifacts, stuff stolen then re-sold on the market for a fraction of their worth. The whole situation was strange, but he was in it now. Best to ride it to the end. He took a sip of the wine. Good stuff indeed, and no taste of amyl nitrate (also known as a Mickey Finn). "So...what were you planning on showing me, if not these pieces here?" he said quietly, his warm eyes unable to hide the gears working behind them. Marie saw the shadows of doubt crawling back into those sky blue eyes. "The artifacts. . .oh, how silly of me, no?" She displayed another shy little smile and batted her eyes at him. "The attack had my mind all scattered. Yes, follow me." She padded across the sitting room, her little porcelain feet hardly making tracks along the carpet, emphasizing the sway to her hips, so the scanty robe would play a game of peek-a-boo for him on her ass, she led him down a short hall to her bedroom. "I keep the nicer things in here, away from the front door." Smiling at him, she pushed the door open and stepped aside for him to enter. 'Yes, cherie. Let him in, let him see the hundreds of years of jewelry and baubles you have collected. The gifts from your adoring sire.' She watched him intently as he made his way into her lair. Could she still see the wariness, the tense muscles in his shoulders? She really didn't want to take this prize by force tonight. Stephen stepped in, unaware of what he would see. When he finally did, he forgot how her English grew to perfection from the staggered English she met him with, or of how there were no mirrors, or even that he was inside her bedroom, where there were no windows. All that was lost in the centuries of history he saw before him. The jewelry was filed away, as amazingly enough, she saw him move over to a crude, ugly statuette that she thought had no value, but suspected otherwise by the way he cradled it in his hands, and the wonder in his eyes... He looked up at her, startled. "Where did you GET all this?" She answered quietly, "My pappa..." she began in English. 'Must use the broken English.' "He would give things to his little girl, saying he loved her after mama died. "Also many rich monsieurs gave things to me to buy... how you say? A whore?" She dropped her head, feigning shame. Then in an instant she was by his side, hand on his shoulder. "You like this one? It holds bad memories for me, you take it with you for school..." His eyes widen, and he shakes his head slightly. "Ma'am...geez, I don't even know your name...this is virtually PRICELESS. This came from England before Arthurian times. The craftmanship makes it worth very much, and the worth is multiplied many times because of its antiquity...I couldn't take this, I cannot accept such a gift...this is worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, perhaps millions even..." To her relief, he does not pull away from her touch, as she can feel the strong pulse through his skin... "I told you, bad memories. A small favor to me if you would take, also a gift for your kindness." At the mention of the memories, all trumped up of course, she emphasized them by moving to the bed and sitting slumped- shouldered on a corner. 'Ok girl. . .now just a litle push.' She looked up at him weepy eyed, though no tears could show. Blood tears hard an adverse affect on these mortals. In the brief glimpse she planted another seed of emotion in this clever young mind, feelings of sympathy, pitty, and an overwhelming need to comfort the shamed little waif. Another quick thought came to her predatory mind. She planted a question to ask himself...'How long you gonna keep the suspicions up Stephen? You didn't lock the door when you came in, making for a hastier exit, you sat within 30 feet of the door for nearly a hlaf hour, when you gonna realize you're not planning to really leave?' When she felt his mind, to add to the empathy he would feel for her, she found she hardly had to add a measure, as his hands, trembling slightly, put the statuette back on the shelf, crossing over to her, making quiet, comforting whispers, "Hey, it's okay...we'll talk about it okay? I'll...see what can be done about that." She felt a thought rise in his mind, of how much money it could garner, then she felt him push that thought away with something like revulsion. She was then aware of his hands on her, his warm breath near her ear as he tried to comfort her, the strong heartbeat almost roaring in her ears... Blood! Her senses sprang forward with a life of their own. She felt the heartbeat through every nerve in her being...she smelled the life fluids under his salty skin...she saw the flush grow in his cheeks. Then to her surprise, these hunting instincts gave way to a more powerful force, LUST! She wanted this man on a level much more than food, his touch to her cold flesh was like a searing iron, burning down to the very core of what made her a woman. Yes she would feed, just a little, enough to carry her through to tomorrow and in no amount that would damage this beautiful creature. But she would only take the blood in the midst of passion, and oh how sweet it was when surging under the most animalistic of emotions. She laid her head to his shoulder, fighting down every urge with her lips this close to his neck. She raised a hand, finer than any china doll's, and stroked his cheek. "No more words, monsieur. No more words. Just hold me and say you'll stay just a while." She felt his hands around her then, holding her to him, his own amazing warmth spreading to her own body, arousing her passions as he whispered, simply, with great promise, "I'll stay..." His hardness was betraying how he felt for her, her own body yearning, her sex beginning to grow damp with her emotion. His touch and caress along her back threatened her resolve, causing her muscles to tense, keeping her from tearing away her clothing, but it was so SO good to feel this! She wanted as much time as she could have with this god-like mortal, and an internal clock that had developed over the years was telling her there was only about four hours to sunrise. Not knowing if it was an excuse to speed things up or not, she got to her feet. Never taking her own chocolate eyes from his, she stood before him, a position that made her seem more of an offering or gift. A delicate finger found the belt of her robe and tugged. The black satin slid from her shoul- ders, caught briefly at her elbows, and slipped to the ground with a whisper, from her shoulders to her small, high breasts. Onward his gaze slid, over the taut smooth stomach, to the joining of her thighs. There he found the clean shaven area of her pussy. (She giggles inwardly, remembering how she'd shaven for the first time, the night of the Embrace. . .now it would never grow back and she liked it that way.) The small hips and thighs he could easily overlap if circling with both hands all added to a build that looked more like a girl that'd just hit womanhood than the jaded seductress he'd first imagined. He began to remove his shirt, slowly, watching her eyes gleam as his brawny chest was exposed to her. When he removed his shoes, then his belt, her body began to moan in anticipation. She tightly conttrolled her lusts, but became as a coiled spring when he pulled his jeans away, revealing his long, hard manhood. Then his two words seemed to set her body aflame. "Come here." A childlike hand pushed him back to sit on the bed. She moved to him, their faces just inches apart. A small growl...yes, it was definitely a growl...escaped her as she curled into his lap and met his lips with the first kiss of the night. She felt his shaft pressing into her buttocks. Squirming against it, her fingers tangled in is hair as their tongues made slow, leisurely circles. His hands moved over her naked body with a drive that seemed to fire every nerve in her skin, her body now hot with the sexual heat that had been awakened after decades of slumber, feeling fingers move over her nipples, along her smooth sides, over her lean hips, and as he kissed her neck, and as he touched her clit with a finger, he was hidden enough not to see her head thrown back, fangs bared in her insufferable HEAT... She took care to keep her face from him, nestled against his shoulder or thrown back far enough he also would miss the hellfire glow that came to her eyes, accompanying the impending orgasm. Another gutteral growl ripped out of her as she bucked her hips against his dancing fingers. 'Yesssss. . .soooo goooood!' Her mind purred. Mortals loved sex in their own muted way, but if only she could let this darling male experience it with the preternatural senses she was gifted with. The first of many promised orgasms slammed through her writhing body. Screams rushed out of her thrashing head as she clung to his shoulder, nails digging in and producing a few ruby droplets of blood. She sank against him and licked at the delicious morsels. Then, with a wicked glance...she slid from his lap to kneel before him, one tiny hand wrapping around his cock, and her lips moving to its head. He sensed her purpose but was still unready for the feel of her mouth around the very tip, his loud moan, creating the hot tight knot in her again at the sound. Her body was now fully aware of his arousal, and she tried her best to conceal her fangs as she felt his hands along her face... Making every note to keep the fangs from slicing into the sensitive shaft she was working on, she tried to take him as close to the edge as she could. Centuries of experience in the arts of pleasure were showered upon this indvidual, who was giving her a gift he could never imagine. She kissed, licked and sucked like the she-demon she was, glancing up only now and then to gauge her performance on his gorgeous face. A few times the instincts crawled through her to feed and now, voices would tell her the amounts of blood that would pour down her throat from the smallest nip. But she wasn't the feeding night-creature at this point in time, she was the giver of ecstasy...a goddess in her own right. She would see to it this man would experience everything she could give to his poor muted senses. After several long minutes of attention to this pulsing organ, she crept to his side and delivered another passionate kiss. Then, pushing him back onto the mattress, she positioned herself over him, inches from the head, and watched for the anticipation in his eyes. She saw that, and a sudden craftiness she was not prepared for. His hands reached to as if to caress her buttocks, then pulled her and she fell forward, off balance, landing on the mattress on her front even as she felt his mouth on her sex, her body suddenly shuddering as she felt him keep her off balance as he licked her clitoris, sucked her juices from her pussy, sending bolts of pleasure up her body, causing her to dig fingers into the mattress, sprawled forward in a position to crouch, and she felt a howl of animal ecstacy boiling up in her throat... Oh, a quick thought had told her she could've fought his grappling, she could've fought off ten men just like him, or been as immovable as the busses that crawl the cities streets. But why? For some strange reason she trusted him, trusted him to give her every pleasure that had haunted her dreams for decades. He was doing just that. The sounds that escaped her were nothing but the sounds of all predatory creatures: growls, moans, screams and purrs. Her body shook and squirmed against him, she rode through wave upon wave of orgasm. A curious voice in her head briefly wondered if the juices he would be tasting would be laced with blood as as her other bodily fluids seemed to be, but that voice was quickly drowned out in another scream that seemed to come from hollows in her chest as yet unknown. After a few minutes of uncontrollable quivering she grabbed an arm, and with just a boost of strength flipped him to his back. Hands planted firmly to his chest, she straddled his hips and planted herself firmly on his pole with one thrust. He was as amazed by her strength as she was by the flare of pleasure/pain that accompanied her impalement. Her insides stretched, and she wondered if they would tear from un-use, it had been so long... When she felt his palms on her hard, stiff nipples, she gave out a low, loud moan, eyes half-lidded in pleasure. She had taken him all and she could feel him nestled inside her... The riding began. Not unlike the jockeying she'd down many years ago with papa's horses. She clung to him with her legs, thrust into him with her hips, only to pull back and enjoy the slide of pleasure again. Her fingers nestled in his chest hair, nails drawing the occasional rivulets of blood. She kept her eyes closed, to conceal the red gleam she knew would be coming. Her lips stayed closed, occasionally letting only a tongue escape to wet them, but the fangs could not show. Her head would toss back and forth, hair flying in a tangled black mane. 'Yessss...oh god...yesssss...' she screamed over and over to herself. The feeling was growing, intensity beyond what even she, as princess of the darkness, could stand. Her legs gripped him as if possessed by their own will. One of her nails punched him just beneath the shoulder, but he seemed to not to notice. Then just when she felt she would burst, she slammed forward, her chest meeting his, and her teeth sank into the firm muscles of his neck. The life giving blood flowed. He clutched her tightly, and she could not comprehend the tightness inside, excruciating in its power, and she drank and drank. It was only when she felt the pulse slow slightly that she knew he was on the brink. Seconds more and he would need the servies of the hospital. A minute more, and he'd visit by way of the morgue. She then felt the beginning of a climax she had not felt in centuries preparing to tear her body apart in its fiery power... With an act of iron will she pulled back from him, licking the remnants of blood that had escaped her lips. Her head nestled into the crook of his shoulder as she wiggled against him, enjoying the aftershocks of an orgasm at that intensity. She slept, only for a minute or two, since the sun would be rising in little over an hour. Even tucked away here, in her room without windows, the daylight hours would weaken her considerably. She slept more for his needs then hers. His strong heart needed to replenish some of what she stole. She chided herself for the lack of restraint, but knew her body had been driven by a hunger in more than one way. After the little cattnap she looked him over, yes the wounds were already starting to heal. Content with their appearance, she woke him with a kiss. When she awoke, she felt with some tenderness that his arms were still around her, cuddling her, holding her, unwilling to leave her. His breathing was ragged, but he would put it up to physical exhuastion. They had been at it for hours. With a dark will, she found part of herself unwilling to let him go... She knew he couldn't stay. There would be so much to explain, and her past had shown her that mortals can be driven mad when in the presence of her kind for too long. Perhaps she would work out chance meetings between them again. For now she would have to force herself to wipe from his mind her little haven's location, she couldn't find the strength to take everything from him. . .she would leave the memories of their meeting, of her affection for him, and their love making. But he must not be able to find her unless she came to him. With that, she got dressed and with little effort struggled him back into his own clothes. Then, with him stumbling groggily, something that would probably be written off as too much of the wine, she helped him back down to the street. Oh this parting was hard, so hard...much more than she had first thought it would be. She listened to him promise to call her, but she knew he could not. She heard of his whisper to stay true to her, and suspected he would. And only after he disappeared down the street in the small taxicab, did she retreat to her inner sanctum, weeping in tears of blood... As she slipped again out of her clothing and between the sheets of the oversized bed, she remembered just where his body had been laying when she awoke just a half hour before. She smiled to herself and for the first time in many years she was content, satiated physically and emotionally. Then she smiled to herself remembering how she had snatched it as she tucked the statuette in his book bag. She felt sleep creeping up on her, and for an instant, before the darkness claimed her, she felt an odd stirring she could not immediately place... Was it...love? Then there was only the oblivion of sleep.